49. The Bitter Practice of Culinary Arts

Chapter 49: Hard Training in Culinary Arts

The reporters were somewhat surprised by Jiang Hao's request. One asked, "Could it be that Mr. Chow fears the judges will cheat and deliberately give your dish a bad review, so you want to taste it yourself?"

"No, I simply want to taste what top-tier cuisine from a Hong Kong master chef really tastes like. That's all."

With that, Jiang Hao picked up his suitcase and walked through the boarding gate.

On the plane, Zhen Xiaoqiu asked Jiang Hao, "Do you have confidence in this culinary competition?"

Jiang Hao gave a faint smile. "Judging is inherently subjective. We've offended too many people with the Gourmet Roast show. Do you think they'll give me a good review? If you were a judge, what would you do?"

Zhen Xiaoqiu frowned. "Then why even participate? They'll definitely humiliate you."

"Heh. 'Longing for imaginary gains often loses the happiness you already have,'" Jiang Hao said.

Zhen Xiaoqiu looked confused. "What does that mean?"

"Who knows who'll end up the real winner? Maybe we just have different goals." Jiang Hao flashed an inscrutable smile.

When the plane landed at Magic City Airport, Zhen Xiaoqiu and Jiang Hao parted ways. She would lead a team south, another assistant director would take a team north, and Jiang Hao would lead a team to Shaolin Temple.

China Culinary Training Academy!

Heh. It didn't exist.

That was just the Shaolin Temple kitchen. Above the tall gate hung a plaque: "Shaolin Happy Land."

The filming crew had already coordinated with Shaolin Temple for permission to film authentic Shaolin cuisine. A steward led the crew into the Shaolin kitchen. Jiang Hao noticed a thick beam suspended above several large woks and asked curiously, "What's that for?"

The steward replied, "Amitabha. Shaolin's martial spirit thrives. Even the chefs who stir-fry must train. That beam is for them to hang upside down from, cooking with their heads downward. Over time, they master the skill of 'hanging upside down like a golden hook.'"

Jiang Hao asked, "And if they fall off?"

"Shaolin Temple does not abstain from meat and fish. Amitabha." The steward smiled meaningfully.

Jiang Hao couldn't help but shiver.

The cameraman filmed the temple scenery. On the west side of Shaolin Temple, in a wheat field below Sweet Dew Terrace, they gazed at the temple's black-tiled, red-walled halls, bathed in the chanting of scriptures from this foremost ancient monastery, absorbing the spiritual energy of Mount Songshan.

Not far from the wheat field was Shaolin's own vegetable garden, meticulously arranged, with all kinds of green vegetables growing fresh and tender.

Thinking of his own plans, Jiang Hao asked the steward, "Master, I'm a chef myself. Besides filming the Shaolin kitchen, I'd also like to learn Shaolin culinary arts. I hope the temple will permit it."

The steward said, "That requires the abbot's approval."

The filming crew went about their work, while Jiang Hao followed the steward to the rear courtyard to meet the Shaolin abbot. As they passed several main halls, the steward kept up his introductions: "This is the Dharma Institute, this is the Discipline Institute, this is the Luohan Hall..."

Luohan Hall. Hearing those three words, Jiang Hao couldn't help glancing toward it, half-expecting eighteen golden men to burst out, drag him inside, and give him a thorough beating with bricks and folding chairs.

"Phew. Good thing I haven't offended the abbot."

Finally, Jiang Hao met the Shaolin abbot in the rear courtyard: Master Mengyi.

Master Mengyi's eyes were sharp and wise. He looked at Jiang Hao with a constant, approving nod, and Jiang Hao felt as if the man could see right through him.

"Master, I sincerely wish to learn authentic Shaolin culinary arts. I hope the abbot will permit it," Jiang Hao said respectfully.

"Buddhism opens wide the gate of convenience. Since you wish to learn, it is not impossible. But to learn true Buddhist cuisine, you must become a member of the Buddhist family. Benefactor, I see you have some spiritual affinity. Why not take refuge beneath my Buddha's seat?" Master Mengyi said.

Jiang Hao was stunned. Become a monk? No way.

"Master, I—"

He'd only said three words when the abbot waved him off. "I know your worldly ties are not yet severed. So I will only accept you as a lay disciple. Shaolin lay disciples must observe the precepts while in the temple, but once outside Shaolin, they are free from monastic rules."

"Moreover, only by becoming a Shaolin disciple can you learn true Shaolin culinary arts. I mean true." The abbot winked at Jiang Hao.

Jiang Hao couldn't help but shudder.

Refuse? He only wanted to learn cooking. He didn't have to learn at Shaolin. New Oriental, Lanxiang—those places were fine too.

The steward beside him quietly nudged Jiang Hao. Jiang Hao looked over, and the steward gave him a "hurry up and agree" look.

Jiang Hao suddenly remembered how petty this abbot was in the movie, and how he later dealt with Stephen Chow.

"Thank you, Abbot. I am willing to become a lay disciple of the Buddhist order."

Since resistance was futile, he might as well agree cheerfully and leave a good impression.

Jiang Hao knelt. The abbot anointed his crown and administered the precepts. He was now a lay disciple under the abbot's tutelage, and not of low seniority.

The abbot nodded with a smile. "Come, follow me to the rear courtyard. I'll tell you a secret. In the Shaolin Thirty-Six Chambers, I myself came from the kitchen back then. If you want to learn true Shaolin cuisine, I can personally teach you."

"The Shaolin kitchen's recipe collection is all-encompassing. Most of the great delicacies throughout China's millennia of history are recorded in our Shaolin kitchen: Dongpo Pork, Beggar's Chicken, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Duke of Pei's Dog Meat, Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea Stirring Arhat, and so on."

Jiang Hao's eyes went wide. "Master, can monks eat meat?"

"Buddhism forbids killing and the accumulation of karmic debt. As for eating meat... that's still permissible. The Buddha himself never said meat was forbidden, did he? Besides, without meat, where would people get the strength? Without strength, how can they fight?" Master Mengyi said with a smile.

This was the first time Jiang Hao had heard such reasoning, and from the Shaolin abbot's own mouth no less. It completely overturned everything he'd known.

No wonder. No wonder the renegade Shaolin disciple Tang Niu knew how to cook every dish. The root of it was here.

And so, from that day on, Jiang Hao began his apprenticeship at Shaolin. Every day he slept in the third watch and rose in the fifth, studying hard. Master Mengyi took a great liking to him and imparted decades of cooking experience. Jiang Hao felt as if his Ren and Du Meridians had been opened; his cooking skills advanced by leaps and bounds.

"Master, do you know any Shaolin ultimate arts like the Yi Jin Jing or Xi Sui Jing? If I learned them, I could leap over walls and be invincible."

Master Mengyi shook his head. "There's no such divine skill in this world. If there were, let me know—I'd like to learn it too."

"Master, are there bodhisattvas and immortals in this world?"

"Bodhisattvas dwell in the heart; immortals are wherever one is an immortal."

"Master, a month has passed. I want to return to Hong Kong to compete in the culinary contest. Would you like to come with me and see Hong Kong? It's very bustling."

"No need. Your master is old now. Bustle is but fleeting smoke and clouds. Before you leave, I'll give you one piece of advice: keep a calm heart in all things."

"Thank you for your teachings, Master. Your disciple takes his leave."