The Peach Banquet

"What a Cow Hair Puff Pastry!" Zhang Hu, a food critic from the Chen Character Number, exclaimed. He brought the peach to his lips, but when his teeth met the fine fuzz, it didn't have the crisp texture of ordinary puff pastry.

More precisely, it spread gently, like a quiet drizzle soaking into the earth.

The fine fuzz crumbled at the touch of his lips and scattered in his mouth, releasing an aroma accompanied by a faint astringency.

Astringency wasn't a taste, but a sensation like spiciness. Unlike the "pain" of heat, it was a dryness caused by drawing out moisture.

Fried slowly in warm oil, the fine, cow-hair-like pastry readily absorbed moisture. As it dried up the saliva flooding his mouth from the peach's fragrance, the true flavor finally unfurled across his tongue.

The sensation of its impossibly light texture spreading through his mouth crushed the thought that had first arisen in Zhang Hu's mind—that it "wasn't puff pastry." The aroma, the texture, the delicacy—it was unquestionably puff pastry!

His teeth closed together, tearing through the delicate, two-millimeter layer of fuzz. The slightly resilient peach skin split as well, and then its rich filling gushed out. It wasn't scalding, though; instead, it carried a fresh, sweet taste.

A sweet, sour, salty, and savory flavor swept over his taste buds, sharply contrasting with the airy sweetness highlighted by the earlier astringency. It swept away the overpowering taste of the Dim Sum and forcefully whetted the appetite. Even the judges, who had just sampled several banquet courses, felt a strong desire to eat again.

He drained the opening soup, then popped the peach skin, wrapped around a ring of "fruit flesh," into his mouth. The peach skin had two layers: the outside was coated in fine, cow-hair-like puff pastry, while the