Refusal

It seemed First-Rank Pavilion had put all its thought into passing off inferior ingredients as superior to fool its customers. Even its one remaining advantage—excellent culinary skill—was slipping away.

Once the starch slurry had been mixed in, the back of the spoon had to move clockwise over the surface of the soup. The movements had to be gentle, the speed quick, and the force soft. Little by little, the shredded tofu, winter bamboo shoots, wood ear mushrooms, chicken, ham, and mushrooms unfurled in the thickened clear chicken broth. Wensi Tofu's distinctive fresh, fragrant, and delicate flavor rose with the steam. It was like the fine spring rain beneath a slanting breeze in March, soaking silently into the diners' very bones amid willows filling the city.

So, at the very end, shredded greens were added for color. Then the spoon continued turning clockwise, slowly blending that painting of slanting breeze and fine rain until the broth was clear and luminous, like jade nectar polished by years of handling.

—If one did not like stirring clockwise, counterclockwise worked too. It was just that the old man preferred clockwise when he cooked. He said clockwise meant things going smoothly and safely, bringing good fortune and wishes fulfilled. It seemed to promise a good omen. Once the dish left the stove, steaming Wensi Tofu was served along with the chef's heartfelt blessings.

Unfortunately, the old man had spent his entire life cooking, always striving to treat others kindly. Yet in his old age, he had not enjoyed peace or prosperity. Instead, he had been so infuriated by petty villains that he vomited blood and died, unable to close his eyes in peace.

Huo Jiu's breathing paused slightly. His mind was clearly unsettled. The greatest taboo in making Huaiyang cuisine was an unsettled mind. In his previous life, the old man had often scolded Huo Jiu for being unable to calm down, saying he could never make refined dishes like that. He had even forced him to practice Tai Chi every morning, claiming it could cultivate the heart and calm the mind, helping with cooking.

Huo Jiu had practiced with the old man for several years, training through winter's coldest days and summer's fiercest heat, yet his temper had not improved one bit. His hands, however, had become much steadier. When chopping vegetables or tossing a wok, he had learned to exert force through his wrists.

With all those old, rotten grievances from his previous life running through his mind, a bowl of Wensi Tofu was finally done.

Huo Jiu poured the Wensi Tofu into a blue-and-white porcelain bowl. The broth was lustrous and crystal-clear, as though covered by a soft layer of light. Shredded tofu, winter bamboo shoots, mushrooms, wood ear mushrooms, chicken, ham, and greens intertwined into a landscape painting that was understated in color yet lively and beautiful, elegant in mood and fresh in hue. It truly carried the feeling of landscapes within a dish.

Master Yan had also finished cooking and taken his dish off the stove. Two bowls of Wensi Tofu were placed before Diwu Ling. There was still quite a bit of broth left, so Huo Jiu and Master Yan simply poured out several more bowls and handed them to the other diners watching nearby.

Chapter 13

Diwu Ling lowered his head and studied the two bowls of Wensi Tofu before him.

The bowl on the left had been made by Huo Jiu. Its broth was visibly more lustrous and glossy, while the tofu and other ingredients had been shredded more finely. Amid the curling steam, it resembled a painting of slanting breeze, fine rain, and fresh willow hues gathered within a white porcelain bowl decorated in blue, carrying a misty, ethereal sense of mountain scenery.

By comparison, the Wensi Tofu on the right had thicker shreds of tofu and garnishes, and even the broth was not as bright or glossy. It looked rather ordinary →_→

"...Just judging by appearance, young friend Huo has clearly won!" An experienced regular behind them gave a well-reasoned assessment. "First, look at the knife work. Young friend Huo's skills are unquestionably superb. Even the naked eye can see that his shreds are finer than Master Yan's. Then comes thickening the broth. Young friend Huo's starch slurry is not only thin, but evenly mixed. That makes the broth appear brighter. The tofu and other ingredients also look more luminous and fresh. At first glance, it is like a piece of polished jade, with a faint, soft glow flowing through it. The colors naturally look fuller as well."

Then there was the heat control.

The main and supporting ingredients needed for Wensi Tofu were relatively simple and unadorned. No expensive mountain or sea delicacies were required, nor was the method especially complicated. The two most praiseworthy aspects were knife work and broth-making. The broth had to be clear chicken soup made by stewing an old hen that was at least three years old. It needed to be boiled over high heat, seasoned over low heat, and finally thickened and reduced. It looked simple, but in truth, it greatly tested a chef's control over heat.

Huo Jiu had done exceptionally well in that regard. Whether adding salt or reducing the broth, his timing had been perfect. And because the tofu and other ingredients had been cut more finely, they retained their original flavors and textures to the greatest extent while absorbing more of the clear chicken broth's savory richness.

With just one sip, the tofu's tender smoothness, the mushroom's soft silkiness, the winter bamboo shoot's fresh crispness, the ham and chicken's salty tenderness, the wood ear mushroom's refreshing crunch, and the greens' clean tenderness were all wrapped in the delicate, flavorful broth, creating rich layers of sensation in the mouth. Every ingredient's flavor was distinct, yet they blended together perfectly, outlining the broth's overall savory, mellow tenderness.

It was supremely fresh, supremely fragrant, supremely tender, and supremely smooth. It felt as though one's entire body had been immersed in a warm, gentle, soothing hot spring, every hair and pore relaxing as the mind became extraordinarily peaceful.

"Delicious!" Compared to the food connoisseurs' professional critiques of color, aroma, and taste, the praise from the elderly men and women of Lakeside Park was much simpler and more direct. "This is so delicious. I've never had tofu soup this fresh in my life. How can it be this fresh?"

As he spoke, the old man smacked his lips regretfully. "There's just too little of it. Two sips and it's gone."

The diners all sighed along with him and nodded in agreement. Huo Jiu's Wensi Tofu truly was stunning. In comparison, the Wensi Tofu made by Master Yan, First-Rank Pavilion's head chef, seemed conventional and unremarkable. Perhaps they had eaten it too many times; it no longer gave them any sense of surprise. Even the anticipation they used to feel whenever they came to eat had nearly vanished.

No matter what, First-Rank Pavilion's use of fake ingredients and inferior goods to deceive customers had left a shadow and a sense of estrangement in the diners' hearts. No one wanted to discover that behind all their praise for a dish was First-Rank Pavilion's chefs using superb skills to disguise poor-quality ingredients. That was not only a desecration of fine food, but also a trampling of the diners' sincerity.

They had come because of its reputation, only to receive the shop's shameless perfunctory treatment and deception. Just because they could not distinguish the original texture and quality of the ingredients, did that mean they deserved to be taken for suckers?