"As for these highly acidic polar blackberries... the fruit acids, under a closed, high-pressure environment, will produce a biochemical reaction that will eliminate the last trace of fishy or gamey smell seeping from inside the bear bones and soften the water."
As he spoke, he precisely scooped out thirty grams of coarse sea salt with a measuring spoon and sprinkled it evenly into the pot.
"Bang."
The heavy stainless steel pot lid was slammed shut.
Su Wei exerted force with both hands and rotated the metal locks clockwise, causing them to click and clack.
He reached out and grabbed the vent valve at the top, pressing it firmly to confirm a seal.
"Turn the fire up to maximum. Set the timer for forty minutes."
As the bottom heats up rapidly, the pressure inside the pressure cooker begins to increase dramatically.
The exhaust needle at the top emitted a sharp hissing sound, and a thin wisp of high-pressure white steam shot straight up to the ceiling.
Laurent completely stopped cutting the Wagyu beef.
He stared intently at the pressure cooker emitting white steam, his blue eyes flashing with shock.
As a Michelin -starred chef, he fully understood the logic behind Su Wei's ingredient pairings.
His understanding of the characteristics of wild-caught ingredients is exceptional.
Su Wei turned and walked towards the charcoal grill area.
The apple charcoal at the bottom was burning bright red, covered with a thin layer of white ash, and radiating an alarmingly high temperature.
He picked up a long-handled iron clamp and skillfully manipulated the charcoal blocks, concentrating them all on the left side of the grill to create an extreme temperature zone.
On the left is a high-temperature zone with direct fire reaching 400 degrees Celsius.
On the right is a low-temperature static area with a temperature of only around 100 degrees Celsius.
All preparations are complete.
Now, all he needs to do is wait for time to pass and for the pressure cooker to beep with its countdown timer.
At this tense moment...
"Buzzing"
Laurent's cell phone suddenly started vibrating violently.
In the kitchen, where the occasional clinking of knives could be heard, this sudden vibration sounded particularly jarring.
Laurent grabbed a clean towel and wiped his hands, then took out his phone. The screen displayed an unknown, encrypted number.
He swallowed hard, pressed the answer button, and held it to his ear.
Because the kitchen exhaust fan was too loud, Laurent simply pressed the hands-free button.
On the other end of the phone came a monotonous, emotionless British voice.
"Mr. Laroche, I am Mr. Charles's personal butler."
The butler's arrogant voice carried clearly through the loudspeakers to every corner of the kitchen.
"We are already on our way to the Chart Room restaurant. Mr. Charles has added a small request at the last minute."
"He wants to hear firsthand the true story of the hunt for this Kodiak bear while enjoying his main course. And it must be told by the person who pulled the trigger."
There was a deliberate pause on the other end of the phone.
We will arrive at your restaurant's main entrance precisely at 4:00 PM. Please ensure you are fully prepared.
"Beep... beep... beep..."
Laurent wasn't given a chance to answer; the call was abruptly ended.
Laurent, pale-faced, turned to look at the wall clock.
The second hand is ticking away, while the hour hand is steadily stopped at 12:15.
Su Wei was still holding the long-handled iron clamp he used to test the temperature.
The iron clamp hovered above the blazing charcoal fire, as steady as a mountain, without trembling in the slightest.
He watched silently as the flames danced and twisted below, the smile on his lips gradually widening.
4 PM sharp?
Great, that will be his home game.
Chapter 171 Limited-Time Mission: The Crazy Countdown to the All-Bear Feast
The butler's rigid and arrogant voice faded as the phone was hung up.
The second hand of the wall clock ticked away, moving another notch.
Laurent stared intently at the now-blacked-out phone screen, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.
This phone call cut the meal preparation time by more than half.
When €€€€
A crisp metallic clang interrupted Laurent's panic.
Su Wei casually tapped the long-handled iron clamp on the grill, sending ash from the tip falling into the glowing fire and sparking a few embers.
"There are still more than three hours left, that's plenty of time."
Su Wei casually tossed the metal tongs onto the stainless steel countertop, turned her head, and looked indifferent.
"Stop daydreaming, Chef. Your side dishes and desserts need to be prepared now if you don't want to leave them unfinished."
Laurent snapped out of his daze, shoved his phone back into his chef's uniform pocket, wiped the sweat from his brow, and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Listen up, everyone! Double the pace, get moving!"
The tense atmosphere in the kitchen was instantly ignited.
Sous Chef Pierre gritted his teeth, cursed in French, turned and rushed to the refrigerated display case, carrying out a pile of vegetables for side dishes.
The apprentices were so frightened they dared not breathe, and quickened their chopping motions, the clatter of the blades hitting the cutting board creating a continuous sound.
Su Wei walked to the sink and picked up the bear steak with one hand.
The cool water washed away the remaining blood on the surface, and he laid it flat on the huge, heavy wooden cutting board.
In my line of sight, the passive effect of Bone Cleaning LV2 was instantly activated, and countless pale gold auxiliary lines outlined the direction of the bones and the attachment points of the fascia on the surface of the dark red flesh.
Su Wei drew his cleaver with a backhand motion.
The black tip of the knife pierced the tough fascia at the edge of the flesh, and with a slight twist of his wrist, the sharp blade slid smoothly along the bone.
After a few soft sizzling sounds, the excess bits of meat were removed, exposing three thick ribs to the air.
He didn't touch the French herbs, but instead grabbed a handful of coarse sea salt and sprinkled it evenly on both sides of the meat.
Next, he used his long, strong fingers to press repeatedly, allowing the sharp salt grains to embed deep into the firm muscle fibers, before sprinkling on a layer of freshly ground black pepper.
Su Wei lifted the heavy tomahawk bear steak with one hand and walked steadily toward the charcoal grill.
The apple charcoal in the left area was now burning bright red, covered with a thin layer of white ash, radiating high temperature outwards.
Chirp
With a loud bang, the huge bear steak was slammed onto the grill.
The moment they came into contact, the moisture on the surface of the meat was instantly vaporized by the 300-degree Celsius heat, sending up a thick cloud of white smoke.
The thick layer of fat at the bottom melts rapidly when heated, turning into a golden, translucent grease that drips into the charcoal fire below.
boom.
Flames shot up more than half a meter high along the grease, engulfing the entire steak.
The surrounding apprentices gasped in fright and retreated in alarm.
But Su Wei did not back down.
He stood before the scorching fire, his eyes fixed on every minute change in color on the surface of the meat.
In my mind, the Cooking LV3 continuously provides a precise countdown.
Fifty seconds.
If you wait even a second longer, the meat will become tough; if you wait even a second less, the juices won't be sealed in.
Just as the countdown reached zero, Su Wei suddenly reached out with the long-handled clamp in his hand, gripping the thick bone handle tightly, and exerted force suddenly with his wrist using the core strength of his waist.
The heavy bear steak traced an arc in mid-air, flipped 180 degrees, and then slammed back heavily onto the grill.
The side that was originally in contact with the charcoal fire has now formed a hard, oily, brownish-red crust.
Under the Maillard reaction, the delicious juices are sealed deep inside the meat by this hard shell.
Su Wei deftly moved the bear steak to the low-temperature zone on the right side of the oven, covered it with the heavy metal oven lid, and used the residual heat of the oven to allow the heat to slowly and thoroughly penetrate into the thick muscle center.
On the other side of the stove, the exhaust valve of the 60-liter commercial pressure cooker was emitting a sharp, piercing hiss.
The high-pressure steam shot into the ceiling in a straight white column, then was drawn out of the window by the exhaust fan, carrying away a faint, almost imperceptible fragrance.
The forty-minute countdown has ended.
Su Wei reached out and turned off the gas stove.