He didn't touch the lid, but let it depressurize naturally at room temperature.
Meanwhile, Laurent was sweating profusely at his own dedicated cooking station.
He was preparing a fresh bear leg, which was part of his planned signature dish—slow-cooked bear leg with wild blueberry sauce.
He cut the dark red meat into even small cubes, put them in a vacuum bag to remove the air, and then carefully dropped them into a 55-degree constant temperature water bath.
Pierre, meanwhile, was vigorously whipping up the mashed potatoes, the veins on his forehead bulging.
The temperature in the kitchen rose higher and higher, and the exhaust fans roared, but they still couldn't drown out the heavy, rapid breathing of everyone.
Click.
The hour hand of the wall clock steadily pointed to 3:30 PM.
Less than thirty minutes remained before banker Charles was to arrive.
The long, narrow stainless steel tasting table in the center of the kitchen was now filled with exquisite plates.
All eight core dishes of the whole bear banquet are ready.
Laurent let out a long sigh, untied his oil-stained apron from his waist, and threw it into the plastic basket next to him.
He strode to the tasting table, his deep blue eyes sweeping over the eight dishes.
Appetizer 1: A Song of Ice and Fire.
Thin slices of bear tenderloin, as thin as cicada wings, have a translucent texture and are neatly laid out on a black volcanic rock slab.
The bottom of the stone slab still emitted residual heat, causing the edges of the meat slices to curl slightly, releasing a smoky aroma.
Appetizer 2: Confit bear liver with glacial water chestnuts.
The dark brown bear liver gleamed with a layer of glossy, rich fat, and the cut surface was smooth. It was adorned with a few pristine white water chestnuts, creating a striking color contrast.
Soup: Wilderness Consommé.
With a soft hiss, Su Wei opened the pressure cooker, which had finished depressurizing.
The moment the heavy pot lid was lifted, there was no strong, fishy smell of wild animal bones and blood as expected. Instead, a scent mixed with the fragrance of pine resin and wood rushed out.
This aroma cut through the greasiness of the butter and animal fat that permeated the kitchen air, instantly invigorating the senses.
Su Wei picked up a long-handled stainless steel ladle, dipped it into the pot, and scooped the bubbling liquid into an elegant white porcelain deep dish.
The soup was a clear, golden yellow, clean and transparent, without a trace of turbidity or impurities, and not even a drop of excess oil could be seen.
Main course 1: Grilled bear steak.
This enormous, menacing chunk of meat occupied almost half of the custom-made silver tray.
The three thick ribs stick up, covered with a layer of dark brown crust. Even now, after being removed from the oven, they still emit a faint sizzling sound from inside.
Main course two: Slow-cooked bear leg with blueberry sauce.
Laurent removed the softened meat from the water bath and plated it, drizzling it with a thick sauce made from deep purple wild polar blueberries, which exuded a fruity aroma.
The remaining side dishes and desserts were equally exquisite: crispy bear sausages served with a dollop of fluffy, cloud-like mashed potatoes; and a flaky bear butter blueberry tart made with refined white bear fat instead of butter.
Finally, there's the beverage area.
Su Wei took a heavy, wide-mouthed glass with a hand-carved spherical ice cube at the bottom.
He poured polar glacial water, crushed wild cranberry juice, and two ounces of high-proof Russian vodka into a cocktail shaker and shook it vigorously for ten seconds.
The red wine poured down the stainless steel filter and splashed into the glass.
Ice cubes floated in a blood-red liquid, which Su Wei named Crimson Storm.
Laurent took a deep breath and unconsciously wiped his hands on his chef's uniform. Pierre and the four apprentices all gathered around, their eyes fixed on the counter, their Adam's apples bobbing up and down.
"Start tasting the dishes to confirm the flavor."
Laurent's voice was a little hoarse.
He picked up a clean, gleaming knife and fork, and first cut off a piece of confit bear liver that he had made himself.
Pick it up with a fork and put it in your mouth, then gently bite down with your teeth.
The texture is smooth and creamy, and the rich, distinctive flavor of bear liver spreads across the tongue.
After swallowing, Laurent nodded in satisfaction.
The preparation was decent; French culinary techniques effectively removed any unpleasant odors.
Pierre stood by and offered a clean white napkin with a proud tone.
"Chef, our dishes are performing consistently well. I just tasted a scrap of the sous-vide bear leg; the meat is tender enough that Mr. Charles will be satisfied."
Laurent didn't respond to his comment.
He put down his knife and fork, turned around and picked up a clean sterling silver spoon, and walked with somewhat heavy steps toward the plate of Wilderness Consommé that Su Wei had brought out.
Upon seeing this, Pierre's face instantly darkened, and he couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
"Put in that deer bark and leaves to boil; I don't believe anyone would drink that. Mr. Charles would be furious if he saw this country bumpkin soup."
Su Wei leaned lazily against the edge of the opposite kitchen counter, arms crossed, a smile playing on her lips as she calmly watched them.
"Try it before you judge, Mr. Sous Chef. Perhaps your tongue is more honest than your prejudice."
Laurent's fingers, gripping the silver spoon, turned slightly white from the force.
He looked down at the plate of clear, golden liquid. The transparent broth clearly reflected the glaring incandescent light from above the kitchen, and there wasn't a single scrap of meat in it.
He hesitated for a moment, then scooped up a spoonful.
The broth sloshed gently in the spoon, lacking the thick, creamy texture of French stock that relies on large amounts of butter and collagen; it was as light as spring water.
Laurent closed his eyes slightly and put the spoon into his mouth.
The moment that warm liquid touched the tip of my tongue.
A burst of umami flavor exploded in Laurent's mouth.
That was the bone marrow essence extracted from the bones of Kodiak brown bear in a pressure cooker within forty minutes.
It has none of the richness or greasiness of beef bone broth, only a pure, wild flavor.
Seven-year-old wild birch polypore brings a mellow, woody base flavor.
The essential oil from spruce needles brings a touch of the unique chill of the icy plains.
The polar blackberries, grown in a closed, high-pressure environment, have their fruit acids break down the residual fishy smell in the bear blood, transforming it into a subtle sweet aftertaste.
The soup slid down his esophagus, and Laurent felt a surge of heat rise in his stomach.
Standing opposite Su Wei, the system panel at the edge of his field of vision flickered again, displaying two lines of pale gold text:
[ Simple Dietary Supplementation Supplement Triggered: Woodland Echo ]
[Effect: Drinkers will temporarily shed urban anxiety and mental fatigue, experience a 5% increase in sensory acuity, and trigger primal natural instincts.]
Hoo €€€€
Laurent's breathing suddenly became heavy.
He lost his grip on the silver spoon, and with a clatter, it fell to the edge of the porcelain plate.
He felt his sense of smell amplified; in this enclosed, greasy kitchen, he could even smell the snow-covered primeval redwood forests of northern Alaska through this odor.
Pierre frowned in alarm when he saw Laurent's stiff movements.
"Chef, what's wrong? Is it too bitter to swallow? I knew this witch's cooking method wouldn't work..."
"Get out of here."
Laurent abruptly shoved away Pierre, who was still rambling on.
With red eyes, he grabbed a clean, large empty bowl next to him, took the huge serving spoon, strode over to the 60-liter pressure cooker, and scooped out a full bowl without any hesitation.
He picked up the bowl, tilted his head back without any regard for appearances, and swallowed large mouthfuls of food.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down rapidly, making a gurgling sound.
A whole bowl of piping hot clear soup was completely emptied in less than ten seconds.
Bang.
Laurent slammed the empty bowl heavily onto the stainless steel countertop, causing the nearby cutlery to bounce.
"Shut your stinking mouth, Pierre."
Laurent turned his head, his blue eyes now gleaming with fanaticism, and pointed at the pot.
"Go over there and try it yourself, see what real cuisine is like."
Pierre shrank back, intimidated by Laurent's murderous aura.
He stepped forward with a hint of doubt and even resistance, picked up a brand-new spoon, carefully scooped a little bit of soup from the edge, and put it into his mouth with a furrowed brow.
Just two seconds later.
Pierre froze, his hand still holding the spoon.
The taste in his mouth shattered his thirty years of understanding of French cuisine.
How could that be?