Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
After paying a reluctant fee, I decided to start my counterattack plan.
My target is Mu Jue, a president who has extremely high demands for food.
"President, organizing a sushi-making event is too childish. Why don't we hold a competition instead?" I suggested, with a hint of provocation in my tone.
My family has been in the restaurant business for generations, and I have a natural sensitivity and understanding of gourmet food. I am confident that I can come out on top in this competition.
Mu Jue stared at me, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.
"It's good, but the students haven't started learning yet," he raised a seemingly reasonable concern.
I was prepared and quickly responded, "Exactly, that's why we should have a competition to select the best chef among us, so that everyone can receive one-on-one guidance in the future." As soon as I finished speaking, I saw a glint of interest in Mu Jue's eyes.
To further solidify my plan, I played my trump card, "If the worst performer, then it will have to be guided by you, the club president."
This sentence is like a bomb, causing a stir among the classmates.
The female classmates all expressed that the proposal was really great, their eyes filled with anticipation and excitement.
I secretly felt proud in my heart, as I had already envisioned the scene on the day of the competition: only Mu Jue and I standing on the PK stage, surrounded by the cheers and applause of our classmates. This would be an excellent opportunity to showcase my culinary skills and intelligence.
However, I did not underestimate Mu Jue's true strength.
I know he is not just an ordinary president of the society. His understanding and appreciation of food far exceed that of ordinary people. Therefore, I must be fully prepared, from the selection of ingredients to the application of cooking techniques, every detail must not be taken lightly.
After Mu Jue agreed, I immediately called home: "Mom, teach me how to cook. I'm going to compete with someone."
Just as I finished speaking, I heard a "bang" from the other side, and I guessed that Your Majesty's phone had fallen to the ground.
After a while, her voice came through: "My daughter, you've become more sensible after growing up. But, things like managing both the parlor and the kitchen, it seems you really have no talent for that."
I don't believe it. I asked my mom to teach me the secret recipe for her signature dish.
After taking a quick look, I feel like this recipe couldn't be any simpler. Isn't it just a matter of mixing various ingredients like oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and other seasonings in appropriate amounts, and then stir-frying them together?
On the day of the competition, Mu Jue borrowed the kitchen of a nearby restaurant and organized the competition during the afternoon break.
I held the spatula, secretly pleased with myself. I imagined Mu Jue kneeling in front of me after the competition, praising my cooking skills with admiration on his face. The scene made me unable to help but laugh out loud. However, this sense of pride was quickly interrupted by a sudden and hurried sound of chopping vegetables.
I turned around and saw Mu Jue standing in front of his kitchen counter, focused and skilled.
He gently pressed a carrot under his hand, and with a swift motion of the knife, the carrot seemed to be transformed by a magician's spell into delicate flower shapes. His incredible knife skills, surpassing even my mother's level, made me wonder if Mu Jue was hiding some secret.
I instantly had a sense of foreboding, as if a cold current was rising from behind, shaking my confidence. I tightened my lips and told myself, this is just the beginning, the real challenge is still ahead.
Sure enough, the next moment, Mu Jue's actions left me dumbfounded.
He actually lifted the wok with one hand, flipping and stir-frying at the same time. The wok seemed to come to life in his hands, leaping and rolling. His movements were smooth and powerful, each flip of the spatula was just right, and the seasonings were accurately and precisely sprinkled into the wok. It was like watching a professional chef at work.
I stood by, dumbfounded, watching Mu Jue's performance, feeling a sense of powerlessness welling up inside me.
Halfway through, I suddenly remembered that I was still in a competition, so I quickly turned back to start cutting the vegetables. However, it seemed like my hands were no longer under my control, as the slices of vegetables turned out uneven and the arrangement was a mess. In no time, my kitchen counter looked like a crime scene, utterly appalling.
But this was not the climax yet.
When I poured oil into the pot, my hand shook and the oil flowed down the edge. As soon as I turned on the gas stove, there was a "boom," and I immediately created a live broadcast of the fire scene.
I, who had never touched the water of Yangchun, had never seen such a scene. I was so scared that I screamed and grabbed something to put out the fire.
Between the electric light and the flint, Mu Jue rushed over, snatching the cooking wine from my hand and at the same time grabbing the lid and smothering the flames.
In that instant, he appeared incredibly heroic in my eyes, as if I had turned into the damsel in distress being rescued by the hero in a novel.
"Ah, hero senior, will you marry me?"
Comment 0 Comment Count