Gourmet: From a Stall in Northern Europe-Chapter 70: Good Things Are Meant to Be Shared at 7 AM

The beef brisket is stewing, the congee base is simmering, and what’s left to do is simple.

Angus cuts up the prime rib into dice-sized chunks, and the enticing marbling makes your mouth water just by looking at it.

He skewers them with six pieces per skewer and arranges them neatly on the iron tray.

Each piece of meat is about 25 grams, so a skewer is 150 grams. Even after grilling and shrinkage, it still weighs at least 200 grams, and feels hefty in the hand.

He also bought new Xilan lamb ribs, deboned them, and skewered them too. The only downside is not finding any lamb fat, which might affect the aroma.

He’s prepared just these three types of meat for now. Other variations can wait; first, he wants to see the diners’ reactions.

As for vegetables, he’s starting simple with fresh large mushrooms, green beans, potato slices, and lotus root slices.

The space on the food truck stove is limited, and even with a barbecue grill, it wouldn’t be much bigger unless the food truck itself expands.

He has not marinated any of the skewered meats or vegetables. Due to breed and feeding differences, foreign beef naturally has a milky aroma, making it suitable for its original taste. Since foreigners typically eat steaks seasoned with black pepper and sea salt, maybe with a bit of sauce, there’s no need for heavy flavors.

He’s only preparing two seasonings: chili powder and cumin powder, focusing on the original taste of the meat.

All materials are ready, and only two hours have passed out of the three-hour mark.

At this moment, the congee base has become quite thick, the rice grains are blossoming, and many are starting to break down.

This is when you need to constantly stir to speed up the breaking down of the grains until no whole grain can be seen, and all that’s left is crushed rice flowerfor a perfect result.

He preemptively calls Lucas to make sure that kid doesn’t oversleep.

"...Hey? Hmm...what time is it?"

Judging from the drowsy voice, this kid clearly just woke up.

"It’s still early. You’re expected on the battlefield in an hour and a half. Just a heads up."

"............"

There’s a five-second silence on the other end of the line.

Lin Chen, decisively, hangs up the phone right at the brink of Lucas’ outburst.

"Hey, why am I the only one who has to get up early~"

Mysteriously, the mood improves, and the stirring speed with the ladle picks up.

He has prepared a lot today; all pots are in use. Making ice jelly now is impossible, and it would be odd to have it with morning congee.

He plans to have Lucas make the ice jelly, as Lucas has been observing for many days; it’s time he tries it himself.

Another hour passes.

Currently, a thick layer of congee oil has floated to the top of the rice porridge, signifying the starch in the rice has been completely melted.

The whole pot of plain porridge smells incredibly fragrant, with rice grains cooked down to a texture similar to millet; the congee is smooth, resembling a soup thickened with starch.

The aroma of the bone broth is completely overshadowed by the rice fragrance. Even leaning in closely, you can’t differentiate the scent, and its white color doesn’t give away the fact that bone broth is in it unless you say so.

According to the recipe, it’s necessary to add a little salt and chicken essence to enhance the base flavor, but not too much, as the marinated meats also contain salt, and mixing them together later might make it too salty.

Turn off the heat, cover with a lid, and laboriously move the congee pot off the stove.

This thing is heavier than expected, weighing close to 50 kg. Being on an empty stomach and lacking sleep adds two debuffs, almost making it impossible to lift.

"It seems like I’m getting too old, just one all-nighter makes me feel weak. It’d be great to have some Strength Potion or Stamina Potion for a boost."

Shaking his head, he opens the car door, marking the end of the time flow buff.

With a 20% time acceleration, the three-hour period shrinks to two hours and twenty-four minutes, freeing up half an hour for travel.

He arrives at his usual vending spot just a few minutes before seven.

The streets are empty, with barely any buses in sight, and the entire city is quietly asleep, not yet awakened.

Outside the cinema, in the heart of the city, it’s bustling at night, but during the day, it’s the most popular area in the city. All he needs now is to quietly wait for returning customers.

He lays out the marinated fish, beef, and chicken, with a layer of cling film tightly covering them to prevent oxidation and discoloration.

As usual, he prepares a bowl of "family reunion" for himself first.

He scoops two ladles of the steaming hot white congee and places the saucepot on the stove over high heat. The white congee soon starts bubbling.

He takes a little of each ingredient, scalds the vegetables and ginger slices for a minute, then throws all the meat into the congee at once, stirring quickly to keep them from sticking.

The marinated beef, fish, and chicken change color visibly in the steaming congee, releasing a strong meaty aroma.

The faint peppery fragrance wafts with the steam, making your mouth water.

There’s no need to cook it for long; about ten seconds after the meat changes color, it can be removed from the pot.

At this time, the meat slices are perfectly cooked to seven-tenths done; each second soaked in the ultra-hot congee further cooks them but not overcooks, achieving an effect similar to slow-cooked at low temperature.

Frequent congee drinkers know that freshly removed congee isn’t drinkable directly and needs to be sipped from the edge with a few blows to cool it, or else it’ll surely burn the mouth and tongue.

During this process, the meat slices reach the perfect doneness.

Sprinkle a handful of scallions, and it’s ready to serve!

The rich aroma of rice mingles with the fresh scent of raw scallions wafting straight into the nose, and Lin Chen’s stomach growls in protest.

Come to think of it, he hasn’t had congee for half a year; he’s not keen on waking up early, cherishing every second of sleep.

In the few seconds it takes to fill the serving box, a visible layer of congee oil forms on top, like the film on soymilk or milk, crinkling in the breeze.

Along the edge of the bowl, he scrapes up half a spoon of congee, gives it a few blows, tests the temperature with his lips, and only when he’s sure it won’t burn does he safely savor it.

"Hmm?!"

As soon as it touches the tip of his tongue, a rich umami bursts forth.

It’s unlike any congee he’s made before; this bowl’s rice fragrance is fully evoked, soaked with the savory goodness of bone broth, enriched with the juices of mushrooms, ginger slices, cabbage, and meat, enhancing each other’s freshness.

Without feeling the presence of rice grains, it’s like sipping on a delicious seafood soup, sliding down the throat, with the perfect warmth flowing into the stomach, invigorating every cell of the body.

The natural sweetness of the ingredients combined with the rich bone broth, the mild spiciness of ginger slices and pepper powder, multiple flavors intertwine and blend into a wonderful chemical reaction.

Just one sip has him utterly impressed by his craftsmanship.

"Damn, this is what deserves to be called a delicious congee!"