The Game of Life-Chapter 724 - 723 Chicken Bean Flower’s Debut

Chapter 724: Chapter 723 Chicken Bean Flower’s Debut

In today’s big environment, there are no walls that don’t let the wind through.

When the top-floor restaurant was still in preparation and hadn’t opened yet, they managed the confidentiality so well, yet true or false information still came out through various channels. By the time they officially announced the opening and the information about the head chef, every somewhat famous restaurant in Beiping had already gotten a general idea of the situation.

The news about the Taifeng Building’s Grand Summer Banquet could not be kept secret either, especially since Taifeng Building hadn’t tried to hide it, only that they were too lazy to promote it.

Almost the day after the invitations were sent out, all the restaurants in Beiping knew that Taifeng Building had poached Sun Maochai. In order to let this nationally renowned master of Cantonese cuisine make a dazzling debut, they specially arranged a Grand Summer Banquet to compete with the top-floor restaurant.

Yes, in the eyes of outsiders, the Grand Summer Banquet at Taifeng Building was held specifically to introduce Sun Maochai, so the focus was all on Sun Maochai. The analyses were all about Sun Maochai, and those inquiring about the banquet’s menu were primarily interested in the Cantonese dishes, completely overlooking the other three chefs surnamed Jiang.

Because no chefs or other restaurant owners were invited, those who couldn’t taste could only watch the excitement. Most Chinese restaurants in Beiping were just watching the drama, waiting for Taifeng Building and the top-floor restaurant to have their showdown. Those with better relations with Taifeng Building, like Yonghe House, and in particular the back kitchen staff who now had a collegial relationship with Jiang Feng, were genuinely hoping that Taifeng Building would take the opportunity of the Grand Summer Banquet to firmly hammer the top-floor restaurant, to let them know that playing away games isn’t that easy.

And what about the top-floor restaurant, the center of attention among those eating melon seeds?

Or perhaps, what was Chef Arno, the core of this drama, doing?

He didn’t care at all about the Grand Summer Banquet at Taifeng Building, nor did he take Sun Maochai seriously. These few days he went about his regular business, earning every penny without doing any extra work. On the other hand, Rolan, the former head chef who spent the grocery money with the heart of a contraband dealer, reported the matter of the Grand Summer Banquet to the boss across the ocean while Chef Arno wasn’t around.

The boss took it seriously, with several other traditional Michelin-starred restaurant branches already selecting locations and finalizing chef candidates. It was a critical moment; he had put down so much money without seeing returns yet and did not want to fail on the road to victory. But his concerns were inconsequential; being in Beiping would do him no good. Even if he were in Beiping, it would still be useless; Chef Arno simply didn’t listen to him, continuing to do as he pleased, paying no mind to the Grand Summer Banquet or Sun Maochai.

On the evening of June 8th, at 6 p.m., Chef Arno stayed in the kitchen as usual. Although he didn’t go outside to check, he noticed that the customer flow seemed to be quite a bit less than usual today.

Arno stopped Tao Shu, who was passing by, and in somewhat broken but understandable Chinese that sounded rather harsh, he asked, “Is Taifeng Building’s Grand Summer Banquet today?”

Tao Shu was startled; his first reaction was to wonder if he had done something wrong, as the head chef was scolding him in Chinese. He feared he might be fired. It took him a few seconds to realize that although Chef Arno’s tone sounded like he was scolding someone, he actually wasn’t, and he immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, it’s today,” Tao Shu said.

Chef Arno nodded, said nothing further, and Tao Shu hurriedly left the area.

From a distance, Rolan saw that Chef Arno was not busy and quickly walked up to him, speaking quietly in English, “Mr. Arno, I think we should pay attention to Taifeng Building’s Grand Summer Banquet. As you can see, we have lost a lot of customers tonight because of it.”

Chef Arno replied somewhat impatiently, “That’s because they invited those customers, and the customers accepted the invitation to go there today. If we held a similar banquet and invited customers, they would come here just the same.”

“But they have invited Sun Maochai.”

“He’s just a defeated foe,” Chef Arno said with disdain, “Apart from that person, no one can take customers from me.”

Rolan: ?

Why did the atmosphere suddenly become so chuunibyou?

“That person?” Rolan asked.

As if he hadn’t heard Rolan’s words, Arno said, “To think that calling Sun Maochai would snatch away my customers, the owner of Taifeng Building is really underestimating me. Unless Jiang Feng calls his master over, they can forget about it.”

“Mr. Peng is already a hundred years old, so he probably won’t come out of retirement, right? He hasn’t personally cooked in his own restaurant for many years,” said Rolan, somewhat puzzled as to why Arno was always so confrontational with the young chef he had never met.

“What do you know? Chinese history books and some other books have written that old folks always favor their youngest sons, and masters are always fond of their last disciples. Taifeng Building is his family’s restaurant; as long as they are pushed into a corner, if he asks for help, he will definitely get support,” Arno rattled off several ‘he’s, leaving Rolan completely confused.

Before Rolan could react, Arno seemed to remember something infuriating, walked over to an assistant cook with an unsatisfied face, and started cursing him in a mix of French and English for not even being able to handle pancakes.

In the kitchen of Taifeng Building, Jiang Feng was making chicken douhua.

The game was still upgrading. With the Appraisal Skill unusable, Jiang Feng couldn’t visually judge the quality of the dishes he made, so he had to rely on his own not-so-reliable taste buds to select what he thought was the best pot from the myriad of delicate broths, of course, taking into account the opinions of three chef leaders.

Chicken douhua was a dish, and the only dish Jiang Feng had at the Midsummer Feast. Wang Xiulian, to prevent Jiang Feng from being distracted by other things, had specially removed Jiang Feng’s menu from the Ordering System. He only needed to make these 51 servings of chicken douhua tonight, and the rest of the time he could do whatever he wanted—even sitting at the cold dish window with binoculars peeking at the expressions on the customers’ faces was an option.

Jiang Feng was feeling somewhat nervous.

He had successfully made an S-grade chicken douhua on his first try, which could be considered the smoothest dish he had ever made. With the game upgrading and unable to see the dish ratings, he knew it was unlikely but still couldn’t help worrying that making an A-grade chicken douhua this time wouldn’t trigger the buff; he always couldn’t help but have all sorts of thoughts.

Although his mind was racing uncontrollably, his hands and senses were still reliable. Up until the moment the chicken douhua was about to come out of the pot and take shape, Jiang Feng felt everything was going smoothly, yet he was still nervous.

The dish was complete.

It was almost 7 o’clock, too.

Jiang Feng didn’t move.

He wanted to try it first.

Even though tasting it was pointless, he wouldn’t be able to redo two pots even if it didn’t taste right, but he just wanted to taste it now, no, he should say he was a bit scared to serve the chicken douhua, using the excuse of wanting to taste it first.

Jiang Feng felt that he might have become too reliant on the Appraisal Skill, to the point that not seeing that big S-grade on the dish made him lack confidence in his own cooking.

“Feng, what’s wrong?” Jiang Weiming noticed Jiang Feng staring at the pot of chicken tofu without moving and hurried over, fearing something had gone amiss.

“No… nothing.” Jiang Feng said.

“Nervous?” Jiang Weiming could tell why Jiang Feng had suddenly stopped.

“A little.” Jiang Feng admitted honestly.

Jiang Weiming looked at the pot of chicken tofu: “The shape is intact, the surface is tender and smooth; it looks fine enough to pass off as the real deal. We’ve all tasted the clear soup as well, a top-notch work, there shouldn’t be any problem, scoop it into bowls.”

These words from Jiang Weiming gave Jiang Feng the confidence he needed. He too thought the pot of chicken tofu looked fine if only lacking the confidence that came with an ‘S’ grade, but now that Jiang Weiming had bolstered his confidence, Jiang Feng began to fill the bowls.

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The small bowls for serving the chicken tofu had been carefully selected by Wang Xiulian; they could not be too luxurious, nor too simple. The small bowls had no particular pattern and their design wasn’t unique, but they appeared very comfortable and carried an air of sophistication, perfectly complementing the understated luxury of the chicken tofu inside.

“Feng, is the chicken tofu ready? Sister Ji Yue said we can serve the dishes now, they are preparing to clear the tea snacks,” shouted Sang Ming.

“Ready, I’m plating now, give me two minutes!” Jiang Feng shouted back.

As a skilled plating artisan, Jiang Feng’s plating was both quick and good. The chicken tofu needed no extra garnish; all that was required was for it to make people think of tofu at first glance when brought to the table.

Jiang Feng couldn’t ensure every bowl of tofu was identical, only that they were roughly the same. The shapes were varied, but when the bowls of chicken tofu were stacked together, they truly resembled bowls of casually served tofu, if a bit small.

The chicken tofu was passed through the serving window, and under Ji Yue’s supervision, several beautiful waitresses temporarily reassigned from the second-floor private rooms carefully brought them to each customer’s side.

The dish was served first, no one spoke.

Seeing the dish arrive, diners paused their conversations and began to examine this seemingly ordinary bowl of chicken tofu.

Because they didn’t know the menu in advance, basically everyone’s first reaction was, why was Taifeng Building serving tofu as the first dish, and without any accompaniments?

But most guests present were accustomed to gourmet foods and wealthy individuals; they quickly realized what it was.

“This is chicken tofu, right?”

Then that person hastily took a taste: “It really is chicken tofu.”

Even the connoisseurs who had seen it all were stunned, exclaiming, “It’s actually chicken tofu; it really had me fooled at first glance.”

“To have such a convincing mock chicken tofu, I really didn’t expect this!”

“If you hadn’t said it, I really wouldn’t have guessed it was chicken tofu. I was just wondering why tofu was served as the first course.”

Words of amazement rippled through the room.

Someone casually asked a waitress standing by, “This chicken tofu was made by Sir Jiang, right?”

“Do you mean Chef Jiang? No, today’s chicken tofu was made by Master Jiang Feng,” the waitress explained.

At this, the person who asked the question was taken aback. While Jiang Feng’s Sweet and Sour Yam, a buff dish, was popular, he was not as famous as the two Sirs. There were too many chefs surnamed Jiang at Taifeng Building, all from the same family; many diners couldn’t distinguish between them, with some even unable to differentiate the two Sirs, only remembering the surname Jiang.

“Jiang Feng?” the person muttered, clearly a stranger to the name.

“Old Qian, what are you doing? Eat up, the dish has been served,” someone beside him nudged him.

Only then did Old Qian realize that at some point, everyone had fallen silent, bowing their heads to eat the chicken tofu. Their actions were uniform, no one spoke, and thus he felt quite out of place with his previous loudness.

“Hey, why is everyone…” Old Qian started to ask the person next to him, only to find they had become like everyone else, ignoring him and focusing on their food.

Shaking his head, Old Qian thought it was odd how everyone seemed bewitched, and he scooped a spoonful of chicken tofu.

The moment it touched his tongue…

An indescribably delightful flavor.

!!!

In an instant, Old Qian forgot everything else.

He stopped wondering who Jiang Feng was, why everyone had fallen silent.

Because he too became silent.

Eating, just eating!