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Chapter 15 - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Food That Makes People Happy

Beep!

The oven finally reached the target temperature of 160°C. On the stove, the

red wine and water in the cast iron pot had already reached a boil. Wrapping

the hot edge of the pot with a towel, Xia Yu lifted it carefully and slid it

into the oven.

He shut the oven door with a soft click, set the timer for 30 minutes, then

turned back to the kitchen counter—completely ignoring the two kitchen helpers

staring at each other in shock, and Chef Kasumigaoka, whose eyes were glued to

the timer in disbelief.

"Thirty minutes?" one of the helpers whispered.

"That's impossible! We followed the standard process, and I didn't see him

do anything special to the beef. How can it be ready in half an hour? Normally

it takes at least an hour, sometimes two."

Chef Kasumigaoka frowned deeply as he listened to their murmurs.

What did he do differently?

From the moment Xia Yu began cutting the beef, Kasumigaoka mentally replayed

each step like a slow-motion reel. Suddenly, a realization flickered across his

mind.

Could it be... the knife work?

Regardless of the speculation behind him, Xia Yu was already focused on his

next task. He tossed mushroom slices into a pan of melted butter and began

sautéing them.

Time flew by quickly. With a soft ding, the oven chimed again. Xia

Yu moved smoothly, pulling out the cast iron pot and pouring the fragrant stew

into a separate pan. He skimmed the foam and grease off the surface with

practiced precision.

This was the fat-removal step. For a richer flavor, he could adjust the

seasoning afterward with more salt and pepper.

Once the soup was skimmed and clarified, he brought it back to a boil,

poured it into the cast iron pot once more, and added the sautéed mushrooms.

The stew continued simmering gently on the gas stove.

In fact, many Western restaurants would end the preparation here—covering

the pot and storing it in the fridge until the next day. That way, when diners

ordered the dish, it only needed reheating.

After all, a traditional Burgundy beef stew takes upwards of four hours to

prepare. Which restaurant guest would wait that long?

Clack clack clack...

The silver kitchen knife danced across the chopping board. With a few final

flicks, Xia Yu scooped up freshly chopped parsley and sprinkled it across the

dish. The finishing touch gave the stew a burst of green freshness.

And with that, the Burgundy beef stew—rich in color, aroma, and flavor—was

complete.

"Food's up—!"

Xia Yu pulled off his apron and chef's hat, casually calling over to the

helpers.

The aroma of the dish exploded the moment it was plated. The kitchen filled

with the intoxicating scent of stewed beef, red wine, and herbs. The two

kitchen helpers swallowed hard, their stomachs growling.

Xia Yu noticed their dazed expressions and chuckled as he washed his hands.

"There's a little extra in the pot. The plates couldn't hold it all. Want a

taste?"

Their eyes lit up like lanterns.

"Really?"

"If you don't want it, I'll eat it. I've got a big appetite. Never enough

food for me..."

"We want it!"

One of them scrambled to grab two forks and handed one to his companion. The

two of them gathered around the cast iron pot like starving wolves, the

fragrant steam making their mouths water.

Plunk.

A fork pierced a chunk of beef with barely any effort.

The surface gave way slightly, and a stream of rich, golden-brown broth

gushed out from the puncture. The meat looked impossibly tender.

"So soft... and juicy? But it was fried, boiled, and baked—how is

it still this elastic?"

Chef Kasumigaoka couldn't look away.

When the beef reached their mouths, the helpers' expressions changed—shock,

delight, then a kind of reverent awe, like pilgrims gazing up at a holy

mountain.

Unable to resist, Kasumigaoka found his own fork and knife. He cut a modest

piece, brought it to his mouth, and let it rest on his tongue.

An explosion of flavor immediately spread across his palate. The robust

meatiness hit first, followed by the deep sweetness of red wine, mellowed by

aromatic herbs.

He chewed slowly, savoring every note, until the beef nearly melted in his

mouth. The lingering broth was thick, comforting, and packed with umami.

Gulp.

As he swallowed, a sudden warmth bloomed in his chest. His eyes widened in

surprise.

Why… why does a single bite make you feel this good?

Starlight Revolving Western Restaurant

Across the dining room, three male diners were growing impatient.

"It's been an hour! Where the hell is our beef stew?" a bald man barked,

rolling up his sleeves. "This is outrageous! I'm giving this place one star.

Terrible service!"

A few tables away, two young Chinese women sat quietly.

"Food bullies are the worst," one of them muttered.

The round-faced girl took out her phone and posted to Weibo: "Ugh.

Terrible luck today in Ameyokocho, Tokyo. Ran into some infamous restaurant

hecklers. The chef nearly got kicked out. But on the bright side, I met an

interesting little brother~ 😊"

Her friend tugged her sleeve. "Hey—the food's here!"

The girl quickly put her phone away and looked up in anticipation.

Six white porcelain plates were carried out of the kitchen and placed neatly

on two tables—three on the rowdy men's side, three on theirs. The steam curled

up like a dream.

The moment the food hit the table, all complaints ceased.

"The color and aroma are amazing!" the round-faced tourist gasped, grabbing

her knife and fork.

She cut a corner of beef, brought it to her mouth, and froze mid-chew. Her

eyes widened.

"So soft... the flavor is incredible! I've never had beef this tender in my

life! How did they make this?!"

She turned to the kitchen helpers nearby, her eyes brimming with excitement.

"And the texture! After all that cooking, the beef isn't dry or crumbly at

all—it's silky and smooth! With that broth… I feel like I'm floating!"

Her joy was contagious. But then she paused, realizing something.

"Oh no... This is Japan. And those helpers probably don't speak Chinese..."

One of the young helpers stepped forward and said in heavily accented

English, "Sorry, ma'am. This dish was not made by Chef Kasumigaoka."

The girls blinked.

"…Was it that little brother from earlier?"

They exchanged stunned glances, then looked down at their dishes again.

They had tried Chef Kasumigaoka's version earlier that day. It was

good—above average, even, compared to most Western restaurants.

But this…

This was in a league of its own.

 

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