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While chopping the chicken meat, Jiang Feng faintly smelled the aroma emanating from the steamer, and upon lifting the lid, indeed, it was almost ready. He poked a row of tiny holes in the plastic wrap with a toothpick, then put the lid back on the pot and continued to steam over low heat.

Chopping chicken meat into mince requires patience, the finer the better. Though using a food processor to grind it is also feasible, the texture of minced chicken achieved with a knife is naturally better than what is pounded out. The tofu wasn’t ready yet, Jiang Feng still had time. Only twenty minutes had passed and no one had finished; there was no need for Jiang Feng to be overly nervous.

After chopping finely for another five minutes, the steamed egg tofu was ready to be taken out of the pot. Jiang Feng set the bowl of tofu aside to cool off, added a little oil to the pan, and began to stir-fry the chicken meat. While stir-frying the chicken, he added green onions, ginger, and garlic until fragrant, then quickly scooped out the big chunks of ginger and garlic, added the rest of the ingredients into the pot, and stir-fried them on medium heat. He added a little water, covered the pot, and waited for the water to boil on low heat.

Jiang Feng saw that someone had already finished.

He flipped the bowl upside down onto the cutting board and cut the egg tofu into even cubic chunks, discarding the corners. Jiang Feng placed the pale yellow and somewhat springy egg tofu onto a plate, quietly waiting for the pot’s broth to boil.

In less than two minutes, the broth in the pot began to boil. Jiang Feng hadn’t added much water because too much would turn the eight-treasure tofu into a soup. He poured the egg tofu into the pot, seasoned it, and thickened the sauce all in one go.

The dish was out of the pot, and Jiang Feng casually observed that fewer than ten people had finished. He had ample time to arrange the presentation. After two competitions, Jiang Feng’s plating skills had improved significantly. Besides, when the store wasn’t busy, he would also get bored and practice plating the eight-treasure tofu, so his movements were naturally very skillful.

Since it was served in a bowl, the area for plating wasn’t very large. He buried all the carrot granules at the bottom, moved all the peas to form a circle around the edge of the bowl, with mushrooms forming a circle inside the peas, ham sausage within the mushrooms, chicken inside the ham sausage, and tofu as the centerpiece, creating a sense of depth. Lastly, he stirred with chopsticks, allowing for a certain degree of blending between the colors. Jiang Feng looked at the bowl of eight-treasure egg tofu with satisfaction and complimented himself.

What a work of art!

Then he raised his hand to indicate that he had finished.

A staff member took the dish to the judges and pointed Jiang Feng in the direction where he should wait for the results.

The resting area was behind the square fountain, and because it was blocked by the fountain, the competition area was not visible.

Jiang Feng noticed that the crowd of onlookers outside the venue had greatly diminished. The elder who had been eating the deep-fried dough sticks had already left. After all, cooking, unlike singing and dancing, doesn’t have a high viewership or entertainment value. Without the edits, staging, narration, and passionate background music of a television broadcast, cooking isn’t all that interesting to watch.

Wherever one watches, it’s the same as going home and watching one’s own mother cook.

Of course, if the chef is particularly handsome like Zhang Guanghang, 1.92 meters tall, with long legs, French-Chinese mixed heritage, young and wealthy, that would be a different story.

Watching such a chef’s competition is no different from watching a ‘Boss’ idol drama; imagining oneself as the female lead makes it even better.

Mineral water was available in the resting area, along with a row of chairs. At first glance, there seemed to be quite a lot—seventy or eighty—but there were only nine people. Wu Minqi was there too, wearing headphones and seemingly watching TV.

Noticing Jiang Feng’s arrival, Wu Minqi put away her phone, took off her headphones, and asked, “What did you make that took so long?” “Eight-treasure tofu. The tofu was made on the spot. About how many people finished before me?” Jiang Feng asked.

“Not sure, I just finished too, right before you. The results aren’t out yet.” Wu Minqi replied, “I made Dragon Dumplings.’¹

“They have dumpling wrappers?” Jiang Feng was surprised that Wu Minqi would make Dragon Dumplings.

“No, but they provided fermented dough. I originally wanted to make the spicy-oil version, but the prepared chili oil wasn’t good, so I made the clear soup version instead,” Wu Minqi explained, “I remember you didn’t get to eat authentic Dragon Dumplings over the winter break. When we go back, I’ll make some for you. The chili oil my mom sent me just arrived.”

Considering the amount of chili and Sichuan pepper that Wu Minqi usually puts into her cooking, Jiang Feng roughly estimated the spiciness and numbness level of her family’s chili oil, and very prudently declined, “No, thanks, I’ve been having some stomach issues recently and can’t handle anything too spicy.”

“The oil-splashed hot sauce from my house isn’t spicy,” Minqi declared.

Jiang Feng certainly didn’t believe her nonsense, she had described the boiled fish that made him cry from spice in the same way last time, he didn’t believe a punctuation mark of the Shu people’s nonsense about spiciness!

Jiang Feng maintained a serious expression, his attitude firm, “Even if it’s not spicy, I think it’s better for me to eat less spicy food lately.”

Seeing his resolve, Wu Minqi could only give up, “Then I’ll make it for you when your stomach feels better.”

After saying that, she took out her phone, put in her earphones, and continued watching her TV drama.

“Is contestant number 39, Wu Minqi, here?” A staff member came over, smiling, and after Minqi raised her hand, walked over to her and congratulated her warmly, “Congratulations, ten red cards, please wait patiently for your score.”

The few people in the rest area all looked toward Wu Minqi, she nodded to the staff member and said thanks, then went back to watching her drama.

Jiang Feng sat next to her browsing forums and overheard her mutter, “These Dragon Dumplings are not as good as Mapo Tofu.”

Jiang Feng:…

Wang Hao had updated again; his posting frequency was already higher than that of many online writers, and he had a considerable reader base, with incessant activity in his posts every day, he even had fan groups. Jiang Feng, wanting to read the latest update, could only click to view the posts by the author in reverse order, he quickly skimmed the latest post, which was about the protagonist making fried golden eggplants in the preliminaries.

Leave the eggplants alone, they’re just purple children, Wang Hao’s writing had turned the eggplants into a different color altogether.

Jiang Feng read the latest update with feigned disapproval but genuine interest, it wasn’t much, and he finished in two minutes, right as the staff member came in: “Is contestant number 13, Jiang Feng, here?”

Jiang Feng raised his hand.

“Congratulations, nine red cards, please wait patiently for your score,” the staff member said.

Nine red cards was actually a good result, Jiang Feng wasn’t expecting first place, just hoping to advance, but there was a question on his mind for several minutes now, and he really wanted to ask the staff member.

“Hello, could you tell me how you selected these ten public judges?” Jiang Feng asked.

The audiences in the first two contests were mixed with both young and old, but this time they were all young people, he didn’t believe the organizers picked them randomly.

The staff member didn’t expect Jiang Feng to ask this and answered with a smile, “Quite simple, the requirements are high, they can eat, and they’re not picky eaters.”

Jiang Feng was at a loss for words.

The organizers were really considerate, huh!

They actually went out of their way to find ten people with hearty appetites.

A paragon of integrity in the industry!

*As an author with such integrity in the industry, how dare you accuse me of fluff