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With one bite, Wu Minqi frowned, “It’s a bit sweet.”

How could it not be sweet? This dish was originally made by Cao Guixiang to coax her grandson. Little kids like sweet and sour dishes, and the sweetness had to be strong. Cao Guixiang’s seasoning skills were so high that even though the Yun Chicken was sweet, it still tasted good. However, since Jiang Feng’s culinary skills were not as advanced as Cao Guixiang’s, what he made naturally seemed a bit odd.

“Are you making a children’s meal?” Wu Minqi asked, having also guessed that the dish was probably made specifically for children.

“The method for this dish was told to me by Zhang Zhiyuan. Do you remember Zhang Zhiyuan? He’s the junior from UAL University who visited Beiping a few days ago,” Jiang Feng passed the buck to Zhang Zhiyuan.

“The one from Guangdong Province?” Wu Minqi remembered Zhang Zhiyuan.

“That’s right. His grandparents are from Beiping. His grandmother used to be a chef at Yonghe House. He told me several months ago about a dish his grandmother made for him when he was a child—this dish I’m making now, called Yun Chicken. I thought it was quite interesting and wanted to give it a try,” Jiang Feng said. “Maybe I’m not skilled enough, but it always tastes a bit off to me.”

“It is a bit strange. Although it’s supposed to be sweet and sour, it doesn’t quite taste that way, too sweet,” Wu Minqi said and then went back to carving the watermelon.

Just as Jiang Feng was preparing to start his seventh Sweet and Sour Yam, Xu Cheng arrived with the photographer from the “Taste” magazine.

This time, Xu Cheng chose the kitchen as the interview location.

After yesterday’s interview, Xu Cheng had realized that no matter how relaxed Jiang Feng and Wu Minqi pretended to be on the surface in a relatively formal or unfamiliar environment, in reality, they both felt nervous inside.

Only Zhang Guanghang, perhaps due to his good looks and early fame, had experienced being chased and cornered by French journalists for interviews 10 years ago. Having seen the big storms, a mere exclusive interview didn’t make him nervous at all.

Xu Cheng thought that interviewing in the kitchen would make Jiang Feng and Wu Minqi relax, and also it would be perfect to taste dishes fresh out of the pan, allowing the photographers to capture them as well.

Three birds with one stone.

Xu Cheng let the three of them cook their specialty dishes while he asked questions from time to time, essentially interviewing all three at once.

As for Chen Xiuxiu, the article she wrote the day before was not up to standard, so now she was rewriting it in the hotel.

In the past, Editor Jiang had often diplomatically expressed disdain for Xu Cheng’s poorly written articles, and now it was finally his turn to be the one disdaining someone else’s work.

Editor Jiang and Deputy Editor-in-Chief Wang were also in the hotel, as they had more to do than Chen Xiuxiu. Not only did they have to finish organizing the interview recordings from last night, but they also had to polish Xu Cheng’s previous articles and do proofreading on the side.

Having the magazine’s editor and deputy editor personally proofread—the kind of clout that Xu Cheng, the boss, had.

Jiang Feng’s specialty dish was naturally the Sweet and Sour Yam, and he hadn’t used up today’s bonus for the Sweet and Sour Yam.

Wu Minqi chose Mapo Tofu. As a chef with a preference for strong flavors from Shu, her best culinary skills were usually hidden between the Sichuan peppercorns and chili peppers.

Zhang Guanghang’s choice was red wine braised lamb, a dish he was truly skilled at making, even though he used red wine that cost only 15 yuan per bottle.

With the help of master-level fire control and seasoning, Jiang Feng felt that the Sweet and Sour Yam he made today was extraordinarily smooth.

He also understood why the Yun Chicken he had just made turned out so smoothly yet ended up a failure—it was because he was in good form with whatever he made today.

Whether it was a success or not, everything was smooth during the cooking process.

Xu Cheng was beside Wu Minqi, watching her sprinkling Sichuan pepper and chili powder and felt his own stomach ache.

“I notice you tend to use heavy seasonings when you cook. Is it because of your personal taste?” Xu Cheng asked.

“Perhaps,” Wu Minqi said. “I believe such dishes need strong seasonings to give diners a sense of exhilaration.”

“You’re proficient in Sichuan cuisine, but actually, a large part of Sichuan cuisine isn’t spicy. Do you find it challenging when cooking those dishes?” Xu Cheng pressed on.

“A little, so I’m currently learning,” Wu Minqi replied.

“Have you thought about changing your current cooking style? Like not using such heavy seasonings.”

“No.”

Xu Cheng walked up to Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng was now using the method of frying sugar in oil for the Sweet and Sour Yam, allowing the yam to reach the perfect stringiness at the most suitable temperature and fire control, which tasted and felt significantly better than the method Jiang Huiqin had used, which was more about cutting corners.

This technique of frying sugar in oil, one of the unique skills of Shandong cuisine, was something Xu Cheng had heard of but never witnessed before.

It was the Jiang Family’s secret technique, and he would not ask too many questions.

“The main specialty of Taifeng Building is Shandong cuisine, right?” Xu Cheng asked.

“Right.”

“Then why do I rarely see sea cucumber dishes on the menu? From the perspective of managing a high-end restaurant, shouldn’t sea cucumber dishes, which have a high profit margin, be the specialty?”

“Because we can’t do them well,” Jiang Feng replied honestly. “My grandfather and Granduncle Weiming said that dishes that aren’t up to standard have no right to be on the menu. Once a dish is on the menu, it should be accountable to the customers.”

Jiang Feng, Wu Minqi, and Jiang Jiankang could not cook sea cucumber dishes. Zhang Guanghang knew a little, but his skills weren’t good enough either. Several furnace chefs recruited from outside could cook sea cucumber dishes, but only the relatively easy ones. Therefore, there were very few sea cucumber dishes on Taifeng Building’s menu.

Xu Cheng then moseyed over to Zhang Guanghang.

That’s how Xu Cheng wandered around the kitchen, with the three photographers taking shots from all sorts of strange angles and bizarre poses, capturing people, dishes, and people cooking dishes.

Wu Minqi’s Sichuan Tofu was the first to come out of the wok, followed closely by Jiang Feng’s Sweet and Sour Yam.

The piping hot Sichuan Tofu, with its aggressive spiciness and tingling Sichuan pepper aroma, was intimidating just to look at, yet it made one’s mouth water uncontrollably.

Jiang Feng knew all too well the Sichuan Tofu that Wu Minqi made without holding back – it was tempting, with its red broth and white tofu, and the lingering spiciness and numbing sensation that could leave anyone who couldn’t handle spicy food with an unforgettable experience.

The photographers hurried to take a close-up shot of the freshly cooked Sichuan Tofu on the table.

Xu Cheng scooped up a spoonful of Sichuan Tofu and took a bite.

Over the years, he had eaten many strange things, both delicious and disgusting, even raw pork dipped in mustard, but those were the days of his youth.

After eating this mouthful of Sichuan Tofu, Xu Cheng deeply felt that he was getting old, and his stomach could no longer withstand such torment.

“Water.” Xu Cheng didn’t dare to speak, in case the spicy oil choked him.

After drinking a cup of water, Xu Cheng felt himself come round.

The spiciness was washed down by the water, but the numbing sensation still lingered in his mouth.

Xu Cheng savored it a bit and actually thought it wasn’t bad.

Even though it was a bit too spicy and numb, but with a little reflection, one could experience the exhilarating pleasure that Wu Minqi spoke of.

“Would you like to try some?” Xu Cheng invited the others.

The photographers shook their heads like rattle-drums; they had no desire to court death.

Xu Cheng scooped up another spoonful of Sichuan Tofu.

Into his mouth.

Ah, that’s the feeling, spicy and numbing.

“Water, water!”