Culinary God in Wilderness

Hearing there would be barbecue, the eyes of all three lit up in an instant.

For North Americans, a weekend backyard barbecue was a major celebration. It was as if they held barbecues in the same high regard as the Da Xia People held going on vacation—the two were on equal footing.

Lin Chen had made some new friends when he first arrived in Toronto, but after attending two or three of these so-called barbecue parties, he gradually lost all interest.

Before he’d left the country, he’d imagined foreign parties to be thrilling, wild, and incredibly fun. The reality... was just a bunch of people lying on chairs or standing around, holding a cold beer or an iced coke, with some chips and snacks laid out, chatting the afternoon away.

And the barbecue?

’Heh.’

He didn’t even want to think about the taste of that stuff.

To put it bluntly, it was just plain, thick-cut steaks bought from the supermarket. They’d drizzle some olive oil on them, sprinkle on a pre-mixed barbecue rub—usually some combination of pink salt, black pepper, dried thyme, oregano, and garlic powder—and rub it in by hand a dozen times or so.

After "marinating," it was tossed onto a gas-powered outdoor grill, seared with crosshatch marks, then covered to cook for a few minutes. Then they’d open the lid, flip the steak, cover it again, and cook it to about medium or medium-well before slicing it up to be shared.

Admittedly, eating a four- or five-centimeter-thick steak provided a certain primal satisfaction, but the flavor was nothing to write home about. And if the "chef" was incompetent, the meat was too tough to even chew.

Besides steak, the things North Americans seemed to love most were smoked sausages or hot dogs, followed by Buffalo wings—which really just tasted like Tabasco sauce.

Beyond home barbecues, he had also been to a barbecue festival. That experience was a nightmare as well. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

He once waited in line for half an hour to buy some popular German-style barbecue: forearm-length skewers with chunks of meat the size of braised pork belly, with no powdered seasoning whatsoever. He took one bite and... yep, it got stuck in his teeth.

If he really had to pick a type of barbecue he enjoyed, he’d much rather choose a shawarma wrap, or maybe some Middle Eastern kebabs from around Turkey. At least those were flavorful and tender.

In any case, he just couldn’t understand what made these people so obsessed with such mediocre barbecue. ’Maybe it’s just laziness,’ he thought. ’The kind of laziness where you’re so unwilling to try new things you could eat the same food for a lifetime.’

"Let’s do it now, then. Andre will probably be here later, and I have to cook for him too. My schedule is a little packed today."

Seeing Lin Chen get busy, Robert and the other two readily started a fire in the yard, setting up the wooden frame and wire mesh grill that Lin Chen had used before.

Although they had never tasted it, as his round-the-clock observers, they knew exactly what kind of barbecue Lin Chen was talking about. It would be a lie to say they weren’t looking forward to it.

Lin Chen moved all the meat he had redeemed into the yard. He would let the production crew haul away the rest while they waited for the food to cook; he wasn’t about to expend an ounce of extra energy.

Once the fire was going, he didn’t rush to start cooking. Instead, he grabbed a handful of snow, melted it in a pan, and drizzled a little of the water onto a flat stone he had picked up from the riverbank.

He took out his combat knife, angled the blade at fifteen degrees, and began to sharpen it with back-and-forth strokes, holding it nearly flat against the stone.

After just a few moments of watching, Daniel raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So that’s how professional chefs sharpen their knives?"

Lin Chen’s motions weren’t perfectly straight; a closer look revealed a distinct arc hidden within them.

"Most of the time, the length of the blade doesn’t match the length of the whetstone, so you have to adjust your technique based on the stone’s shape."

As he pushed the knife forward, the motion looked like a straight line. But just as he neared the end of the stone, he added a small sweeping motion, instantly shifting the point of contact from the middle of the blade to its tip.

He used the same technique on the return stroke, sharpening the tip first before the point of contact moved back to the middle of the blade as he pulled it toward himself.

The part of the blade near the handle isn’t meant to be sharpened. Whether it’s a Chinese cleaver or a Western chef’s knife, that section is left unsharpened for heavy-duty tasks like chopping through bone or prying open cans. Sharpening it too thin would cause the edge to roll, and that was even more true for the combat knife he was holding.

His movements grew faster and faster, completing two full passes every second until his hands were nothing but a blur. The whole yard echoed with the SHICK, SHICK of the sharpening knife.

After about half a minute, he used the remaining water to rinse the blade, then wiped it clean in the snow.

The gleaming blade reflected the firelight, shimmering with a silvery brilliance. You could feel its sharpness just by looking at it.

He grabbed a leg of lamb, frozen solid. The blade slid through it as easily as a hot knife through butter, effortlessly carving off a long strip of meat from the bone.

This leg was from the young lamb, its meat exceptionally tender. The marbling was clear, and its surface was dotted with glistening white fat.

Even those who normally avoided fatty meat knew that a cut with such a perfect balance of fat and lean would be the most delicious when grilled.

After carving the meat off the leg bone, he handed it to Daniel, telling him to find a way to break it in two. They could use it later to make a lamb soup.

He cut the deboned meat into thumbnail-sized cubes and skewered them on thin branches, following a ratio of three lean pieces to one fatty piece.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to add more fat; it was a simple matter of not having enough to go around. By the end, he was left making skewers of pure lean meat.

"Each skewer is about a hundred grams. You’ll each get two. I’ll cook the rest of the meat differently."

"The most common method in Great Xia is charcoal grilling. The temperature is stable, and there’s no open flame, so the skewers don’t get blackened by smoke. The smoky flavor isn’t overpowering, but it imparts a rich charcoal aroma."

He picked out a few pieces of charcoal from the fire and piled them under the grill rack. He let the grate heat up for half a minute, only placing the lamb skewers on it once the wire mesh was scorching hot.

TSSS—

The moment the tender lamb touched the hot wires, it let out an alluring sound. That single note was enough to shatter the trio’s composure. Their eyes were glued to the skewers, and they began to swallow audibly.

Making a show certainly paid well, but the filming process was genuinely grueling.

Things had been better when they had a chef; at least then they got two decent meals a day. But ever since that hot-tempered guy left, everyone on the production crew had lost several pounds.

Instant noodles were tasty, sure, but not when you had to eat them for every meal, every day. After three days straight, the very thought was nauseating.

The air above the grill shimmered in waves. The searing heat cooked the lamb at a visible rate, causing it to change color. Faint, dark-brown grill marks began to appear where the meat touched the grate.

Lin Chen worked with both hands, grabbing four skewers at a time and flipping them quickly.

The fresh charcoal was burning fiercely, its surface still flickering with faint flames.

The first drop of juice trickled down the meat and dripped past the grate.

HISS~

A wonderful, meaty aroma rose with wisps of smoke.

Ariana took a deep breath, inhaling the smoky fragrance that wafted before her. Her swallowing grew more pronounced, and a loud RUMBLE of protest echoed from her flat stomach.