Culinary God in Wilderness

Lin Chen had saved the best parts for him: meaty lamb ribs, fatty lamb with clear marbling, and a tender leg of lamb.

These cuts, whether hot-potted, roasted, or boiled, were all absolutely incredible.

"In Western cuisine, the loin and small ribs are perhaps the most popular cuts of lamb, but Chinese cuisine is different. We can process each part according to its characteristics, wasting nothing and giving more value to its death."

After setting the two pots of meat to cook, Lin Chen went inside the house and brought out a few potatoes.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Seeing Lin Chen bustling about, Andre gulped audibly and felt it wasn’t right to just stand there foolishly.

"No rush," Lin Chen said, waving his hand. "How did you get here? Did you cross the river? I remember the surface wasn’t frozen when I went out this morning."

"Yeah, I took off my pants, boots, and socks, walked across, and then put them back on. That’s why I’m barely wet."

"You what???"

Lin Chen’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice rising a few notches.

"Crossing the river with bare legs and feet in this cold?"

’This old guy is a real badass!’

But on second thought, Andre was an American. While Utah isn’t considered that far north in North America, its latitude is similar to Hokkaido’s, so it still gets properly cold in the winter.

Besides, he’d grown up in the wild. A winter swim was probably no big deal for him.

What’s more, a survival expert like him wouldn’t be satisfied with just surviving in one place. He was bound to wander around, challenging his own limits.

"Actually, swimming in winter isn’t as cold as you’d think. It also builds up your body. Lin, I think you should give it a try too."

Andre said earnestly, "Look how skinny you are. You can’t even see any muscle on you. If you want to get through the cold of the Arctic Circle safely, a good physique is essential."

"As long as you warm up properly afterward, a little stimulation is actually good for strengthening your body."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it..."

Lin Chen gave a couple of perfunctory replies. He just couldn’t get over the mental block yet.

’People from North America grow up eating beef, and their genetics are different. They’re naturally taller and more muscular than Asians, so it’s normal for them to be more resistant to the cold.’

He held a small skillet, using a bark spoon to skim the floating lamb fat from the edge of the soup pot.

When drinking lamb soup, some people prefer the original flavor to better appreciate the freshness of the meat. But it was undeniable that chili oil made with lamb fat absolutely elevates the soup’s flavor by several levels.

At this thought, he suddenly looked up.

"If you’re bored and looking for something to do, do you remember where we found that cilantro last time? Go see if there’s any more around there."

’In my memory, cilantro that’s been hit by winter frost becomes exceptionally fragrant and sweet. That means it must be very cold-hardy.’

’Combined with what I know, I’m sure cilantro can survive at around minus five degrees Celsius, although its growth would stop completely.’

’Cilantro that can grow in Alaska, especially closer to the north, would have even more exceptional cold-hardy characteristics.’

"Cilantro? Okay. Should I get parsley too? Ah, never mind, why am I even asking? If I see it, I’ll bring it all back."

’Parsley?’

’That stuff’s cold-hardiness is even more ridiculous than cilantro’s; it can keep growing at minus ten degrees Celsius.’

However, with such a thick layer of snow on the ground, it would probably be impossible to find with the naked eye. He could only rely on his memory to get to the area where they found the cilantro last time.

Andre was gone for an hour.

By now, the sun was hanging high in the center of the sky, already showing a clear shift to the west.

’Based on the local sunrise and sunset times, it probably isn’t even noon yet.’

After an hour of boiling over a high flame, the lamb soup had turned completely milky white. Sesame-seed-sized droplets of oil dotted the surface; any larger ones had already been scooped into his small skillet.

Seeing that no more oil was floating up after waiting for a while, he figured he had skimmed enough and held the small skillet over the fire.

Aided by the fiercely burning Swedish torch, the liquid at the bottom of the pan quickly boiled and evaporated, soon leaving only a shallow layer of lamb fat.

He placed the skillet on the ground next to the torch to keep it warm, then took a moment to smash a few cloves of garlic and mince them into a paste.

Taking another small skillet, he poured in a suitable amount of chili powder and added the minced garlic paste.

"Lin, I’m back!"

Andre’s hearty voice carried over from a great distance. It sounded like he had returned with something.

"Got lucky. There were actually a few newly grown stalks of cilantro. Didn’t find any parsley, though. The snow is too thick. We can go look again after we eat."

In his hand was a thick bunch of cilantro piled up like a small mountain, about the equivalent of four bunches from a supermarket.

"That much?"

Lin Chen was overjoyed. He was a die-hard cilantro fanatic, especially for the frost-bitten kind, which tasted incredibly sweet, as if it had been sugared.

Adding a handful to the soup would not only enhance its flavor but also add a natural sweetness, which was far better than adding sugar.

He melted some snow in a skillet to make water, then added more snow to cool it down. After washing a handful of cilantro, he cut off the roots and tossed them directly into the lamb fat to steep.

"It smells so good."

Andre’s attention was quickly drawn to the two pots of milky-white, rich soup.

He never would have thought that in the time he was gone, the lamb soup would have turned this color.

"What did you add to it? Why is the color different from when I’ve cooked it before?"

"I didn’t add anything. This is the color from the fat being boiled out of the bones. The marrow is fat, and you need a high flame, or you have to crack the bones open."

Normally, it would take at least four or five hours to get a bone broth like this, but to save time, he had specifically used an Engineer Shovel to crack the lamb shank bones in half, allowing the marrow inside to quickly melt into the soup.

He stabbed a rib with his knife, and the tip went through with ease. The meat was so tender it almost fell off the bone with the slightest pressure.

"It’s almost ready."

He tossed the rib back into the pot. By now, the cilantro roots in the lamb fat had been fried until they were slightly blackened. He picked them out and discarded them, then poured a portion of the scalding lamb fat over the garlic and chili powder, stirring quickly. Once it was mixed well, he poured in all the remaining fat.

TSSSSSS

TSSSSSS

With two beautiful sizzles, the rich, mellow aroma of the lamb fat completely brought out the fragrance of the chili powder and garlic. A thick, delicious scent drifted over the entire yard.

Once the bubbles from the boiling chili oil slowly subsided, he ladled in a small spoonful of lamb soup, and a fresh wave of furious bubbles appeared.

He set the finished chili oil aside to cool, then brought over the lamb offal that he had boiled for half an hour and removed earlier. He cut a palm-sized piece from each type of organ.

The lamb liver, lungs, heart, and tripe were all thinly sliced and set aside. He cut the lamb intestines into small sections and was the first to toss them into a skillet to be stir-fried over high heat.