Culinary God in Wilderness

No need to add anything to the pan. The pale, tender sheep intestines lay quietly on the bottom for a few seconds, then slowly began to render their fat under the searing heat.

When he cleaned the sheep intestines, he had deliberately left the fat inside. Back in the city, some customers might have complained it was too greasy.

But out here in the wilderness, it was a lifesaver. You couldn’t afford to get rid of it.

"People in North America don’t eat much offal, but it’s more common in Eurasia. Many European countries have dishes made with offal too."

"Of all the offal, intestines are the most difficult to clean and prepare. Because of their anatomy, if you don’t handle them properly, they’ll be completely inedible."

He explained to Andre while prodding the sheep intestines back and forth with his chopsticks to ensure they cooked evenly.

"Before the three steps I mentioned, there’s a special trick to cleaning fatty intestines. You have to turn them inside out, kind of like how you’d fit a piping bag or a plastic bag over a cup."

"Before rinsing them with water, you do an initial cleaning with something powdery—flour, starch, salt, even sand will do. If you have them, you can also add baking soda and vinegar. Scrubbing them this way significantly reduces the odor and gets them exceptionally clean."

"The intestines are coated with a layer of mucus, and these things help remove it quickly. Also, there are a lot of lymph nodes along the inner wall that you need to remove completely."

Andre nodded silently, looking as if it were all Greek to him. Lin Chen didn’t mind whether he understood or not; he was just saying it for the audience watching the camera.

’With so many viewers, there were bound to be some skilled cooks and some very curious people. What if they wanted to try cooking with intestines?’

"If you’re making this at home, you can pull off most of the fat from inside. That not only reduces the greasiness but also further lessens the intestine’s natural odor."

"For your first time, I’d recommend removing all the fat. There’s a thin membrane inside the intestine that you have to keep—it’s the main source of its texture."

"If you find you can handle the texture and flavor, then next time, you can leave a little fat in. That’s the real soul of the dish."

"Sheep and beef intestines have a relatively mild odor because the animals are herbivores. Pig intestines, on the other hand, have a very strong smell. I’d recommend starting with the easier ones; they’re much more approachable."

He rattled on, his hands never ceasing their work.

In just two or three minutes, the surface of the pale intestines was seared golden-brown, sizzling as fat rendered from both inside and out.

"This is about right," he said. "Next, I’ll add the rest of the offal and stir-fry it all until it’s fragrant."

Sliced thin, the cooked offal no longer looked so intimidating. In fact, it resembled normal meat, just with slightly odd shapes and colors.

Lin Chen expertly tossed the pan, sending the heaping mix of sheep offal flying through the flames. Waves of meaty aroma, mingled with the scent of the charcoal fire, drifted straight to Andre.

Once nearly all the moisture had been seared off and the mix began to give off a toasted aroma, he tipped the contents of the pan into the boiling sheep broth.

He then ladled a bit of hot broth into the pan to deglaze it, scraping up the flavorful residue and pouring it all back into the soup pot.

As soon as the seared offal was added, the color of the broth changed. The milky white soup gradually took on a pale yellow hue, and a visible sheen of oil floated to the surface.

He let it cook for another ten minutes or so before taking it off the fire.

He gave it a few stirs, parting the yellow fat on the surface to reveal the pure white, rich broth beneath.

The broth was now so white it looked like milk had been added. There was no trace of any off-putting smell—only a pure, rich aroma.

He took a few heaping chopsticks’ worth of the offal mix and placed it in a small pan, then ladled the broth over it until full and sprinkled a handful of cilantro on top.

"I didn’t add any salt, so have a taste first. You can salt it yourself. That sheep-fat chili oil makes it even better, but if you don’t like spicy food, just add a little."

Andre nodded eagerly, his face full of anticipation as he took the handle of the pan. He’d never imagined sheep offal could be made into such a fragrant soup.

Best of all, the process didn’t even look that difficult.

Ever since he’d picked up the grilling technique last time, he’d tried it himself several times. As long as he cut the meat into smaller pieces and flipped them diligently, the result was indeed much more tender and juicy than when he used to grill large chunks.

He wasn’t a butcher or a chef, so he couldn’t really tell the difference in texture between various cuts of meat. He just knew that the ribs, belly, loin, and hind leg were the tastiest parts.

Even with just that little bit of knowledge, he felt his cooking skills had improved significantly. At the very least, the barbecue he made now was much tastier than before.

’If he could learn how to make this hot offal soup, a dish complete with fat, water, protein, vitamins, and trace elements, wouldn’t this winter be absolutely wonderful?’

He didn’t rush to drink the soup. Instead, he first scooped up a thin slice of sheep liver—the only organ he could recognize.

The liver tasted no different from what he’d had before—a firm texture with a faint, gamy flavor. It was almost like eating regular meat.

Next was a relatively thick, triangular, unidentifiable piece, its surface webbed with visible blood vessels.

He took a tentative bite, and his brow furrowed instantly.

The flavor was completely different from meat. It was like biting into a water-logged sponge; the soft, squishy texture was a little hard to stomach.

The next piece looked the most normal. It had no strange textures or structures—it was just pure meat.

’Mm, this is the heart.’

After a couple of chews, he knew for sure what it was. Only the heart had that dense, springy meatiness.

Then came the strangest-looking piece, which resembled a rag cut into long strips.

He glanced at the pile of various organs on the wooden board nearby and immediately spotted the whole piece it had been cut from.

It looked like a sliced-open leather ball, the inside covered with what looked like gray, spiky leaves.

"This is... the sheep’s stomach?"

"Correct," Lin Chen said, having ladled out a small pan of the offal soup for himself. He sprinkled some sea salt over it, then added a dab of the congealed sheep-fat chili oil.

The moment the congealed red oil touched the scalding broth, it melted silently away. A thin layer of bright red chili flakes floated on the surface, a stark contrast to the rich white soup beneath.

He picked up a piece of offal with his chopsticks, dipped it in the soup to coat it with the red oil, and popped it into his mouth along with some cilantro.

Crisp, tender, dense, soft, springy—the various textures of the offal melded together in his mouth. As he chewed, the rich aroma of the sheep-fat chili oil gradually bloomed, its gentle heat perfectly enhancing the offal’s savory flavor.

The cilantro, in particular, was a masterstroke. Its potent fragrance, released by the heat, and its faint, sweet aftertaste instantly satisfied the ravenous hunger gnawing at him.