Culinary God in Wilderness

Back at the shelter, he felt like he had almost lost all sensation in his limbs. He hurriedly tossed a handful of tinder and twigs onto the embers, feeling a wave of relief only after the fire rekindled.

He cut off some lamb ribs, then scooped some slushy water from the parachute reservoir and set it on the fire to stew.

Winter was the perfect season for lamb, and a bowl of steaming hot lamb soup could get the blood flowing and warm him up in no time.

Exceptionally fresh lamb needed no seasoning at all; simply boiling it with ice water was delicious enough. Of course, adding some scallions or ginger slices could enhance the flavor even more.

With no other ingredients on hand, he grabbed a handful of dried mushroom slices, tossed them in, covered the pot, and let it simmer for twenty minutes.

To stew ribs until the meat was soft and falling off the bone usually took at least an hour, but he was working with lamb, so the meat was already quite tender.

After some time, he would add more water, let it reduce by half, fill it up again, and let it reduce by half once more. Then, it would be ready to eat.

It would have been much more convenient to use the stockpot, but it was currently filled with chunks of Bear Pork Belly and rendered bear fat. He had no choice but to use this method for his soup.

After more than forty minutes of stewing, the broth had turned a milky white, with glistening droplets of fat floating on the surface.

He picked up a rib. The pink, tender meat quivered with the movement, each individual fiber glistening.

HUFF... HUFF...

After blowing on it a couple of times, he bit down on the thickest part of the meat and tore it away from the bone.

The ribs weren’t stewed to the point of falling apart, so they still had a slight chewiness. As he tore the meat off, he could feel a slight resistance—the sinew clinging to the bone was putting up one last fight.

With a firm pull of his fingers on the bone, a large chunk of meat tore free.

Ribs were a relatively fatty cut, but they paled in comparison to the winter Bear Pork Belly. This tasted almost like lean meat—tender yet chewy. As he savored it, he could taste the unique fragrance of the lamb fat.

’Lamb fat is amazing for frying chili peppers, especially crushed dried red chilies. Afterward, you can store it in a jar. It solidifies naturally and has a very long shelf life. A spoonful in a bowl of noodles or lamb soup is just heavenly.’

Just imagining it made his mouth water, and he couldn’t help but swallow.

Even though he regularly managed to secure large amounts of protein, he had to admit it was all prepared plainly. After all, what plants could you even find in the forests of Alaska to make spices?

Common spices like chili pepper, black pepper, star anise, cinnamon bark, and cumin generally grow in tropical or subtropical regions. They all have specific requirements for temperature, humidity, and soil.

Alaska was near the Arctic Circle; it was a small miracle that cilantro and parsley could grow here at all. As for fruit, besides berries, most types were completely out of the question.

’Oh, right. Tomorrow I can go check the area where Andre found that cilantro. I’ll see if there’s any left. Lamb soup with cilantro would be perfect.’

The growing cycle for cilantro is about thirty to sixty days, with the exact time depending on the ambient temperature.

If possible, he wanted to try growing some indoors. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Da Xia People’s cuisine primarily uses the leaves of the plant. He used to think that was all there was to it, but after going abroad and learning about Western cooking, he discovered the spice known as coriander seed.

The facts about the plant surfaced in his mind.

What Da Xia People call cilantro is just the plant in its young, leafy stage, before it has flowered and gone to seed. Once it flowers, the whole plant becomes tough and unsuitable for eating, which is why you never see it for sale in markets after it has bolted.

If you harvest the mature fruits, dry them, and then hull them, you get coriander seeds. Ground up, they become one of the most common powdered spices in Western cooking.

And if you hulled the seeds without drying them first and then soaked them, you could plant them in soil to grow a new plant.

After enjoying the delicious, clear-broth lamb ribs and soup, he could feel his frozen body slowly warming up, and his mind grew active again.

A thought suddenly struck him, and he quickly realized something was off.

’That’s right... I don’t think I’ve ever heard of wolves attacking bears. Could it be they’re genetically wired not to mess with them, and instead prioritize hunting herbivores?’

’Musk Ox, white-tailed deer, wild hares, pheasants, Dai’s Plateau Sheep... Right, they’re all herbivores.’

Feeling like he was slowly getting somewhere, he realized how foolish it had been to use the bear carcass as bait in a sting operation.

Still, without definitive proof that wolves wouldn’t eat a Black Bear carcass, it was all just a theory.

’The carcass... the carcass... Wait, there’s a problem. They can only smell the blood. How would they know if the target is dead or alive?’

’If they can’t tell the difference, then to them, that scent just means an injured Black Bear. And an injured bear is hyper-aggressive. They would definitely choose not to risk it.’

’Right, right! That must be it!’

He slapped his thigh. ’Looks like if I want to lure them here, I have to use the blood of an herbivore.’

’Also, they’re nocturnal. They might be active during the day, but their combat strength and energy are much lower than at night. If I could find their den, it would be the perfect opportunity for a sneak attack!’

With his new plan adjusted, he laid out his survival strategy for the next few days.

’First, I still need to stockpile firewood and fill the storeroom as much as possible. Then, I need to hunt new prey. Dai’s Plateau Sheep or grouse would be good. Wild deer would be great, too. Oh, right, I also need to check around the bear carcass for any signs of spruce grouse.’

Besides land animals, he also wanted to see what he could catch in the Yukon River.

He currently lacked the means to redeem the "fish knowledge," so he could only rely on memory, trying to recall the information he’d researched before the competition began.

Besides the Red Salmon he was already sick of eating, there were coho salmon that migrated from August to September, and King Salmon, also known as Chinook, that migrated from October to December.

These were the species that swam upstream along the Yukon River to spawn in the freshwaters of Canada. The remaining species, like the Bering cisco and pollock, tended to stay near the river’s mouth.

The mouth of the river was too far from his location to be a consideration.

But the information about the King Salmon gave him pause.

King Salmon was the most famous of all salmon species. Its larger size and higher fat content resulted in a richer, denser flesh with a texture as smooth as butter. For salmon lovers, it was the irreplaceable pinnacle.

After being frozen at -20 degrees Celsius for more than seven days, any potential parasites within the King Salmon would be killed, making it safe to eat raw.

Even when cooked, its flavor was superior to other types of salmon.

’It’s almost November now. They should have already started their migration run. I wonder if they come in waves? Is it possible a batch already went through, mixed in with the schools of Red Salmon?’