Gourmet: The Master Chef Just Wants to Leisurely Set Up a Stall - Chapter 37

“Here early, Chef He?” Zhao Xiaojing asked, noticing Chef He slicing radish chunks, and offered to help.

“No need, no need, I can handle this. I’m not good at much else—just focus on your tasks,” Chef He quickly stopped her.

“I just came to inform the manager. You seem well-adjusted here; there’s not much for me to explain. Today’s my last day, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“What will you do next?” Zhao Xiaojing inquired, sensing Chef He’s eagerness to leave.

“I plan to work as a housekeeper again. We thought since our child is older, one of us should stay close. But with school fees and living expenses, everything needs money. It’s hard to find suitable pay in a small place like Yang City.

For those of us without skills, working away from home to save for our children is all we can do. Coming back to tutor my child—it’s good if they don’t teach me instead,” Chef He chuckled wryly.

“When they grow up, they’ll understand their parents are self-reliant and hardworking for their sake. Those who strive for strength will never have a bad life,” Zhao Xiaojing earnestly reassured.

She resonated deeply with such circumstances; in her past life, she felt inadequate raising three kids alone, often feeling helpless. Yet, unlike her previous dependence, Chef He was managing far better.

“…Thank you, thank you!” Chef He paused, unsure how to respond, moved by the young girl’s comforting words.

Not wanting to intrude further, Zhao Xiaojing began prepping the defrosted pork belly, fish chunks, and duck meat—ingredients Sun Dehai planned for dinner.

The vegetable washers gradually arrived, asking how they could assist.

Chef Sun’s menu was already set: braised duck with radish, flavorful eggplant, braised fish chunks, onion pork belly, and stir-fried carrot slices.

Knowing this, the washers prepped the necessary vegetables before checking with Zhao Xiaojing.

Having inspected the canteen supplies earlier, Zhao Xiaojing decided to add another fried dish to boost her satisfaction score after lunch’s middling result.

She settled on fried chicken fillet, fried oyster mushrooms, and wood ear mushroom with yuba salad.

“Could you please wash the oyster mushrooms, wood ear mushrooms, and yuba? The mushrooms will be fried, while the yuba and wood ears will be for salad.” Uncertain about portion sizes for nearly three hundred diners, Zhao Xiaojing relied on the experienced helpers to gauge quantities.

“Frying again tonight, Chef Zhao? Let me wash extra!”

Present during Secretary Fan’s visit at lunch, they noticed the crab stick replenishment and knew Zhao Xiaojing excelled at frying.

During their own meal, they wanted to try the crab sticks but found them gone, fueling curiosity. Washing more meant a chance to taste tonight!

With Chef He’s assistance, preparing Chef Sun’s simpler ingredients finished swiftly.

When Sun Dehai arrived, he began with the fish chunks.

Meanwhile, Zhao Xiaojing sliced the defrosted chicken breasts down the middle, gently pounding them with the knife’s flat side.

She marinated them with scallions, ginger, cooking wine, and fresh spices, mixing thoroughly before setting aside.

Cutting the washed yuba into segments, she blanched it with wood ear mushrooms for two minutes before soaking in cold water.

She shredded the washed oyster mushrooms into strips, seasoned them with salt, and left them to drain excess moisture.

During downtime, she prepared crispy batter—a tablespoon of plain flour, two tablespoons of corn starch, a spoon of five-spice powder, two of Sichuan pepper powder—mixing with water into a yogurt-like thick consistency, then adding a spoon of oil.

Draining the soaked yuba and wood ears, she let them air dry.

Next, she set out a small basin and two large plates—beaten eggs in the basin, corn starch on one plate, breadcrumbs on the other.

One by one, she coated the marinated chicken pieces in corn starch, egg wash, and finally breadcrumbs, pressing gently.

By now, the oyster mushrooms had released plenty of moisture. She lightly squeezed them dry before tossing them into the batter.

Noticing time allowed, Zhao Xiaojing grabbed some peanuts.

Setting up a pot with oil, she started frying peanuts over low heat, stirring occasionally with a skimmer.

Once colored, she drained and spread them on a large plate to cool—a crispy addition to salads.

Though simple fare, lovingly prepared food always tastes better.

Turning up the oil heat, she fried the battered mushrooms over medium-low heat until slightly golden.

Next came the chicken fillets, similarly fried to a light yellow hue.

She seasoned both with mixed pepper salt blends—pounded together from the canteen’s available spices.

Then she dressed the drained yuba and wood ears with minced garlic, scallions, chopped chilies, hot oil drizzle, soy sauce, aged vinegar, sugar, Sichuan oil, cilantro, and peanuts—mixing well.

Estimating workers’ finishing time, she refried the mushrooms and chicken fillets until golden brown. Helpers cut the chicken into strips and sprinkled each dish with its secret seasoning.

Done. Exhaling deeply, Zhao Xiaojing noted that keeping pace in a canteen kitchen was crucial to meet dining schedules. Thankfully, she only handled side dishes; otherwise, she’d struggle.

Helpers carried the food out while Zhao Xiaojing checked on Sun Dehai—he’d just finished his main dishes and was making seaweed egg soup.

Once his large pot of soup was done and served, it was half-past six—time for workers’ dinner break.

With her tasks complete, Zhao Xiaojing turned her attention to the nerve-wracking satisfaction stats.

At six-thirty sharp, the numbers began fluctuating.

Prepared for another high-to-low pattern like lunch and reminding herself not to get complacent, Zhao Xiaojing was instantly alarmed by the results.

Satisfaction—20%? Not zero but negative? How come dissatisfaction translates to significant discontent?

Why was this happening? How were scores calculated?

Involuntarily frowning, Zhao Xiaojing felt on edge.