Immortal Takeout - Chapter 18

The appointed day arrived before Ta Nuo even realized it. Once again, he woke up early and dressed slowly. After a light spring rain, the air had grown warmer. He shed his bulky winter coat and put on a dark green nylon coach jacket instead.

His backpack was filled with snacks — fried dried fish. The small fish had been fried in oil, then sautéed with chili and perilla leaves until every trace of moisture was gone. You ate them whole, head and bones included. They were fragrant, chewy, and addictively delicious.

“My brother would be shocked if he knew I haven’t slept in for two days straight,” Ta Nuo thought cheerfully, grabbing a handful of dried fish and stuffing them into his mouth.

Even though he thought he’d been quick, by the time he arrived at Granny Miao’s house, she had already finished preparing the fish cake ingredients. He felt a little embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to help. But Granny Miao simply smiled and invited him into the kitchen.

“Nothing tastes better than home-cooked food,” she said warmly.

He nodded eagerly and followed her inside, lowering his head to discreetly wipe away the dried fish crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

Baked fish cakes didn’t look complicated — just minced fish, flour, seasoning, and finally baking them in the oven. But watching Granny Miao make them with her own hands, Ta Nuo quickly realized he had underestimated the task.

Contrary to his expectations, the preparation was incredibly meticulous and time-consuming, requiring enormous patience. Granny Miao used fresh, boneless croaker, each weighing about three pounds. She peeled off the skin, scraped out the flesh with a spoon, then chopped it finely with a knife until it became a sticky paste. Ginger was minced and pounded with a mortar and pestle to extract the juice, which she strained and mixed with pepper, salt, sugar, and other seasonings, then stirred into a large pot of thick chicken broth. The fish paste was seasoned and sweet potato starch was added — thicker than cornstarch, it gave the fish cakes their springy, tender texture.

“The meat mixture still needs one secret ingredient,” Granny Miao said, her eyes glinting playfully.

Ta Nuo’s eyes lit up. “I know! The secret is… love, right?”

Granny Miao laughed so hard she almost fell backward. Shaking her head, she revealed the true secret: diced pork fat. Adding it to the fish paste made the cakes even more fragrant and silky.

Ta Nuo was astonished. So cooking fish wasn’t just about fish — you could add so many unexpected things! Whoever first discovered this must have been a genius. But inheriting this recipe was no simple matter. He mentally jotted down notes, rubbing his face nervously. As expected, great delicacies demanded great effort.

Because Granny Miao’s fish cakes were almost entirely handmade, she left the heavy pounding of the fish paste to Ta Nuo.

He had been full of confidence — after all, he smashed dozens of clam shells every day. How hard could this be?

Fifteen minutes later, he was on the verge of tears.

Pounding fish paste was exhausting. Every inch had to be beaten with the back of a knife until it turned into a smooth, gluey texture that stuck together without falling apart. By the time he finished a single plate’s worth, his arms were shaking so badly he couldn’t even lift a cup of water.

But Granny Miao didn’t laugh. Instead, she gently massaged his aching arms, which only made him feel more embarrassed. He was a young otter — shouldn’t it be his job to handle the heavy work?

After much effort and more than a little procrastination, the first batch of baked fish cakes finally came out of the oven in the afternoon.

Granny Miao cut a small, steaming piece and handed it to Ta Nuo for a taste. It needed no extra sauce or garnish — the natural sweetness of the fish and the seasoning were perfectly balanced. It was springy, tender, and juicy. Just one bite filled his whole body with joy, and he had the sudden urge to clap his paws.

The flavor brought back a flood of memories: summer rivers, plump clams, the carefree days of his childhood. He longed to dive once more into cool, clear waters and let the current carry him away.

All the effort had been worth it.

Ta Nuo restrained himself and ate only half a plate. Fortunately, Granny Miao had prepared a generous amount. Despite her age and fading strength, she moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. Soon, the second and third trays of fish cakes were ready, filling the air with a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

A guest had arrived.

Ta Nuo hurried to open it. Standing there was a young woman he didn’t recognize. She squinted slightly as she looked at him, thick black-framed glasses perched on her high nose — perhaps her eyesight was poor.

“Hello,” Ta Nuo greeted politely.

Although the woman didn’t introduce herself, he recognized her scent immediately. Even if a fairy’s appearance changed after taking human form, certain traces remained. Humans often misunderstood this — thinking fairies could freely choose their looks. But that wasn’t the case.

Miss Cat nodded in greeting but didn’t speak.

Turning back, Ta Nuo told Granny Miao that a friend who wanted to try the fish cakes had arrived, then stepped aside to let her in. Miss Cat walked slowly, her steps unsteady, her right foot limping slightly.

Granny Miao came out of the kitchen with the last tray of fish cakes. She looked up at Miss Cat — and for a moment, seemed lost in thought.

Silence filled the room. Ta Nuo didn’t know what Granny Miao was thinking, but when she looked back up, her smile had returned.

“The grilled fish cakes are ready,” she said softly, her eyes crinkling into crescents. “They’re delicious. Please, have a seat.”

Without hesitation, Miss Cat walked over and took her usual seat at the table.

Granny Miao prepared a small, steaming fish cake for her, serving it in a translucent white porcelain bowl. The fish cake had been shaped like a tiny fish.

Miss Cat picked up her chopsticks and tried to lift the fish cake. Her movements were clumsy — it slipped several times before she finally managed to grab it. She said nothing, only chewed carefully once it reached her mouth.

“Is it good?” Granny Miao asked gently.

Miss Cat nodded. “Delicious.”

Granny Miao smiled. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes looked like the lines of an old tree. “That’s good,” she murmured.

Miss Cat’s eyes were red. Ta Nuo thought to himself — perhaps this was the first time Granny Miao had ever heard Miss Cat’s opinion of the fish cakes.

It really was a wonderful thing — to taste something so warm and delicious.