Chapter 42: Delicacies on the Tip of the Tongue (Part Two)

In his previous life, as someone who couldn’t enjoy a meal without spice, Chen Yu felt truly lucky today. To find two wild chili bushes in this small grove was a rare stroke of fortune.

He never considered transplanting them—it was too troublesome. Though called trees, these wild chilies were actually shrubs, making transplantation complicated and survival uncertain. Their roots were extensive; even losing a few root veins might be fatal, with no way to replenish the vital sap.

So, he simply noted their location. Two bushes would provide enough chili to last him a while.

Crushing, stirring...

Half a spoon of salt, a spoonful of soy sauce, a spoonful of fermented black beans...

Stirring, straining out the solids.

He reserved the pulp and poured the juice into the pot.

Chen Yu wasn’t just killing time; he was making a sauce following the recipe from memory.

A chili sauce.

Pure white, with the seeds from over a dozen wild chilies painstakingly removed, yielding only this small half bowl.

“If I think about it, frying it in oil would be best.”

But since these were not ordinary chilies, he wasn’t sure what flavor frying would bring—whether it would enhance the aroma or simply burn it. Reluctantly, he omitted that step.

“Ginger slices, cloves, star anise, peppercorns, peanuts...”

None of those were available.

Looking at the sauce before him, Chen Yu leaned in to sniff gently, not quite satisfied. As the saying goes, a clever housewife can’t cook without rice—and he was far from a clever housewife. Considering his limited ingredients, the sauce was already quite good.

Yet, the flavor still fell a bit short.

He could only admit it was passable. But thinking that despite scarce materials the aroma was rich and the spiciness fragrant without overwhelming heat, he stopped worrying and looked forward to the final dish.

The spicy aroma made his fingers itch.

A little sugar would make it even better.

With some regret, Chen Yu set the sauce aside and went to the stove to turn the wild boar meat.

This mountain produce, dried by the farmer, was tough and required thorough cooking.

Fortunately, it hadn’t been dried too long—only two or three months—so it wouldn’t need excessive fire. After about thirty minutes of boiling, the fat had rendered off, and the meat turned a reddish jujube color.

White spots edged the meat, indicating the fat was gone and it was fully cooked.

If it had been stored longer or frozen, the skin would show tiny holes all over.

Luckily, this meat was still fresh.

He grasped his chopsticks, pierced a piece of meat, stirred it twice, and looked it over. Satisfied, he placed it on the counter to cool.

Waiting for the fat to solidify again, to avoid the knife slipping when cutting.

---

Meanwhile, the chili sauce was not yet done; Chen Yu kept busy.

With the basic seasoning completed, it was time to chop vegetables. With chili sauce ready, the purslane could be dressed cold, offering a very different taste from before.

The blade was sharp, slicing back and forth through the vegetable stems, which were quickly placed on a plate. Another bunch was laid under the knife and chopped swiftly.

Both vegetables today were best cut into strips; too short would spoil the texture, so he worked quickly.

With just a few strokes, the task was done.

On the other side, having just added firewood and with the meat cooled, Chen Yu rinsed the iron pot.

Even after two washes, some grease clung stubbornly to the bottom.

The wild boar meat was darker than ordinary pork, with a stronger gamey smell. Cooking it straight after slaughter would leave a peculiar urine-like taste.

Of course, for someone starving, this would hardly matter. But neither the villagers down the mountain nor Chen Yu himself were at that extreme. Overall, the West Prefecture was stable. Though banditry was rising in Guang Yong, the chaos hadn’t spread widely to the countryside.

After all, these were simple peasants with little to gain from trouble.

So this wild boar had clearly undergone some processing after being hunted. Whether by traditional methods or not, Chen Yu detected no gamey smell, only a hint of grass and wood scent.

He wondered what herbs the farmers had used.

He flicked his finger and licked it.

His eyes widened—salted! Even the lowest-grade mountain salt, crudely made, was not easy to come by.

There were three types of salt: crude salt, coarse salt, and refined salt.

Temples used the second type. The first was also called sand salt—not because sand was mixed in, but the opposite. This salt was cheap and widespread.

Many common folk avoided eating it directly, using it instead for curing and preserving food.

It was even used in feeding cattle and horses—dissolved in water for the big beasts to drink.

Returning to the present, Chen Yu withdrew his finger and sliced the meat into strips.

Not too thin or fine; wild boar was only meant to add flavor. Too fine, and it would be hard to find when eating.

Ready, he poured some clear oil into the pot. The oil had a slightly bitter taste, but that was normal. Even at mountain inns, he hadn’t tasted oil as pure as in his past life.

A golden sheen spread across the pan.

As the temperature rose, tiny bubbles formed, sizzling and popping as water droplets hit the hot oil.

In went the wild boar meat.

Sizzle, crackle!

The noise was lively, and the aroma rich and inviting.

Chen Yu swallowed hard and kept stirring. Beside him lay the pre-cut fiddlehead ferns, ready to be added.

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He waited until the meat’s edges turned golden and even began to char slightly, then lifted the wok to pour out its contents.

Another round of stir-frying followed.

Fiddleheads couldn’t be overcooked; otherwise, they’d lose their crispness and become mushy.

He ladled in some well water. The steam hissed and danced before him.

Covering the pot, Chen Yu waited a moment, then lifted the lid.

A rich fragrance teased his senses.

He took the chili sauce, spooned a bit over the dish, added some more seasonings, stirred twice, then scooped it onto a plate.

Hot steam rose as he set it on the bench.

Next, he tossed the purslane into the pot, stir-fried it with the remaining oil and juices, then quickly removed it.

Two hot dishes were ready, along with a cold salad garnished with the bright-red chili sauce.

Chen Yu fetched three ladles of water, scooped some rice, and fired up the stove, flames licking high.

He covered the pot with a wooden lid and left it alone.

Carrying the three plates to the yard, the spicy aroma wafted around, spreading through the air.

It was late morning, already noon, and his stomach grumbled with hunger.

Without delay, he picked up his chopsticks, eager to taste his handiwork and the fresh chili sauce.

“Yo—”

His chopsticks paused mid-air. Looking down, he saw a curious young deer nearby, its large eyes fixed intently on the food.

Chen Yu sighed silently. The dishes were indeed fragrant, but you’re a deer—can you even eat this?

“Yo—”

Clearly, the little deer wanted a taste. Resigned, Chen Yu gently rubbed its head, then plucked a piece of the cold-dressed purslane from the plate where the chili sauce was scarce and tossed it over.

The deer caught it in its mouth.

Chewed.

Then leaped three feet into the air!

“Yo, yo, yo!”

Chen Yu watched in disbelief as the deer’s short tail wagged wildly while it hopped around the yard, tossing out the spicy greens.

Apparently, it was too hot for the deer.

Told you, you can’t eat this stuff, yet you had to be greedy.

Ignoring it, Chen Yu took a bite himself.

The more he chewed, the stranger his expression became.

Fresh, crisp, tender—none of that was lacking...

But it was spicy. No, it was too spicy.

Perfect to whet the appetite.

Unlike the greedy deer, he swallowed it down and found it quite delicious.