AGN -Chapter 144 Three-Layer Duck

That evening, Huang Shengli gave Qin Huai a real taste of the treatment a “genius” deserved.

In the afternoon, Qin Huai had made fermented wine mantou, three-dice buns, five-dice buns, and dried tangerine peel tea. The chefs in the back kitchen crowded around to watch, eating as they watched, and praising him wildly while eating.

By the time the evening service began, it turned into Huang Shengli and Qin Huai sitting together drinking tea while everyone else in the back kitchen busied themselves with work.

Even Zheng Siyuan, who had been drinking tea all afternoon, started working.

No misunderstanding—he wasn’t taking over Qin Huai’s white-case work. Instead, he was stepping in for the stove chefs, cooking simple dishes that required wok tossing.

Zheng Siyuan’s red-case skills were decent. He couldn’t handle elaborate banquet dishes, but simple home-style dishes and basic wok tossing were within his abilities. Diners wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and no complaints would arise.

Qin Huai and Huang Shengli sat together, each holding a bowl of dried tangerine peel tea. Qin Huai had spent the whole afternoon making pastries, so it was time for him to reward himself with a warm bowl of tea and enjoy the rare comfort of “others working while he rested.”

Huang Shengli, on the other hand, simply found the tea delicious and warming, and had already drunk several bowls.

“Xiao Qin, did you learn this dried tangerine peel tea from that pastry compendium you mentioned?” Huang Shengli asked. “At first glance, it seems ordinary—just dried tangerine peel and white fungus with lotus seeds—but it tastes quite unique.”

“This is a recipe given to me by an elderly gentleman in our neighborhood—the same one who gave me the fruit pastry recipe,” Qin Huai explained. “When he was younger, he knew some famous chefs and purchased a few recipes he liked from them.”

Huang Shengli felt he had finally heard a reasonable explanation. Smiling, he finished the last of his tea in one gulp, let out a small burp, and silently sighed that he had overindulged today despite his age.

First fermented wine mantou, then dried tangerine peel tea—he had eaten and drunk too much in one afternoon. It was time for him to show his skills and prepare a proper welcome banquet for Qin Huai, and also move around a bit to help digest.

Huang Shengli stood up and casually asked, “Xiao Qin, do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Qin Huai paused. “No particular restrictions. I eat everything, just not very spicy.”

“That’s good. Any food allergies?”

“None.”

Huang Shengli began loosening his wrists, twisting his waist carefully, stretching his hands, and feeling as though he had regained some of his youthful vigor.

Time to start.

With an energetic stride, Huang Shengli headed toward the stove area, causing a bit of chaos in the kitchen.

Huang Jia saw his master suddenly rush into the kitchen and thought a dish had been complained about. He frowned and quickly scanned the recent orders—only to see Huang Shengli pick up a wok spatula.

“Master, what are you doing?!”

“What else could I be doing?” Huang Shengli said. “Xiao Qin just arrived today, of course I’m cooking a couple of my signature dishes to welcome him!”

Huang Shengli had already planned the menu and even coordinated ingredient prep with Dong Shi in advance, catching Huang Jia completely off guard.

“Master, your back isn’t suited for cooking right now. Why not rest for a couple of days and go to the hospital to get it checked?” Huang Jia urged earnestly.

“It’s fine. I’m only cooking two dishes,” Huang Shengli insisted.

“Master, the ingredients are already prepared! Look at this fish—aren’t the knife cuts beautiful?” Dong Shi added.

“Dong Shi, why didn’t you tell me in advance that Master was going to cook!” Huang Jia glared at him.

“Senior Brother, Master said he’d only cook two dishes. Just let him cook. Didn’t the doctor say occasional cooking is fine?” Dong Shi pleaded.

“Can that situation be compared to now? His condition hasn’t been good these past couple of days. If he were fine, I wouldn’t object at all,” Huang Jia refused to budge.

Sizzle.

While Dong Shi and Huang Jia were arguing, Huang Shengli had already tossed the ingredients into the wok and started stir-frying in hot oil.

Huang Jia: “……”

In the end, Huang Jia stood by with a spatula, watching Huang Shengli closely to ensure he didn’t get carried away and cook too much, risking back pain the next day.

Standing at the kitchen entrance with a bowl of dried tangerine peel tea, Qin Huai watched the scene unfold in amazement. The rest of the kitchen staff were already used to it and focused on their own tasks. Even Huang Shengli’s son, Huang Anyao, stood aside watching instead of intervening.

Qin Huai wasn’t familiar with Huang Anyao; they had only met briefly online. But earlier in the afternoon, Huang Anyao’s enthusiastic praise had left a deep impression on him.

“Is Chef Huang’s back really okay for cooking?” Qin Huai asked with concern.

“It’s fine,” Huang Anyao replied calmly. “Long hours at the stove aren’t ideal, but occasionally cooking a couple of dishes is no problem. My dad’s discomfort came from going fishing the past few days—sitting too long without movement. Moderate activity is actually good for his back.”

“The reason Senior Brother reacted so strongly is that my dad used to use ‘just cooking two dishes’ as an excuse, but once he starts, he can’t stop—and ends up complaining of back pain the next day.”

“Senior Brother?” Qin Huai caught the keyword.

“I learned cooking from my dad when I was young, so we all call each other senior and junior brothers,” Huang Anyao explained. “But I don’t have the same talent as Zheng Siyuan, and my dad isn’t the type who insists his son inherit his craft. I didn’t have the talent for it and couldn’t handle the hardship, so I stopped after a year or two.”

He smiled, watching Huang Shengli at the stove. “Ah, my dad is making ‘Three-Layer Duck’!”

Huang Anyao glanced at the prepared ingredients nearby and began listing dishes with shining eyes: “Squirrel mandarin fish, crab roe tofu, eight-treasure chicken, scallion oil eel, Bi Luo shrimp, crab roe lion’s head, braised shredded dried tofu, stewed silver carp head… and shrimp.”

He swallowed involuntarily.

Qin Huai: “……”

As the young heir of Huangji Restaurant, why do you seem just as undisciplined as my sister?

“What is Three-Layer Duck?” Qin Huai asked, genuinely uninformed.

“It’s a dish made by deboning a domestic duck, a wild duck, and a pigeon completely, nesting them one inside another in three layers. Between the layers, fillings like shiitake mushrooms, ham slices, and bamboo shoots are added. The skins must remain intact throughout the process. Then it’s slowly braised over low heat. Visually, it looks like a duck with three heads.”

“It’s especially suitable for autumn and winter nourishment. You get a blend of three poultry flavors in one dish, with seven layers of taste. From the outer layer to the inner, each layer offers a different flavor, and when combined, they form a unified whole. You have to eat from the outside inward, gradually—each bite becoming richer and more flavorful.”

“My dad always says Three-Layer Duck must be braised over low heat until the outer shape remains intact, the broth is clear, but the inside is tender and falling apart.”

“Only when it achieves softness, glutinous texture, richness, aroma, crispness, and freshness all together can it be considered a proper Three-Layer Duck.”

“It’s no longer on the menu now. My senior brother hasn’t mastered it well enough. My dad says cooking must never be sloppy—especially for complex, high-end dishes. If it’s not good enough, it shouldn’t be served at all.”

“My dad can make it, but it’s too time-consuming. Back when it was our signature dish, we used to sell 70–80 portions a day, and still couldn’t meet demand.”

“Now he only makes it occasionally for weddings or longevity banquets for regular customers, when his health allows. I haven’t had it in months.”

It was clear Huang Anyao was genuinely craving it.

“Really,” Qin Huai said, though he didn’t fully understand—but after hearing that, he also found himself anticipating it.

“Good thing I didn’t eat much this afternoon,” Qin Huai thought.

Huang Anyao: “……”

He had eaten one fermented wine mantou, two five-dice buns, one three-dice bun, and three bowls of dried tangerine peel tea that afternoon.

QAQ

Dad, you really don’t love me. You made such good dishes and didn’t even tell me in advance.

If he had known, he could have saved his stomach and skipped a couple bowls of tea for the evening feast.