AGN -Chapter 146 The Send-Off Banquet

“Come, Qin Huai, welcome to Suzhou. I’ll drink this cup on behalf of my master!”

“Mm-hmm.” Qin Huai casually raised his juice.

“Qin Huai, I’ll also drink this cup on behalf of my master!”

“Mm-hmm mm-hmm.” Qin Huai once again raised his cup perfunctorily.

“To celebrate my dad personally cooking today, let’s all have a toast together!”

Qin Huai raised his cup while continuing to eat.

It wasn’t that Qin Huai lacked manners—it was simply that he had never seen the world before.

He also felt a bit embarrassed, but he truly couldn’t control his hand reaching for the chopsticks or his mouth continuing to eat.

It was just too delicious!

How could food in this world taste this good!

The Eight-Treasure Chicken alone was astonishing—it was stuffed with eight different ingredients inside the chicken. The outer chicken meat was already delicious, but the filling inside was even more exquisite. Glutinous rice, lily bulbs, diced bamboo shoots, coix seed, lotus seeds, quail eggs, and more had all absorbed the broth fully. One bite delivered an explosion of rich, savory flavor.

The Three-Layer Duck didn’t need much introduction. With Huang Anyao’s earlier explanation, Qin Huai followed the “proper way” to eat it: first sip the broth layer by layer from the outside inward, then eat the meat from the inside outward. Each bite confirmed a different layer of flavor. After experiencing all seven layers, he combined them into one—so much so that Qin Huai even felt like bowing to Huang Shengli as his master and switching careers from pastry to savory cuisine.

Pastry work—sorry, Three-Layer Duck really was too good.

Deboned and Braised Silver Carp Head could be summed up in one word: fresh.

Freshness that combined river, land, and air flavors.

Not to mention, this dish had no fish bones at all. When Qin Huai heard Huang Anyao explain it earlier, he even looked it up online and discovered that many Huaiyang-style dishes required meticulous deboning and removal of bones—designed for wealthy diners. He couldn’t help but feel that ancient rich people truly knew how to enjoy life.

As for Sizzling Oil Eel Shreds…

Qin Huai could only say that the threshold of “Zhi Wei” was simply too high. A dish this good only appeared in issue 7—what kind of masterpieces must the previous six issues have featured?

After the hot oil was poured over the eel shreds and they were served with two sizzling sounds, the first bite nearly made Qin Huai’s tongue melt from freshness.

The freshness of Sizzling Oil Eel Shreds was different from that of the carp head or the duck. Those two focused on bringing out the pure essence of the ingredients. This dish, however, carried a strong seasoning profile—rich, glossy, and oil-laden in appearance, yet savory with a noticeable sweetness in the aftertaste.

Unlike dishes that are purely sweet like Sweet and Sour Mandarin Fish, this sweet-savory balance was more approachable. But Qin Huai agreed with Huang Anyao—the lingering sweetness was the soul of the dish.

Without sugar, no sweetness—it would just be an ordinary braised eel.

With that lingering sweetness, it became the signature Sizzling Oil Eel Shreds that sizzled twice when served.

The rest of the dishes needed no further elaboration.

Biluochun Shrimp was light and delicate. The shrimp, cooked with tea broth, carried a faint tea aroma. Its flavor was subtle—after all, compared to the bold flavors on the table, both tea and shrimp were relatively mild.

But in a table full of vibrant, competing flavors, a fresh, elegant dish was still very necessary—like a lily blooming among peonies.

Sweet and Sour Mandarin Fish was a very well-known dish that Qin Huai had eaten before. This fried, boneless, sweet dish was a favorite of Qin Luo. Every time she ate it, she would use steamed buns to mop up every last bit of the sweet and sour sauce left on the plate.

Using buns to eat sauce—Qin Huai could only say Qin Luo was, in a certain sense, quite formidable.

While eating the Mandarin Fish, Zheng Siyuan explained that this dish heavily tests a chef’s control of heat and seasoning. The heat determines the tenderness of the fish; it must be crispy on the outside and tender inside. Over-frying would ruin the dish.

Seasoning determines the flavor of the sweet and sour sauce.

Huang Shengli’s control of both was top-tier. If this dish were placed in front of Qin Luo, she would likely eat the fish and still manage to finish three steamed buns with the leftover sauce.

From the moment he picked up his chopsticks, only one thought remained in Qin Huai’s mind:

He couldn’t keep up—he simply couldn’t keep up. Why did he only have one mouth? Why couldn’t he eat two dishes at once?

He couldn’t even imagine how much happier he would be if he could eat food this delicious every day.

At that moment, he even began to understand why Huang Anyao had no interest in managing the restaurant or learning cooking, and instead wanted to travel the world as a food critic.

Good heavens—if his own father had this level of skill, he would also become a food critic. He and Qin Luo would become food critics together!

In that moment, Qin Huai felt that he and Qin Luo must truly be siblings—just with different parents.

Ah, poor Luo Luo. Not only could she not eat such delicious food, she still had to eat her father’s buns every morning.

Qin Huai silently lit a candle in his heart for her.

Among everyone at the table, Qin Huai was eating the most enthusiastically. After all, he truly hadn’t seen much of the world.

The table included Qin Huai, Huang Shengli, Zheng Siyuan, Huang Anyao, and Huang Shengli’s nine disciples. Among all of them, almost everyone except Qin Huai had experienced a time when they could eat Huang Shengli’s cooking every day.

Huang Shengli believed in encouragement-based teaching. When he was learning cooking, his master rewarded him by giving him half a steamed bun at the end of each day, and on holidays, buying a few good dishes to prepare a feast.

Huang Shengli followed the same approach. His way of rewarding his son, disciples, and juniors was to cook for them. Because times had changed, his rewards were far better than the half-bun he once received—often dishes at the level of Biluochun Shrimp. Holiday gatherings were basically full tables like this one.

Now that his health wasn’t as good and he cooked less often, everyone had fewer opportunities to eat like this—but that didn’t mean they hadn’t experienced it before.

Only Qin Huai truly hadn’t.

Especially in a room full of people accustomed to fine food, he stood out as someone completely inexperienced.

But Qin Huai didn’t care. Eat first—nothing matters more than filling your stomach.

Seeing Qin Huai overwhelmed but happily eating, Huang Shengli couldn’t help but laugh: “Xiao Qin really doesn’t match his cooking skills.”

After thinking about Qin Congwen and Zhao Rong’s cooking, Zheng Siyuan replied, “Qin Huai’s family situation… is a bit special.”

“He’s very good at pastries, but his stir-frying is quite poor. His parents are only slightly better than him. He’s seen a lot in terms of pastries, but when it comes to dishes…”

“That’s just how it is.”

Huang Anyao became curious. “Qin Huai knows a lot of pastries?”

Zheng Siyuan nodded affirmatively. Seeing others looking over, he raised his voice slightly: “Northern and southern styles—he knows them all. He mainly specializes in imperial-style pastries, because Luo Luo likes watching palace dramas.”

Everyone: ?

“Recently, he’s been making more Suzhou-style pastries, because Doctor Qu really likes rice cake-type desserts.”

Everyone: ??

“Of course, what he can make depends on what’s in his pastry compendium. He has a book of pastry recipes. I’ve seen it—there are quite a lot of varieties. Oh, right—he can make mung bean cakes in Beijing style, Cantonese style, and Yunnan style. His best is the Beijing style, because Luo Luo likes it most.”

Everyone: ???

Zheng Siyuan finished his introduction.

Now that Qin Huai had seen the world, it was time for the world to see him.

Happily, Qin Huai scooped a large spoonful of crab roe lion’s head for himself. Seeing the others at the table starting to look increasingly confused, he felt he should say something as well.

“I remember the staff meal times at Huangji Restaurant are after 1 p.m. at noon and after 8 p.m. in the evening, right? Since I specialize in pastries and my schedule is a bit different, I can handle pastries and staple foods for the staff meals.”

“Everyone can tell me what they’d like to eat. If I know how to make it, I’ll prepare it. If not, I can check my pastry compendium. I brought it with me this time. However, newly learned items might not taste great at first and may need some practice.”

“If no one has specific requests, I’ll decide based on the situation. If I make six varieties a day… let me think… although there are many things I don’t make often, I should still be able to avoid repetition… for about three weeks.”

Everyone: ?????