HLM -Chapter 1270 Cracklings

Na Qingyang teased Wang Bo, “Yo, Wang Bo, comparing yourself to the Ming Taizu now, are you?”

Zhao Xiaohui asked curiously, “What I’m more interested in is—how did Zhu Yuanzhang’s companions from his begging days all die?”

“Just a bit of folk gossip,” Zhang Rui said. “They say after Zhu Yuanzhang conquered the realm, he brought the companions he’d begged with back then to Beijing and settled them down. But those guys kept coming to him every day, sighing and reminiscing about how miserable Zhu had been when they were begging together, how hard life was back then. Old Zhu got fed up and simply found an excuse to have them all executed.”

As he spoke, Zhang Rui waved his hand, making a chopping motion.

Wang Bo said, “If it were me, it wouldn’t be beheading—I’d just have them shot.”

Hou Haibo hesitated. “You didn’t call me over here to be your executioner, did you?”

“If I were looking for an executioner, I’d pick someone ruthless, like Xingye. A henpecked guy like you? No thanks,” Wang Bo said disdainfully.

Hou Haibo puffed out his chest. “There are no men who fear their wives—only men who respect their wives!”

Zhang Rui nodded in agreement.

Wang Bo pointed at Zhang Rui. “This is a man who respects his wife. You’re the one who fears his.”

Zhang Rui nodded again, while Zhao Xiaohui giggled nonstop beside them.

Cousins drove over, took some pork belly and snow-white, delicate slabs of pork fat out of the car, and said to Wang Bo, “Boss, this is what you wanted.”

Na Qingyang helped put things away and asked curiously, “What do you want so much pork fat for? Planning to render lard?”

Wang Bo said, “Did you forget what Haibo likes to eat most?”

Hou Haibo was overjoyed. “Holy crap—can you turn pork fat into abalone and bird’s nest?”

“Get lost!”

“Haha, come on, come on, I’ll help out. We’re rendering cracklings, right? I haven’t had homemade cracklings in ages. Sigh… ever since my grandma passed away, nobody in my family does this anymore. We only eat them at restaurants now.” As he spoke, Hou Haibo couldn’t help shaking his head.

Wang Bo patted his shoulder. “Today Grandpa Wang will make you a whole pot. Eat to your heart’s content.”

Hou Haibo shook him off, laughing as he flipped him the middle finger.

Wang Bo used a cleaver to chop the slab fat into small pieces, piling up a whole basinful. Zhao Xiaohui exclaimed, “You’re really making a whole pot? This stuff gets greasy fast—why make so much?”

Hou Haibo shook his head. “Don’t be fooled by how much it looks now. Once you render it, the cracklings shrivel up. This basin can give you quite a bit of lard, but the cracklings will only come out to two big plates at most.”

After cutting the fat, Wang Bo set two pots on the stove. He added some water to the first pot, then put the chopped pork fat in and started boiling it.

Zhang Rui was puzzled. “How can you use water to make cracklings? Oil and water don’t mix. Won’t it splatter like crazy later? That stuff’s scorching hot.”

Wang Bo said, “I’m too lazy to explain to kitchen noobs like you. Marquis Hou, explain it to them.”

Hou Haibo chuckled. “It’s simple, noobs. You have to cook the pork fat first, then heat it over medium heat to render more oil. If you just put it straight on high heat, you won’t get much oil out of it.”

“What Wang Bo’s doing is right. Add a little water—once the pork fat is cooked, the water will boil off. Then keep heating it, and the oil will start flowing out.”

Na Qingyang chimed in, “If Old Su were here, he’d definitely say: ‘Please explain this from a principles perspective.’”

“That guy’s been a teacher so long he’s turning into an old pedant,” someone said, and they all burst out laughing.

Once the lard started rendering, they had to keep ladling it out, making sure there was some lard left in the pot but not too much—otherwise it wouldn’t flow properly.

After the lard was rendered, what remained were the cracklings. When Wang Bo felt it couldn’t be rendered any further, he scooped everything out into the second pot and continued slowly rendering it over low heat.

Hou Haibo said, “Wang Bo, you’re a pro. Not many people are willing to do this—most think it’s too much trouble. But after a second render like this, not only do you get more oil, the cracklings are crispier too.”

Na Qingyang patted Wang Bo on the shoulder. “Comrade Wang Bo has really put in the hard work here. Knowing you were coming, he’s been thinking hard about how to treat you to a good meal.”

Hou Haibo said emotionally, “Thank you, Wang Bo. Really. Too bad I’m not a woman—if I were, I’d damn well marry you no matter what.”

Wang Bo said, “Enough, enough. If you were a woman and I cooked for you this attentively, Eva would tear my bones apart. It’s nothing—I learned this from a Chinese chef. Just putting it to use.”

Zhang Rui said, “You call Hou Haibo henpecked, but aren’t you the same?”

Wang Bo said, “Eva’s about to give birth. Right now she’s the sky, the earth, and the air. But after the baby’s born—hmph—bros come first!”

Once the cracklings were done, he put them by the vent to dry and cool.

Hou Haibo said, “Hey, don’t—if dust gets on them, you can’t eat them. These things attract dust.”

“That just shows you don’t know Sunset Town,” Wang Bo said. “The air here is so clean it’s like the Ice Age. No need to worry about dust.”

Zhang Rui nodded. “That’s true. Sunset Town is famous for that. When I’m shopping or eating in Auckland, I often hear people talking about Sunset Town. Your place is becoming a hot topic in New Zealand.”

Wang Bo wiped his hands. “As it should be. I’ve got ambitions to make this town the number one town in the world.”

Hou Haibo laughed. “Then wouldn’t that make me the chief instructor of the number one town?”

“Look at that stupid grin—I feel embarrassed for Wang Bo,” Na Qingyang said. “Learn from Xingye—act cool once in a while.”

Li Xing glared. “Who the hell is acting cool for no reason? Hiss—”

“Then why haven’t you said a word this whole time, just sitting there with that face? And what’s with the hissing—cool like a poisonous snake?”

“I’ve got a mouth ulcer—huge one. It hurts every time I talk. Hiss, hiss,” Li Xing said helplessly.

Wang Bo said regretfully, “Then you won’t be able to eat what I’m making later.”

Cracklings are incredibly fragrant and can be cooked in many ways. What Wang Bo wanted to make was cracklings stir-fried with green peppers.

Green peppers have a fresh vegetable aroma and a bit of heat—both of which perfectly offset the greasiness. No other vegetables work quite as well.

Compared to making the cracklings, this dish was simple: sauté scallions, ginger, and garlic, toss in the green peppers for a quick stir-fry, then add the cracklings. Finish with a splash of vinegar, soy sauce, and some salt.

Both the green peppers and the cracklings are packed with flavor, and together the aroma was even stronger, filling the kitchen and making Hou Haibo swallow his saliva again and again.

Besides green peppers with cracklings, Wang Bo had originally wanted to make scallion pancakes with cracklings too, but that would take too much time. Hou Haibo said that with this one dish and some rice, he’d be perfectly satisfied.

So Wang Bo switched to other dishes instead: sweet-and-sour fish, dry-fried green beans, soy-sauce braised eggplant, deep-fried silverfish, boiled pork slices, plus Father Bo’s homemade sauce-braised beef, and more.

Wang Bo said, “Don’t blame me for being disloyal, Xingye. You’ve got mouth ulcers, so I’ll make you a special vegetarian dish. How about stir-fried napa cabbage with vinegar?”

“Why don’t you just kill me outright? Can mouth ulcers touch vinegar?”

“This is fighting poison with poison. Vinegar napa cabbage it is!”