Chapter 231: The Bumpy Road to Eating Chicken, and the Unexpected Arrival of a Man
The culinary method for preparing Coconut Chicken Hotpot could honestly be described as insultingly simple.
[Akarin's Note: Coconut Chicken Hotpot (椰子鸡) is a famous specialty from Hainan and Shenzhen. The broth is made entirely of fresh, sweet coconut water. The chicken is boiled in this pure water, resulting in an incredibly tender, sweet meat that is then dipped in a special sauce made of soy sauce, calamansi lime, chili, and sand ginger.]
It was so straightforward that one could practically deduce the entire recipe just by hearing the dish's name. If you asked any amateur cook to guess the process, they would likely hit the nail on the head.
That was the absolute truth. It was quite literally just pure coconut water and a splash of clear spring water, brought to a rolling boil to simmer freshly butchered chicken pieces. It really was that simple.
Halfway through the cooking process, the tender, translucent strips of freshly scooped coconut meat were tossed directly into the bubbling pot. To elevate both the nutritional value and the visual aesthetic, a handful of ruby-red goji berries, wrinkled dark red dates, and pale golden ginger slices were added to the mix.
And that was it. The entire preparation was finished.
It sounded almost too simple, but as the old culinary adage went, the most profoundly simple dishes often harbored the most extraordinary qualities. The flavor profile of this particular stew was overwhelmingly, shockingly fresh.
This specific brand of pure, untainted freshness simply could not be compared to ordinary soups crafted from standard tap water and heavy bouillon.
It relied entirely on the unique, naturally sweet flavor of the tropical coconut. 'Sweet' and 'refreshingly crisp' were the only two adjectives needed to perfectly describe the coconut water itself.
When a premium, free-range chicken was slowly stewed in a ceramic pot brimming with nothing but this pure, unadulterated liquid as its base, the resulting fusion birthed an entirely new, unparalleled flavor.
The moment the chicken passed the lips, the meat proved to be astonishingly tender and velvety smooth. A pristine, crystal-clear aroma of toasted coconut instantly washed over the palate, lingering pleasantly in the back of the throat.
The inherent, earthy umami of the fresh chicken was entirely stripped of any gamey aftertaste. Instead, it was fully showcased and magnified within the rich, sweet embrace of the coconut broth.
However, any true gourmand knew that the most magical, transformative element of eating Coconut Chicken wasn't the broth at all. The true soul of the dish resided in the accompanying dipping sauce.
Ironically, this humble side dish utilized significantly more ingredients than the main course itself.
A shallow porcelain dish was meticulously filled with a base of premium, aged light soy sauce. Into this dark pool went a generous scoop of pungent minced ginger, followed by a terrifyingly vibrant pile of finely diced red millet chilies.
A modest scattering of freshly minced cilantro was sprinkled over the top for an earthy bite. Finally, a heavy, ruthless squeeze of fresh green calamansi lime juice was rained down upon the mixture.
Goodness gracious. The flavor profile of the little dipping bowl was vastly richer and more complex than the massive, steaming centerpiece that only contained coconut and chicken.
The resulting taste was sharply savory and aggressively fresh, backed by a fiery, tongue-tingling hint of spiciness that demanded the diner's full attention. This was the undisputed, traditional dipping sauce meant exclusively for Coconut Chicken.
Although it seemed highly complex when placed next to the minimalist aesthetic of the main dish, it shared the same underlying philosophy. In reality, this dipping sauce, much like the steaming pot of chicken, pursued a path of rustic simplicity and unpretentious ordinariness.
In some high-end restaurants, chefs would often artificially thicken the broth with starch right before serving to make the soup appear richer and more luxurious. Ren, however, absolutely refused to employ such cheap parlor tricks.
Ren chose to let his creation appear before his expectant guests in its most original, unapologetically natural form.
Some things in this world were inherently perfect from their inception and required no heavy-handed embellishment. Some things were simply meant to exist in their purest state, needing absolutely no alteration to shine.
To Ren, the art of cooking was exactly like the art of being a decent human being. It began with honesty, and it ended with honesty.
If a broth was fundamentally meant to be clear, crisp, and refreshingly sweet, then one should never forcefully contort it into something thick, murky, and turbulent just for the sake of presentation.
A pair of chopsticks elegantly pinched a plump piece of chicken that was still dripping with steaming, sweet coconut liquid. The pristine white meat was dunked directly into the dark, chaotic dipping sauce.
In a fraction of a second, the pure white canvas of the chicken was aggressively coated by the sharp, savory mixture. The searing internal heat radiating from the freshly boiled meat was instantly neutralized and cooled by the room-temperature sauce.
No matter what kind of culinary masterpiece required a dipping sauce, the ancient ritual of eating it always involved three sacred steps. Dip, pause, and then finally bring it to the mouth.
Whoosh. The moment the meat touched the tongue, the entire flavor profile violently shifted.
The underlying, comforting sweetness of the coconut was still present, holding the dish together. But this time, it was violently pierced by an addictive, sharp savory saltiness, accompanied by a bright flash of citrus and a fiery kick of chili.
Yet, for all its heavenly taste, the Coconut Chicken possessed a rather frustrating, tsundere-like personality. It stubbornly refused to let its admirers enjoy it smoothly from start to finish.
It was determined to give the diner a bit of trouble.
That trouble, of course, was the eternal bane of all poultry dishes: the sharp, unforgiving chicken bones. This dish wasn't made from neatly deboned, pre-packaged chicken breasts. It was an entire, bone-in chicken violently chopped into rustic pieces and thrown into the pot.
If the act of tasting the tender meat was a transcendent, satisfying experience, then the harsh reality of having to awkwardly spit out sharp bone fragments was undoubtedly the most agonizing part of the meal.
After eagerly picking up a succulent piece with chopsticks, dunking it in the vibrant sauce, and tossing it into the mouth to enjoy the explosive flavor, the diner was immediately punished.
Just as the brain flooded with dopamine, the teeth would strike a hard, jagged obstacle. The food was right there, sitting deliciously on the tongue, but it was physically impossible to swallow it whole.
This frustrating, start-and-stop rhythm was the ultimate diner's pain.
The coconut aroma was intoxicatingly fragrant. The boiling soup was visually clear and spiritually refreshing. The chicken meat was impossibly tender and delicious, and the dipping sauce was savagely delightful.
The immense satisfaction and deep, soulful comfort felt after tasting it could only be brought forth by this specific dish. That delicate dance between sweet, savory, and aggressively spicy was the sole domain of this terrifyingly simple pot of Coconut Chicken.
At this exact moment, Sakura Hibiki and Cerberus were currently locked in this exact, frustrating battle of wills with their food.
[Akarin's Note: Sakura Hibiki is the main protagonist of the fitness anime 'Dumbbell Nan Kilo Moteru?'. She is a high schooler at Kōyō Women's Academy who joins Silverman Gym to lose weight because she has a massive appetite and loves eating junk food.]
Both of them were undisputed, unrepentant gluttons. In their minds, true foodies were meant to consume delicious meals in massive, unhinged mouthfuls, rapidly satisfying both their taste buds and their bottomless stomachs in a blur of motion.
[Akarin's Note: Cerberus from Helltaker is a single soul occupying three separate bodies. She can seamlessly merge back into a single physical form with dog ears whenever she desires.]
But this stubborn Coconut Chicken brought their usual ravenous devouring to a screeching, agonizing halt.
How were they supposed to eat like starving wolves when they had to delicately chew around and spit out a dozen tiny bones every thirty seconds? Was that even physically possible for them?
Sakura Hibiki's cheeks were aggressively stuffed with chicken, her jaw working carefully as she spoke with thick emotion. "As expected of a culinary skill that even Sister Courage praises!"
"Ren, you're way too amazing! This thing called Coconut Chicken is illegally delicious!"
She paused, her face scrunching up in profound annoyance as she delicately spat a small knuckle bone onto her side plate. "But I still have to spit out all these bones! It's so frustratingly troublesome!"
Sitting across from her, Momobami Kirari didn't say a word, but she offered a silent, deeply relatable nod of agreement.
[Akarin's Note: Momobami Kirari is the main antagonist of the Kakegurui series. She is the 105th Student Council President of Hyakkaou Private Academy and the absolute head of the Momobami Clan, a powerful conglomerate of elite families.]
Even someone as elegantly refined and imposing as the Student Council President found the constant interruption of extracting bones from her mouth to be a mild annoyance, despite the heavenly taste.
Ren sat comfortably to the side, leaning back in his chair. He watched the chaotic dining table with a soft, amused smile playing on his lips.
"How should I put it..." Ren began, his voice calm and soothing over the sound of the bubbling pot. "Perhaps being forced to eat it this slowly allows you to actually savor and enjoy the deliciousness, rather than just inhaling it all in three seconds."
Sakura Hibiki didn't argue. She just offered a rapid, vigorous nod before immediately thrusting her chopsticks back into the boiling broth to scoop up another massive chunk of meat.
Knowing full well the terrifying presence of Sakura Hibiki and the triple-threat appetite of Cerberus, Ren had wisely planned ahead. He had specifically swapped out his standard cookware for a massive, commercial-grade iron pot.
Originally, a standard recipe calling for three fresh coconuts and one single whole chicken would have been more than enough to feed a normal table.
But Ren, anticipating the incoming devastation, had forcefully doubled the payload. He had poured in the liquid and flesh of six massive, premium coconuts and chopped up three entire, plump chickens.
It was safe to say that this monstrous volume was finally enough to satisfy the black holes sitting at his table.
Because the Coconut Chicken fundamentally sacrificed the chaotic, ingredient-heavy extravagance of a traditional spicy hot pot, it had to make up for that perceived lack of variety elsewhere.
That 'elsewhere' was its loyal companion dish. However, that particular companion was currently still simmering away quietly in the kitchen, not yet ready for its grand debut.
While the others focused entirely on chewing and sorting bones, Courage was currently lost in her own professional world.
[Akarin's Note: Courage and Rantabi are First-Class Book Masters (Inspectors) for the World Gourmet Organization (WGO) from Food Wars!.]
The First-Class Book Master was practically vibrating with excitement, her high-end smartphone clicking endlessly.
She took several candid, softly lit photos of Ren sitting quietly to the side, calmly sipping his freshly brewed tea and reading a book while the chaos unfolded around him. She snapped a few lively, action-packed shots of Hibiki and Cerberus aggressively fighting over the best cuts of thigh meat.
But, naturally, the vast majority of her camera's memory space was dedicated to extreme, high-definition close-ups of the magnificent food situated right in front of her.
This rapidly bubbling, steaming pot of Coconut Chicken was truly a photogenic masterpiece. The visual contrast of the pure white broth against the vivid dipping sauce was an inspector's dream.
Decora and the other elite members of the WGO had specifically, repeatedly instructed her to document her meals. They demanded daily photographic evidence of exactly what Ren was feeding her.
By analyzing the photos, they could replicate the exact same dish at the exact same time in their own headquarters. Just the mere psychological act of imagining Ren's original dish while eating their own replicas was enough to temporarily satisfy their demanding, hyper-refined appetites.
Although the concept sounded utterly fantastical and bordering on delusion, it was deeply rooted in psychological truth. The human mind's capacity for imagination was an incredibly potent, terrifying force.
When a normal person hastily fried up a bowl of egg-fried rice in their own kitchen, they might not find the aroma particularly intoxicating or special.
But the moment they watched a beautifully shot video of a master chef tossing a vibrant, glowing wok of fried rice, their brain immediately tricked them. Suddenly, their own humble bowl felt infinitely more fragrant, complex, and mouth-watering.
Eating a replica while simultaneously visualizing the genuine masterpiece created a profound placebo effect that vastly elevated the dining experience.
Far away from the warm, chaotic dining room, Nakiri Mana sat in her cold, immaculate suite.
She held no delusions that the world-class chefs employed at the WGO headquarters could ever truly satisfy the terrifying curse of her God Tongue. Their skills, while legendary to normal men, were nothing but ash and dust to her palate.
However, her brain vividly remembered the transcendent, life-altering taste of Ren's cooking. It was branded into her very soul.
Whenever it was time to eat, she would pull up the high-definition photos Courage diligently sent over. By scrutinizing the ingredients, the sheen of the broth, and the visual texture of the meat, Mana could perfectly hallucinate the taste of Ren's culinary magic.
Overlaying that powerful, perfect memory onto the bland, sterile food provided by her own chefs made the torturous act of eating bearable. It made her daily survival significantly more comfortable.
At this exact moment, Nakiri Mana appeared completely lost in a deep, melancholic trance.
She sat alone at her massive, polished dining table, both of her delicate hands propping up her pale, flawless face. Her unfocused eyes stared blankly at the heavy oak doorway of her suite, completely lost in whatever heavy thoughts plagued her mind.
It was worth noting that Nakiri Mana's personal smartphone was currently frozen and unresponsive. The screen was permanently locked, completely overloaded by the sheer, ungodly amount of desperate messages and missed calls from people who had spent years trying to contact the elusive WGO Book Master.
"Sigh." Mana's soft, breathy voice echoed slightly in the massive, empty room.
"I wonder what Mr. Ren and the others are eating right now. Whatever it is, it absolutely must be thousands of times better than the pathetic slop served here."
She shifted her weight, a delicate pout forming on her lips. "I really, truly envy that little girl, Courage."
Mana slowly lowered her hands, tracing the smooth edge of the mahogany table. "Forget it. I'll be able to finally go back to Japan soon enough anyway."
"I've endured this agonizing, flavorless hell for so many years. A few more days of waiting won't make a difference."
She suddenly raised her head, her voice cutting through the silent room. "Ann! Ann! Are the tangyuan ready yet?"
[Akarin's Note: Tangyuan (汤圆) is a traditional Chinese dessert made of glutinous rice flour wrapped around a sweet filling, usually black sesame or peanut paste, served in a hot, sweet broth. It symbolizes harmony and family reunion.]
Almost the exact second Mana's voice faded, the heavy door clicked open.
Her fiercely loyal subordinate, Ann, walked briskly into the room. In her hands, she carefully balanced an ornate silver tray carrying a porcelain bowl of steaming, perfectly round tangyuan.
The moment the thick, comforting, and overwhelmingly sweet fragrance of the glutinous rice dessert hit Mana's nose, her shoulders visibly slumped.
Mana let out a long, heavy sigh. "It has been so many agonizingly long years since I've felt even a shred of genuine emotion toward the scent of a dish. Smelling this... it really brings back so many memories."
Ann gently placed the bowl down on the table, her eyes softening as she looked at her master. She spoke in a soft, deeply reverent tone. "Lady Mana, it is truly, overwhelmingly wonderful that your condition has finally recovered."
"Yes." Mana picked up a delicate porcelain spoon, staring at her reflection in the clear broth.
"It truly is wonderful. Hmm."
She scooped up a pristine white glutinous rice ball and brought it to her lips, blowing on it softly before taking a tentative bite.
Mana chewed slowly, her God Tongue instantly dissecting every single atomic flaw in the dish. "The glutinous rice exterior isn't overly mashed, which is a rare mercy. However, the black sesame filling is far too aggressively sweet, completely unbalancing the profile."
She swallowed, closing her eyes tightly to summon the image of Ren's cooking. "But it's not terrible. It's barely, functionally edible."
"God, I really miss Mr. Ren's cooking. If Mr. Ren made tangyuan, the balance of sweetness and texture would undoubtedly be an absolute masterpiece."
Ann smiled warmly, clasping her hands together in front of her skirt. "Yes, without a doubt. Mr. Ren is an unfathomably amazing chef."
Mana opened her eyes, a mischievous, teasing glint suddenly sparkling in her gaze. "So, tell me, Ann. Have you completely fallen head over heels for him yet?"
Ann's entire body jolted, her face instantly exploding into a violent shade of crimson. "Ah?! L-Lady Mana!"
"I have absolutely no such thoughts! I just want to stay faithfully by your side forever!"
Nakiri Mana let out a light, musical chuckle. She held the warm bowl with both hands, a genuine smile gracing her features.
"Oh, Ann. You're just far too rigid and serious all the time. You really should learn to..."
"No! Stop right there! You absolutely cannot come in!"
A sudden, violent shout echoed from the hallway, instantly shattering the quiet, intimate atmosphere of the room.
"You are not welcome here right now! Turn around and get out!"
The frantic, desperate voices belonged to the WGO security guards stationed outside the suite. Nakiri Mana and Ann both froze in place, the playful banter dying instantly on their lips.
A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the room for a split second.
The very next moment, the massive, reinforced oak doors were forcefully pushed open. The heavy hinges groaned in protest as a tall, imposing figure stepped into the light of the room.
It was a man dressed in an immaculate, razor-sharp black suit. His posture was rigid, his presence suffocatingly dark and authoritative.
He stood perfectly still, his cold, calculating eyes locking directly onto Nakiri Mana.
Seeing the face of the man who had just effortlessly bypassed her entire security detail, Nakiri Mana's relaxed expression shattered. The color completely drained from her face, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated shock.
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