diymy Chapter 70 Pirated Spicy Strips? Even a dog wouldn't eat them!
Chapter 70 Pirated Spicy Strips? Even a dog wouldn't eat them!
Chapter 70 Pirated Spicy Strips? Even a dog wouldn't eat them!
A large table was set out for dinner at Rissei-den.
Steamed lamb, venison jerky, stewed bird's nest, and several kinds of exquisite seasonal vegetables filled the round table made of rosewood.
It was steaming hot, but the aroma seemed somewhat rigid and dull.
Little Sizi sat on a specially made high stool, holding a silver spoon in his hand, poking at the green rice porridge in his bowl with a few casual strokes.
The porridge was thick and creamy, and sprinkled with pine nuts; it was her favorite dish.
"Hey kid, have a bite, just a little."
Empress Zhangsun placed a piece of pickled celery into her bowl and gently coaxed her, "Your lips have only just gone down in the last few days, so eat something light to help them recover."
Little Sizi pouted and threw the spoon into the bowl, making a crisp clinking sound.
"It has no taste."
She muttered, her little feet dangling in the air, looking listless, "This porridge has no taste, the meat has no taste—the whole palace has no taste!"
Empress Zhangsun sighed and put down her chopsticks.
The little girl's mouth blister had been soothed by Su Mu's bowl of mung bean and old duck soup these past few days, but the fire in her heart was burning brighter and brighter.
Once you've tasted that rich, spicy, and sweet flavor, eating these bland imperial dishes really feels like chewing wax.
"I want to eat that—"
Little Sizi lay on the edge of the table, chin resting on the back of her hand, blinking her big eyes, "Red, long, and bouncy when you bite into it—"
As she spoke, she unconsciously swallowed and licked her newly healed lips with the tip of her tongue.
That aroma of cumin mixed with hot oil and caramel is like a root that's taken root in my brain, impossible to shake off.
The more you can't get the food, the more that taste stirs in your memory, making your stomach rumble with cravings.
"Just bear with it."
Li Lizhi ladled a bowl of soup for her, somewhat helplessly saying, "You know how stubborn Su Mu is. He said to stop work, and even Father Emperor couldn't change his mind. Besides, your teeth haven't all grown in yet; if you keep eating like this, you'll really break them."
"Even if it collapses, it'll still be seven!"
Little Si suddenly sat up straight, slammed her fists on the table, and said in a cute but fierce tone, "Teeth will grow back, but once the red stick is gone, it's really gone! I'm going to find my brother! I'm going to the woodshed!"
Just as she was about to slide down, Li Lizhi grabbed her and stopped her.
"Don't go there. The area in front of the market is busier than the East and West Markets now. Uncle Cheng is practically setting up a tent there."
Li Lizhi pushed the soup bowl over, "Besides, Su Mu is doing this for your own good. If you go now, you'll only get scolded and won't even get a sip of soup."
Upon hearing this, Little Sizi pouted and buried her face in her arms with a cry.
"Liar! They're all liars! The pot is bad! The sister is bad! I can't live like this anymore!"
Shangshi Bureau, back kitchen.
The atmosphere here is even more oppressive than that of the Risseiden (Imperial Hall).
Dozens of large iron pots were lined up in a row, the fire in the stove burning red-hot, making the entire kitchen look like a steamer.
Liu Fengyu was covered in sweat, his tall hat was askew, he was clutching a rolling pin, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"Not ready yet?!"
Liu Fengyu roared at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking, "His Majesty's decree has been in effect for two hours! If we can't produce that red slip by now, all of us in the Imperial Kitchen, dozens of people, will be finished tomorrow!"
Several veteran imperial chefs sat around a large pot, each with a worried expression.
There were clumps of red dough piled up on the cutting board.
They created it by trying countless times to replicate the appearance of Su Mu's thing.
"Lord Liu, this—this is truly impossible to do."
An old, wrinkled imperial chef slammed the dough he was holding onto the cutting board. "That Su Mu must have used some kind of sorcery. We used the finest white flour, added dogwood juice, red yeast rice powder, and even some kind of pepper powder—but the result just doesn't look right!"
Liu Fengyu rushed over and poked the red dough ball with his hand.
It's soft and limp; pressing it leaves a dent, and it doesn't have the bouncy, springy feel of the legends.
"That's because you didn't knead it enough!"
Liu Fengyu was so anxious he jumped up and down. "That's military rations for the soldiers on the front lines! It has to be tough! It has to be long! It has to be chewy! You're just soft lumps of mud; are you going to send you to the front lines to make the Turks laugh at you?"
"Add glue!"
Liu Fengyu gritted his teeth and said fiercely, "Add fish glue! Melt it and add it in! I refuse to believe I can't get hard!"
The imperial chefs exchanged bewildered glances. Fish maw was a fishy substance; adding it to noodles...
"What are you standing there for! Add it!"
Liu Fengyu kicked over the nearby slop bucket. "His Majesty is waiting! As long as the shape is similar, the color is right, and the smell is strong, it's good enough! Hurry up!"
The kitchen erupted in chaos.
When the fish maw was put into the pot, dogwood powder was poured in like it was free, and to cover up the fishy smell, handfuls of Sichuan peppercorns were added.
Half an hour later.
A plate of long, twisted, dark red food was brought out.
The thing had a strange oily sheen on its surface, was hard as a rock, and made a clanging sound when tapped with chopsticks.
It smells quite pungent, a strong, irritating spiciness mixed with the fishy smell of fish maw, which hits you right in the head.
Liu Fengyu took a deep breath and coughed twice, choking on it.
"Okay—okay."
He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and reassured himself, "They do look somewhat similar. Military rations are usually a bit rough around the edges. Hurry up and plate them up, send them to His Majesty!"
Liangyi Hall.
Li Shimin paced back and forth in the hall with his hands behind his back, his steps were very fast, and his boots made a rustling sound as they rubbed against the floor tiles.
hungry!
That kind of hunger isn't from an empty stomach, but from a feeling of panic.
Ever since I tasted that red strip, the food sent from the imperial kitchen these past few days has felt like it's missing something.
Especially when he thought that the thing was not only delicious, but also related to the Northern Expedition, it felt like a cat was scratching at his heart.
"Your Majesty, the Imperial Kitchen staff have arrived."
Wang Dequan jogged in, carrying a vermilion lacquered food box in his hands, his expression somewhat strange.
Li Shimin's eyes lit up, and he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"Did you finish it?"
He strode to the imperial desk, sat down, and rubbed his hands together. "Quickly! Bring it here! I want to see if, with the combined strength of the entire Tang Dynasty, we can't even replicate the skills of a mere lowly servant?"
Wang Dequan placed the food box on the table, hesitated for a moment, and then opened the lid.
An indescribable smell instantly filled the hall.
Li Shimin's smile froze.
The contents of that plate were indeed red, but the red was somewhat eerie, like strips of cloth just pulled out of a dye shop.
And the shape—this isn't gluten at all! These strands are crooked and twisted, looking just like dried earthworms.
"this----"
Li Shimin frowned and poked at the hole with his silver chopsticks.
hard!
It's as hard as a rock.
"This is what the Imperial Kitchen spent an afternoon making?"
Li Shimin spoke in an unfriendly tone, glancing up at Liu Fengyu, who was kneeling trembling at the palace gate.
"Go back to your Majesty."
Liu Fengyu kowtowed on the floor tiles, his voice trembling, "Your Majesty—Your Majesty has done your best. This red strip is all about the strength, so I specially added deep-sea fish maw and the finest dogwood. I think—I think it will have quite a flavor."
Li Shimin snorted coldly.
Regardless, this is a token of the Shangshiju's goodwill.
Besides, Su Mu had closed the door, so there was no other choice at that point.
"I'll have a taste."
Li Shimin picked up a stick.
The thing was heavy and wouldn't budge when held between chopsticks.
Put it in your mouth.
Click!
A crisp sound.
Li Shimin's expression instantly twisted.
This isn't crisp, this is head-on collision!
My teeth almost broke off.
Immediately afterwards, the thick layer of chili powder and Sichuan peppercorns on the outside melted in my mouth, and a fishy and pungent smell mixed with a dry spiciness, like a rotten egg bursting in my mouth, and someone also stuffing a handful of sand into my mouth.
It's fishy, spicy, bitter, and tough!
This isn't military rations! This is practically poison!
"vomit--!"
Li Shimin no longer cared about imperial dignity and spat the red earthworm onto the gold brick ground.
"Water! Quickly, bring me water!"
Wang Dequan was so frightened that he was scared out of his wits and quickly handed over a teacup.
Li Shimin drank three cups of tea in a row, but the strange taste in his mouth still lingered, and his tongue was so numb that he lost all feeling in it.
"You bastard! You worthless scoundrel!"
Li Shimin swept the plate of culinary monstrosity to the ground, shattering it and scattering red, hard strips all over the floor.
"This is what you made? Huh?!"
"Give this to the soldiers on the front lines? Before the Turks even attack, my army will be poisoned by a bunch of useless idiots!"
Liu Fengyu was so frightened that he collapsed to the ground, unable to even utter a proper plea for mercy.
"Your Majesty, spare us! Your Majesty, spare us! It's truly... truly, that practice is so ancient, we... we've never seen anything like it before!"
Li Shimin was so angry that his chest heaved violently, and his hand pointing at Liu Fengyu trembled.
"Get out! All of you, get out of here! Go and take your twenty strokes of the cane!"
The hall was emptied instantly, leaving only a mess and the lingering stench of blood and spiciness.
Li Shimin slumped onto the dragon throne, looking at the horribly mangled replicas on the ground, a sense of powerlessness welling up within him.
What good is wealth if you have everything under the sun?
The imperial kitchen of the Tang Dynasty had hundreds of renowned chefs who used the rarest ingredients, yet it couldn't even compare to the snacks made from flour scraps by a lowly servant in a dilapidated woodshed.
So, what kind of monster is Su Mu?
Or is there some profound truth hidden within this food that only that lazy fellow can comprehend?
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