Chapter 11: 11. Chapter 11: True Culinary Skills

Chapter 11: True Culinary Skills

Dying completely is the norm? Glad I’m still alive? Lucky I’m still alive?

Klein shuddered violently, then hurried forward, rushing toward the door to chase after the policemen and seek protection.

But just as his hand touched the handle, his movements suddenly froze.

"That officer made things sound so terrifying, so why wouldn't they protect me, an important witness or, rather, a key clue?"

"Isn't this too negligent?"

"A test, or bait?"

Various thoughts clashed in Klein’s mind, making him suspect that the police were still "watching" him from the shadows, observing his reaction.

Thinking of this, he felt much calmer. No longer so panicked or flustered, he slowly opened the door and, intentionally making his voice tremble, shouted toward the stairwell

"You will protect me, right?"

*Pat, pat, pat.* The officers didn't respond; the rhythm of their leather shoes against the wooden stairs remained unchanged.

"I know it! You will!" Klein shouted again, feigning a tone of firm conviction, striving to act like a normal person who had encountered danger.

The footsteps gradually faded and disappeared at the bottom of the apartment building.

Klein let out a low hum, scoffing inwardly

"That reaction was too fake. The acting is substandard!"

He didn't chase after them, instead turning back into the room and closing the door behind him.

For the next few hours, Klein fully embodied the states of being restless, uneasy, agitated, and unable to focus on his reading—all those idioms from the Great Foodie Nation—refusing to lower his standards just because no one was around.

This is called an actor’s self-cultivation! he mocked himself in his heart.

When the sun slanted to the west and the clouds on the horizon began to "burn," and the apartment residents began to return home one after another, Klein finally shifted his focus elsewhere.

"Melissa should be home from school soon..." He turned his gaze toward the stove, lifted the kettle in one motion, peeled back the coal, and took out his revolver.

Without pause or hesitation, he reached his hand to the back of the lower bunk bed's wooden board, where a dozen wooden slats crisscrossed for support.

After wedging the revolver between a slat and the board, Klein straightened up and waited anxiously, fearing that the police might suddenly burst through the door, guns drawn, and storm the room.

In a normal steam-powered world, he would have been certain no one saw his previous actions. However, this was a world with extraordinary powers—extraordinary powers he had verified himself.

After waiting for a few minutes, there was no movement at the door, only the sound of two tenants chatting as they headed to the "Wild Heart" bar on Iron Cross Street, their voices growing closer and then fading away.

"Phew." Klein exhaled, his heart settling back into his chest.

Now, just waiting for Melissa to come back to make the lamb stew with tender peas!

As soon as this thought appeared, the fragrance of meat juices seemed to overflow in Klein’s mouth, and he also recalled how Melissa made lamb stew with tender peas.

She would first boil water to blanch the meat, then add onions, salt, a tiny bit of pepper, and water to stew it directly. At a certain point, she would add the peas and potatoes and let it simmer for forty or fifty minutes.

"That really is a simple and crude method... relying purely on the deliciousness of the meat itself!" Klein couldn't help but shake his head.

But there was no helping it. How could a commoner's household have a variety of seasonings or complex cooking techniques? They could only pursue simplicity, practicality, and thrift. Anyway, as long as the meat wasn't burnt or spoiled, it was good enough for people who only ate meat once or twice a week.

Klein couldn't claim to be a master chef; he usually relied on eating out. But by cooking three or four times a week, week after week, he had reached a passing level of skill, and he felt he couldn't let that pound of lamb go to waste.

"If I wait for Melissa to come back to cook, it won't be ready until after seven-thirty, and she'll be starving... It's time to show her what real cooking is!" Klein found an excuse for himself. He relit the stove, went to the communal washroom to fetch water to clean the lamb, and then took out the cutting board and knife, *thud-thud-thud*, chopping it into small pieces.

As for how to explain his sudden culinary prowess, he decided to pin it on the late Welch McGonagall. That classmate not only hired a chef skilled in Mid-Sea flavors but also often tinkered with gourmet food himself and invited others to taste it.

Yes, the dead won't refute me!

However, *hiss*, this is a world with Beyonders; the dead might not necessarily be unable to speak... Thinking this, Klein felt inexplicably guilty.

He cast aside the messy thoughts, put the meat into a soup bowl, then took out the seasoning box and shook a spoonful and a half of yellowish coarse salt into it. Additionally, he reverently took some black peppercorns from a special small bottle and mixed them with the lamb and salt, letting it marinate for a while.

He placed the stew pot on the stove. While waiting for it to heat up, Klein dug out the carrots left over from yesterday and the onions bought today, cutting them into many pieces.

After finishing the preparations, he took a small jar from the cupboard. Upon opening it, he saw there wasn't much lard left.

Klein scooped out a spoonful, put it into the pot to melt, then poured in the carrot and onion chunks, stir-frying them for a while.

The fragrance began to permeate the room. Klein poured in all the lamb and carefully seared it for a while.

During this process, he should have added some cooking wine, or at the very least, used wine as a substitute. However, the Moretti family didn't have such luxuries, and Benson could only afford one beer a week. Klein had to make do with what he had, pouring in some boiled water and just making it work.

After stewing for about twenty minutes, he opened the lid, added the tender peas and the cut potatoes, and added another cup of hot water and two spoonfuls of salt.

Closing the lid and turning down the stove fire, Klein exhaled with satisfaction, waiting for his sister to return home.

Time ticked by, and the fragrance in the room grew richer—the temptation of the meat, the mellowness of the potatoes, and the "freshness" of the onions.

The scents gradually mingled. Klein swallowed his saliva from time to time and clicked open his pocket watch to check the minute hand.

More than forty minutes later, footsteps that were not light but rhythmically orderly approached. A key was inserted, the handle turned, and the door opened.

"It smells so good..." Melissa whispered, her voice filled with confusion before she had even entered.

She walked in carrying her bag, her gaze sweeping over the stove.

"You made this?" Melissa’s movement of taking off her veil paused in mid-air, her gaze toward Klein full of shock.

She sniffed, inhaling more of the aroma, and her expression quickly softened, as if she had found some confidence.

"You made this?" she asked again, puzzled.

"Are you afraid I wasted the lamb?" Klein asked with a smile. Without waiting for an answer, he continued on his own: "Don't worry, I specifically asked Welch how to make this dish. You know, he had a good chef."

"First time making it?" Melissa’s brow furrowed involuntarily, but it was smoothed out by the aroma.

"It seems I have a talent for it." Klein chuckled. "It's almost ready. Put down your books and hat, go to the washroom to wash your hands, and then wait to taste it. I'm very confident."

Listening to her brother's methodical arrangements and looking at his gentle, calm smile, Melissa stood frozen at the doorway, stunned and unresponsive.

"Do you like it stewed a bit softer?" Klein urged with a smile.

"Ah, yes, okay!" Melissa snapped out of it, bag in one hand and hat in the other, and hurried into the inner room.

Lifting the lid of the stew pot, steam immediately rose before Klein's eyes. Two pieces of rye bread had long been placed beside the lamb and tender peas, allowing them to absorb the fragrance and heat to become soft.

By the time Melissa had tidied up her things and returned from washing her hands and face, a plate of lamb stew with tender peas, garnished with potatoes, carrots, and onions, was already set on the desk, and two pieces of black bread stained with the color of the meat juices were on their respective plates.

"Come, have a taste." Klein pointed to the wooden fork and spoon resting beside the plate.

Melissa was still a bit dazed, but she didn't refuse. She picked up the fork, speared a piece of potato, brought it to her mouth, and took a small bite.

The floury, soft texture of the potato and the rich fragrance of the meat juice permeated her senses simultaneously, causing her saliva to secrete wildly. In a few bites, she finished the potato and swallowed it.

"Try the meat." Klein gestured toward the plate with his chin.

He had already tasted it and felt it was only at a passing level, but for a young girl who hadn't seen much of the world and only occasionally ate meat, it was enough!

A look of anticipation appeared in Melissa's eyes, and she carefully speared a piece of lamb.

It was stewed quite tenderly; the moment it entered her mouth, it felt like it was about to melt. The true fragrance of the meat exploded, and the wonderful juices flowed, filling her mouth.

It was an unprecedentedly wonderful feeling that made Melissa unable to stop.

By the time she came to her senses, she had already eaten several pieces of lamb.

"I, I, Klein, this was prepared for you..." Melissa’s face flushed red, and she spoke stutteringly.

"I already snuck a taste; that's the privilege of the chef." Klein smiled to reassure his sister, while also picking up his fork and spoon, eating a piece of meat, then a mouthful of peas, then putting down his utensils to break off a piece of black bread to dip in the juice.

Melissa relaxed, influenced by Klein's completely normal demeanor, and immersed herself in the delicious food once again.

"It's really delicious. I couldn't tell at all that it was your first time making it." Melissa glanced at the empty plate that didn't even have any juice left, and praised him sincerely.

"Compared to Welch's chef, it's still far off. When I have money, I'll take you and Benson to a restaurant outside to eat something even better!" Klein said, starting to look forward to it himself.

"Your interview will... *hic*..." Melissa hadn't finished her sentence when she suddenly let out a sound of satisfaction she couldn't control.

She hurriedly reached out to cover her mouth, looking embarrassed.

It was all because the lamb stew with tender peas was just too delicious!

Klein chuckled inwardly, deciding not to tease his sister. He pointed to the plate and said

"This is your task."

"Okay!" Melissa stood up impatiently, grabbed the basin, and rushed out the door.

When she returned from cleaning up, she opened the cupboard and habitually checked the seasoning box and other items.

"You used these just now?" Melissa blurted out in surprise, turning to look at Klein, holding the black pepper bottle and the lard jar in her hands.

Klein spread his hands and smiled

"Just a little bit. That is the price of deliciousness."

Melissa’s eyes flickered, her expression changing a few times, until she finally pursed her lips and said

"From now on, let me do the cooking."

"Hmm... You need to hurry up and prepare for your interview; you need to think about work."