Chapter 83: Chapter 82: Kung Pao Chicken
Translator: 549690339
Jiang Feng suddenly thought of a dish.
Gong Bao chicken.
Unlike most first-time cooks in China, who typically start with scrambled eggs with tomatoes, Jiang Feng’s first attempt at cooking was Gong Bao chicken.
It was during his first year of junior high.
Gong Bao chicken is a rather challenging dish for everyday cooking, and when Jiang Feng first tried making it, he tasted it and nearly cried because it was so bad.
That plate of Gong Bao chicken was secretly disposed of by Jiang Feng, never to be spoken of again.
Back then, Sir would not allow him near the wok, but by that time he had already been practicing his knifework for six or seven years and was in his rebellious phase. Jiang Jiankang’s signature dish was Gong Bao chicken, and it was often ordered by health-conscious customers. Although no one had taught Jiang Feng, he learned a bit by watching Jiang Jiankang prepare it every day.
The young and conceited junior high version of Jiang Feng thought Gong Bao chicken was nothing special and that with his talent, it would be a breeze. Reality then dealt him a harsh slap, sending him obediently back to chopping vegetables.
One always remembers their first cooking attempt, and even if Jiang Feng never mentioned it and no one knew, every time he saw Jiang Jiankang preparing Gong Bao chicken in the kitchen during those three years he had given up on cooking in high school, he would subconsciously watch and observe.
Upon closer thought, Jiang Feng realized that after that first clueless and haphazard attempt at Gong Bao chicken, he had never made the dish again.
Not only because Jiang Jiankang was around and it wasn’t his turn to cook Gong Bao chicken, but also because the one he made was the most disgusting dish he had ever eaten before going to UAL University.
The taste was indeed memorable and unforgettable.
It was only after going to UAL University that Jiang Feng realized that there’s always someone better, and that if the canteen’s head chef wanted to, he could easily make his Gong Bao chicken a hundred times worse.
“Grandpa, is the chicken stewed yet?” Jiang Feng suddenly looked up; if the chicken had already been put in the pot, then there would be Gong Bao without chicken cubes.
“Not yet, it’s still in the bowl, isn’t it? 1’11 stew it after these two dishes are done,” Sir said, as he was busy attending to the pig’s trotters and had no time to deal with the remaining chicken.
That was close; otherwise, Grandma would have had to sacrifice another chicken.
There was still a gas stove in the kitchen, luckily, since using a wood-burning stove, Jiang Feng would have had trouble controlling the heat.
Jiang Feng cut off about two ounces of chicken breast, diced it, coated it with egg liquid, sprinkled a little pepper powder, a moderate amount of cooking wine and starch, massaged the chicken to evenly coat it, and let it marinate in a bowl.
When adding ingredients, Jiang Feng felt a bit apprehensive. His utter failure previously was mainly due to two reasons: one was fire control, and the other was haphazardly adding seasonings.
Having no clue and no measure, the dish he made was a melange of sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, salty, and tasteless, certainly not fit for human consumption.
After about fifteen minutes, Jiang Feng felt the chicken breast was ready.
He heated the wok, added oil, and when it started to smoke, Jiang Feng timed it right and poured the chicken breast in, stir-frying it on high heat until it was cooked before quickly taking it out.
He heated another pot of oil, stir-fried the other ingredients, Jiang Jiankang’s Gong Bao chicken was sweet, so naturally, the one Jiang Feng learned to make was also sweet. Worried about spoiling the dish with too much sugar, he added the ingredients gingerly.
After stir-frying for a couple of minutes, he added the chicken cubes back in, along with cooking wine, dark soy sauce, light soy sauce, and salt, again stir-frying over high heat until the chicken had an even color and the aroma was released, then plated the dish.
[A mediocre plate of Gong Bao chicken]
Mediocre?
Jiang Feng took a taste with his chopsticks, and it was indeed mediocre.
Due to his tentative seasoning, the dish was neither sweet nor salty, not disgusting but just average, akin to a normal school canteen level.
Sir’s specialty Fengjing-style pig’s trotters were at a critical moment, and he asked Jiang Jiankang to add wood to the stove to stoke the fire up, to thicken the braising sauce and enhance the flavor into the pig’s trotters.
Almost at the same time as the pig’s trotters were done, the fish balls were also ready.
For a normal family meal, Sir wouldn’t bother plating the food. Just load it on a dish, pour some hot broth over it, and it would taste the same whether it was plated nicely or not. Sir never went to extra lengths for his underachieving grandchildren.
But today was different, today’s dishes were not meant for unimpressive descendants like Jiang Jiankang and Jiang Feng, but specially made for Jiang Weiming!
In Jiang Family Dishes, plating is also crucial.
A good presentation can stir up an appetite from afar without even tasting it – after all, humans are visual creatures.
No matter what it is, even vegetables, being good-looking is an advantage.
Just look at UAL University canteen’s blueberry juice stir-fried yams. Although its taste isn’t as bad as the students claim, compared to other dismal dishes at UAL, it’s actually not bad; yet, because it looks unappetizing, it’s constantly derided as a dismal dish.
The meal was ready, but Jiang Jiandang and his wife hadn’t arrived yet. Thick-skinned and giggling, Jiang Jiankang reminded Jiang Weiguo, “Dad, big brother said in the WeChat group that he and my sister-in-law are on their way.”
“What, should I, as the father, have to wait for my son to start eating?” Sir glanced at Jiang Jiankang.
“Of course not, why wait for my big brother and sister-in-law? Feng, come on, let’s go serve the rice!” Jiang Jiankang quickly rephrased.
At the dining table, everyone waited for Jiang Weiming to pick up his chopsticks first.
The Fengjing braised pig’s trotters had already been sliced open, and Jiang Weiming picked up a small piece of meat from deep inside, dipped it into a bit of the sauce, and tasted it.
“The layer of oil on the braised sauce isn’t completely removed.”
“It’s not fully steamed, the sauce hasn’t permeated.”
“You shouldn’t have added lily bulbs.”
Jiang Weiming then picked up a fish ball, bit off a small piece, “The meat isn’t firm enough.”
“Your old problem has acted up again, you got the timing of adjusting the heat wrong.”
Jiang Weiming scooped up a spoonful of tofu, “This one is okay, but you used the wrong ham.”
Indeed, he found quite a few faults.
“Only you, San, could taste these issues. These young ones, all they know is eating and nothing else,” Jiang Jianguo said, resigned and frustrated.
Jiang Feng tasted a bite of the Fengjing braised pig’s trotters.
Delicious, with no faults.
Taking another taste of the fish balls, also delicious, with no faults.
Then eating a piece of tofu, truly delicious, with no faults whatsoever.
Finally, tasting his Kung Pao Chicken, hey, now he could find a fault!
“This Kung Pao Chicken is made by Feng, right?” Jiang Weiming took a happy taste and said with a smile, “Not bad, Feng’s knifework is practiced quite well.”
“The fire control is all right too, but the seasoning is a bit lacking.”
“Keep practicing.”
Jiang Feng:…
Alright, Granduncle Weiming’s double standards were quite severe.
But through this, Jiang Feng truly acknowledged the culinary talent and foundation of Sir’s generation of the Jiang family. Logically speaking, at Jiang Weiming’s age, his sense of taste should’ve significantly declined, yet he could still pick out so many flaws in Weiguo’s dishes with just a taste, while Feng couldn’t discern anything.
If he were to evaluate these three dishes, it would be, delicious, truly delicious, and this is way too delicious.
The paucity of words was enough to make one cry.
To become a top-class master chef, one must first be a good eater. Sir has been angry with Jianguo for years precisely because he was the one who had the best palate among the brothers. With such an innate talent yet choosing to be a tailor, first giving Sir hope and then disappointing him, indeed there was a sense of seeking one’s own ruin.
Jiang Feng sneaked a look at his parents.
Great, they were enjoying the Fengjing braised pig’s trotters, and they couldn’t taste the faults either.
To express their appreciation for Sir’s efforts in cooking, Jiankang ate 6 bowls of rice and Wang Xiulian ate 4 bowls. If it hadn’t been for Jiandang and his wife arriving in time to clean off the last bit of food and soup, Feng thought his parents could have easily eaten two more bowls.
Sir and Weiming went into the room to talk and didn’t seem to care for the second son who had come from far away to freeload a meal.
Sir was almost indifferent to all his sons who did not carry on the Jiang family’s cooking tradition. Initially, when he was teaching his sons, he had planned kitchen positions for all of them, little did he know, only one became a cook, while the rest all ran off.
One should know that Jiandang had been having a tough time staying in Zet City for the past few months.
As Sir was in Alan City teaching Feng, even though he didn’t care much for the other sons, they, with rather thick skins, would still come for dinner with their families, bringing gifts for Sir like tonics, clothes, tea leaves, and even vegetables bought from the market, claiming, “I am just coming to visit Dad out of filial piety, and just happened to arrive at mealtime.” Sir couldn’t exactly turn them all away.
And Sir was typically straightforward in saying he didn’t care for his sons, but whenever he cooked, there were always more than eight dishes, and rice was cooked in buckets, hardly looking like no meal was prepared.
Only for Jiandang and his wife, they really hadn’t gotten a single meal, except during summer vacation.
As soon as Sir returned, the couple eagerly came to the countryside, only to be sent back on the same day without having acquired even a single meal.
Weiming, looking out the window from inside the house, saw Jiankang and his wife chatting with Jiandang and his wife and couldn’t help but laugh, “Your two sons really get along well.”
“Their relationship is just average; No. 2 gets along best with No. 1, San gets along well with Si, and Si gets along well with everyone,” Jianguo understood his sons well.
“That’s already not bad,” Weiming sighed, thinking of his own two sons, “Much better than those two good-for-nothing brats of mine.”
Feuding brothers, it was his failure to discipline.
“Every family has its own challenges,” Weiming lamented..