Dao of Cooking

Chapter 1 - The Stall

Cooking in this world felt different. It took Lei more than a few days to understand the reality of his new life.

Like most old people, the ones Lei had the fortune to work for had so kindly let him know that they didn't want any of his dishes — anything new, for that matter. Yet, after tasting his pasta, a part of him had expected to be asked if this was what enlightenment tasted like.

Well, there was not much to do about that. They were happy cooking their traditional cuisine, and Lei respected that and settled for being their dishwasher for the most part.

Thankfully, after a month of hard labor and honest sweat, he'd managed to secure a good spot and a little stall in a distant market for his solo venture, allowing him to leave behind those days of suffering.

The place bustled with noise, a crowd of shuffling heads pouring from a great labyrinth of streets into the Eastern Square where dozens of shops and stalls stood at attention. The sunlight shone brightly, and the air was full of that dreamy, captivating smell of incense.

Taking a breath in, Lei first started with the green peppers, cutting them into thin slices, and making sure there were no seeds left in them. Then came the onions, already peeled and cut in half. Laying them flat on the cutting board, which was a piece of wood, Lei diced them beautifully.

Then he stared up at the sun and then down at the square. The morning was in full swing, the crowd growing in numbers at each passing second. Already, some of his regulars were sneaking glances at his stall; though he had to admit, there weren't many of them.

But he was happy. It'd been only a week since he started this stall business, after all, and it hadn't been easy to attract attention with his rather novel dishes.

Other than some pepper, coriander, and ginger, the places here mostly didn't bother to use any other thing to season their dishes. But the years Lei had spent in kitchens back on Earth prevented him from settling for their simple ways.

He didn't become a Michelin-star chef with just 'okayish' dishes.

Details mattered. Even in this ancient land of China, it was his intention to abide by his kitchen codes. Everything had to be perfect.

The tomatoes almost rolled onto his cutting board once he regarded them with a strict gaze. Strange eggplants, the people called them here, and Lei could see where they were coming from. He diced them before flourishing the old bowl that he'd snatched from Granny Xu's place. That woman owed him at least this much.

Now, his favorite part. Lei cracked ten eggs inside the bowl and stirred them with a stick until they were as yellow as the sun high overhead. With that, all the ingredients for the dish were ready.

It was a dish called menemen.

This recipe came from his mother's side who he hoped was still living in Turkey. Though it looked simple, it was packed with flavors so rich that once eaten, there was no going back. You had to eat it every single day until you'd get sick of it.

After messing around with a couple of different recipes this last week, Lei had finally decided on this dish as his plat principal. He expected great things from it. Perhaps it'd make him enough money to rent a new place, rather than that rotten cage of a house.

It'll help me complete this mission, that's for sure.

[Feed 300 People]

Progress: 285/300

A smile creased his lips as he regarded the blueish screen that floated before him. It came with a thought, and gone, just like that, yet with another thought. He owed his life to this mission. It kept him motivated and gave him a purpose to work for after he found himself in a wrecked home.

Liang Lei, the twenty-year-old young man whose body he had inherited a month ago, and now saw as his soul brother, was an unfortunate guy. Banished from his clan because his meager talent in cultivation, greatly disappointed and disgraced his family line, he had to scrape by in this city all alone until, one day, a pair of cultivators razed his home to the ground as they passed.

It was because of his soul brother's grim death that Lei had decided against staying here, as a mortal, waiting for another nuke to kick him goodbye. That wasn't his choice of a future. No, he'd take the reins into his own hands, even if that meant taking chances against a world that brimmed with monstrous beasts and cracked cultivators.

Just like that wise man who'd said before, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

He hoped his soul brother would do the same. Now and then he tried to find comfort in thinking that maybe, just maybe, the guy experienced a transition just like him. Hell, he could even be bearing a string of curses from his boss for being late right now.

However, he had doubts about whether his body was still one piece after that crash.

Well, that's beyond me, now, pal. Sorry.

Sighing, Lei poured his thoughts back into his work. He'd already spent weeks lost in those thoughts before finally accepting that there was no turning back. This was his life now, and he had to make the best of it.

With the eggs and the other ingredients ready, he lacked one final crucial thing before diving into the cooking process: bread.

He needed it, and he needed it fast, for his competition was already hard at work, luring his potential customers to their sides.

Then, as if in answer to his thoughts, Lei saw a young man bounding across the square like an angry bull, parting the sea of people into two halves. With each step, the fat under his chin wriggled, the bloody apron curving over his belly stretching, and stretching until it seemed it would split.

"Got you your bread, Brother Lei!" he screamed, cradling loaves of bread in a sack gripped tightly in both hands.

A smile creased Lei's lips. As expected from him, his brother-in-arms in this world, known as the Hasty Butcher around here, didn't disappoint.

But he was a bit late, so Lei asked, "Brother Lou, did something happen? Why are you late?"

"Ah, it's about my… Father," Fatty Lou said, laying a trembling arm onto the stall before gasping himself into a coughing fit. His face was as red as a beet. "He…" — he breathed, hard — "He told me that an old friend…" — he choked once more on his own spit — "came for a visit."

Lei let out the breath he didn't know he was holding once Fatty Lou finished his sentence. Watching him struggle with the words made Lei's heart clench tight in his chest.

"At least he's had enough time to bake the bread," Lei said, reaching for the bread.

As Fatty Lou slumped down near the stall, Lei cut the bread in halves before kindling the firewood. Then he revisited the plan they'd discussed the other day in his mind. Lei had doubts whether it'd be effective or not, but Fatty Lou was too sure of himself, telling him that he'd sell the stuff in no time.

I can only hope he is right.

A smile creased Lei's lips as he rolled up his sleeves. It was time to cook.

Lard, in. The wok sizzled with the touch of the fat, producing the first delicate trail of smoke. The onions were more than ready to dive in and dive in they did. Lei grabbed hold of the handle with one hand, giving the onions a little shake.

Seconds passed as they turned brown and soft. The peppers followed suit, and Lei added more fat for good measure. Butter would've been his first choice, but it was hard to find one that fit his taste, so he had to go with the second-best alternative.

The strong smell of fat mingled with the underlying sweetness of the onions and peppers. As Lei was about to sauté the mix, he couldn't help but glance at Fatty Lou, who seemed to have recovered from his little episode.

"Are you sure that'll work, Brother Lou?" Lei said, frowning.

Fatty Lou nodded with strength as he struggled to his feet and dusted off his apron. "Trust me, they won't know what hit them!"

Soon, Fatty Lou vanished into the crowd, leaving him alone. Lei kept an eye on him as he poured the tomatoes into the mix before sprinkling a pinch of salt and some black pepper powder.

Well, that was it. They were really doing this. As a chef who'd spent most of his time holed back inside the kitchens, Lei had little idea about marketing. But not Fatty Lou. The man had the gift of speech in him, which he planned to put to good use today.

The flavors curled cunningly toward the crowd, and it didn't take long for a small group to gather before the stall. Six or seven people, at most, but it was a start.

Lei could see some familiar faces smiling up at him, old customers who'd tried these 'strange-looking dishes' before. Some others were drawn here by the smell alone, curious faces waiting to see the end result.

Just then, a fat man shouldered his way to the stall, caring not about the looks he got from the group around him. His face was twisted, cheeks flushed, and drops of sweat rolling down his chin.

Suddenly, he pointed a trembling finger to the stall and roared into Lei's face, "Heavens, we're blessed!"

The crowd stepped back at the same time, even the ones strolling about the square stopping as if a strong wind slapped them across the cheek. Some stall owners craned their heads to see about the owner of this mighty voice, only to stiffen.

"This…" Fatty Lou said, closing his eyes and cupping his hands as if in prayer. "The mixture of flavors is almost tingling my nose. Not too strong, but sharp enough to leave you wanting… Can I taste it? Can I dare taste such a novel dish? I'm not sure. I hear a voice whispering into my ears, saying that should I try this dish once, I might never go back again. Will this one dare? Am I worthy enough?"

Lei almost slipped and fell as he was about to add the eggs into the wok. Though he roughly knew Fatty Lou's plan, he'd never told Lei the specifics.

But he wasn't done.

"Are you?" Fatty Lou's eyes snapped open as he jabbed with one thick finger into the crowd, his face twisted up in cold rage. "Are you worthy enough for such a heavenly dish?"

Lei's customers inched slowly nearer the stall as the crowd whispered among themselves. Most had in their eyes the sort of twitch one would get when they are nervous but in a curious way.

He had to stifle a laugh watching them, or else this whole trick would be meaningless. So Lei kept his focused gaze and watched as the eggs splashed into the mix before giving them a slight twist with the stick but didn't stir them too much.

The dish had to look messy, just like a modern painting: it had to present a front that'd make people doubtful and curious at the same time.

"You don't know," Fatty Lou was saying. When Lei looked at him, the man had already sunk to his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was trying to keep the tears inside. "How can you? Who are you to know? Masters? Hardly seems so. Then crooks? No, it's not it. Is this what they call the courage of the ignorant? The so-called rashness that seldom produces the spark of genius? Tell me! Does the dish say anything to you? Can you hear it?"

Let alone the crowd, even Lei wasn't sure if the dish had anything to say. Still, Lei leaned an ear close to it and heard it sizzling — it was ready. Then he took the halves from the side, cut them open, and started pouring the menemen inside as they exchanged a look with Fatty Lou.

He gave Lei a small nod before rushing toward the stall and snatched the first bread out of his fingers.

After the first bite, his face melted. He licked his lips with practiced fashion and down his chin, then slapped a hand across his thigh, producing a loud sound that echoed all around the square.

When he finished it, he smacked his lips as if to savor the taste for a second longer.

The crowd had gone still. Everyone, from the little group before the stall to the faraway onlookers, seemed frozen in shock.

Lei, too, was busy staring at Fatty Lou, his stomach rumbling as he debated whether he should take the second one or not.

He cursed himself for not eating anything this morning.

Such a rookie mistake.

"Is this reality?" Fatty Lou pleaded, staring up at the heavens, fingers clenched into fists. "Or am I dreaming? Surely this heavenly flavor must be an illusion. Some Honorable Cultivator at work, perhaps? Then this lowly Lou must bow his head and ask forgiveness from this Senior, for this one has but a little wish. Should I— No! Would you let me, oh, Honorable Senior, taste this piece of heaven one more time?"

"Can't be that good, right?" Lei heard a man say, his eyes glinting.

"I don't know… but I want to try," said another who stood beside him, one hand under his chin as he stared at the pieces of bread Lei had unwittingly raised high enough that everyone could see them.

An old man, seemingly mustering his courage, neared the stall, holding some copper coins in his trembling hands. "Young man, how much—"

Fatty Lou snapped his head at him, with a frown as deep as the wrinkles mapping the old man's face.

"Er…" the old man stuttered, glancing around as if to understand what he had done wrong. Then, light dawned in his eyes, and he smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me, Master, how much for a single bread?"

Fatty Lou nodded in approval.

"Six copper coins would be more than enough, sir," Lei said politely, trying hard not to rub his hands together. They were itching.

After the first sale, the others came crashing like a downpour. From left and right reached different hands, holding coins, pressing tight into each other while Lei sweated under the endless assault.

Lei's heart thumped with joy as he watched the coins piling up in one corner. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in far too long. Lost in the hustle of kitchens and pretentious jerks that were his patrons, he had almost forgotten the simple pleasure of cooking for others. But here, amidst the bustling market and eager customers, everything felt refreshingly real.

Watching those people eating his dishes, smacking their lips, smiling as juice trailed down their chins reminded him of the old times when he'd been just a simple cook. It reminded him of why he'd fallen in love with cooking in the first place.

Without even realizing it, another batch was ready. With practiced ease, Lei poured the menemen into the waiting bread, the savory aroma mingling with the scent of freshly baked dough. Lei passed the steaming portion to the next eager customer without looking.

Then a voice dinned inside his ears.

[Feed 300 People]

[Starting Mission Completed!]

[System Initializing…]

…..

"At last, a worthy disciple…" a tired voice echoed deep beyond the heavens.

"Took you long enough, Old Xiang," another one said with relief in his voice.

"Mm. I was the last one in our ranks to find a new disciple."

"The Heavenly Dao… Is slowly slipping from our fingers!"

"The pieces are set. We can only hope this will be enough."

……