Moliere was so shocked that he even wondered if he should burn incense and pray to Buddha, because it seemed like God didn't care about China.
He had learned this from his landlady. She was an old lady in her sixties who was a devout Buddhist. She would often pray at the temple on the first and fifteenth day of each month. Whenever she met Moliere, she would teach him some Buddhist teachings. Thus, Moliere had a deep impression of her.
Moliere used to live with Dean, but when he decided to move his restaurant to Chengdu, he bought a house himself.
It was still under renovation. Since it was far away, he rented a room near Taoxi Road. Moliere's life had been smooth ever since he came to China, except for the fact that he didn't have a good master.
Except for Mark, of course.
"Maybe we should meet less in the future," Moliere looked at Mark's excited face thoughtfully.
Mark had no idea that Moliere was thinking too much. He was still thinking about which dish would be served first.
There were many classic dishes in Spain. For example, paella, the national dish of Spain, meant paella. There were many kinds of seafood in it, or Iberian ham and so on. However, Mark chose the famous dishes of various places, which had a great symbolic meaning. This was also the reason why he blurted out these dishes.
"According to the degree of difficulty, either the frozen soup or the roasted salad escalivar should be served first. But Head Chef Yuan's way of doing things has always been unexpected. I only need to wait and eat," Mark said as he sat on the chair, restraining his eagerness to wait.
The speed at which Yuan Zhou served the dishes had never disappointed anyone. However, the first dish that was served was Moriah's order. Due to Mark's excitement, his order was sent to the kitchen first.
"So beautiful," Mark, who had been waiting for the Spanish dish, was conquered by the appearance of the dish.
Red, yellow, green, black, and white. The five clear colors looked very beautiful. Even though the ingredients of each color were different and had different shapes, they were basically the same in size and looked uniformly beautiful. Even people with obsessive-compulsive disorder couldn't find any problems with them.
This was Moliere's Multicolored Chicken.
His own dish was served first. Not only was the color fresh and elegant, even the smell was elegant, but it was also the kind that made people want to eat it.
Moliere could not care less about his luck. He picked up his chopsticks and started eating.
His skill in using chopsticks was practiced, and he was very nimble. First, he aimed at the white egg and put it in his mouth. The delicious taste of the chicken burst out. Although the shape was a bit like an almond and looked very thick, when he ate it, he knew that it was smooth, tender, and juicy. The rich gravy did not have too much fat, leaving only a plump taste.
"It's really delicious. This should be chicken meat, right? Moreover, it's pure chicken meat without any other additives. I wonder how Head Chef Yuan prepared it. It's tender, smooth, and pure. This is way too delicious," Mo Liai lamented.
Moliere was also good at cooking chicken and was quite famous in France. Unfortunately, Yuan Zhou's chicken meat was already much better than Moliere's.
Mo Liai admired Yuan Zhou from the bottom of his heart for being able to make him speechless in the field he was good at apart from eating delicious food.
"Ka Ca, Ka Ca"
Not only was the chicken tender, but even the side dishes, be it the chili or the black fungus, were crispy and refreshing. Paired with the delicious chicken, it was like returning to the countryside, refreshing and natural.
Moliere kept eating, and his hands didn't stop either. His movements were fast, and the food on the plate was visibly decreasing.
Mark, on the other hand, widened his eyes as he struggled internally. He really wanted to eat, but as a senior, it wasn't appropriate for him to eat the food of a junior.
"China seems to respect the elderly. I think it's okay to eat a little," Mark quickly convinced himself.
By this time, half of the food had gone down. Mark picked up his chopsticks and picked up a piece of black fungus and put it into his mouth. "Ka Ca". With a crisp sound, the fungus broke, and the taste on the surface of the fungus seeped into the meat. The originally bland taste immediately became rich.
The ingredients were processed quite cleanly. Other than the crispy texture, there was no rustiness. Because of the environment in which the fungus grew, even if it was washed clean, it would still have a rusty texture. However, Yuan Zhou's processing had none of that. Other than the crispy texture, there was nothing else. It was truly the taste of a mountain delicacy.
Mark's eyes lit up. This vegetable was delicious. "Crispy and a little soft at the end. It has a unique fragrance. It's delicious."
Before Moliere could react, Mark picked up another piece with his chopsticks and put it into his mouth. This time, he picked up more, and was seen.
It wasn't the first time Moliere's food had been snatched. As long as he ate in The Kitchen God, there was never a time when he didn't get robbed. Hence, he was very used to this.
Having experience meant having a way. He tilted the plate, lowered his body slightly, and placed his chopsticks on the plate, ready to go.
"Clang, clang, clang."
The chopsticks flew. Before Mark could react, all the food disappeared into Moliere's mouth in the blink of an eye.
"Maybe I can learn this way of eating," Mark said thoughtfully.
The main thing was that he felt this way of eating would prevent him from being robbed, and he could eat more. Ju Man, Li Alexandra, and the others had left a shadow in his heart. He had been looking for a way to break it, and now he seemed to have found a way.
In the world of martial arts, only speed was unbeatable!
Just as Moliere swallowed the last mouthful of food, Mark's first dish was served. Compared to Moliere's colorful dishes, this dish paled in comparison.
It was pitch black. Of course, upon closer inspection, one would discover that it wasn't completely black. There were specks of light flickering within, and the darkness was layered. It wasn't the kind of gloomy feeling that it gave off. On the contrary, this darkness had a bit of vitality to it.
"The aroma is indeed unique to cuttlefish rice. It smells like the sea, but there's also a hint of sourness. This should be the aroma of lemon." Mark took a deep breath and savored the aroma.
Mark was very familiar with this dish, so he could tell many things just by smelling it.
Moliere also looked curiously at the rice on a thick plate on the table. He had eaten it a few times, but not often. After all, he always ate French food.
His knowledge of Spanish cuisine was limited, but judging from the expression of the Spanish chef opposite him, it must be authentic and delicious.
The cuttlefish rice came with a spoon. Mark picked up the white spoon and placed it on the plate. The white and black formed a sharp contrast. He scooped up a spoonful and brought it closer. He found that every grain of rice was black, very evenly distributed, and each grain was clear and plump. One look and one could tell that the heat was just right.
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