Chapter 405
Words:1597Update:22/07/01 05:38:52
Candies, hot chocolate, and ginger biscuits served to fill the stomachs of those who were still sitting at the table.
Cong Nianwei was stir-frying traditional American mince pies on the stove. If they hadn't come up with the idea of celebrating a traditional festival, it would have been more convenient for them to cook Chinese food.
Baking powder and salt had to be added to the crust of the pie, and softened margarine had to be added as well. It was similar to the chives boxes that Chinese people loved to eat in the morning. The onion, meat, vegetables, and butter were wrapped around the filling.
However, the chives were put into the frying pan and fried until they were golden and transparent. As for the minced meat pie, it had to wait for the turkey to come out of the oven and then be roasted inside for 10 minutes.
The button to control the time tripped automatically. Qin Guan put on a pair of gloves and pulled the huge turkey out of the oven.
Its delicacy was placed on the white porcelain plate, decorated with rose petals. Under the faint taste of butter and pepper, the chicken also lost its gorgeous color.
The chicken was fat and plump, but there was not a single drop of grease around it. It was obvious that it had been roasted to perfection, and the essence of the meat had been locked inside.
As the temperature in the room dropped, the golden skin emitted its unique crackling sound of oil. No one needed to try it to know how crispy and fragrant this layer of skin fat would be.
Baptiste and Batiste carefully lifted the long plate and placed it on the giant dining table.
Joseph's Christmas present, a tablecloth with an exquisite embroidered silver border, was now spread over the table, but still could not conceal the charm of the turkey.
"Ouch! Ouch! " Before Coulibaly's black claws could reach the turkey plate, his dark skin and white tablecloth exposed him.
It was the crystal scepter he had given to Cong Nianwei. It was a gift from a rich man, so Cella was using it as a spear of judgment.
By the time the browned minced meat pies and the rich and fragrant corn porridge were served on the table, the diners at the table were already green with envy.
"Well, should we thank God at the table or something?"
"For what? Thank Mother Earth for giving us food? We should thank the gods of China. Let's not waste time. "
"Let's dig in..."
Before the speech could begin, the other side was already grabbing the chicken. The most elegant table manners originated from England and France.
The two big drumsticks were in the hands of Baptiste and Le, one on the left and the other on the right.
Joseph felt very stifled. Even his tall stature couldn't overcome the shameless person's frame-up. Just as his hand was about to grab his target, the other party's spittle would cause him to retract his hand.
Ordinary people could not resist the power of a biochemical weapon.
Qin Guan went to the kitchen and stirred the red wine with brown sugar, orange peel, almonds and raisins. Then, he added a little vodka and other ingredients to the Christmas Eve red wine.
More than half of the turkey had already gone down.
The transparent glasses were filled one by one. There was not a single drop of wine left in the pot. After eating and drinking to their heart's content, the companions drank a cup of wine. It was really fragrant and warm.
"I say..."
"Ahhhhhh … … Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to those whom He loves … …"
Seven or eight members of a choir dressed like Santa Claus appeared in Qin Guan's apartment.
"Well..."
"Attack The Good Angel Sing..."
The singing on the street rose and fell. It should be noted that there were not many professional singers among this group of people or groups. They were just a group of amateur Americans who were taking advantage of this opportunity to meet up with their friends.
Everyone in the house was shocked by the singing. They knew that it was going to be a sleepless night.
The colorful wrappers had completed their mission and were lying in the corner of the room. Cong Nianwei had arranged all the Christmas presents neatly and neatly.
The noise on the street made the child plan to stay up late to work. Suddenly, a tenant knocked on the door of his house late at night.
The delicate porcelain doll and her loyal servant were standing at the door of the house unhurriedly.
"Merry Christmas Eve..."
Before he could finish his sentence, two uninvited guests walked into his room leisurely.
"Sorry to trouble you, Qin Guan. I'll stay here for one night..."
What? Cong Nianwei popped her head out of the room. Her eyes were as wide as the black cat's.
"Qin Guan? Who is she? "
"Ha ha ha... The president of the Japanese fan club. I met her when I received an award in Japan..."
Cong Nianwei frowned. Before she could finish her question, the fat man knelt down on the floor with a plop.
"Please take me in, Mr. Qin! Please! "
You scared me! You're only going to stay here for one night! Do you have to be so scary? I thought you were going to commit suicide like an ancient samurai.
If Qin Guan had to commit suicide to take care of the young lady, Big Stone might really have done it.
Nobody knew what the New York police were thinking. On Christmas Eve, they had destroyed most of the Yamaguchi Family's stronghold in New York, but they hadn't arrested their own daughter.
When Han Zhujiu led a group of desperadoes and joined forces with the Mexican and Italian figures to kill all the brothers of the corporation, Fang Qiu's expression changed.
Yamaguchi Tsutomu had realized that she had nowhere to go in New York.
Failure was not scary, but the fact that her foundation had been uprooted...
The first person she thought of was Qin Guan. She had checked his address as soon as she had arrived in New York, but she had never bothered him.
As long as she could get through the night safely, she would fly back to New York the next day. She would never come back to New York again.
With the support of the government, the Mafia had forgotten the law of the jungle.
The United States was not suitable for the Japanese.
In the awkward little house, this black-clothed fatty, who smelled of blood, was kneeling on the ground. The girl had an indifferent expression on her face. Her head was tilted, and her eyes were black and white.
Qin Guan was not a fool. He didn't want Cong Nianwei to worry, so he picked up the phone and spoke in a low voice.
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