Sizzle!
Sizzle!
Sizzle!
This is the sound of flas.
Of course, only Xia Yu could hear such a tangible movent of fire at the scene.
His handling of the ’at slices’ was classic; he found a grill and a net, then used chopsticks to place slices of pork, interspersed with fat and lean, onto the grill net for roasting!
That’s right, it’s this ’grill’ cooking technique!
"Ah, grilled at?"
Shanben Xiaoshu was stunned.
Is there ran paired with grilled at? No way, how can grilled at be a side dish for ran, put into the soup, paired with noodles? Wouldn’t that be strange when sipping and chewing in the mouth?
What kind of ran is this, hey, Fukuoka Ran?
Sapporo Ran?
Or Kitsukado Ran?
Shanben Xiaoshu racked his brains but couldn’t find a style that uses ’grilled at’ with ran.
"This is definitely not char siu!"
He said confidently.
Japanese char siu is made by ’frying’, ’boiling’, and ’stewing’, but never ’grilling’!
Moreover, if it’s grilled at, the moisture evaporates severely, becoming dry and tough. When paired with very chewy ran, wouldn’t that further burden the mouth?
Eating "comfortably" is also an extrely important texture!
An operation that people cannot understand.
Shanben Xiaoshu gave it such an evaluation in his mind; he wasn’t reckless and rambling.
Instead, Old Monk Yizhen reacted differently from Shanben and Aoki, his eyes lit up, "What a concise manipulation of flas!"
He had attended Xia Yu’s public lecture called "Primitive Fla".
If, in the lecture, this young lecturer’s theory had an air of mystery that left people puzzled, now, at this mont, Old Monk Yizhen imdiately understood the technique of the ’grilled at’.
It seed to point directly to the origin.
"Huh!"
Master Yizhen’s expression gradually grew serious.
The most superficial layer of ’Wabi-Sabi’ points to the essence of simplicity, stripping away the unnecessary exterior, doesn’t it?
Now, Xia Yu’s Bursting Fla gives the old monk a feeling similar to this.
It is refined.
Omitting any mysticisms, simply displaying the "origin" for them to see.
It is plain.
No need for casting materials like "Morse Oil," just ordinary fruit charcoal in the small grill. Yet the flas are manipulated by an invisible hand, making a "sizzling" sound. How do you describe it, perhaps like holding a fla-thrower, pressing the ignition button, and the blue high-temperature flas target the at slices on the grill net, forming a beam, and impacting!
Simple, direct, brutal.
Yet it contains the legend of heat, imparting a sense of sanctity.
"Seeing a mountain is a mountain."
"Seeing water is water."
Everything returns to the starting point.
Starting over?
Not at all.
The old monk Yizhen’s eyes revealed an inexplicable astonishnt, "The beginning is also the end!"
"He walked around and ca back!"
"The road is traversed!"
Ah.
At this mont, Shanben Xiaoshu couldn’t help but speak out, "It’s burned!"
The heat was "excessive," and the evenly sliced pieces of at on the grill had semi-burnt surfaces.
A trace of black appeared.
Even the old monk was suddenly startled, "How can it be!"
Aoki Motota kept muttering, "I don’t understand!"
A master who has traversed the path of "heat" to its fullest, how could he let his pure white canvas be tainted by a speck of ink! It’s not scientific! Impossible!
"Want to try?"
Xia Yu looked up at Shanben Xiaoshu, gestured at the half-burnt grilled pork with his chopsticks, placed it on a small dish, and handed it over.
Shanben held the plate, while Aoki Motota and Master Yizhen quickly gathered around.
Upon close inspection, the more they looked, the more it left everyone puzzled.
It was indeed scorched; the originally tender outer layer of the at turned into a partially burned shell, and without a doubt, a bite into it would surely make a sizzling noise.
The nose caught, and the mouth and taste buds tasted a bitter flavor first and foremost.
Eating charred, bitter trash, worse than ’dark cuisine’, even Shanben Xiaoshu’s tongue, tempered by his own dark culinary bombardnts and trials, oddly couldn’t withstand it; his whole face puckered tightly.
"Wow!"
"So bitter!"
He spat out.
"Why is it so bitter?"
Indeed.
Why?
Monk Yizhen furrowed his brows deeply, his gaze sweeping over the remaining slices of at on the grill, their surface charred black, but the interior surely remained tender.
But why did the bitterness pierce his heart?
The old monk felt that things were not simple.
Then Xia Yu continued to prepare the ran according to the "recipe" in his mind.
The chashu, or roasted at, the most ti-consuming and labor-intensive side dish, was ready. Of the commonly used toppings for Japanese ran, such as "soft-boiled eggs," "young bamboo shoots," "chopped scallions," "seaweed," "red ginger," and so on, Xia Yu only took "young bamboo shoots" and "soft-boiled eggs."
Then, he cooked a couple of seasonal vegetables and placed them in the ran bowls.
An hour later, the broth boiled from chicken bones and chicken feet was ready, its color a clear and cool yellow, poured into large white ceramic ran bowls.
Thus, the green seasonal vegetables stood out in the bowls, dominated by the orange-yellow tones of the broth, young bamboo shoots, soft-boiled eggs, and chashu.
"It’s done—"
Xia Yu took off his apron and set out two trays, each holding two bowls of noodles.
The group moved from the kitchen to the mountain dining hall.
By this ti, the sky had already darkened, and it was past the temple’s fixed dinner ti, so the dining hall was dark. Aoki Motota went in first to turn on the lights, while Xia Yu and Shanben each carried a tray, sitting on the tatami mats that the young monks had cleaned.
There were a total of four bowls of noodles.
Xia Yu didn’t eat, letting the three take their portions, and he carried the remaining bowl with its tray to the "forbidden zone" table.
"Place the chopsticks."
The old monk said.
Xia Yu complied, neatly placing a pair of chopsticks on the bowl.
As for Shanben Xiaoshu, he sat down with a thud, unable to contain himself any longer, and stared at the bowl of noodles with an uncontrollable exclamation, "It’s indescribable!"
The ran was covered under the "roasted at," "young bamboo shoots," "soft-boiled eggs," and a few seasonal vegetables.
The entire bowl was filled with the clear yellow broth, seemingly transparent at the bottom yet exhibiting a distinct sense of complexity.
A gentle warmth wafted over.
Shanben Xiaoshu took a gentle breath, feeling an indescribable comfort in his chest, as if standing atop a mountain peak, his vision had never been so broad, the distant mountains had never crouched so low before him.
Eh, where’s the bitterness of the "roasted at"?
He sniffed hard.
Shanben started with the chopsticks, picking up a slice of at. This at was quite unsightly, half charred black, but after soaking in the broth, there was an indescribable change. It was not just the sll disappearing.
He took a bite.
"Crunch!"
The charred shell made a very distinct cracking sound.
So the bitterness was still there.
The taste that flooded his mouth made Shanben, almost instinctively, wrinkle his entire face.
As the black shell shattered completely in his mouth, the young man with a pouf of hair sitting on the tatami mat suddenly tensed his legs, his toes even cramped.
Crisp!
Bitter!
However, the tender at inside, when chewed to pieces, mixing with the broth in the mouth, surprisingly created a subli sweet taste.
"Is this sweetness after bitterness?"
"Did he deliberately char the shell to create the ’charred flavor’?"
"What’s the intention behind this?"
Shanben Xiaoshu scratched his ears and chewed non-stop, feeling sothing was missing. Suddenly, as the food scraps in his mouth felt dry, a light bulb went on in his head, "Is it the lack of moisture?"
He picked up the bowl of noodles and took a big gulp of the broth.
Slurp!
Instantly, his palate experienced a completely different taste.
On the mountain peak, Shanben Xiaoshu saw a tree that had died from a lightning strike. Yet, this very tree, struck by lightning and tempered in flas, in his gaze, sprouted new buds.
The mountain peak was barren, the blackened wood, new buds, nothing more.
Without knowing why, Shanben felt that this scene was full of Zen, and compared to the comfort felt from slling the broth earlier, at this mont, his heart was as tranquil as water.
"Nothing truly dies, it’s just new birth."
"Out of decay, new life blooms..."
Sitting in ditation under the blackened wood, beside the green buds, Shanben Xiaoshu resembled a high monk enlightened in Zen, his expression as calm as an ancient well.
"Wabi-Sabi!"
A pair of chopsticks clattered to the ground.
In the night-ridden mountain dining hall, a fifth person’s faint breathing was quietly added.
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