Chapter 336: Chapter 22 “Roast” and “Test
The first food processing thod mastered by our ancient ancestors, who once ate raw flesh and drank blood, was undoubtedly “roasting.”
Roasting is intimately related to fire, as long as there is fire, there can be roasting. Or rather, it was for the sake of roasting that they sought to control fire.
For these ancestors, roasting at wasn’t just a way of preparing food, but also bore the significance of a sacrificial ritual.
In the tis of Winters Montagne, people regarded cooking as the labor of lower classes and won. n of status would not enter the kitchen, and families that could afford it would hire a maid to handle the cooking.
But in those primitive tribes that still retained ancient ways, on the lands of the Herders and the people of the north, slaughtering animals and roasting at was the n’s responsibility.
at distribution symbolized the power of the tribal leader; only the chieftain could wield the knife.
This perception even infiltrated the language, where many words denoting power, tracing back through history to modern tis, are closely related to slaughter and apportioning at.
The strong n standing before the bonfire, distributing precious at to other mbers of the tribe, represented a picture of power and honor.
Knowing this, it would not be surprising why Gerard Mitchell—the man of highest status in the entire estate—took personal charge of roasting the pig.
Gerard’s role in this task was not because roasting at was easy. On the contrary, it was a more arduous task than harvesting tobacco. It demanded great effort and could only be managed by the most formidable n.
Taking on the tougher job was not a punishnt but a matter of honor.
If Winters was familiar with the past of the Dusans of Wolf Town, he would be amazed to find that the old Dusans working on the roast with Gerard were all once the most formidable and bravest warriors among the Dusack.
Only a Dusack who had proven himself on the battlefield was now worthy to stand next to Gerard and help him with the roasting.
Unconsciously, Gerard, Sergei, and the Dusacks were sacralizing the act of roasting.
Due to poor air circulation, the charcoal mostly smoldered throughout. Oil dripping onto the charcoal from the roast at sizzled, and fragrant smoke wafted from the gaps in the lid.
It was less of a roasting process and more akin to smoking.
It indeed was a tireso job. One couldn’t simply throw in too much fuel at once, so those in charge of the roast could not sleep, needing to constantly watch the pit to prevent the fire from going out.
That night, Winters and the old Dusacks watched over six roasting pits, periodically shoveling in timber and coal into the pit’s bottom, lifting the lid to check the heat, flipping the at, and sprinkling salt and spices on the golden-brown flesh.
When there was no need to add more wood, everyone sat on small chairs next to the pits, enjoying drinks and chats while watching the flas leap within the fire basins.
The atmosphere was leisurely and comfortable, with a bit of a “boys’ club” vibe. The old Dusacks happily reminisced about the past, told jokes, boasted, and passed around a bottle of strong liquor.
Even Friar Reed seed to have a thorough understanding of Dusack history. He blended seamlessly into the Dusans’ conversation, occasionally dropping clever remarks that caused the Dusacks to burst into hearty laughter.
Sitting by the fire as the at slowly cooked was a delightful and pleasant affair—sweet wine, laughter, warm fire, faint smoke, the aroma of roasting at, and the crackling of wood…
Winters, affected by the atmosphere, couldn’t help but feel a bit tipsy as the wine bottle made a few rounds; even the Spellcaster, who rarely drank, beca slightly inebriated.
Unaware, the young Venetian found himself forgetting for the first ti that he was thousands of miles away from ho in a foreign land, enjoying everything like an ordinary resident of Wolf Town.
Ti spares no one; the old Dusacks gradually started snoozing, from ti to ti so couldn’t stay awake and slipped away to the nearby grass to sleep, and then returned upon waking.
Others ca and went, ca and went. The only ones who tirelessly stayed by the pits were Gerard, Winters, and Friar Reed.
Gerard enthusiastically taught Winters the secrets of roasting, with Winters listening while also occasionally voicing his own questions.
“Why not simply use a big fire then? It would cook faster, wouldn’t it?” Winters asked.
Gesticulating, Gerard explained, “For small pieces of at you can use a big fire. But for roasting a whole pig, if you use a big fire, the outside will burn while the inside remains raw. That’s why you start with a big fire to sear the skin, then the rest of the ti you use a low fla.”
“Roasting isn’t as simple as just placing at over a fire; not just the heat is important, but also the type of wood you use,” said the old friar, wide-awake, his eyes shining in the firelight, “Different woods change the flavor of the at.”
“Is that so?” Winters looked at Gerard.
Gerard picked up a log split in half and handed it to Winters, “Father Reed is right. This is walnut wood, take a sniff.”
Winters took the piece of wood and brought it to his nose, the heartwood emitting a faint sweetness.
“I sll a sort of fragrance,” Winters comnted.
Feigning irritation, the old friar said, “Would I lie to you?”
“When you smoke with a low fla, the sweetness of the wood also gets into the at,” Gerard remarked admiringly to Father Reed, “I didn’t expect you to know so much about roasting.”
“I don’t know much about it, I’ve just eaten plenty,” the old friar laughed, patting his hands together; he gave Winters’ shoulder a good pat, “Don’t underestimate roasting. Mr. Michel’s roasting is such a delicacy that it would be the grand finale on any royal table anywhere in the world, and enjoying such a taste is truly an honor.”
“Oh, you flatter too much,” Gerard’s face blossod into a smile.
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