Starting from Robinson Crusoe-Chapter 255 - 114: Cuisine

The freshly fried prawns were steaming hot, emitting a fragrant aroma. Just looking at their golden color on the plate was a delight.

The three little kittens were meowing, having slipped from their mother's grasp, climbing up Chen Zhou's pant leg with all their might.

Even Tizi couldn't suppress his appetite, his two furry, round front paws, like little buns, constantly pressing against the floor, with the tip of his tail slightly twitching.

Faced with the temptation of delicious food, his usually hoarse voice turned into a gentle, coquettish begging sound, which made people feel itchy inside.

On the side, Xiao Huihui was not to be outdone, rubbing against Chen Zhou's pant leg like a walking gas tank with his tail up. If it weren't for his size, he would have climbed into Chen Zhou's arms.

The freshly fried prawns were too tempting for Chen Zhou himself; he wouldn't let the opportunity to be the first to taste the dish go to the cats and dogs.

Ignoring the heat of the prawns, he picked up one with a hiss, blowing on the scalding body while peeling the shell.

After peeling off the golden-brown shell, what lay before Chen Zhou was white and tender prawn meat.

Without hesitation, he popped the prawn meat into his mouth, and while chewing, he could feel the fresh and tender texture, taste a hint of sweetness, along with the aroma of garlic, the slight saltiness of soy sauce, the sweetness of sugar, and the sour fragrance of vinegar...

Probably since it had been too long since he had tasted food with so many seasonings, Chen Zhou felt as though the flavors of the prawn meat were melting on his tongue, that long-lost taste indeed lingered.

But a prawn, after all, was too small, gone in two bites, all the freshness and tenderness like a dream, quietly vanished.

Still unsatisfied, Chen Zhou didn't bother peeling the shell, directly putting the deheaded prawn into his mouth, de-shelling it like cracking sunflower seeds, while continuing to eat the next one.

If the prawn shell was stubborn, hard to peel off from the meat, he wouldn't fuss over what was shell and what was meat, just chewed it all together; some prawns were overcooked, their shells crisp, offering a different taste.

The crunching sounds went on for a while, and a corner of the plate piled with fried prawns was now missing.

The water in the large iron pot was already boiling, bubbling away, steam rising.

Reluctantly, Chen Zhou put down the prawn in his hand, wiped his hands with a cloth, then picked up a slightly larger silver plate to cover the plate with the prawns, preventing the food from getting cold.

He carefully unhooked the three kittens from his body, despite their protests, and picked up the large jar of shellfish he had prepared, directly pouring it into the large iron pot, then adding two spoons of coarse salt to the pot.

Having grown up inland, this was his first time cooking scallops, and unknowingly, he made a rookie mistake.

For shellfish like scallops, if steaming, they shouldn't go in cold; if boiling, they shouldn't go in hot water.

Of course, it depends on whether they're shelled. If it's shelled scallop meat, putting it in boiling water is fine.

This is because scallops open when heated, and cooking them in hot water with shells affects the texture.

Also, Chen Zhou's pre-cooking process for the scallops wasn't very rigorous. Generally, the scallops harvested from the sea should be brushed before cooking; letting them spit out sand isn't enough to completely remove the sand stuck to them.

Uncleaned shells are impacted by hot water, causing sand on them to fall into the water, or even get squeezed into the meat, making them gritty when eaten.

But cooking is a skill that becomes easier with practice.

Chen Zhou wasn't a delicate lady who never lifted a finger. Growing up at his grandmother's, he wasn't unfamiliar with cooking, even if it wasn't a daily chore.

Once the shellfish were cooked and he tasted something off, he would quickly identify the problem and improve.

Of course, at this moment, Chen Zhou didn't know his water-cooked abalone, scallop, and clam medley had failed; he was taking out the two sea fish he had picked from the "Nitre Icebox," planning to grill them while the shellfish cooked.

He originally planned to also make a steamed sea urchin egg dish.

He once heard a classmate describe it, saying a hole was cut atop a fresh sea urchin, and its innards cleaned out, leaving only the pulp similar to fish roe inside.

Then crack an egg, mixing egg yolk and egg white, with salt, oil, and a little water.

After simple preparation, just place the sea urchin in a steaming pot of boiling water to steam, like making steamed egg custard, and when the egg inside sets to a jelly-like consistency, it can be taken out and eaten.

If you favor special flavors, and like it spicy or sour, you can sprinkle some green and red peppers on the egg or drip a few drops of lemon juice.

The dish's steps are simple, requiring few ingredients, but the sea urchin must be fresh, not a dead or frozen one.

Strictly speaking, the sea urchin Chen Zhou picked up from the beach wasn't fresh enough.

Of course, that wasn't the reason he didn't make the steamed sea urchin egg—the real delay was that he had no eggs.

Yesterday, while combing the sea, he did think of going to Pigeon Cave to get some pigeon eggs as ingredients but got so busy he forgot, only remembering last night while cutting sea urchins to feed the little mice.

By then, considering making steamed sea urchin eggs was too late, the flowering chives would have cooled; he'd have to gather again today and after the catch, go to Pigeon Cave to snatch eggs.

However, Chen Zhou had been to Pigeon Cave nearly ten times, getting less than a handful of pigeon eggs. Even if he got sea urchins, whether he could use pigeon eggs was still uncertain.

Moreover, pigeon eggs are too small; you need three to five to match a chicken egg, making them not cost-effective.

Chen Zhou was most fond of those large birds like wild geese in the riverbank grass.

If he could tame them to lay eggs, not only would the eggs be large, but the quantity would be assured.

At least in Chen Zhou's knowledge, tamed wild geese, akin to domestic geese, can lay about 150 eggs a year.

If he could catch wild geese on the island, even though they haven't been domesticated and bred for as long as domestic geese, getting 60 eggs annually from each would be fair; raising three to four female geese could yield 200 eggs a year, more than enough.

...

The two sea fish he picked up yesterday were identical, about 40cm long, uglier than common river fish.

Their scales were very small, making scaling them quite tedious.

When feeding the little mice fish meat for poison testing last night, Chen Zhou happened to gut the fish and remove the innards.

Stored overnight in a homemade cooler, a layer of frost even formed on the surface of these fish, stiff to the touch, with no risk of spoilage.

He took the fish out, left them on the cutting board to slightly thaw, and scored them.

Chen Zhou carefully cut a small triangle on the inside of the tail, then used a hand axe to split the fish head, letting it marinate better later on.

Although he hadn't cooked sea fish before, he had made stewed fish a few times at home, and the initial steps were similar to those for stewed fish.

After splitting the head, he rubbed a layer of fine salt on the fish, then poured a capful of soy sauce, spreading it evenly over the fish cuts, including the inside of the head and belly.

Then he picked a bulb of garlic, intending to use his scant seasoning to enhance the fish's freshness, cherishing the rare ingredient.