When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1132 My Uncle Palak

Bondo, along with the men without pants, stood in front of the tall courtyard gate, gazing at the three four-story buildings.

The apartment was originally built of bluestone and bound together with rice mortar, so it looked like a large blue rock.

However, it has a triangular white marble gable in front of the door, and below the gable is a large yellow-painted door.

The first wall appears to be semi-embedded white marble columns with vertical acanthus leaves, but upon closer inspection, it can be seen that they are actually wooden panels.

Paneling, in short, is colored wood relief.

The Armory Apartments where No Pants and his group stayed were expanded and renovated from the original armory, with individual rooms added.

The first floor houses the canteen, lobby, and bathroom, while the second floor consists of small rooms, each about 20 square meters in size, accommodating four to six people.

It is now a newly built low-rent apartment building, subsidized by the government, specifically for immigrants and migrant workers to stay.

Therefore, this apartment only offers short-term rentals, with a maximum of three months. You have to leave regardless of whether you find a job or not.

On the other hand, the apartment itself also offers inexpensive meals.

If you're willing to help with the cleaning, you can eat the leftovers for free.

However, Palak had already paid for their food expenses for a month in advance, so the men without pants could just sit down and eat.

After the beds were assigned, it was already evening.

As the sun sets, its golden-red glow illuminates the bust of the saint's grandson enshrined in the shrine on the wall.

The eyes of the bust appeared to be made of glass and could even gleam.

Unable to bear the hunger any longer, the men without trousers dragged their heavy steps to the canteen.

Behind two rows of greasy counters that hadn't even opened yet, a dozen or so burly middle-aged women walked forward carrying iron pots that were half their height.

The iron pot contains a thick, brown sauce made from pork and chicken bones with pepper and sweet bean sauce.

When the old woman saw the men without pants arrive, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Line up! One by one, come and get yours! It starts with you!"

When the old woman pointed at him, Bangduo felt a chill run down his spine, but since he was under her roof, he had no choice but to lower his head and walk forward.

The old woman's thick forearms gripped the iron ladle, and with a stir in the iron pot, the previously calm soup noodles suddenly became turbulent.

In an instant, vegetable leaves, offal, minced meat, and vermicelli, along with shredded egg, simmered up, and a strange, hot aroma carrying the scent of meat wafted up to my face.

With his eyelids twitching, Bondo took two pieces of black bread and a bowl of meat sauce soup, and found a table to sit down.

Looking at the murky, swill-like contents in the bowl, Bondo didn't know what to say for a moment.
When you're under someone's roof, you do have to bow your head, but bowing your head too low, to the point of being buried in the soil.

If it were Leia or Norn, or even people from other parts of Fran, they would certainly feast to their hearts' content.

But the people of Kobondo grew up at the foot of the walls of Flowerhill City.

Flower Hill City is known as a culinary capital, where even street food is presented in an exquisite and visually appealing manner.

The essence of fresh flower hill vegetables lies in their pure and delicious flavor, and the consistency of their soup color and aroma.

Where can you find soup that's brownish-black, has a pungent and strange smell, and looks disgusting?
"Sigh, I should have thought of this before I came." Bondo stirred the broth with a wooden spoon, smelling the aroma of meat, but he just couldn't bring himself to take a bite.

On the Saint Alliance side, the food is naturally Qianhe Valley cuisine.

However, there is no distinction between high and low quality in Qianhe Valley cuisine, but there is a difference between refined and common.

A healthy diet should include both expensive and inexpensive dishes.

Thousand River Valley cuisine is an improvement on French cuisine, but its roots are actually what is known as mother's cuisine or farmhouse cuisine.

For example, Jeanne often made for Horn, a stew of offal that they used to only eat on holidays.

With Horn's improvements and the addition of seasonings, it has evolved into a folk version of mountain stew and an expensive version of peppered lamb soup.

As for what Bondo and his companions ate, it was a mountain stew.

However, so far, despite being extremely hungry, the men without pants have not dared to eat.

"You're eating, why aren't you eating?" the leading woman asked, tapping the pot lid.

"It's too hot, let's let it cool down..."

"Oh dear, it won't taste good if it gets cold." The old lady kindly added a spoonful to the bowl that wasn't steaming.

I don't know who it was, but they couldn't bear the hunger any longer and took a bite with a spoon.

With just one bite, the man stopped moving.

Why did you actually eat it?

"Hey, tell me, is it delicious?"

People around him looked sideways.

Before he could reply, the man took another big bite.

This time he didn't say anything, he just ate in big mouthfuls.

Finding the wooden spoon too shallow, he simply spread his fingers wide, supported the bottom of the bowl, and slurped up the amber-colored sauce with loud slurping.

When the water level in the bowl had dropped to a lower level, he was sweating profusely. He fanned himself with his right hand, picked up his damp collar, and continued eating.

He picked up the spoon and stirred the braised pork chunks and shredded egg in the bowl before eating. The glass noodles slipped into his mouth, instantly splashing oily broth at the corners of his lips.

"That was awesome! So awesome!"

It didn't take long for the wooden bowl to be empty. Still not satisfied, he used dry bread to wipe the bottom of the bowl, soaked it in the soup, and began to chew it again.

"Are you crazy?"

"No, it's really delicious, you can trust me."

Seeing that the first person had taken the plunge, the others followed suit, hesitatingly eating their own crabs.

"Ouch, oh dear!"

"Wow, I also ate a sausage!"

Seeing that everyone else had eaten, Bondo hesitated for a moment and then scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth.

Soon, a pungent combination of spicy, salty, and savory flavors enveloped my mouth. It was oily and moist, and some unknown, chewy bits of something in the mixed stew.

The first bite was okay, but the taste was strange, and my tongue even hurt a little.

After taking the second bite, my mouth got used to the taste, my stomach warmed up, my appetite returned, and I started sweating, so I couldn't stop taking the third bite.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, Bondo didn't care about his posture; he just felt incredibly hungry.

The cheap food at the bottom of the social ladder in France is often mainly pickled products, supplemented by cheese, green vegetables, flower petals and berries.

As for the reasons, firstly, it's easy to preserve, and secondly, it has a strong flavor and doesn't require much salt.

In addition, the climate in France is relatively humid and warm, and people are reluctant to use too much seasoning, so the flavor is relatively mild, mainly salty, fresh and sweet.

Although it contains cream, the main focus is on enjoying the original flavor of the food.

Thousand River Valley does need to import Norn sea salt (Dazexiang rock salt is not enough), but there is plenty of seasoning.

Since we can't get expensive seafood, we'll just add a ton of spices to intensify the flavor and enhance the umami and spiciness.

In particular, the widespread promotion of chicken, duck, and pig farms and pond fish farms by Shenglian has resulted in an abundance of meat scraps.

As for their fishy taste and difficulty in handling...

Didn't they add a ton of seasonings?
After conquering the eastern county of Black Snake Bay and acquiring the local dragon blood peppers with their unique spiciness, Horn quickly brought back a special flavor from his hometown—braised dishes.

Although much of the meat that Bondo's group ate consisted of liver, intestines, heart, and lungs that had been soaked in braising liquid for over ten days, it was still incredibly delicious.

"Another bowl! Another bowl!" several voices shouted at the same time.

While slurping down the dishes from the Thousand River Valley, Bondo couldn't help but wonder what they were eating over there in Morocco.
Opposite the Hall of Saint Advent at Jeanne d'Arc is the Hajimego Restaurant.

The round table was covered with a delicate checkered tablecloth, and a basket contained complimentary pretzel bread.

The three sat around the table, before which were river shrimp cream soup, braised beef, roast pigeon, roasted venison, and three plates of red sauce and purple egg noodles.

Of course, butter and cheese are indispensable.

"Try it, roasted mountain venison." Standing up, Palak smiled and offered two pieces of venison to Moloka and Kuvask respectively.

Sitting back down, Palak picked up a glass of green apple cider and swirled it around: "If this were before, if we ate even one bite of venison, the lord would have hanged us all."

Guess who's hanged whom now? Hahahaha.

Moloca swirled the green apple cider in his glass and took a small sip.

He frowned, clearly not used to the sour taste of the drink: "Do you have any wine?"

“No.” Palak shook his head. “You’ll have to get used to it. Many of the high-end restaurants in the Holy Alliance don’t serve wine or any red wine.”

"why?"

"Because many of the owners behind high-end restaurants are veterans or survivors of the Blue Blood Wine incident. They despise red wine and believe that it is blood and the source of evil."

Wine enthusiast Morocco almost cried out in despair.

Kuvask didn't seem to think anything of it, and simply asked softly, "Uncle Palak, is there something you've planned for us to have dinner with you?"

“Of course.” Palak wiped his hands. “To be honest, you wouldn’t even have met me if my father hadn’t insisted.”

Kuvask gave a wry smile.

“However, since we’re all relatives, according to the traditions of Thousand River Valley, I can’t possibly mistreat you.” Palak snapped his fingers. “Can you read?”

"Know a little..."

"Okay, your first goal is to pass the literacy exam, and then I'll send you to the Commercial Department's accelerated training school. You'll graduate in a year and earn 100 to 140 dinars a month. Are you in?"

Seeing Kuvask staring blankly, Moloka quickly kicked him under the table.

Kuvask then realized what was happening: "Go for it!"

“Alright.” Palak looked at Morloka. “I am well aware of Mr. Morloka’s abilities. The main reason I invited you two to dinner this time is to invite you.”

"Would you be interested in becoming a manager for me, specifically handling business with the French side?"

(End of this chapter)