A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

As night fell, the temperature in Mushroom Village plummeted, and the air was filled with the crisp chill of the mountains.

Warm string lights illuminated the courtyard, and a clean white tablecloth covered the long wooden table.

Anthony changed into his impeccable chef's uniform and was showing off his skills at the makeshift Western-style constant-temperature worktable in the yard.

He used a portable sous-vide machine to process the Australian Wagyu beef that the production team had gone to great lengths to obtain, and held delicate medical-grade tweezers in his hand to slice the black truffles into paper-thin slices.

The plating was so meticulous that every drop of sauce seemed to have been precisely calculated.

Several dishes were served in succession: black truffle and Wagyu beef tartare, French foie gras and caviar rolls, and rosemary roasted lamb chops. Under the lights, they certainly exuded an air of wealth.

Although Teacher He and Chef Huang were somewhat annoyed by Anthony's previous arrogance, they still gave him face out of politeness as hosts, nodding and praising him repeatedly.

Tom, standing next to him, was eating loudly and excitedly, showing off the "high-class" feel of the dinner to the live stream camera.

Shen Qingqiu elegantly cut a small piece of Wagyu beef and put it in his mouth. After chewing it carefully, his brows furrowed very slightly.

She silently put down her knife and fork and stopped moving.

Having grown accustomed to Lin Yan's soul-stirring, divine culinary skills, she felt that these seemingly glamorous Western dishes, brimming with technology and rudimentary techniques, lacked a touch of earthy warmth.

"Mr. Lin, why aren't you eating?" Anthony wiped his hands and looked at Lin Yan, who was sitting at the corner of the table.

At this moment, Lin Yan was holding a plate of boiled peanuts and drinking tea from a large tea mug. Hearing this, he didn't even lift his eyelids.

Anthony's lips curled into a mocking smile: "Do you think this level of cuisine is beyond your culinary comprehension?"

Lin Yan casually tossed a peanut into his mouth, chewing it with a crunchy sound: "It's alright, all fancy and looks nice. But the portion... isn't even enough to fill my teeth. And the meat is cut too finely, like feeding a cat, it's not satisfying to chew."

[Haha, Lin Yan's assessment hit the nail on the head! A lazy bum, awakening a lazy bum spirit!]

[Michelin: I'm selling art! Lin Yan: I'm just asking if it's filling!]

Look at Anthony, his face is as green as pickled cabbage!

Anthony took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the wildly throbbing nerves in his forehead: "Cooking is a precise science! Your Chinese way of just relying on intuition and mixing everything together in one pot is completely illogical and a desecration of the ingredients!"

Lin Yan was too lazy to argue with him, patted her stomach and stood up: "You guys eat slowly, I'm full, I'm going to take a walk."

……

The next morning, the sun was shining brightly.

Director Wang announced the task through a megaphone: Go to the terraced fields behind the mountain and catch a few rice paddy fish; lunch will be made with local ingredients.

As soon as the task was assigned, Chef Huang planned to make a simple braised fish, but Anthony refused to do so, insisting on using his white wine and French herbs to fry the fish. The two were deadlocked in the kitchen.

Lin Yan yawned as he walked out of the room, looked at the Western-style control panel that Anthony had made a mess of, and shook his head helplessly.

"Arguing like this over a few fish that haven't even appeared yet, are you not planning to eat this meal?"

He walked to the corner of the yard, picked up the large, dark iron pot, and placed it directly on the earthen stove made of yellow mud.

"Teacher He, could you do me a favor and slaughter and pluck the feathers from that fattest white goose from yesterday?" Lin Yan rolled up his sleeves.

"Okay!"

When Teacher He saw that the Salted Fish Chef was about to make his move, he didn't care about the rice paddy fish anymore and immediately ran excitedly to catch the goose.

Upon hearing this, Anthony put down his frying pan, walked over, and stared disdainfully at the dilapidated earthen stove: "You're going to cook poultry in such a crude way? Without a thermometer, without a aging process, I bet the meat will be as tough as rubber!"

Lin Yan completely ignored him.

Chop firewood and start a fire.

The dry pine wood crackled crisply in the stove, and the orange-red flames instantly licked the bottom of the iron pot, dispelling the chill of late autumn.

The iron wok was heated, and a large spoonful of solidified, snow-white lard was thrown directly into the wok.

"Sizzle!"

As a plume of smoke shot into the sky, the lard melted instantly, and a rich, pure meaty aroma filled the entire courtyard, penetrating right into people's skulls.

Lin Yan casually grabbed a handful of scallion segments, a few thick slices of ginger, two star anise, and a handful of dried red chilies, and without even looking at them, threw them directly into the boiling oil to sauté until fragrant.

The movements were rough and casual, completely devoid of any precise measurement, relying entirely on the feel of the Chinese bloodline.

"Whoosh."

Cleaned and chopped goose meat is put into the pot, where it makes a loud popping sound as it hits the hot oil.

Lin Yan grabbed an oversized, long-handled iron spatula and began to stir-fry the food rapidly and vigorously in the wok.

The fat on the surface of the goose meat is quickly rendered out by the high temperature, and the skin gradually turns golden brown and slightly charred.

Then, a bowl of specially made soybean paste was poured directly in.

The moment it was stir-fried evenly, the rich, almost overpowering aroma of the sauce exploded in the yard like a bomb!

Pour water over the goose meat and cover it with a thick, patina-covered wooden pot lid.

The series of movements were fluid and seamless, executed in one go, carrying a unique kind of violent aesthetics characteristic of Chinese kitchens.

Anthony stood two meters away, holding the frying pan, his previously disdainful smile now frozen.

His nose twitched uncontrollably; the aroma, a blend of animal fats, strong spices, and rich sauces, was a savage assault he had never encountered in his decades-long Michelin career.

But he stubbornly refused to admit it, gritting his teeth and scoffing, "A strong smell doesn't mean it tastes good. This kind of cooking that drastically destroys the original flavor of the ingredients will only end up being a disaster."

Lin Yan ignored him completely and turned to the cutting board to leisurely knead the dough.

Half an hour later, the broth in the pot began to boil violently.

Lin Yan lifted the wooden lid, and a plume of white steam, mixed with the aroma of meat, shot into the sky, causing a layer of white mist to form on the drone lens.

He pinched off a piece of the kneaded corn dough, rolled it up casually in his hand, and slapped it cleanly against the edge of the inner wall of the iron pot with a crisp "smack".

After taking a round of photos, put the lid back on and continue simmering.

Another long twenty minutes passed before the sauce thickened.

When Lin Yan lifted the pot lid again, the entire courtyard of the Mushroom House, and even the live broadcast room, fell silent.

The thick, bright red broth coats the tender, boneless goose meat, while a ring of cornbreads with golden-brown, crispy bottoms and tops soaked in the rich broth lines the edge of the pot.

Each piece of meat gleamed enticingly in the sunlight, making mouths water uncontrollably.

"Dinner is served," Lin Yan said casually.

No sooner had he finished speaking than Chef Huang and Teacher He rushed over with bowls and chopsticks as if they were fighting for food.

Shen Qingqiu couldn't wait to pick up a cornbread and take a bite. His eyes lit up instantly, and his cool face was filled with undisguised satisfaction.

Anthony stood alone in front of the Western-style constant temperature counter, looking down at his carefully plated French-style fried fish, and suddenly felt bored, even a bit like a toy in a game of make-believe.

The aroma of braised goose in an iron pot was like a barbed hook, tugging at his taste buds.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he uncontrollably swallowed a large mouthful of saliva, but he was too proud to eat the "vulgar food" that he had belittled.

Tom, who was standing next to him, had long since abandoned all gentlemanly manners. He squeezed to the side of the pot with a large bowl in his hand, grabbed a big piece of goose meat, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Oh my god!"

Tom hissed from the heat, but gritted his teeth and refused to spit out the meat.

Extremely tender and flavorful, juicy and rich, the intense aroma of the sauce created a storm in his mouth.

"Anthony! Come and try this! It's a gift from God, to hell with fried fish!" Tom said, waving his hands wildly as he devoured a cornbread without a care for appearances.

The viewers in the live stream thoroughly enjoyed the show, with the screen completely covered by a dense barrage of comments.

[Hahaha, the countdown to breaking through defenses is on! The foreigners' souls are trembling!]

Anthony's eyes practically popped out of the pot; his mouth was as stubborn as a cooked duck!

[When Lin Shen makes a move, he's either completely passive or he's absolutely divine. Michelin stars are nothing compared to Northeastern iron pot stew!]

Under the relentless bombardment of the fragrance, Anthony finally couldn't take it anymore.

He slowly moved to the table, reluctantly picked up a pair of chopsticks, and clumsily picked up a piece of goose leg meat that Lin Yan had deliberately left.

The moment the meat entered his mouth, Anthony's pupils dilated sharply.

It was incredibly soft and mushy, completely unlike the tough and chewy texture he had expected!

The flavors of the spices permeated the very marrow, and the richness of the lard and the freshness of the goose meat underwent a magical chemical reaction that defied scientific explanation, catalyzed by the high temperature.

The most terrifying thing was that unassuming corn pancake.

Half crispy and chewy, half soaked in rich meat juices, one bite and the double dopamine rush from carbohydrates and fat directly and irresistibly shattered the soul defenses of this proud French man.

"Clatter."

The chopsticks fell onto the table, and Anthony's eyes involuntarily reddened.

"Mr. Lin."

Anthony stood up abruptly, his expression more serious than ever before, even filled with deep guilt and awe. He bowed deeply to Lin Yan, who was drinking tea.

"I apologize for my arrogance yesterday. This incredibly complex fusion of flavors, and the masterful control of heat, is an unfathomable art! Eastern cuisine... is awe-inspiring!"

Lin Yan leaned back comfortably in the bamboo chair, took a sip of tea from the enamel mug, and waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't mention it. This is just our most ordinary home-cooked food. When it comes to food, as long as it's filling and tastes good, that's all that matters. There aren't that many rules and regulations."

A meal of Northeastern-style iron pot stew completely won over the foreign guests.

Lin Yan's title of "Salted Fish Chef God" has been completely elevated to godhood online once again, thanks to this reverse output.