Chapter Thirty: A Must-Have for the Lazy! [Please Add to Favorites and Recommend]

It was a large bag of bird’s eye chilies!

Li Can stared at the chilies for almost ten minutes before decisively taking them out.

“I’ve already eaten some of the monster meat raw earlier. The meat is firmer than beef, with a texture somewhat like pork, but the flavor is rather astringent. After swallowing, there’s a slight chill in the stomach.

Bird’s eye chili is perfect for warming the stomach, and its vermifuge properties offer a subtle protective effect. It’s an ideal supporting ingredient.”

He picked up a chili and examined it closely.

Its surface was bright red and glossy, plump and firm to the touch, with a crisp yet yielding texture. Inside, it was packed with seeds.

Lifting it to his nose, he caught a faint, spicy aroma, sharp enough to make one want to sneeze.

“I wonder when Sister Su Rui bought this bag of chilies. They still look quite fresh.”

Li Can rummaged through the bag. Aside from a few moldy or spoiled ones, most were well-preserved.

“The recent weather’s been mild and the kitchen stays dry, so naturally the chilies last longer.”

These bird’s eye chilies were fiercely hot. Though their scent was less pungent than dried chilies, Li Can knew that a brief soak in warm water would unleash their true power.

Their secret weapon lay in the seeds within.

Li Can already had a preliminary cooking plan in mind.

He first poured the chilies into a basin to soak in warm water, then washed sixty or seventy pounds of monster meat, setting aside half in bags at the bottom of the freezer.

His main reason for this was that, with so much meat, he couldn’t possibly process it all at once—and there weren’t enough seasonings to go around.

There were only about ten pounds of bird’s eye chili.

In Li Can’s recipe, the amount of chili used was astonishing—almost a one-to-one ratio with the meat.

In other words, for every ten pounds of monster meat, he would need ten pounds of chilies!

To ordinary people, this was a deadly dose.

Of course, Li Can had ways to modulate the heat.

He took half of the thirty pounds of monster meat and diced it into small cubes, each about a centimeter square.

As mentioned before, the monster meat was dense and finely grained, with a satisfying chew.

So, to preserve its unique qualities without drawing too much attention from his guests, cutting it into small cubes was the perfect choice.

With the meat cut, the chilies in the basin had finished soaking.

Now, the bird’s eye chilies were at their most dangerous, their surfaces coated in invisible capsaicin.

If this stuff touched your skin, it would burn fiercely, leaving a searing sensation that was hard to wash away.

Li Can removed all the stems and finely chopped the chilies, then immediately rubbed his hands with white vinegar. Otherwise, his hands would be in agony for the rest of the day.

The acidic nature of the vinegar neutralized the alkaline capsaicin—a handy trick in the kitchen.

Besides vinegar, toothpaste also helped relieve the burning, provided it contained menthol.

Li Can returned to the table and began organizing the other ingredients he would need.

Peanuts, fermented bean paste, yellow bean paste, sweet flour sauce, yellow sugar, dark soy sauce, salt, and so on.

In sugar classification, “yellow sugar” isn’t a distinct category; it’s a type of brown sugar. Generally, if brown sugar is cooked gently and stays light in color, it’s called yellow sugar.

With the growth of the culinary industry, yellow sugar is now produced separately as well.

The difference between yellow and brown sugar is that yellow sugar is paler and doesn’t darken dishes when cooking; it simply adds sweetness and shine.

Brown sugar, by contrast, is commonly used in red-braised dishes, enhancing color and aroma and transforming the original color of ingredients.

Since monster meat was already dark brown, adding brown sugar would only make it duller.

Li Can didn’t want to mask the bright red of the chilies, so he chose yellow sugar.

With the basic seasonings ready, there was still a special oil to prepare—scallion oil!

In a typical kitchen, people use vegetable, rapeseed, or olive oil for stir-frying. Scallion oil is rarely mentioned.

Scallions contain pungent, volatile oils and spicy compounds that eliminate fishy or greasy odors, produce a unique fragrance, and have antibacterial properties, enhancing appetite.

Although Li Can had experimented with different parts of the monster for flavor and physiological effects, for safety’s sake, he included plenty of antibacterial, deworming, and gastro-protective measures in his cooking process.

He opened the pantry and took out a pound of large scallions, half a pound of small scallions, two ounces of chives, one ounce of cilantro, two large pieces of ginger, and an onion.

He cut the scallions, chives, and cilantro into five-centimeter segments,

sliced the ginger,

and shredded the onion.

It’s worth noting that Li Can sliced the onion diagonally from the outside in, always keeping the cut surface angled downward.

This wasn’t just a flashy technique;

it effectively prevented the onion’s irritating gases from reaching his eyes.

He combined all the aromatics in a bowl, then added a handful of star anise and ten or so bay leaves.

Next came the process of making scallion oil.

Li Can heated a wok until dry, then poured in four pounds of cooking oil.

Of course, this much oil wasn’t just for today’s use; once the scallion oil was ready, he could use it as a seasoning in future dishes.

From a cost perspective, it just meant buying a few extra aromatics, which were quite inexpensive.

Besides, considering the price Li Can planned to set, even if all the condiments and ingredients were priced tenfold, there would still be plenty of profit left.

A lot, in fact—

Once the oil was hot, he added all the prepared scallions, ginger, and spices, and simmered over low heat for ten minutes to gently fry all the ingredients until soft.

After ten minutes, he turned the heat to medium and fried for another five minutes, accelerating the evaporation of moisture.

Now the kitchen was thick with the fragrance of scallions, the aroma rich and intense.

After five minutes, the ingredients began to turn yellow, the scent growing more intoxicating and appetite-stimulating.

He reduced the heat again and simmered for three more minutes, until all the aromatics turned golden and shriveled, then immediately turned off the flame.

He let them steep in the oil for a minute, then fished out and discarded the spent aromatics—what remained was pure scallion oil.

Li Can was confident that

even someone who couldn’t cook at all could stir-fry a tasty dish just by using scallion oil.

Besides stir-frying, scallion oil had many other uses.

For example, tossed with noodles—after boiling, add some salt to taste, heat up the scallion oil, and pour it over for a bowl of scallion-oil noodles.

Or for salads—smash some cucumber, soak it in scallion oil overnight, and the next day you have the perfect side dish for rice.

Or, adding scallion oil just before serving a stir-fry would enhance the dish’s brightness and aroma.

In short, scallion oil was a miracle for any lazy cook!

“It smells amazing,”

Li Can chuckled, unable to stop praising it.

(To be continued...)