Lard
First, he removed the roots from the scallions and washed them thoroughly, then carefully washed the eggs with wood ash. These things come from chicken and duck rear ends, and Bai Lou always felt they were dirty if they weren’t cleaned properly.
When he got back, Lang Zhan was already in the kitchen with a large piece of white, fatty meat in a stone basin beside him.
Bai Lou picked up the basin, preparing to wash the meat, and told Lang Zhan to quickly light two fires. Lang Zhan obediently took the torches and went out again.
Lang Tu watched his brother, who was being bossed around, and tilted his head, thinking that his brother was just like their father. His father had been bossed around by their mother in the same way.
The fatty pork was washed, cut into chunks, and placed in an earthenware pot over the fire.
The lemon was sliced and set aside, and the scallions were sliced diagonally. Bai Lou stirred the sizzling fatty pork chunks with a wooden soup ladle, then began skewering the meat chunks that Lang Zhan had cut.
“That’s enough. Don’t cut the rest. Leave them there, I’ll cut them later.”
He was preparing to make stir-fried pork with scallions, which required slicing the meat thinly, and Lang Zhan’s one hand wasn’t very convenient.
He sprinkled lemon juice evenly over the skewers, placed them over the fire, and handed them to Lang Zhan to stir. Bai Lou wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. Cooking in the sweltering summer was truly difficult, he felt like he was about to be roasted along with the meat.
After slicing the meat, he washed his hands and stirred the fatty pork chunks again. Bai Lou noticed a layer of clear oil had already been rendered at the bottom of the earthenware pot.
“Zhan, who made this wooden ladle?” This was probably a small soup ladle and it wasn’t very convenient for stir-frying.
“My father made it, and I can make it too.” The spoon was made by his father for his mother.
“That’s good!” Bai Lou gestured the shape of a spatula towards Zhan. “I want one like this, this size, and a few more spoons—one large and four small ones.”
Oh, and chopsticks!
“And long, thin sticks like this, preferably bamboo, but wood is fine too as long as they’re sturdy. The splinters need to be scraped off and dried. I need twenty of these.” Chopsticks should be easier to make, but he also had to consider the possibility of them getting lost or broken.
Lang Zhan nodded. “I’ll make them for you once I’m healed. Is that all?”
Bai Lou thought seriously for a moment, then turned to look at the earthenware jar beside him.
Lang Zhan followed his gaze, a hint of helplessness on his face.
“This tribe can’t make it. We’ll have to wait until the beastman market to exchange it. Remember what kind you want, and I’ll take you there to exchange it.”
Nodding, Bai Lou said, “Then let’s get a thin stone slab, something flat and thin, but not too flimsy.”
A stone slab is good for teppanyaki, or frying meat and eggs.
The meat skewers on the campfire were already oozing oil, but very little dripped. The dragon beast’s legs didn’t have much fat, it was mostly tendon meat, with a crisp, chewy texture.
The rendered fat covered the surface, slowly disappearing once the fire was removed as if most of it was locked inside the meat, waiting to burst with flavor with every bite.
The chunks of fatty meat in the earthenware pot shrank into small pieces of crackling oil, a golden-brown color, floating in the clear broth.
Bai Lou used a wooden skewer and a spoon to scoop out the crackling oil and placed it in two stone bowls, sprinkling a little salt on top, and then placed them in front of the two wolf cubs.
“Wait until it cools down a bit before eating, don’t burn your tongue.”
The two wolf cubs were a little restless from the aroma. Hearing this, Lang Tu obediently nodded, while Lang Bai hesitated.
Food was precious. It was just waiting for its mother and father to come and take it home. It shouldn’t eat other people’s food, but it smelled so good!