The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 85

When Jiang Tingzhou said this, he leaned back slightly, looked around at everyone, and settled into his chair in a very relaxed manner.

Wen Qi was initially worried, but seeing him so calm eased his concern. Even though he didn’t understand why Jiang Tingzhou had made such a decision, he knew Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t someone who acted on impulse.

Zhou Bing and Du Juan looked at each other, stunned by the invitation. They had also thought the chef competition advertisement was a huge pitfall.

Seeing their reactions, Jiang Tingzhou didn’t try to persuade them further. He glanced at the time and changed the topic. “Would you two do me the honor of having lunch together? We can talk more in detail.”

Though still hesitant about the competition, the moment food was mentioned, they both perked up.

Especially Zhou Bing—being a die-hard fan who had followed Jiang Tingzhou’s homepage and livestreams for a long time—he had long been craving his food. He hadn’t expected to have the chance today.

His eyes lit up. He coughed lightly, barely maintaining his composure, and asked, “Are we eating at your place?”

“Yes,” Jiang Tingzhou nodded. “By the time we get back, it’ll be lunchtime. I prepared the ingredients before heading out. My home isn’t as luxurious as a restaurant, but my cooking is pretty decent. You two don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not!” Zhou Bing quickly nodded, then pulled the person next to him. “Sister Juan, let’s go try Mr. Jiang’s cooking. I know for a fact you’re free today.”

Du Juan wasn’t as enthusiastic as Zhou Bing, but she was curious whether this well-known food blogger was truly as skilled as his reputation claimed, so she nodded and accepted the invitation.

Jiang Tingzhou asked them about any dietary restrictions so he could plan accordingly.

After they stepped out of the association building, he glanced at Wen Qi and said, “Let’s talk more once we’re back. Don’t be nervous. I made your favorite soup today—let’s eat first, then chat.”

Wen Qi didn’t respond, simply followed him back.

After drinking a bowl of soup at Jiang Tingzhou’s home, he felt much more at ease.

Lunch that day was coconut chicken soup. The ingredients had been prepped earlier. Hainan chicken, sent by a neighbor, was simmered with coconut water, making the broth sweet. Bamboo fungus soaked up the flavorful broth, oozing juice with every bite. Soft, glutinous lotus seeds filled the bottom of the pot. The chicken was tender and simmered for fifteen minutes before serving. Jiang Tingzhou paired it with a dipping sauce of handpicked small lemons. Along with freshly picked green vegetables, it was a perfect way to whet the appetite.

The opening dishes were delicious, but they weren’t enough to showcase Jiang Tingzhou’s true culinary skill. That came next.

A cold dish followed: pickled cucumbers. He had prepared them earlier. Sour, spicy, and crisp pickled cucumbers were common, but the knife work on these was extraordinary. The entire cucumber had been cut using a flower-cutting technique so precise that it remained intact—perfectly and evenly sliced from end to end. Visually impressive and incredibly appetizing.

Then came a dish of Stir-fried Double Crisp.

The tripe and gizzards were sliced thinly and scored with delicate cross-cuts. Onions, ginger, garlic, and chili—freshly picked from Jiang Tingzhou’s garden—were stir-fried over high heat. Timing was crucial, measured in seconds. The fragrance exploded from the pan, and the texture was perfectly crisp and crunchy.

Jiang Tingzhou reminded them, “Eat this while it’s hot. It won’t taste right once it cools.”

Judging by how fast everyone dug in, no one planned to wait.

Soon, another dish arrived: ribs—not ordinary braised ribs, but ribs layered with tea leaves. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be Longjing tea.

These were Tea-Scented Baby Ribs.

Zhou Bing had tried dishes made with tea before, like Longjing shrimp at home, which he found underwhelming and gimmicky. But this dish was different—the fragrance of tea and the rich meaty flavor of the ribs were perfectly balanced. It also cut the greasiness.

“How did you make this?” he couldn’t help asking. “I’ve tasted similar dishes, but none this good. What’s the secret?”

“Paying attention to the seasoning, and of course, using the best ribs. But the real difference is the tea—premium Longjing,” Jiang Tingzhou replied. “Two thousand yuan per ounce.”

That explained everything. No wonder it tasted so incredible.

The final dish was Drunken Prawns with Huadiao Wine.

The big-headed shrimps were palm-sized. After being marinated in wine, their roe and paste were extra fragrant, and the meat was fresh and sweet. They had been marinated since the day before and were served just in time for the meal.

Yongqing was having an unusually long hot season this year. Even near the end of the year, the sun still blazed. This meal, enjoyed under a parasol in the yard with sunshine on their backs, was both hot and refreshing.

Even the staple food was thoughtfully prepared.

Jiang Tingzhou served bamboo tube rice—made with bamboo from the nearby mountain and cooked over an open fire. It contained peas, potato cubes, diced mushrooms, and was infused with the aroma of bacon and bamboo leaves. Stirring it revealed a subtle trace of black truffle.

Jiang Tingzhou asked, “What do you think? Delicious?”

The three guests didn’t say a word—they just nodded vigorously.

Zhou Bing swallowed his mouthful and sighed, “It’s so much more delicious than it looked on screen.”

No wonder An Xiaoping, usually so talkative, was always silent in his weekly food videos—just eating non-stop. Anyone would do the same.

Du Juan, who was dieting, and Wen Qi, who was supposedly watching carbs, were both eating so much they barely looked up.

“If you competed in a chef competition, you’d win for sure,” Du Juan commented. “If it’s for food like this, our company might actually invest—just as a cooperation fee for the winner.”

She picked up the bamboo tube rice and examined it.

Her occupational instincts kicked in—if this could be turned into a convenience food rice ball, it would definitely sell well. Even half of Jiang Tingzhou’s flavor would be enough to make money.

“As for the competition, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about today.” Though Jiang Tingzhou had invited them to lunch for business, he waited until the meal was nearly finished before bringing it up. “This is my first year sponsoring the competition. I haven’t been with the association long, but I’ve been a chef for years. I know how these competitions work.”

Generally, the chef competition was divided into four rounds: three stages plus the final.

“Knife skills,” Jiang Tingzhou pointed at the carved cucumber. Then he gestured to the stir-fried dish. “Heat control.”

Finally, he pointed to the tea ribs. “Seasoning—or ingredient pairing.”

These were the three core stages. Chefs who passed screening would enter the final and prepare three dishes for scoring. The highest scorer would win.

Although the plates were now empty, everyone still remembered the dishes clearly.

“These elements have been part of the competition for years and are essential skills,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “But since this will be televised, some details need to change.”

He didn’t bring up rescheduling or any “predictive” remarks. He knew he couldn’t rely on that alone.

Truthfully, chef competitions have an inherent flaw: no matter how good the food is, the audience can’t taste it—so there’s no real emotional connection.

But Jiang Tingzhou believed the competition could be made better.

Zhou Bing caught the implication. “You want to change the competition format?”

“Yes,” Jiang Tingzhou nodded. “And I need your help.”

The sugar factory had spent 10 million on this competition. President Liu’s Xiushui brand contributed the most, but Liu Ping didn’t interfere in the details. Still, airing it on TV would be expensive, and the organizers lacked sufficient funds.

The Yongqing Sugar Factory was sponsoring for the first time and wasn’t close to the organizers. But Zhou Bing and Du Juan’s companies had been longtime sponsors.

Bingcheng Chao trained chefs through auditions and deployed them to restaurants. Haoshi collaborated with finalists to develop new products. Their involvement with the organizers was long-standing.

Sponsors naturally had the right to discuss the competition format, but Jiang Tingzhou’s 10 million wasn’t enough to have a strong voice. If other sponsors stood by him, it would be different.

Du Juan responded first. “It won’t be easy.”

“But it’s not impossible, right?” Jiang Tingzhou smiled. “No one turns down money. The organizers are like that…”

“I believe the TV station is, too.”

This sentence didn’t come from Jiang Tingzhou—it came from Lu Baiyu, who had just appeared at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lu Baiyu said. “I just happened to hear your conversation. Lu Group has a strong relationship with Dongjiang TV Station. I can help with this.”

There was no need to introduce Lu Baiyu—everyone present knew him. Lu Group spent hundreds of millions on advertising every year and of course had close ties with the TV station.

His presence and words added serious weight.

But Wen Qi wasn’t pleased. He snorted and said, “Mr. Lu, do you really need to get involved in everything?”

Since the partnership began, Lu Baiyu had been showing up at the sugar factory every few days. While Wen Qi hadn’t stopped him like before, this was Jiang Tingzhou’s home.

“I genuinely think I can help,” Lu Baiyu said with a calm smile. “Didn’t we just talk about the competition advertisement? Besides, since we’re partners now, and Tingzhou became a board member today, I brought something to celebrate.”

Even though this was an internal association meeting, finding out about it in Yongqing wasn’t hard.

Jiang Tingzhou wasn’t surprised—cooperation always brings another chance.

Lu Baiyu walked in confidently, carrying a lunchbox, which he placed on the table. “Tingzhou, one more dish won’t hurt, right?”

“You’re late,” Wen Qi said, glancing at the lunchbox. “We already finished eating.”

“No, I think I’m just on time.”

The dishes had mostly been eaten, but Lu Baiyu hadn’t brought a main course—he brought dessert.

He ignored Wen Qi and addressed Jiang Tingzhou. “Tingzhou, I made this specially for you to try.”

He can make dessert?

Compared to Jiang Tingzhou’s cooking, anything others made seemed like child’s play—especially from someone like Lu Baiyu, who rarely touched a kitchen.

“Steamed lily bulbs. Aged nine years,” Lu Baiyu said. “Perfect in this weather.”

The ingredients were top-notch, requiring little skill. Just steam them properly and add a bit of honey on top.

Paired with Jiang Tingzhou’s meal today—it was actually a good match.