It was already after midnight, in the dead of night, even the wild cats were too lazy to run, and they found a warm eaves to sleep soundly at random, but the cafeteria was brightly lit in the middle of the night, and the black tentacles kept flying, forming a slightly terrifying picture.

I saw that An Ran first picked up a basin with a tentacle, and the basin was rice that had been soaked for a period of time, which An Ran had prepared in advance to meet the needs of different cuisines, and it happened to be used today.

The essence of black-bone chicken rice is to put the rice into the belly of the chicken to cook, so that there can be a visual impact of the fragrant rice exposed by cutting the chicken, so the rice should naturally be put into the belly of the chicken in advance.

Steaming rice requires a lot of water, and the moisture of the chicken itself is obviously not enough to support it, so if you put the untreated rice directly in it, it is easy to have the chicken cooked, but the rice is still raw.

After soaking in water, the rice absorbs enough water to be more easily cooked.

While processing the rice, Enron's other tentacles were eyeing the hollowed-out chicken.

In addition to the usual processing steps, the most important thing for the black bone chicken rice is to remove the bones of the chicken.

Heguo's supermarkets will certainly not provide this kind of service, and Enron needs to do it himself.

He gently massaged the chicken with two tentacles, with the right force and precise direction, as if he were his own lover.

"Simply massaging the meat helps to make it more tender and easier to taste."

Enron explained simply.

Sakata Jiro looked at this scene, and couldn't help but squint his eyes, as if the skillful movements of the massage technicians during the great health care resounded, and he felt that his soul was about to fly out of the sky.

"Xu Sang, it seems that he is very proficient in massage techniques, give me a press when you have time."

"Massage is not a difficult thing to do, as long as you are proficient in the structure of human joints and muscles, you can rely on the touch to relax the muscles, such as ......"

The next moment......

Click――

The two tentacles quickly and ruthlessly twisted all the joints of the chicken, and the whole chicken went limp.

"It seems that this chicken usually lacks exercise, and the stagnation of the joints is very serious."

An Ran summed up, he simply cut the skin and flesh at the joints a few times, and the skeleton of the whole chicken was pushed out by the tentacles, and even restored on the board to build the appearance of a chicken's bone specimen.

“...... Let's talk about the massage later. ”

Jiro Sakata shivered and touched his spine.

It's okay, it's still there.

While handling the whole chicken, An Ran's own hands were not idle, he took out from the cabinet including red dates, codonopsis, angelica, wolfberries and other common spices used to cook chicken soup, put them into a gauze bag, and carefully tied a knot.

Then, An Ran looked at the chicken skeleton on the board.

"Not this."

He removed the chicken skeleton and placed the cuckoo demon spirit core.

The kitchen knife in his hand flipped over, and An Ran's hand rose and fell, and the pure black spirit core was cut into small pieces of exactly the same size.

The small pieces of meat are mixed with the rice that has been soaked and put into some washed shiitake mushrooms bought at the supermarket.

Next, the tentacles put a mixture of rice and cuckoo meat into the body of the chicken, which had been deboned and most of the incisions had been carefully sewn, and threaded the needle and thread to seal the hole.

At this time, after processing one of the tentacles of the chicken, he took out a heavy pot and pan from the cabinet under the kitchen counter.

It's a casserole.

While modern kitchenware such as pressure cookers can make it easier to cook food and save time, the taste of iron can subtly affect the taste, so Enron decided to use a traditional casserole.

Cut the green onion into sections, cut the radish into thick slices, put these into the casserole, add the appropriate amount of water, and spice packets, and then put the whole chicken into the casserole, pour some rice wine, bring the two tentacles to the stove, cover the pot, and simmer over high heat.

After a while, the water was already boiling, and the stove was turned to medium heat, and the smell filled the cafeteria late at night.

Jiro Sakata, who was sitting at the table and playing with his mobile phone boringly, was also attracted by the fragrance, and raised his head slightly to look at the steaming casserole.

"How long will it take?"

Although he ate a bowl of ramen in the evening, after some tossing, Jiro Sakata was indeed hungry.

"The time before waiting for the food is also worth cherishing, Sakamoto-kun."

An Ran was cleaning up the kitchen counter, and with his tentacles, he washed the kitchen utensils and put them back in their original positions.

After doing all this, he also sat down, holding a book explaining cooking recipes in his hand, and read quietly.

For Chinese people, chicken soup is more than just an ordinary stew.

If you are sick, you should drink chicken soup, if you have a baby, if you drink chicken soup, you should drink chicken soup in winter, and you should drink chicken soup in summer.

This kind of cheap, affordable, and rich flavor soup has entrusted countless elders with their love for their younger generations, and even in the era of the Internet, it has become a popular word and derived many usages.

An Ran remembered that his father also liked to stew chicken soup, not for any other reason, but because chicken was cheap.

Moreover, chicken broth can be used for cooking noodles and rice, and it has many uses.

When he was the poorest, An Ran had the impression that a pot of chicken soup was eaten by the father and son for three days, and halfway through the meatballs without meat, luncheon meat, crab sticks with only flour, etc., were boiled into a hot pot, and finally there was no taste of chicken at all.

"Xu Sang's expression just now was a little gentle, did he think of something good?"

Jiro Sakata grinned.

"Almost."

Enron didn't answer, but stood up.

He opened the lid and sprinkled salt for the final seasoning, and just for a moment when the lid was opened, an extremely rich fragrance burst out.

Dishes with strange ingredients may not look much different from ordinary dishes in appearance, but after being prepared by Enron, the taste and aroma are very different, and they also have some special properties.

After all, when you taste a weird dish, you're savoring a piece of life.

What kind of taste is it like, comparable to the hundred flavors of life?

"Can I eat it, can I eat it, can I eat it?"

Jiro Sakata couldn't wait, knocking on the bowl and looking at the steaming casserole, like a puppy wagging its tail vigorously.

It's still an Akita dog.

"Alright."

An Ran waited for a while after putting the salt before turning off the fire on the stove, directly picked up the casserole with his tentacles, and placed it on the insulating mat on the table.

The tentacles are very resistant to high and low temperatures, and are suitable for these tasks.

"You say, after opening the lid of the pot, will there be any radiant scenes, gongs and drums ascending to the sky?"

Jiro Sakata asked with interest.

"Sakamoto-kun, haven't you watched "Nakao Ichiban"?"

An Ran glanced at the yellow-haired receptionist opposite, and without waiting for the other party to explain, he opened the lid of the pot.

There are no light and shadow effects.

In the huge casserole, only one chicken lies quietly in the middle of the soup covered with radishes, green onions, and spice buns.

It's just that the chicken, which was originally white and clean, has turned black.

Pure black.