Ge Junlei had just spoken when he received a glare from his wife.
"Couldn't find it." Mo Hongying said gloomily.
Then she began to dig in heartily.
If she could buy it, she would. Even if it means eating hotpot at home every day, she'd be happy, as long as it's as good as today's hotpot.
But she witnessed firsthand the origin of this hotpot.
Not to mention anything else, just the broth—Gu Lingling spent almost half the day simmering lamb bone broth to make it.
With that kind of patience, Mo Hongying didn't think she and Ge Junlei had it.
Plus, the ingredients for the base, how much to use, and when to put them in, all have steps. Mo Hongying initially thought she could remember, but later panicked.
Forget it; she had decisively abandoned any hope of learning it.
She's probably born without the cooking genes, so even if someone teaches her hand in hand, she still can't do it.
Just like the pilaf they ate at noon.
