By the time Gustave and Jiale returned to the dojo, the afternoon sun had already begun its descent toward the western peaks. Their successful foraging expedition had consumed most of the day, leaving them with just enough time to rest before beginning the evening's culinary preparations.
"My god," Lin Jiu said with genuine surprise as he examined their abundant harvest, "you managed to gather all this in a single expedition?"
Two wooden buckets overflowed with the day's catch—fat river crabs waving their claws indignantly, translucent freshwater shrimp, and several impressive carp still glistening with stream water. Alongside these aquatic treasures sat their collection of wild vegetables, carefully arranged to prevent bruising.
"Dame Fortune smiled upon us today," Gustave replied with satisfaction, producing the bunch of wild bananas he'd carefully selected. Each fruit displayed perfect golden ripeness, their natural sweetness concentrated by mountain sunshine. "Taoist Simu must try these—I haven't tasted wild bananas this fine in years."
"Junior Brother is resting in his chambers," Lin Jiu explained tactfully. "This morning's... disciplinary session left him somewhat worse for wear. I'll fetch him."
While Lin Jiu went to rouse Simu, Gustave and Jiale transported their ingredients to the kitchen, taking inventory of what they'd need for the evening's feast. The dojo's larder was surprisingly well-stocked with seasonings and preserved goods, evidence of Simu's prosperity despite his apparent stinginess toward his disciple.
Simu emerged from his quarters moving carefully, his hands bearing obvious bruises from his encounter with the animated corpses. Despite his discomfort, he accepted one of the wild bananas with genuine appreciation.
"This is good," he pronounced after his first bite, the natural sweetness clearly lifting his spirits. "These are exceptional quality, Brother Gustave."
"Jiale," Lin Jiu said as they sat enjoying the fruit, "take some of these bananas to Master Ikkyu and invite him to join us for dinner tonight."
"No," Simu interjected quickly, catching Jiale's arm. "The bananas, yes—but no dinner invitation. That monk's dietary restrictions would ruin our meal. I intend to enjoy proper dishes tonight, not temple food."
Lin Jiu considered this pragmatically. Given the morning's food fight and Simu's obvious anticipation for a meat-heavy feast, perhaps separate dining arrangements would be wiser.
"Very well," he agreed. "Just deliver the bananas, Jiale. Mention that we're having a private meal tonight."
After Jiale departed on his diplomatic mission, Gustave began mentally organizing the evening's menu. Based on their foraged treasures, Simu's vegetable garden, and the available seasonings, he envisioned seven dishes and one soup—a feast worthy of the emperor's table.
When Jiale returned, they gathered in the kitchen to begin preparations. Gustave assigned tasks with the efficiency of a professional chef commanding his brigade.
"First, we prepare our ingredients properly," he announced, rolling up his sleeves. "Everything must be cleaned and processed correctly, or the finest cooking techniques won't save us."
The ground ivy required particularly careful attention, its proximity to earth meaning thorough washing was essential to remove every trace of grit. Gustave demonstrated the proper technique, his fingers crackling with barely perceptible electrical current that helped dislodge stubborn particles without damaging the delicate leaves.
"The banana flowers also need special treatment," he continued, expertly removing the tough inner core that would be inedible. "Only the tender outer petals are suitable for cooking."
For the centerpiece dishes, he selected two of the finest carp. The larger would become braised carp, while the second would sacrifice its flesh for a rich tofu soup. With practiced precision, he made diagonal cuts along both sides of the braising fish, then created a marinade of sliced ginger, scallions, and salt.
"This draws out the muddy flavor all freshwater fish carry," he explained to his fascinated audience. "The aromatics penetrate deeply while the salt pulls moisture—and off-flavors—to the surface."
While the carp absorbed its marinade, Gustave heated oil in a well-seasoned wok. The secret to frying fish without sticking, he demonstrated, was sprinkling fine salt into the pan before adding oil—the salt created a non-stick barrier that prevented delicate fish skin from tearing.
The marinated carp went into the hot oil with a satisfying sizzle, Gustave using subtle electromagnetic fields to ensure even heat distribution. Both sides developed perfect golden crusts while the interior remained moist and flaky.
"Now for the braising sauce," he continued, leaving the aromatic fish oil in the wok. "Normally I'd use black bean paste, but we'll adapt with what's available."
Simu's stores included dried chilies that had been processed in the traditional Sichuan manner—steamed until soft, then pounded into a paste-like consistency. Gustave added minced ginger, garlic, and chili paste to the seasoned oil, stirring constantly until the mixture turned deep red and released intoxicating aromas.
A cup of clear mountain water went into the wok, followed by soy sauce, salt, and a touch of rock sugar for balance. As the braising liquid came to a rolling boil, he returned the golden carp to the wok, spooning the sauce repeatedly over the exposed surfaces.
"Patience," he murmured as the fish slowly absorbed the complex flavors. "Good braising cannot be rushed."
While the carp simmered, he turned attention to the smaller crustaceans. The river crabs were too small for elaborate preparation—unlike the massive sea crabs he'd encountered in his travels, these required simpler treatment to maximize their delicate flavor.
"We'll fry these whole," he decided, coating the cleaned crabs in a light batter of flour and water. "The shells become perfectly edible when properly crisped."
Into hot oil they went, the crabs curling and crisping until they achieved glorious golden-brown perfection. A quick drain, then a second frying to ensure complete crispness throughout.
The river shrimp received similar treatment—battered, fried until golden, then tossed with aromatic spices. Gustave had spotted dried chilies and Sichuan peppercorns in Simu's stores, perfect for creating the numbing-spicy flavor profile that complemented freshwater shellfish.
He left oil in the wok and added the dried aromatics, letting them sizzle until the kitchen filled with eye-watering fragrance. The fried shrimp went back in, along with minced garlic and—spotting fresh leeks in the garden—thin slices of the pungent vegetable for color and bite.
"The plantain requires the simplest preparation," he continued, blanching the wild vegetable briefly before plunging it into cold water to stop the cooking process. Once cooled and drained, he dressed it with chili powder, minced garlic, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and a balance of salt and sugar.
The banana flowers needed blanching as well—their natural astringency required removal before they could be enjoyed. After the brief hot water bath and cold water shock, Gustave squeezed them dry and set them aside.
"No fresh chilies," he mused, examining Simu's garden, "but these cherry tomatoes will provide acidity and color."
He diced the small tomatoes and sliced more leeks, then heated oil in a clean wok. The tomatoes went in first, cooking until they broke down and released their sweet-tart juices. The blanched banana flowers and fresh leeks followed, the entire mixture stir-fried over high heat with salt and sugar for seasoning.
The ground ivy received similar treatment, though Gustave noted wistfully that fresh pork would have elevated the dish considerably. Instead, he relied on minced garlic and preserved vegetables from Simu's stores, the entire mixture cooked quickly over fierce heat to prevent the water-heavy vegetables from becoming soggy.
"Fenouil," he said with pleasure, discovering fennel growing in an unexpected corner of the garden. "Not everyone appreciates this herb, but those who do understand its magic."
Fresh eggs from Simu's chickens completed the combination. Gustave chopped the fennel finely and mixed it directly with beaten eggs, salt, and a touch of sugar, creating a fragrant custard-like mixture.
The final dish required real skill—cooking the fennel-egg mixture into a perfect pancake that held together without becoming tough. Gustave's electromagnetic control allowed him to maintain ideal temperatures throughout the pan, creating an evenly golden disc that would have challenged lesser cooks.
As the sun finally touched the western peaks, seven dishes and one soup sat ready on the low dining table. The braised carp glistened with rich, dark sauce garnished with fresh scallions. Golden river crabs and spicy shrimp created colorful contrasts alongside the vibrant green of the plantain salad and the delicate pastels of the stir-fried banana flowers.
The carp tofu soup—prepared using techniques Gustave had perfected through countless variations—provided a light counterpoint to the richer dishes, while the fennel omelet added aromatic complexity to complete their mountain feast.
"Voilà," Gustave announced with satisfaction, surveying their collective labor. "Seven dishes and one soup, created entirely from this mountain's bounty and the skill of willing hands."
The aroma filling the dojo was nothing short of extraordinary—a symphony of flavors that promised an evening none of them would soon forget.