"Brother, a new customer wants a Squirrel Fish, demanding authentic Sichuan cuisine,"
"Okay."
Cha Xiaodao grabbed a live fish from the tank, scaled and gutted it, removed the bones, made some crisscross cuts, coated it in flour, and deep-fried the whole fish until the iron pot was bustling with golden bubbles of oil.
"Brother, they've changed their mind and no longer want it. They've switched to Shandong cuisine, Crispy Blast; they said they'll still pay for both dishes."
"Hey, you... alright then."
Cha Xiaodao was slightly displeased but didn't say anything else. He took out some pork tripe from a chilled pottery jar, removed the membranes, and prepared the marinade with sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, and starch. Just as he was about to heat up the oil, the waiter Zhou hurried into the kitchen with a look of difficulty on his face.
"Brother, they've changed their mind again, now they want Cantonese cuisine, a thick soup chicken pot with wings."
