"Did you cook all these dishes by yourself?"
"Is this really Buddha Jumps Over the Wall?"
"Dry pot pig intestine, soy sauce chicken, spicy garlic fish, mao blood wand, you should all recognize these, stir-fried beef, braised prawns, cumin lamb, and let's just call this a Chinese hamburger..."
On the large table, not to mention the soup still simmering in the kitchen, there were thirty-six different dishes without a single repeat. Not just Tang Meng, Ning Ping, and the four others, nor Yu Ci, Luo Xiao, and Yang Dan, but even those who knew the truth about Jiang Yan's cooking skills—Mu Chenyan, Yu Heng, and Yu Feng—couldn't help but be secretly astonished.
After toiling away all afternoon, he actually managed to produce so many dishes, some of which even sounded like Western names, clearly indicating some innovation.
Not bad at all, being able to cook and innovate at the same time.
