Chapter 7: Qin Lang's Choice

Hmm?

While preparing in the kitchen, Qin Lang vaguely heard some noise from outside and raised his eyebrows slightly. But soon, he redirected his attention to the mandarin fish already gutted and laid out on the cutting board.

He agreed wholeheartedly with the words Zhou Qing left behind.

Mandarin fish naturally carries a subtle sweetness in its flesh, tender and nearly free of small bones. Such a fish is delicious even when simply steamed.

Having immersed himself in fish dishes for decades, Zhou Qing must have tasted countless preparations of mandarin fish. Thus, it would be challenging to create a dish that could truly impress him.

However, on the way back from fishing with Zhou Qing, Qin Lang noticed a small detail. Zhou Qing carried with him a homemade dried plum snack. Out of curiosity, Qin Lang shamelessly asked for one to try.

The dried plum was tangy and sweet, exceptionally appetizing.

This suggested that Zhou Qing likely favored sour and sweet flavors.

With this insight, a dish perfectly suited for the occasion immediately appeared in Qin Lang’s mind.

A classic from Su cuisine — Squirrel Mandarin Fish.

Having decided on the dish, Qin Lang’s knife moved swiftly, beginning the preparations.

China’s vast land and diverse culture often lead to regional adaptations of the same dish, resulting in variations like southern oranges and northern trifoliate oranges.

There are two common styles of Squirrel Mandarin Fish: the “Ingot” shape and the “Squirrel” shape.

The former resembles an ingot, with the fish’s head raised skyward, body curled back and tail lifted, symbolizing good fortune, and is usually a homestyle preparation.

The latter arranges the fish to resemble a squirrel vividly, more visually appealing and often served in upscale restaurants.

This time, Qin Lang chose the latter.

His knife glided along the fish’s spine, skillfully splitting the fish into two halves after removing the main bones and side spines. He then began to score the flesh in a pattern—first diagonally, then vertically—to elongate the strips of fish meat.

For the ingot style, the blade needs to tilt more to spread each strip of meat widely, while for the squirrel shape, the tilt is slight, keeping strips shorter for better control of the final form.

This cutting technique is called the Lychee Cut. When heated, the fish skin curls while the flesh expands, resembling lychee fruit segments—exceptionally beautiful.

The two halves were placed in a bowl, submerged in water with chopped scallions, ginger, and cooking wine to marinate briefly.

A gentle shake made the scored fish bloom like a flower, the slender strips trembling in the water—truly a stunning sight.

---

While marinating, Qin Lang set about another preparation: crafting the squirrel’s head.

The squirrel’s body and large tail come from the two halves of the fish, while the head is formed from the short fins behind the gill covers.

The whiskers are made from the rib bones of the fish belly.

After assembling a squirrel head for later use, the fish meat had absorbed enough marinade.

He drained the water from the fish halves, then dusted them thoroughly with corn starch, ensuring even the base of each strip was coated. Excess starch was shaken off, and the fish was laid skin-side down to rest for a few minutes.

This step is called “forming the crust.”

During this rest, the dry starch on the surface absorbs moisture from the fish, forming a tight starch layer.

When fried, this layer quickly hardens and becomes dense, like tiny steamers locking in the fish’s tender freshness.

Only by this method can Squirrel Mandarin Fish achieve its signature crispy outside and tender inside.

While the fish rested, Qin Lang prepared the sauce.

Waiting to make the sauce until after frying would cool the fish, robbing the dish of the sizzling effect that gives it life—the sizzling sound resembling a squirrel’s call is the soul of the dish.

He heated oil over high flame, sautéed minced garlic and ginger until fragrant, then added tomato paste, stirring swiftly until the rich tomato aroma filled the air.

Next came white vinegar, water, and sugar, then a pinch of salt to balance sweetness with savoriness.

He reduced the sauce until slightly thickened, then strained it and set it aside.

The traditional sweet and sour sauce uses only sugar, vinegar, and salt, but Qin Lang’s recipe was a modern adaptation.

The natural sweetness and acidity of tomato cut through the richness of the sauce, making it lighter.

In just minutes, the sauce was ready, and the fish had finished resting.

He heated oil again, then carefully fixed the fish halves into shape with toothpicks before gently lowering them into the hot oil.

In an instant, the pan erupted with crisp sizzling sounds as countless tiny bubbles emerged from the fish.

The rich aroma of frying starch and fresh fish filled the kitchen. Qin Lang inhaled deeply, then ladled hot oil repeatedly over the fish surface to ensure even cooking.

Once the fish set in shape, he removed it from the oil.

The fish’s surface showed a light golden hue. As the skin curled from the heat, the flesh spread out like fluffy squirrel fur—delicate, beautiful, and releasing a strong fragrance.

The prepared squirrel head was lightly dusted with starch and fried until golden, then taken out.

By now, the oil temperature had risen further.

---

He returned the fish to the oil for a second fry. Almost immediately, the pan exploded with an intensified aroma.

This fragrance combined the distinct scent of fried starch with the fresh savor of fish.

The pale yellow fish gradually deepened into a gorgeous golden brown.

Removing the fish from the oil, Qin Lang arranged the squirrel head, body, and tail into their final form.

He carefully drizzled the prepared sweet and sour sauce over every inch of the Squirrel Mandarin Fish.

The freshly fried fish, still piping hot, erupted with a crisp “sizzle” as the sauce touched it.

Squirrel Mandarin Fish—complete!

---

Sniff sniff—

In the dining room outside the kitchen, Zhou Yun inhaled deeply toward the kitchen and showed an excited expression. “I think I smell something delicious.”

“Quiet!” Zhou Qing shot his son a sharp glance. “This is the food critic’s evaluation. There won’t be any place for your chatter later.”

“The dish is coming, so behave yourself.”

“Dad, don’t worry, I know the rules!” Zhou Yun nodded hastily, though inwardly unconcerned.

He knew his father’s condition well.

Zhou Qing had been a food critic all his life, with extremely discerning taste, to the point of mild anorexia; his appetite was shrinking, and he often ate sour and sweet dried plums to stimulate his appetite.

The mandarin fish prepared by the young chef would weigh about a pound, and if Zhou Qing could finish a quarter of it, that would be impressive.

The rest would be his.

Thinking this, Zhou Yun’s smile grew wider.

Chefs who came to Zhou Qing for evaluation were usually confident in their skills and far from mediocre.

Tonight’s meal promised to be a treat.

Seeing his son’s foolish grin, Zhou Qing guessed what was on his mind and was about to say something when suddenly a strange aroma caught his attention.

His gaze shifted slightly.

This scent...