Chapter 22: Unimaginable

After what felt like an eternity waiting for the judges to finish, Malik finally took out a porcelain bowl and began portioning the icy jade-like dessert from the ceramic jar.

Hidden beneath the cover, Chisui finally got a clear look at what this so-called icy jade dessert was.

A milky-white lump, tinged with some unfiltered bean husks, surrounded by some uncoagulated juice—it resembled a pudding of sorts.

Iced... tofu pudding?

But it looked somewhat dry, and when scooped up, distinct small fragments were visible.

Chisui shook her head, feeling doubtful about Malik’s creation this time.

As the judges tasted it, their expressions varied.

Byron frowned as he swallowed the dessert, looking at the one-star rating in the Enlightenment Book, unsure whether to trust his eyes or his palate.

After some hesitation, he finally spoke, “An intriguing recipe with a peculiar taste—both sour and bitter on the tongue, yet the texture is soft and easy to swallow. The rating is... one star.”

The star rating froze Cecil, who had been about to speak next; she doubted her own ears.

However, Duke, standing nearby, was quick to respond: “I don’t understand cooking much, but I once heard a saying from Green Island: ‘Good medicine tastes bitter but cures the illness.’ Since this is so bitter, it must be highly nutritious, right?”

The familiar phrase stirred surprise in Chisui. The naming style, the recipes, the words from Green Island all evoked a sense of familiarity, but was the phrase really used like this?

Was Mayor Duke really not being ironic?

Sure enough, upon hearing this, Malik’s face flushed red instantly.

“Is it... really? It’s not that bitter...” His confidence wavered by the end.

Cecil thought for a moment, then gently said, “Actually, it’s not particularly bitter; the sourness is more prominent.”

“Why don’t you try it yourself?” Cecil offered a clean spoon.

Malik said nothing, took the spoon, and scooped a large mouthful.

After chewing twice, his stiff back slumped.

“Failed again.”

Malik’s face was filled with disappointment and apology. “Sorry for making you eat this. I’ve studied this recipe for a long time with no progress; only a few days ago did the bean curd finally take shape.”

“I thought I had discovered the key issue, but the final result was still like this. I’ve had the finished product on Green Island, and it definitely didn’t taste like this.”

Cecil patted his shoulder encouragingly: “It’s normal; everyone fails sometimes. Besides, this only tastes bad, but the one-star rating is real. No matter how unpleasant, some will eat it for the effect.”

Byron nodded and added, “I once drank a tea on Green Island, can’t recall the exact name, but it was so bitter it still haunts me. Yet, the dish was genuinely rated three stars, renowned locally for its strong heat-relief effect.”

Malik pursed his lips silently, nodding—whether he took it in or not was unclear.

Behind them, Chisui clearly understood: this tofu pudding had gone awry.

The making of tofu pudding involves five key steps: soaking beans, grinding, filtering, cooking the slurry, and coagulating.

From Malik’s pudding, the visible form showed raw soy milk was not completely filtered out, leaving bean husks, which would ruin the texture. The scooped pudding showed many unformed fragments, indicating a problem during coagulation.

Iced tofu pudding is certainly possible, but with the limited competition time, the rapid temperature change was evidently too abrupt.

Moreover, tofu pudding without any seasoning is bland when eaten alone.

Regarding seasoning choices, in the world Chisui once lived in, the debate over sweet or savory tofu pudding was a fascinating topic. For her, choosing between sweet or savory tofu pudding was a happiness tinged with a bit of bittersweet indecision.

As Malik carried the ceramic jar off the stage, staff guided Chisui to bring her own dish forward, briskly approaching the judges’ table.

“Now, only the last contestant remains, also the last professional rancher in this competition, from Fufeng Town—Rancher Chisui. Her dish is somewhat special, mainly made from radish. What kind of dish could it be? Let’s look forward to it together.”

As the host introduced her, all eyes turned to Chisui, who felt awkward, her smile stiffening. She was not used to being the center of attention; deep down, she was still socially anxious, even choosing to appear with both hands visible in the recording.

“Chisui, hurry up! Why are you standing there?” Momo tugged at her pants, urging her on.

Looking down at the little hedgehog that had somehow followed her, Chisui was surprised. “Momo? Why did you come along?”

“Can’t I follow you?”

Chisui shook her head but smiled, “Of course you can. Let’s go together.”

To match Momo’s pace, Chisui deliberately slowed down. By the time they reached the judges’ table, her expression had returned to calm.

“This is my dish—a cake made by shaping shredded white radish mixed with flour, then deep-frying it.”

Placing the dish on the table, Chisui gave a brief introduction before stepping back two paces to maintain a comfortable distance.

Seeing her hands were free, Momo jumped from her feet to her shoulder, seeking the best vantage point.

“Chisui, this pastry smells wonderful.”

Hearing Momo’s praise, the corner of Chisui’s mouth lifted slightly as she gently nodded.

On the pristine white plate, several small golden-brown cubes were stacked pyramid-style, garnished with vibrant green scallions. The appearance was very pleasing, and as Chisui approached, the aroma grew even richer.

Cecil inhaled the fragrance that kept wafting into his nose and sighed, “After this long a competition, it’s the first time I’ve smelled such a delicious pastry. Is radish really this fragrant?”

After waiting a while with no reply, Cecil rubbed his nose and asked again, “I’ve never seen this pastry before. What is it called?”

Only then did Chisui realize she had only mentioned the main ingredients and forgotten to say the name. Feeling a bit nervous, she smiled apologetically and replied, “Radish cake. Since it’s fried, it’s called pan-fried radish cake.”

“A fitting name, very straightforward. Mr. Byron, won’t you try it first?” Cecil said, patting Byron, who had been frozen in place since the dish was set down.

“Ah? Oh, okay.” Startled awake, Byron reached eagerly for the top piece of radish cake.

When Chisui brought the cake over, Byron immediately opened his Enlightenment Book. The reason for his silence was the review inside: “An excellent pastry showcasing exquisite culinary skills with ordinary ingredients.”

Since leaving Suifeng City, it had been a long time since he had seen such a high appraisal. Even the two-and-a-half-star dishes couldn’t compare to the shock this evaluation gave him.

An excellent pastry made from ordinary ingredients—if she had better-quality ingredients, what could she create?

Byron dared not imagine.

Suifeng Territory hadn’t seen a dish rated above three stars in a long time.