After breakfast, Dorian dived into the ocean of books. He wanted to see if these books were placed here for decoration or for other purposes.
Most of the books here are about cooking. Dolin does not need these. He is looking for things about his great-grandfather or grandfather.
Time passed quickly, and Dorian flipped through books one after another obsessively. Some books had artificial markings. The notes looked like they were left by his great-grandfather. He would pay special attention to places with marked insights.
.
In the evening, Dorian walked out of the main room, rubbing his sore eyes. He read about twenty books in almost a day.
I have to say that it is helpful to improve my cooking skills. After all, my great-grandfather’s cooking skills are beyond comparison. What my father taught me is still far behind compared to a real chef.
"Quit drinking, I'll go out for a walk, relax and relax my eyes." Dolin said as he walked towards the door.
After quitting drinking, he woke up from his trance and nodded.
Daolin walked out. Tianlai Street was a little more lively at this time. After all, it was evening, and there were many customers standing in front of some stalls.
Daolin wandered around the stalls, looking here and there. If there were items that caught his eye, he would buy a few and take them back.
In front of a fried rice stall, Dolin stopped and looked at the stall owner. He was a short old man with a big nose and dull eyes, drinking wine.
"Uncle, how do you sell this fried rice?" Dolin asked curiously.
The old man with rosacea pointed to the sign in front of the stall and let Dolin read it for himself.
"Fried rice by chance, twelve taels per serving, eat it if you like it, or you will lose it if you don't." Daolin read it out in a low voice, and then he was stunned. This is not what a business sign should be.
"Uncle, can you get business if you write like this?" Dolin asked with a smile.
"Old man, I only cook food for people who are willing to eat it. For people who are unwilling to eat it, they won't eat it no matter how cheap it is." The old man with rosacea said angrily.
Dolin nodded. He had to say that what the old man said made sense, but after all, when the business was open, who would have trouble with money?
"Can the price be cheaper? A portion of twelve taels of fried rice is indeed a bit expensive." Dolin bargained.
"Hmph, I won't take any money from the hungry people or the people who are about to starve to death, old man, and I won't take away any money from the rich people who want to eat." The old man with rosacea said unceremoniously.
"Then please give me a piece, I want meat and eggs." Dolin said with a smile.
"Okay, wait a minute." The old man with rosacea raised his head and took another sip of wine, then staggered to the stove.
The old man picked up the kitchen knife tremblingly. His right hand was shaking violently. Dolin frowned as he looked at it. How should he cut vegetables and cook like this?
The old man's next action gave the answer. The old man took a piece of fresh meat and held a kitchen knife in his right hand. The kitchen knife was shaking very hard, and it seemed that it could not be cut accurately at all.
"Hey!" there was a sound, and the kitchen knife cut through the fresh meat sharply, and a thin piece of meat was cut off. Then the old man moved more and more widely, and each piece of meat was very thin. Dolin could see clearly that the old man was cutting the meat.
At this time, his hands were still shaking, but the old man accurately grasped the rhythm of cutting meat, so that every time he dropped the knife, he could ensure a short period of stability.
Dolin's eyes suddenly widened, and he looked at this scene in disbelief.
"This old man is a master at cooking. At least, he is much better than me." Dolin thought to himself, he had to admit this fact.