Chapter 1012

The translator's face was stiff. He carried out such a high-density and high-intensity translation on a hot day with a little fee because the old boy from where wrote an email to chef Yang in what language.

Finally, he blamed others for not reading and not answering his letter.

The translator is a college student named Du Yu. He almost fainted.

Kenjiro tsuri poured himself a glass of water, moistened his throat and wanted to attack with his mouth.

Du Yu stares at Kenjiro tsuri coldly: "can you speak Chinese?"

"No, if I can, how can I use your waste?"

"Chef Yang doesn't know any Mandarin."

"Of course I know."

Du Yu: "you know, what national language do you use to write emails when you step on a horse? It's funny?"

In order to understand the old boy's email, Yang Song should not ask for a translator.

Kenjiro tsuri was stunned. Obviously, he didn't expect this possibility.

"Maybe he should learn what language."

The translator revealed Wang's contempt: "losers, especially those who have lost three consecutive games, have the face to say this?"

Who wants to beg for help?

Yang Song sent Du Yu a $100 red envelope: "tell him that the first premise for me to accept an apprentice is that I can cut tofu into silk. Ask him if he can do it."

Du Yu quickly translated.

Tsuri Kenjiro covered his heart and liver: "the whole China, no, the whole world, few people can cut tofu into silk."

Yang Song said, "few people are qualified to be my apprentices."

"As far as I know, you are the only one in China who can cut tofu into silk."

"Sitting in the sky, I knew that many chefs can cut tofu into silk." Yang Song added, "you are too stupid. You think you are stupid. You really can't be my apprentice. Don't come in the future."

He really doesn't want to waste his time.

Tsuri Kenjiro left dejected and kept saying, "it's impossible, impossible. Cutting tofu into silk itself surprised the gods and ghosts. There is a Yang song that is already very magical. How can there be a lot?"

Du Yu opened the small video: "there are really many. Wensi tofu has a great reputation in China. Many chefs like to cook this dish. Many can cut tofu into silk, but not many can cut it as exquisite as chef Yang."

Yang Song shreds the tofu and puts it into the water, as if the golden chrysanthemum were in bloom, one after another.

From that day on, Kenjiro tsuri still appeared around Yang Song in various forms.

Sometimes it's voice, sometimes it's email, sometimes it's me.

He began to learn Chinese, although he spoke it nondescript.

Yang Song still had a headache. He simply ran back to his hometown in advance, which was also a way of avoiding profit.

"When I go back, he should not appear again?"

Chen Ming silently took out his mobile phone and opened a blog: "the old boy pays attention to all our surroundings, and his Chinese language is becoming more and more slippery."

"He also wrote poems for you. He raised his head to look at the bright moon, bowed his head to think of Yang kitchen, and looked forward to your gift of a silk handkerchief. He thought both horizontally and vertically, and thought of you thousands of times every night..."

Yang Song casually took something and stuffed it into Chen Ming's mouth: "stop talking."

He's throwing up.

"Chef sun's food is out of the pot!" Liu eryang shouted loudly for fear that Yang song would not hear him.

Xu Xiaomei took the dishes to the big table, pushed Yang Song's dishes away and occupied position C.

"This is chef Yang's specialty, fried pork!"

Guobaorou, a dish in the northeast, is very popular throughout China.

"Dad, try it!" Xu Xiaomei gave Lao Xu a chopstick and asked others to eat.

"Delicious!" The little grandson of the Xu family ate happily.

Xu Xiaomei immediately said, "of course, this is the chef invited by my aunt. He's not a mud leg. He probably hasn't even heard of what steamed pork is."

Stepping on Yang Song is addictive: "Xiao Song, come on, you have a taste."

Chen Ming wants to swear, but Yang Song stops him.

"Brother song, I'll try it first. Your tongue is golden. You can't eat everything." Chen Ming gives Yang Song face. He doesn't swear or say good words.

He took a chopstick and took a bite.

"Hum, I haven't eaten anything good, have I?" This is the second time that Xu Xiaomei dislikes Chen mingqiong.

"Bah!" Chen Ming took a bite, but he didn't bite the meat. He was full of thicken powder. "This thing cuts his teeth. It's so thick starch. It's not brittle at all. His mouth is full of oil and sugar juice. It doesn't cost money. It's hard to eat!"

Xu Xiaomei's face was ugly: "don't talk nonsense if you don't understand!"

Her family said it was good to eat.

"If you can't do it yourself, you have to pour dirty water on chef sun's head. If you are like this, you will be killed in a big city!"

Chen Ming, who has lived in a big city for more than 20 years:

Yang Song, who has lived in a big city for a few years:

"Do you have any misunderstanding about big cities?"

"Mud legs!" As the first member of the Xu family to enter the county, Xu Xiaomei always has a straight waist.

"Xiaomei, what are you talking about?" Lao Xu was the first to refuse. "Our whole family are mud legs, so you'll be clean?"

He didn't intend to say much, but wanted to make peace.

"Dad, how can you help an outsider? He's not as skilled as chef sun. He also finds a nursery and sprays feces all over his mouth!" Sun Xiaomei was unconvinced.

Old Xu said, "who said Komatsu's craft is not good? Try it yourself."

Yang Song didn't make pork in pot. He made sweet and sour meat, which was sweet.

Sweet and sour meat tastes sour and sweet. It's not greasy at all. The plate has long been empty. Lao Xu quietly hid two chopsticks and planned to chew them carefully. At the moment, Xu Xiaomei just wanted to taste it.

This blind and shameful dead girl.

Xu Xiaomei reluctantly ate it and couldn't help opening her eyes.

Sweet and sour meat has been prepared for a while, and it's a little cold. Because the weather is hot, it's a little warm now. It's still crisp outside and tender inside, sour, sweet and delicious. People still want to eat it.

Xu Xiaomei took another pot of pork with chopsticks. As soon as she put it into her mouth, she wanted to vomit. This thing ruined the aftertaste of sweet and Sour Meat in her mouth.

She held back hard. She pretended to be forced. She could only die a duck with a hard mouth.

"Everyone has different tastes. Don't the children at home prefer chef sun's dishes?"

A few little carrots, who were eating happily with a bowl in their arms, were called by the adults.

On Chen Ming's face, with the expression of the big gray wolf tricking Little Red Riding Hood, "come on, tell your uncle which dish you like best on the table?"

"Whoever remembers best, uncle will ask the chef to make another plate for him!"

The little carrots are still naive and vie with each other:

"Sweet and Sour Meat! Brother Yang song makes sweet and Sour Meat!"

"Drumstick, big drumstick, big drumstick of brother Yang Song."

"Elbow, brother Yang Song's elbow is the best!"

"What they say is delicious!"

……

No one said fried pork.

Xu Xiaomei was worried: "didn't you say that the fried pork is delicious?"

Little carrots: "it's delicious."

"Do you like Yang Song's or uncle sun's? Uncle sun makes your favorite pot of pork."

"I like Yang Song's brother!"

Xu Xiaomei almost fell down: "then why do you still say that fried pork is delicious?"

"Because it's sweet, like sugar!"

"Brother Yang Song cooked sweet and Sour Meat best!"

"Brother Yang Song looks good!"

……

There are many reasons. Chef sun seems to have lost more than cooking.