Lord of Mysteries

Chapter 11 The Real Art of Cooking

Is it normal for everyone to die? Am I glad I'm still alive? Am I lucky to be alive?

Klein shuddered and quickly took two steps toward the door, trying to catch up with the police officers and seek their protection.

But as soon as he touched the handle, his movements suddenly stopped.

"If that police officer made things sound so terrible, why wouldn't they protect me, an important witness or a key clue holder?"

"Isn't this incredibly careless?"

"Test the waters, or lay a trap?"

Various thoughts clashed in Klein's mind, making him suspect that the police were still secretly "watching" him and observing his reactions.

Thinking this, he felt much calmer and less panicked. He slowly opened the door and, deliberately making his voice tremble, called out towards the stairwell:

"You'll protect me, right?"

Snap, snap, snap—the officers didn't respond; the rhythm of their shoes hitting the wooden stairs remained unchanged.

"I know! You'll do this!" Klein shouted again, feigning conviction, trying to appear as a normal person facing danger.

The footsteps gradually faded and disappeared into the ground floor of the apartment building.

Klein gave a low snort, inwardly scoffing:

"That reaction was so fake! The acting was terrible!"

He didn't chase after them, but turned around and went back into the room, closing the door behind him.

For the next few hours, Klein displayed a wide range of behaviors, including restlessness, fidgeting, anxiety, and inability to read, not relaxing his demands even when no one was around.

"That's what you call an actor's self-cultivation!" he thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile.

As the sun began to set and the clouds on the horizon began to "burn," the apartment residents gradually returned home, and Klein finally shifted his focus elsewhere.

"Melissa will be out of school soon..." He turned his gaze to the stove, picked up the kettle in one gulp, peeled away the coal, and took out his revolver.

Without pausing or delaying, he reached his hand to the back of the lower wooden plank of the bunk bed, where a dozen or so wooden strips were intertwined for support.

After wedging the revolver between a wooden strip and a plank, Klein straightened up and waited anxiously, fearing that the police would suddenly break down the door, gun in hand, and rush into the room.

In a normal steampunk world, he was certain that no one would have seen him do what he just did. However, here there was supernatural power, supernatural power that he had personally verified.

After waiting for a few minutes, there was no movement at the door. Only the sound of the two tenants talking about going to the "Wild Heart" bar on Iron Cross Street came from afar and then faded away.

"Phew." Klein breathed a sigh of relief, his heart finally at ease.

I'm just waiting for Melissa to come back so I can make lamb stew with tender peas!

The moment this thought crossed Klein's mind, he felt as if his mouth was overflowing with the aroma of meat juices, and he also remembered how Melissa made stewed lamb with tender peas.

She first boiled water to blanch the meat pieces, then added onions, salt, a little pepper, and water to stew it directly. After a certain time, she added peas and potatoes and simmered it for forty or fifty minutes.

"That's such a simple and rudimentary method... relying solely on the deliciousness of the meat itself!" Klein couldn't help but shake his head.

But there's nothing we can do about it. Ordinary families don't have a variety of seasonings or cooking techniques. They can only pursue simplicity, practicality, and economy. As long as the meat isn't burnt or spoiled, it's fine no matter what, especially for people who only eat it twice a week or even once.

Klein wasn't exactly a culinary expert, and he usually ate out, but he cooked three or four meals a week. Over time, he managed to get by to a passable level, and he felt he couldn't let that pound of lamb go to waste.

"I'll make it when Melissa gets back. It won't be done until after 7:30, and she'll be starving... It's time to show her real culinary skills!" Klein made up an excuse for himself, first rekindling the fire in the stove, then going to the communal restroom to get water to wash the lamb, before taking out a cutting board and knife and chopping it into small pieces.

As for how to explain his sudden culinary skills, he decided to blame it on the late Welch McGovern, who not only hired a chef specializing in the unique flavors of the South Pacific but also frequently created his own dishes and invited others to taste them.

Well, dead people won't argue with me!

However, wow, this is a world with extraordinary beings, the dead aren't necessarily silent... Thinking this, Klein inexplicably felt a little guilty.

He put aside his jumbled thoughts, placed the meat chunks into the soup bowl, then took out a spice box, added a spoonful and a half of yellowish coarse salt, and carefully took some black peppercorns from a special small bottle, mixed them with the lamb and salt, and marinated them briefly.

While waiting for the stew pot to heat up, Klein found the leftover carrots from yesterday and the onions he bought today, and cut them into many pieces.

After making the preparations, he took out a small jar from the cupboard, opened it, and found that there was not much lard left inside.

Klein took a spoonful, put it in the pot, simmered it until melted, then added carrot and onion chunks and stir-fried for a while.

The aroma began to fill the air, and Klein poured in all the lamb and carefully seared it for a while.

During this process, some cooking wine should have been added, or at the very least, wine should have been used instead. However, Moretti's family didn't have such luxuries, and Benson could only drink one beer a week. Klein had no choice but to make do with what he had, pouring some boiled water and doing it casually.

After simmering for about twenty minutes, he opened the lid, added the tender peas and chopped potatoes, along with a cup of hot water and two spoonfuls of salt.

Klein closed the lid, turned down the fire, and breathed a satisfied sigh of relief, waiting for his sister to come home.

As time passed, the aroma in the room grew stronger, with the tempting scent of meat, the rich aroma of potatoes, and the refreshing aroma of onions.

The flavors gradually mixed together, and Klein swallowed hard every now and then, opening the pocket watch cover and looking at the minute hand.

Forty minutes later, the sound of footsteps, not light but rhythmic, approached. The key was inserted, the handle was turned, and the door opened.

"It smells so good..." Melissa murmured with a hint of doubt before she even entered the room.

She stepped inside, carrying her handbag, her gaze sweeping over the fireplace.

"You did this?" Melissa paused in mid-air as she removed her veil, her gaze towards Klein filled with terror.

She sniffed, inhaling more of the fragrance, and her gaze softened quickly, as if she had found some confidence.

"Did you do this?" she asked again, puzzled.

"Are you worried I'll waste the lamb?" Klein asked with a smile, and before anyone could answer, he continued, "Don't worry, I specifically asked Welch how to make this dish. You know he has a great chef."

"First time making this?" Melissa's brows furrowed involuntarily, but the aroma smoothed them out.

"Looks like I'm quite talented." Klein chuckled. "It'll be ready soon. Put your books and hat down, go wash your hands in the restroom, and then wait to enjoy it. I'm very confident."

Listening to her brother's methodical arrangements and seeing his gentle and calm smile, Melissa stood frozen at the doorway, unable to react.

"Do you like it stewed a little softer?" Klein asked with a smile.

"Ah, okay, okay!" Melissa snapped out of her daze, grabbed her bag in one hand and her hat in the other, and rushed into the inner room.

Lifting the lid of the stew pot, Klein was immediately greeted by a mist of steam. Two loaves of rye bread had already been placed beside the lamb and tender peas, allowing them to absorb the aroma and heat to soften.

When Melissa returned after tidying up her belongings and washing her hands and face, a plate of stewed lamb with tender peas, garnished with potatoes, carrots, and onions, was already laid out on the desk, while two dark breads, stained with some of the meat juice, sat on their respective plates.

"Here, have a taste," Klein said, pointing to the wooden fork and spoon placed next to the plate.

Melissa was still a little confused, but she didn't refuse. She picked up her fork, forked a piece of potato, brought it to her mouth, and took a small bite.

The combination of the potato's soft, powdery texture and the rich aroma of the meat juices made her mouth water, and she finished the potato in no time.

"Try the meat," Klein said, gesturing with his chin to the plate.

He had just tasted it and thought it was only passable, but it was enough for the young girl who had never seen the market and could only eat meat occasionally!

Melissa's eyes lit up with anticipation as she carefully forked a piece of lamb.

It was stewed until very tender, almost melting in your mouth the moment you put it in, bursting with real meaty aroma and wonderful juices that filled your mouth.

It was an unprecedentedly wonderful feeling that made Melissa unable to stop.

By the time she came to her senses, she had already eaten several pieces of lamb.

"I, I, Klein, this is for you..." Melissa's face flushed red, and she stammered.

"I've already sneaked a bite; it's a chef's privilege," Klein said with a smile, reassuring his sister. At the same time, he picked up a fork and spoon, sometimes eating a piece of meat, sometimes stuffing his mouth with peas, and sometimes putting down his utensils to break off a piece of dark bread and dip it in the sauce.

Melissa relaxed, unaffected by Klein's perfectly normal behavior, and once again immersed herself in the delicious food.

"It's delicious! I can't believe this is your first time making it." Melissa glanced at the empty plate, not even a drop of sauce left, and praised it sincerely.

"Compared to Welch's chefs, we're still far behind. When I have money, I'll take you and Benson to a better restaurant!" Klein said, sounding quite dreamy himself.

"Your interview will be... hiccup..." Melissa couldn't finish her sentence before she suddenly let out a satisfied sound.

She hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand, looking extremely embarrassed.

It's all because the stewed lamb with tender peas was so delicious!

Klein chuckled to himself, deciding not to laugh at his sister. He pointed to the plate and said:

"This is your task."

"Okay!" Melissa stood up eagerly, grabbed the basin, and rushed out the door.

When she returned from cleaning, she opened the cupboard and habitually checked the spice containers and other items.

"You just used that?" Melissa exclaimed in surprise, turning to look at Klein, who was holding a pepper shaker and a jar of lard.

Klein shrugged and smiled:

"A little bit, that's the price of deliciousness."

Melissa's eyes flickered, her expression shifted several times, and finally she pursed her lips and said:

"I'll cook from now on."

"Hmm...you need to hurry up and prepare for the interview, and you need to think about work."

(End of this chapter)