1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Soon, the preparations for dinner officially began.

Michelle took the lead in the kitchen without hesitation.

To prepare for tonight's dinner, Michelle went to London's largest market yesterday to buy a lot of ingredients.

Of course, Catherine also helped prepare a lot of dishes.

Otherwise, Michelle wouldn't be able to handle cooking for so many people by herself.

The first dish was, of course, the tomato-braised beef brisket that everyone had praised before.

When that familiar, sweet and sour aroma wafted out, Dickens' Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

"Michelle, I dare say you can't find a better tomato stew in all of London than yours!"

Everyone kept quiet and focused on eating. Before long, a large plate of braised beef brisket with tomatoes was empty.

The dish's huge success quickly livened up the atmosphere of the dinner.

Just when everyone thought this was the main course for the evening, Michelle smiled mysteriously, turned around, and walked into the kitchen.

A moment later, he brought out a large soup dish covered with a silver lid.

We have to thank the previous owner, who actually left behind quite a few kitchen utensils.

"Everyone, please try my new dish."

Hearing Michelle's words, everyone's curiosity was piqued.

Dickens was even more eager, his eyes shining.

The moment Michelle lifted the lid, a strong, domineering, and extremely aggressive unfamiliar smell immediately filled everyone's nostrils.

The smell was spicy and stimulating, with a wildness unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

Catherine's brow furrowed slightly, almost unconsciously.

"Oh my God, Michelle, what is this... what is this?"

Dickens curiously leaned over and sniffed hard with his sensitive nose.

"It smells so... impactful!"

The dish on the plate was quite strange.

A dozen or so opened oyster shells were neatly arranged, the plump oyster meat covered with a layer of golden crumbs, interspersed with some Italian pasta.

After being cooked at high temperatures, the juices from the oysters mix with the butter, forming an enticing sauce at the bottom of the plate, sizzling and steaming.

Oysters, or more specifically, oysters, were familiar to everyone present. Oyster pie, in particular, could be considered a national dish in Britain at that time.

Its status was roughly equivalent to that of scrambled eggs with tomatoes in later Chinese times...

Oyster pie is simple to make: the base is made with plenty of oysters and a small amount of flour or breadcrumbs; the middle-class version adds chunks of beef; and the aristocratic version uses truffles, mushrooms, and a cream sauce.

But Michelle's approach completely overturned their understanding.

The key thing is, it smells absolutely amazing!

"Mr. Michel... is this yellow stuff garlic?" As the best cook among everyone present, Catherine recognized what it was.

In London, garlic was a condiment for the working class and sailors; its smell was considered coarse and offensive, and would make respectable people uncomfortable.

Therefore, the middle class in London almost never touches garlic unless it is used for medicinal purposes.

"Exactly."

Michelle nodded, a confident smile on her face.

"I call them garlic oysters."

Michael's expression became somewhat conflicted.

He glanced at Michelle, then at the plate of "garlic oysters".

"Michelle, are you sure this...this stuff really tastes good?"

Michael asked, wanting to eat but uncertain.

"certainly."

Michel picked up an oyster, gently pried the meat off the shell with his fork, put the meat in his mouth, closed his eyes, and showed an expression of enjoyment.

"And it's very delicious."

To be honest, this dish is not easy to modify.

All the other ingredients were easy to find, but vermicelli was completely unavailable in the UK.

Michel searched the entire market and finally could only use spaghetti as a substitute.

So far, the results are not bad.

Seeing Michelle eating so heartily, Dickens' curiosity was completely piqued.

He has always been someone who dares to try new things, especially when it comes to food.

"Since Michelle has said so, then I'll give it a try!"

He picked up an oyster and, imitating Michelle, put the oyster meat into his mouth.

The moment he entered the mouth, Dickens' eyes widened, and an expression of extreme enjoyment appeared on his face.

The rich aroma of garlic explodes in your mouth first, followed by the unique sweetness of oysters and the saltiness of the sea. The translucent spaghetti, soaked in the broth, brings an unprecedented smooth and tender texture.

"Oh my goodness!"

Dickens gasped, feeling his taste buds experiencing an unprecedented feast.

"Michelle! You're a culinary genius! This...this is an invention of genius!"

He disregarded his image, picked up another oyster, and began to devour it.

Seeing this, Michael, Catherine, and Mary also picked up forks and, with a skeptical attitude, tried the "garlic oysters".

"This is incredible!" Catherine's face was filled with surprise.

"I never imagined garlic and oysters could go so well together!"

"Mr. Michel, you are wonderful!"

Mary's eyes shone with adoration.

For a moment, the only sounds on the table were the sounds of everyone enjoying the food and the constant praise.

Michelle felt a sense of satisfaction watching them enjoy their meal.

Conquering the taste buds of the Victorian era with everyday dishes from later generations—that feeling is truly wonderful.

He even started considering whether he could open a restaurant to bring these "novel" delicacies to people of this era.

However, the thought only flashed through his mind for a moment.

After all, his primary task now is still writing.

Dinner ended in laughter and conversation, with Dickens and Michael praising Michelle's cooking.

"Michelle, you're not only London's most sought-after writer now, but also the best chef!"

Dickens patted him on the shoulder and said happily.

"I'll definitely be coming over for meals here often from now on!"

"You're welcome anytime," Michelle replied with a smile.

After a hearty meal, everyone present was engaged in literary work.

The topic naturally revolved around literature.

Michael started talking about the latest gossip in London's literary circles.

Dickens also recited a few poems on the spot.

The atmosphere gradually heated up.

Michael asked, "Michelle, haven't you written any stories lately?"

"Yes, there are..."

"Interestingly, this is a story about oysters."

Michelle answered with a smile.

The story about oysters piqued the interest of everyone present...

P.S.: Here's the first chapter update. I've been busy with the Spring Festival lately, so updates will be a little late. Sorry!

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