Chapter Seventy-Nine: Meat Dishes Without the Scent of Meat

There was no meat, yet the dish tasted like meat—perhaps even better. Heath had to admit, when he first heard this request, he wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. But seeing the girl’s confident smile, Heath realized she was quite serious.

“Please wait a moment,” Heath said, bowing his head as he rummaged through his pantry, then checked his refrigerator. He hadn’t bought many ingredients that day. Making mock chicken or vegetarian meat would be impossible.

However, Heath’s gaze landed on two other ingredients. If prepared well, they might just coax a meaty flavor from mere vegetables.

“I have something. Would you like to try it?” Heath dusted off his hands and looked at the girl.

“Of course I want to try. But if it’s not tasty, I won’t pay,” the girl huffed, finding herself a seat and even wiping the table.

Heath paid her attitude no mind. In business, you met all sorts of customers, and he’d dealt with his share of difficult ones. Just the other day, two customers had come for lunch, but halfway through their meal, they started drinking and became rowdy, creating a most unpleasant scene. If Officer Junsha hadn’t happened to pass by, Heath was certain his little cart would have been overturned. Thinking back, he almost regretted stopping them—at least then he might have gotten some compensation.

Heath opened the braising pot inherited with his food cart. Its broth had simmered for a long time now, becoming a seasoned stock, but today he did not reach for a braised chicken leg.

Instead, he fished out a piece of braised tofu, his chosen ingredient. In addition to the tofu, he needed peanuts—and fortunately, he’d purchased some earlier, so he didn’t have to make a trip to the market.

Heath recalled something his teacher had once mentioned: a writer named Jin Shengtan, on his deathbed, supposedly said, “Chew dried tofu and peanuts together, and you’ll taste ham.” This curious phrase had left a deep impression on Heath. He’d long wondered why a man would utter such words at the end of his life, and whether it was truly possible to conjure the flavor of ham this way.

Years later, Heath tried it himself—he bought some braised dried tofu and paired it with home-fried peanuts. Sure enough, there was a faint hint of ham, not powerful, but unmistakable.

Of course, many have since disputed the meaning of Jin Shengtan’s words, offering alternative interpretations, but the truth remains a mystery—no one can ask the man himself. So, today, Heath decided to use his own braised tofu and purchased peanuts to prepare a meatless, meat-flavored dish for this picky customer.

Heath worked quickly, as the tofu had already been prepared and frying peanuts was a simple task. Before long, he set the finished dish before the girl.

“Here you are, miss—the dish you requested.” Heath clapped his hands, confident. He’d tasted it himself; there was indeed a subtle flavor of ham.

“Really?” The girl eyed the plate curiously—there was clearly no meat. She glanced at Heath’s assured expression, her interest piqued.

Just as she picked up her chopsticks, Heath stopped her and explained how to properly taste the “meat flavor.”

“I don’t believe these two things together could taste like meat,” she muttered, but did as Heath suggested, placing tofu and peanuts in her mouth together.

“There’s no meat flavor, just a faint savory taste,” she said, licking her lips and looking at Heath with some dissatisfaction.

Heath paused, suddenly realizing the problem—perhaps there was no ham in this world. If so, it was hardly surprising that she couldn’t detect a flavor she’d never known.

“Looks like I’ll have to stock more ingredients next time...” Heath sighed inwardly. If he had more to work with, he could have made proper mock chicken or vegetarian meat.

He felt awkward, trying to explain that the hint of savory flavor at the end was what ham tasted like. But the girl had already started eating the tofu and peanuts on her own.

“There’s no meat flavor, but it’s not bad. Here’s your payment,” she said, leaving a hundred Alliance coins before walking away.

Yet before she left, she cast a pointed glance at Heath and huffed, leaving him utterly baffled. He wondered if he’d somehow offended her.

[You have served Ho-Oh. You have received a Mood Detector.]

Heath froze. Ho-Oh? He’d served Ho-Oh? But he hadn’t seen Ho-Oh today...

Wait. He looked at the empty plate and remembered the girl’s challenging attitude. Could that red-haired, red-eyed girl have been Ho-Oh?

Heath felt stunned. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d serve Ho-Oh, especially in human form. It was almost unbelievable.

But thinking about it, Mew and Latias could both appear as humans; as one of the legendary Pokémon, perhaps it was not so strange that Ho-Oh could do the same.

“This is...” Heath was at a loss, unable to decide how he should feel.

He reached into his pocket and found the item he’d been given—a device that looked like a pocket watch.

[Mood Detector: Aim at any target to observe their current mood.]

A straightforward description. Heath tried pointing the device at the Farfetch’d, who was practicing its arm strength nearby, curious about its mood.

A pulse appeared on the watch's face, then the visage of an ancient figure appeared, along with a single word: “Exhilarated.”

“Wait, isn’t that Sun Ce from the card game ‘Three Kingdoms Kill’?” Heath’s expression grew odd. He hadn’t expected to see such prosperity even in the world of Pokémon.

Heath shook his head; still, the device might prove useful. He tucked it away for now. As the morning rush approached, the streets filled with people, and Heath prepared to begin his day’s business.