Multiverse Gourmet Hunter

Outside the window, the bright afternoon gradually faded into amber dusk before finally giving way to night.

By then, more than a dozen plates of different dumplings covered the table in front of Haruto. He had gone through nearly half a bag of flour and experimented with seven or eight different fillings.

Looking over the results, Haruto lightly tapped his fingers against the tabletop as his thoughts raced.

Pan-fried dumplings overlapped too much with the competition.

Steamed dumplings were too subtle.

Deep-fried dumplings were too greasy.

Baked dumplings depended too heavily on precise heat control at the venue.

’Then why not go back to the most basic form of all?’

Boiled dumplings.

The moment the idea occurred to him, Haruto’s eyes brightened.

Boiled dumplings were perhaps the most ordinary and familiar kind, yet precisely because of that, they demanded excellent fundamentals.

The chewiness of the wrapper, the freshness of the filling, the timing of the boil—even the slightest mistake in any one of them could create an enormous difference in the finished dish.

More importantly, boiled dumplings were extraordinarily versatile.

They could carry the comforting flavors of an everyday family meal just as easily as they could showcase the finest delicacies from land and sea.

And Haruto could work with both the filling and the broth to create something people would remember after a single bite.

Now that he had a direction, his enthusiasm returned.

He started by making a fresh batch of dough.

This time, he added a little egg white and a small pinch of salt to high-gluten flour before kneading it with warm water until smooth. After working the dough repeatedly, he covered it with a damp cloth and left it to rest.

The egg white made the dough more resilient, allowing the wrappers to be rolled much thinner without tearing during boiling, which would help them trap every drop of juice inside.

Next came the filling.

Haruto selected the freshest pork shoulder he could find, using a ratio of seventy percent lean meat to thirty percent fat. Rather than grinding it mechanically, he chopped it by hand so the filling would retain a more pleasantly springy texture.

He mixed in a small amount of finely chopped water chestnut for crispness and to cut through the richness of the pork, then added minced dried scallop for extra umami.

The mixture was stirred repeatedly in a single direction until the meat became sticky and elastic enough to pull into strands.

Then came rolling the wrappers and forming the dumplings.

Haruto rolled the rested dough into a long, thin rope and divided it into perfectly even portions.

In his hands, the rolling pin seemed almost alive. With only a few motions, each piece became a perfectly round wrapper so thin it was nearly translucent, slightly thicker in the center and finer around the edges.

That structure gave it enough strength to survive boiling while keeping the texture delicate.

Haruto placed a portion of filling in the center of one wrapper.

His fingers moved rapidly.

A moment later, a neatly pleated dumpling shaped like a small ingot sat on the board.

Soon, a row of plump dumplings stood upright beside it. Through the thin wrappers, the filling could almost be seen beneath the surface.

Even uncooked, they were already appealing.

Haruto brought a pot of water to a rolling boil and dropped in more than a dozen dumplings.

They tumbled through the bubbling water before gradually rising to the surface, their wrappers becoming glossy and translucent.

Once they were cooked, Haruto scooped them into a bowl, picked one up with his chopsticks, and bit into it.

The first sensation was the smooth, pleasantly chewy wrapper breaking between his teeth.

Then the piping-hot juices from the meat filling rushed out, so intensely savory that his tongue almost tingled.

Before that first wave of flavor had faded, the springy pork and crisp water chestnut followed.

The dumpling was very good.

Still, Haruto felt something was missing.

He thought about it for a long while before an idea for improving it finally came to him.

Then he went straight back to work.

Once the basic concept of his competition entry had been settled, Haruto visited a sign maker and ordered a wooden sign.

Seven bold characters were painted across it in powerful brushstrokes:

Haruto’s Temporary Dumpling Shop

Over the next several days, Haruto remained mostly at the inn, preparing all the ingredients he would need in advance.

By the time everything was ready, the day of the Guangzhou Dumpling Contest had finally arrived.

On the night before the competition, Haruto sat beside the window of his room and looked out over the thousands of lights scattered across the city.

Lanterns glowed one after another beneath the covered arcades, while distant pleasure boats traced lines of light across the river.

Carried on the night breeze came the faint, melodious notes of Cantonese opera drifting from a teahouse somewhere far away.

A slight smile appeared on Haruto’s face.

The championship, the rivalries, whatever grudges the other competitors might have—none of that mattered to him.

Tomorrow, there was only one thing he needed to accomplish.

Everyone who tasted his dumplings had to remember the flavor.

And they had to remember the name Haruto.

That was enough.

...

Morning came early in Lingnan.

The sky had only just begun to brighten, and mist still lingered over the river when the damp breeze slipped between the pillars of Guangzhou’s covered walkways.

It carried the aroma of freshly steamed shrimp dumplings and shumai from morning-tea stalls, slowly waking the city from its sleep.

Normally, the streets would only just be showing the first signs of activity at this hour.

Today was completely different.

The roads leading toward the Dumpling Contest venue were already crowded.

Most of the people hurrying along were participating chefs, though plenty of dedicated food lovers had also arrived early to secure good spots. Small groups walked together while excitedly debating which stalls they planned to visit first.

Haruto blended into the crowd and made his way toward the venue at an unhurried pace.

The Dumpling Contest was being held in a large public square.

Inside, rows upon rows of stalls had already been erected.

When Haruto arrived, there was still an hour before the official start, yet the grounds were already packed with chefs.

Some were arranging their stalls and sorting their ingredients into neat groups.

Others stood together speaking quietly, their expressions showing equal parts anticipation and nervousness.

A few had already lit their fires, and the sound of hot oil sizzling in pans echoed through the square.

Haruto found the stall Elder Guan had personally arranged for him and began setting out his cutting board, rolling pin, bowls, and other equipment.

The chef at the neighboring stall was busy kneading dough when he happened to glance over.

His eyes lit up.

"You must be Chef Haruto. I’ve heard a great deal about you."

Haruto looked up.

He did not recognize the man as anyone he had challenged before, so he gave him a polite nod.

"You’re too kind. And you are?"

"My surname is Liang. I run a little dumpling shop and make enough to get by."

Chef Liang waved modestly, then glanced curiously at the ingredients Haruto had prepared.

"What kind of dumplings are you making? Doesn’t look like you’re setting up for potstickers."

"Boiled dumplings."

Haruto answered casually without slowing his hands.

Chef Liang paused in surprise at the answer but did not comment further.

Haruto ended the conversation there and took out wheat starch and potato starch.

He poured them into his mixing bowl at an exact ratio of seven to three.

The wheat starch would give the wrapper its translucent, delicate quality, while the potato starch would provide additional elasticity.

At this ratio, the dough could be rolled thin enough for light to pass through while remaining strong enough not to split during boiling.

Once the two starches had been thoroughly combined, Haruto reached for the steaming-hot superior stock he had prepared in advance.

The stock had been made from the breast meat and entire carcass of an old hen, with ginger slices and a small amount of rice wine added to remove any unwanted odor.

Haruto had left Charizard in charge of the fire, keeping it at the lowest possible heat throughout the entire process.

The stock had remained just below a full boil from beginning to end, never once rolling violently.

It had taken a full twelve hours.

Every thirty minutes, Haruto had skimmed away the fat and impurities with a fine mesh strainer, repeating the process more than a dozen times.

At the end, he filtered the stock through six layers of cheesecloth four separate times.

What remained was perfectly clear, almost indistinguishable from water, yet so intensely savory that the aroma alone could make someone’s mouth water.

The stock was still piping hot.

Haruto lifted the insulated container and steadily poured it into the mixed starches.

Almost the instant the liquid hit the bowl, his other hand seized the rolling pin and began stirring clockwise at tremendous speed.

His movements were so fast that faint afterimages seemed to trail behind his arm, yet his wrist remained perfectly stable.

The rolling pin moved around the bowl at an even rhythm, rapidly combining the hot stock with the starch.

Under the combined effects of the intense heat and high-speed mixing, the loose powder gelatinized almost immediately and began gathering into a cohesive mass.

Barely more than ten seconds passed.

Not a single dry speck remained in the bowl.

Every bit of starch had absorbed the stock and transformed into a smooth, uniform scalded dough.

Chef Liang stared with wide eyes.

Even the rolling pin in his own hand came to a stop.

Scalded dough wrappers demanded extraordinary precision.

The temperature of the liquid, the speed of mixing, and the amount of force all had to be controlled properly. A slight error could completely change the finished texture.

Yet Haruto had produced a perfectly even dough in a single attempt, without so much as one tiny lump.

Chef Liang knew very well that he himself could not do the same.

---------

Read 40 Chapters ahead and support me on patreon.

patreon (.)com/Newbietranslator

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!