Chapter 3084: Romantic

Peter, who was toasting, turned his head in a hurry and dragged Stark, who was covering his hand, away from the pot. Stark looked at his hand with a grimace. There was no obvious wound, but it hurt especially much just now.

"Calm down, sir. Oil splashing is normal. Didn't I tell you to use tongs to put them in??"

Stark was in a burst of sadness again. He didn't know that oil would splash. He thought that such a small sausage didn't need tongs, so he squeezed it into the pot with the bag of the sausage, and his hand was very close to the pot. Even if it didn't splash very violently, he was still burned two or three times.

Peter stood on the side and sighed. While turning the sausages in the pot with tongs, he said, "At first, I couldn't cook either. Basically, I ate whatever my uncle, aunt, and Dr. Wei En cooked."

"But later, my aunt was old. It was okay to cook some simple dishes, but for things like Thanksgiving dinner, I had to help."

"At the beginning, I couldn't get the hang of it at all and made the kitchen a mess, but later I discovered a secret to cooking..."

"What is it?" Stark's eyes lit up again.

"I found that cooking is the same as doing experiments." Peter

Stark began to think, then he took out his phone and said, "Pepper's breakfast is very good, but I think it's a bit too bland. I still prefer cheese sandwiches or cheeseburgers. Can I find the recipe for this online too?"

"Of course you can, and you must look for the detailed kind of recipe where every ingredient is precise to the gram, and the oil temperature has specific numbers. As long as you follow its steps and quantities, there won't be any problems."

"Then what if the recipe doesn't taste good?"

"Then you'll just have to find a tasty one next time." Peter shrugged and said, "Cooking experience is also very important."

Stark searched for a long time, looking like he wanted to say something but hesitated. He turned back to look at Shiler, then shuffled over to the island counter, leaning half his body on the countertop, and said to Shiler, who was scrolling through short videos.

"Uh, I remember the cheese beef sandwich you made last time was very delicious. What recipe did you use?"

Shiler looked at him from over his phone and said, "A cheese beef sandwich needs a recipe? If it weren't for the fact that you like eating it, I wouldn't make this kind of 'white people food'."

"Hey, you can't belittle it like that!" Stark said very dissatisfied, "Cheese and beef are a match made in heaven! There is no combination more suitable than them!"

"Then you haven't eaten any less of the tomato beef brisket I stewed."

Stark was speechless.

Shiler put away his phone and stood up. Peter had just taken the sausages out of the pan. Shiler gently touched his arm and said, "Give it to me."

Peter made room, and Shiler took the pan away to wash it clean, then went to the plastic bag on the side, took out a piece of beef, put it into the meat grinder, and added a little salt and five-spice powder.

"Wait a minute." Stark suddenly said, "How many grams of salt should I put in here?? Let me note it down..."

"How many grams?" Shiler looked down at the meat grinder and said, "Just put in a little bit, no need to put too much; the cheese is salty anyway."

Stark was dumbfounded and said, "How much is 'a little bit'?"

Shiler picked up the salt shaker nearby, casually poured it into his other hand twice, and said, "About this much."

Stark leaned over to look; there were some fine salt grains in Shiler's palm. He took the electronic scale nearby, grabbed Shiler's hand, and poured the salt onto it, finally weighing it at 0.7 grams.

He took out his phone and started recording, "How much did that piece of beef weigh just now?"

Peter directly retrieved the packaging Shiler had thrown into the trash can and showed the gram count on it to Stark.

Shiler rolled his eyes, took the oil bottle, and added a tiny bit of olive oil to the meat being mixed. Stark rushed over again to see the grams of oil.

Shiler took out a small basin from the cabinet, peeled off the plastic wrap, and inside was the Sichuan peppercorn oil he had fried himself. He scooped two small spoonfuls with a small spoon, and Stark actually carefully recorded the size of the spoon.

After the meat filling was mixed, the pan was heated, brushed lightly with a layer of oil using an oil brush, and the beef was shaped into patties and placed on it to fry until both sides were golden brown and the middle was slightly red, then placed on a slice of bread.

While hot, put a slice of cheese on it, then sprinkle some shredded cheese, followed by shredded basil and black pepper, and then spread a full layer of the fried onions that weren't used yesterday.

After covering it with another slice of bread, spread layer upon layer of vegetables, starting with two leaves of iceberg lettuce, then adding onions and blanched mushroom slices.

Take the cheese sauce out of the fridge, pour it into an iron spoon, heat it slightly over the fire, drizzle it on top, cover it with the last slice of bread toasted to a golden brown, and finally sprinkle with a little white sesame.

"My God, what smells so good." Wanda's eyes were still closed, but she had already floated down from the stairs.

"Hey, you came just in time." Stark got excited again and said, "Of course it's Stark's favorite beef cheese sandwich!"

"Yes, I smell the aroma of cheese." Wanda opened her eyes slightly, stared at Stark, and said, "You can make sandwiches? Why has Jarvis never told me?"

Stark was a bit embarrassed and said, "I didn't make it, I just love eating it."

"Only the most incompetent scientists would put their own name in front of someone else's research results." Reed walked in, holding the door frame; clearly, he had finished vomiting.

Susan's gaze at his back was a bit worried, but she was still attracted by the commotion in the kitchen. At this time, Shiler had already made three sandwiches.

"My God, you actually got up so early to make breakfast! Doctor, you made yesterday's dinner too; wouldn't this be a bit too exhausting?"

Shiler had only one thought at this moment: no wonder Franklin wanted to bind himself to his mother.

Then Susan walked over and said, "I can cook too, let me help you. How about a simple arugula and vegetable salad?"

"That couldn't be better, ma'am." Shiler made room for Susan.

But in fact, the kitchen of the Stone House was very large; it was no problem for five or six people to stand between the kitchen and the island. Making hot dishes and cold dishes didn't interfere with each other, and several preparation spots could be left over.

Now Peter was responsible for helping them prepare ingredients, which meant cutting vegetables for the salad and preparing vegetables for the sandwiches. And when Matt and Elektra woke up, they also joined the ranks of cooking.

Don't think there are too many people; in fact, if you aren't a professional chef, satisfying the dining needs of so many people really requires this many people working together, especially since one or two of them are "masters"—if it doesn't taste good, they simply won't eat it.

Susan let Wanda help taste the salad seasoning. After the two discussed it for a while, they improved the sauce and divided it into two flavors for the salad: one used sour cream sauce for a richer taste, and the other was more refreshing.

After Steve woke up, he started brewing coffee for everyone. When Susan saw him, she smiled and said, "Oh, our Mr. Coffee."

Steve said while picking beans, "Don't say that, ma'am; compared to what you've made, it's not worth mentioning."

"In fact, I used to be the best 'Coffee Lady' on our project team. Let me see what beans there are." Susan put down the finished coffee.

Steve was a little embarrassed because he didn't realize Susan was joking. He then remembered that in this day and age, calling someone "Coffee Lady/Mr." was actually sexist, somewhat similar to mocking someone for having nothing but looks; if said in a teasing tone, it was actually complimenting someone on their good looks.

But in fact, in Steve's era, "Coffee Lady" was truly a job title. Women in that era had few job opportunities and were not allowed to perform important work; in the office, they could only serve as people who brewed coffee and ran errands.

And Susan was a blonde; the discrimination against beautiful blonde women in that era was particularly severe. They were almost considered synonymous with stupidity, to the point that as long as a woman was blonde, she couldn't possibly have any chance of promotion and would forever only be a vase. If her figure was a bit more sexy, it would be assumed that all her job opportunities were exchanged for sex.

Susan called Steve that on purpose to tease him about being sexy, but Steve answered seriously. Fortunately, Susan made a self-deprecating remark to resolve the awkward situation, otherwise the atmosphere would definitely have dropped to freezing point.

In fact, having been back for so long, Steve had adapted to the vast majority of life, but he still couldn't quite react to some small details of era differences during conversations.

This was also an important reason why he didn't want Captain America to appear in public too much. Captain America was a symbol of the era, and he still had countless fans to this day. He was worried that some of his old-fashioned perceptions would affect his fans, thereby hurting some people.

They picked two kinds of beans and put them into different machines. Soon, the aroma of coffee permeated the entire building.

It was actually a bit peculiar: the aroma of cooking could probably only drift one floor, but the aroma of coffee could spread particularly far, and the duration was also longer.

The rest of the people who hadn't woken up had basically gotten up, drooling at the sumptuous breakfast. Most of them had the aftereffects of a hangover. Peter said to Shiler, "Doctor, do you have any more of those 'spiked' drinks? Can you bring a few more cups?"

"No problem." Shiler said, "I've already prepared them; they're under the bar, go get them yourself."

The drinks were brought to the table, and everyone felt better after drinking them, but their drinks didn't contain Golden Apples; they really contained some painkillers.

After all, Shiler was confident that Peter could digest the power of the Golden Apple well, but for ordinary people, it might not be the case. If a mouthful of Golden Apple went down and their whole body started glowing, this matter couldn't be hidden.

In fact, Shiler's original intention for hiding it from them was also simple: there were quite a few "saints" among the superheroes, and people who could fall in love with superheroes and form families also had some of these attributes to some extent.

They would feel that if ordinary people didn't have such an opportunity, they shouldn't have it either, or they would feel that if there really was such a magical thing, it should be used to save people who were in more pain, rather than being wasted on them.

So if they knew the truth, they might not eat it. At least Peter wouldn't accept it, and Gwen would probably be tough; she would more likely want to give it to her father to eat, but even if she gave it to George, she would have to hide it from him, otherwise George might not eat it either.

The trouble with being friends with superheroes is just like this: each of them has a kind of almost paranoid self-sacrificial emotion, and they can't even think rationally in this regard. As a psychologist, one must be careful and remain cautious at all times.

After breakfast, Peter pulled Gwen to the backyard to show off his recovered abilities, and that trampoline that had just been modified by Pikachu and Rocket Raccoon came in handy.