Chapter 644: The Gift of Nature (Part 2)

Schiller indeed couldn't make Beijing roast duck because the local soil wasn't suitable for building ovens, but he made a simplified version: cleaning the duck and marinating it in broth made from seafood.

He slit the belly, stuffed it with apple and lemon, then sealed the whole duck inside a large coconut shell and buried it in scorching hot sand to steam it until tender.

Harold had wanted to recreate Wellington steak, but without ready starch he couldn't make the puff pastry, and there were no good ingredients for mushroom sauce, so he made a simplified version too.

He trimmed the crust off the toast bread, brushed each layer with butter, stacked four layers together, pressed them firm, and fried until golden; the steak was sprinkled with pepper, seared to medium-rare, coated with seafood sauce, then wrapped in the crispy bread.

Seeing the other's strength matched his own, two people who never felt hunger showed no intention of stopping their culinary display until another figure appeared at the cave entrance.

It's hard to see genuine confusion on Batman's face, but right then, Schiller was certain he saw a flicker of bewilderment and uncertainty in Bruce's expression.

The two lying figures were hard to judge for life or death, but the appearance and aroma of the food never lied; Bruce, who had flown for hours straight before finally reaching the crash site, was already hungry, and he grew hungrier the moment he opened the sealed cave entrance and stepped inside.

These recipes all incorporated original elements adapted to the environment, but their core structures remained time-tested human culinary methods, unlikely to be flawed, so both aroma and presentation were deeply enticing.

The first dish to finish cooking, chicken stewed with mushrooms, glistened with a golden sheen from the rich fat of the chicken thighs; equally glossy was the seafood spaghetti made with shrimp oil, served in a coconut shell, making it easy to imagine the delicate coconut fragrance beyond the seafood's savory richness.

Equally evocative was the sliced duck meat, rendered impossibly tender by steaming, paired with Schiller's seafood sauce—likely to send one straight to heaven with a single bite; the wilderness version of Wellington steak looked uniquely flavorful, the heavy carbs and thick-cut steak combining to drive any omnivore wild.

When Schiller's final pot of seafood soup came off the heat, Arthur sat up as if resurrected—he no longer cared about Bruce, the unexpected guest, and rushed to the stone slab at full speed, waiting for the meal to begin.

Schiller helped Oliver to his feet and led him to the stone slab; once the four were seated around it, there was no space left, leaving the newly arrived Bruce standing awkwardly.