Culinary God in Wilderness

Chapter 425: Chapter 262: Preparing the Lure

As a precaution, before starting the main course, he casually cut a few fingernail-sized pieces of crocodile meat. Leaving the dinosaur-like skin on, he placed them on the grill to roast slowly over the charcoal fire.

If not for the skin, it would be hard to tell what kind of meat it was just by looking at it; most people would probably mistake it for beef or pork.

Under the high heat of the charcoal fire, the crocodile meat quickly began to sizzle, but strangely, there didn’t seem to be any noticeable fat rendering out.

He had already noticed this when he was butchering the crocodile meat. The American Crocodile’s fat content was much lower than he’d imagined, a stark contrast to his previous conclusion that large animals encountered in Alaska were generally very fatty.

Despite their enormous size, they were almost all lean meat, like rabbits, with hardly any visible marbling.

As amphibious reptiles, the environment crocodiles live in means they can carry numerous parasites and bacteria. Therefore, the meat must be cooked thoroughly. To be safe, the internal temperature needed to exceed 80 degrees for at least 15 seconds before it was fit for consumption.

For thinly sliced meat, it wouldn’t need to be cooked for so long because the temperature rises quickly, reaching nearly 100 degrees in just a few seconds, which is enough to completely kill any bacteria and parasites.

He sprinkled on a little salt for a base flavor, picked up the crocodile meat skewer, blew on it a few times, and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

As soon as it entered his mouth, the aroma of charcoal hit him, followed by the slightly crisped hard skin and the crunch of the lightly charred edges.

The center of the meat was still soft, tender, and juicy. The texture was somewhere between beef and chicken, with a hint of soft-shelled turtle.

The skin on the surface was especially noteworthy. After being cooked, it had turned semi-translucent, with a texture almost identical to the gelatinous edge of a turtle shell, only thicker.

As he chewed, a long-forgotten memory slowly resurfaced.

"That’s right. This is the taste."

He nodded, finally recalling that the crocodile meat he’d eaten at a hot pot restaurant as a child tasted very similar to this.

He was certain the variety at the hot pot restaurant wasn’t American Crocodile; it was most likely one of the more common Asian species.

Just as with most meats, the difference in species had a huge impact on the texture.

The American Crocodile meat was incredibly fine and tender, much more so than he had imagined. Its only downside was the lack of fat, so it wasn’t particularly fragrant.

’Looks like if I’m going to grill it, I should avoid large chunks and treat it more like a tenderloin. Otherwise, cooking it for too long will ruin the texture. It’s probably best for hot pot or stews. Roasting it wrapped up, Beggar’s Chicken-style, should work too.’

Since the competition was more or less over for him, there was no need to save any more supplies. He might as well use everything he could and make one last feast.

He glanced at the time. There was only about an hour left until sunset, so there was no need to go out again.

He brought ten dried Flying Fish out of the hut and crushed them on a wooden stump. Then, he extracted a small amount of coconut oil from some coconut flesh and used it to fry the fish until crisp. Finally, he poured in hot water and simmered it all down into a thick, yellowish-white fish broth.

It was a similar method to last time: fry first, then simmer, then strain. Finally, he added some pickled chilies to add a tangy and spicy flavor and enhance the freshness.

The difference this time was the addition of chopped pickled chili leaves and pickled taro leaves, creating a flavor profile similar to a pickled fish stew base.

"Hot pot again?"

While he was busy, Erica, to the sound of splashing water, had already climbed out of the bath and gotten dressed. Holding a camouflage jacket that she used as a towel, she skillfully hung it to dry on a bamboo rack by the charcoal fire.

"Can’t be helped, ingredients are limited. But this time, I can make a dipping sauce for you to try."

He chopped up various fresh chilies, including half a Havana pepper for each of them. Then he added a suitable amount of minced wild ginger, lemongrass, basil leaves, and chopped coyote cilantro. He finished it with a large spoonful of oyster sauce, a pinch of sea salt, and two spoonfuls of the fish broth.

"This sauce is just a half-measure, kind of like the ’clean’ sauces you eat when you’re on a diet. When I get the chance, I’ll show you what a real hot pot is."

He set the bowl of sauce aside and took out a piece of crocodile belly from a nearby bamboo basket.

Even though it was the belly cut, the fat marbling on the surface of the meat was still so sparse it was difficult to see with the naked eye.

If he weren’t in the wild, where it was best to avoid eating the organs of wild animals, he would have even considered salvaging the creature’s intestines to render for oil. The intestines were definitely one of the fattiest parts.

Belly, front leg, hind leg, tenderloin, and tail—he simply divided the meat into five parts and cut several dozen slices of each to start.

Processing the crocodile tail was actually quite simple. Just like deboning a chicken thigh, he made one long slice down to the bone, then scraped along both sides of it repeatedly until he had a complete piece of meat. He then rolled it up and sliced it thinly, skin and all.

By the time he finished preparing the meat, the fish broth had been simmering for nearly half an hour. He had also tossed in some of the thinner parts from the tip of the crocodile tail, which had already been stewed until they were tender and falling off the bone.

Without needing a reminder, Erica had already picked up her chopsticks. Seeing that the meat had become visibly bouncy and jelly-like, she immediately plucked out a piece and tried it while it was still hot.

This was American Crocodile meat. Even in North America, where hunting it was legal, very few Hunters ever got the chance to taste it.

As she began to chew nervously, the flavor of the crocodile meat slowly spread, and her tense nerves began to relax.