Chapter 57 The Gourmet’s Taste

Xia Long and Xia Hu exchanged glances, both seasoned bodyguards, accustomed to seeing all sorts of extravagance. Yet this was the first time they’d witnessed vinegar selling for thirty thousand—what a way for a tycoon to play!

Zhuang Chen shook his head with regret. “As expected, it’s only Balsamic Vinegar. I doubt Extra Vecchio can be found in the country.”

He summoned the manager, who, upon hearing the request for a finer grade, replied helplessly, “You’re clearly an expert. The finest balsamic must be aged at least twenty-five years, and the requirements are even stricter.”

“Local vinegar merchants often submit products for competition at this level. The aging is certainly more than twenty-five years, sometimes thirty or forty, even close to a century. The winning batch is never sold on the market; it’s reserved for personal enjoyment or as gifts for friends and family. Some century-old vinegars are even used as dowries for daughters, a mark of absolute prestige.”

He produced a certificate and displayed it. “There are many counterfeit balsamic vinegars now, but the genuine article has only one source, and we are supplied directly from the place of origin. It comes in specially designed 100ml round-bodied, square-bottomed bottles, each with a birth certificate. The cap seals are divided into two types: white label for twelve years and deep brown-gold label for twenty-five years.”

“Look at this mark—‘Tradizionale’ is especially important. It distinguishes industrial vinegar from rare balsamic. Authentic balsamic is only approved for release at around two thousand liters per year—which, at 100ml per bottle, means only twenty thousand bottles are available globally each year.”

“We have only three bottles in stock. This is a chance not to be missed, sir…”

Without hesitation, Zhuang Chen bought them all. He had once read a food book detailing the world’s finest condiments and ingredients. The vinegar was deep brown and lustrous, syrupy in texture, its aroma complex and captivating, its flavor delicate—subtly vinegary, smooth, and delicious.

It could easily rival a bottle of syrupy Malaga reserve or Spanish sherry, and complemented any ingredient or dish. One must remember: heating it causes the aroma to dissipate, so it’s best added just before serving or drizzled directly onto the plate.

There are many pricey condiments in the world, each a gift from nature or the result of painstaking labor. Even the most discerning gourmets cannot remain calm in their presence; they handle them as tenderly as a youth encountering his first love, lest the rare treasure be desecrated by carelessness.

The manager instructed staff to pack the items, and, delighted to meet such a knowledgeable tycoon, produced a red box with enthusiasm. “This is saffron, known as the queen of spices, ranked alongside foie gras, black truffle, and caviar as the three kings and one queen of the culinary world.”

“It’s grown in eastern Iran, universally recognized as the finest. Only the deep red stigmas at the tip of the flower’s female pistil are usable—three per flower, with the highest concentration of active compounds found in the top third.”

“It must be hand-picked during the one-month blooming period. The stigmas are separated manually. It takes three hundred thousand flowers to yield just one kilogram of premium saffron.”

He opened the box with great care, making an exception to let Zhuang Chen sample it. Picking up a strand, Zhuang Chen brought it to his nose—the scent was unique, a blend of pollen, honey, and tobacco, carrying a warm, exotic aroma.

The manager smiled. “Just a pinch of saffron enhances any dish. Spanish paella, French bouillabaisse, and Italian risotto alla Milanese all rely on saffron as a key ingredient.”

“Ancient records declare: ‘Better to part with ten thousand ounces of gold than a single strand of saffron!’”

Zhuang Chen laughed heartily and bought it all—three kilos for fifty thousand, not too expensive. Such is the bounty of a top-tier import shop, and he continued, “Do you have Fleur de Sel from France?”

He recalled Lin Yusen’s “Legendary Ingredients of Europe,” which introduced nine of the continent’s finest foods, among them Fleur de Sel. He’d always been intrigued—how could such an unassuming salt warrant the title of ‘top-tier,’ alongside famed Iberian ham, Blon oysters, and Alba white truffle?

The manager produced a bottle of snowy crystals, scooping out a tiny bit with a spoon for display. “Harvested from the Guérande region on the southern coast of Brittany, where salt-making has a thousand-year history. The local climate and waters create the natural sea salt.”

“Only five hundred grams of Fleur de Sel can crystallize from every fifty square meters of salt flats. It must be gathered before sundown, or else it dissolves with the dew—making it exceedingly rare.”

“It’s also known romantically as ‘Bride’s Salt,’ because it’s so delicate, often picked by young, careful local girls. Production is scarce; they sell only to regular customers for a modest income, saving the proceeds as dowry for their future marriage.”

Zhuang Chen touched a bit with his fingertip and tasted it. Salty but not bitter, with a peculiar violet aroma and distinct layers.

He nodded in satisfaction. “France’s Guérande and Camargue, Spain’s Sis Salines, Portugal’s west coast—all produce Fleur de Sel. Guérande is the most famous. So, you do have it after all?”

“Rest assured, sir—if we don’t have it, nowhere else in the city will!”

Zhuang Chen waved his hand, buying all the Fleur de Sel. He thought of Kobe beef and eagerly anticipated the marbling paired with Fleur de Sel…

The manager beamed. “Fleur de Sel should be sprinkled directly onto food—foie gras, asparagus, steak, sea fish. Just a little unleashes the natural flavors in an instant, pure, clean, soft, and balanced. Its astonishing effect is Fleur de Sel’s charm!”

“And here is Dudanfleur oil—olive oil, called liquid gold, both healthy and delicious. It provides precious energy the body needs but lacks, and doesn’t oxidize or deposit on blood vessel walls or coronary arteries…”

“This is wasabi from rice paddies in the northeast islands. The freshness lasts only fifteen minutes; after that, the flavor diminishes second by second. Locals use sharkskin boards for grinding, all done by hand…”

“Paired with top-grade sushi, it’s not harsh—just an elegant, fresh plant fragrance, much loved and essential in high-end Japanese cuisine.”

“In fact, most so-called wasabi in upscale restaurants is just horseradish—the deep green paste.”

“This is our new product—ancient dragon-style soy sauce, the Maotai of soy sauces. Rare brew, ten years for just 998, five years for 378.”

“It was featured in ‘A Bite of China.’ From fermentation to vatting and bottling, it takes at least a year, sometimes four or five. Modern machine-brewed soy sauce can be ready in seven days.”

“No oil-pressed bean meal—only natural, non-GMO soybeans. Purely hand-sunned, with only brine for preservation, no chemical additives…”

“Aji Charapita chili, native to northern Peru. It looks like a tiny, adorable cherry, but it’s even hotter than cayenne. Miraculously, when picked and dried, it tastes sweet and spicy, fresh and pleasant—children can eat it directly.”

“Two hundred thirty thousand per kilogram, completely wild, with very demanding growing conditions. At harvest, many world-class chefs come to buy, and Michelin chefs especially love this chili.”

“Fresh, it’s juicy and delicious; dried, it’s fragrant and fruity. It moderates heat and adds rich fruitiness to dishes, beloved by tycoons and elites alike.”

Zhuang Chen bought everything. From now on, he’d keep these in the car, bringing his own condiments to every meal—the true style of a gourmet!

Finally, the manager produced a box of green powder, with an air of mystery. “This is our store’s treasure—Marine Plankton!”

The green powder, resembling matcha, was unfamiliar to Zhuang Chen. The manager opened it slowly, and a strange aroma instantly filled the air.

“This magical green powder is made from plankton harvested from the sea. Though it looks ordinary, once the package is opened, the scent of the ocean rushes forth.”

Seeing Zhuang Chen’s astonished expression, the manager said confidently, “This savory freshness is said to contain the flavor of the entire sea. It’s the new darling of Western cuisine. Many chefs say: if you love fish, it tastes like fish; if you love oysters, it tastes like oysters—ever-changing, as you wish.”

“It enhances the umami and mineral saltiness of food. Just two to three grams elevates any dish, doubling its deliciousness. It’s been sought after by world-renowned chefs these past couple of years.”

“Five hours of netting at sea yields just one gram of plankton. After selection, it’s brought to the laboratory for cultivation—a process that took years to perfect. For ease of use and transport, it’s freeze-dried into powder, the essence of molecular gastronomy.”

Three hundred fifty thousand, every condiment packed up, address left—anything good in the future, deliver it straight, no need to ask, the more the merrier.