Chapter 59: The Touching Moment of a Bowl of Rice

“This is nothing. At the World Fruit Expo, there was once a British pineapple that sold for sixteen hundred dollars, cultivated in the Lost Gardens of Heligan using straw, organic fertilizer, and horse urine, all with Victorian-era techniques, taking two years to grow…”
“And the Arnold Strawberry, produced in New Orleans, sold for 1.4 million dollars accompanied by a 4.7-carat pink diamond…”
“Then there’s the Ruby Roman grape, sixty-four hundred dollars per bunch, each grape the size of a ping pong ball, twenty-five in a bunch, so about two hundred and twenty-six dollars each…”
“And the black-skinned watermelon, a hundred and twenty-one dollars apiece, available only at the flagship store of Sembikiya in Tokyo, said to have a unique sweetness…”
Johnson quickly raised his hands. Good heavens, he wasn’t a fool. Still, he couldn’t resist—he bought a few oranges and apples to take back and see what all the fuss was about.

He swiped his card for eight hundred and sixty thousand, and under the manager’s reluctant gaze, left the store. Long and Hu loaded the many bags into the trunk, especially the bottles and jars, securing them with great care, and even drove with extra caution on the way back.

“Boss, is this for real?” Long finally couldn’t help but complain, “Spending over a million at a supermarket, isn’t that a bit much…”

Johnson burst out laughing. Expensive, yes, but considering how these ingredients had been sourced from all over the world, many of them were impossible to buy even with money. The fruit was certainly hyped—he’d just bought a few to satisfy his curiosity. They headed straight back to the hotel, where the presidential suite had a small kitchen. Johnson washed the Rouge Rice himself, planning to eat it for dinner.

He sharpened his knife and began slicing the ham, ensuring each slice was no thicker than a millimeter to preserve the delicate texture.

He filled three bowls with the rice, set them on the table, and called Long and Hu over. “Let’s taste the rice that Emperor Kangxi once favored.”

The two brothers were eager, holding their small bowls. The color was indeed striking—it was their first time seeing dark red rice. They inhaled the aroma, fresh and evocative, then carefully lifted a bite to their mouths.

“It’s delicious!”

It felt as though they were standing in a golden wheat field, stretching to the horizon, autumn winds rolling through like waves, continuous and unending. Following the breeze, the sky above was a gentle blue, clouds drifting lazily by, sunlight bathing the golden wheat below. Dressed in golden robes, they danced across the earth, spinning and leaping, movements so dazzling they overwhelmed the senses, releasing their passion under the sun.

Their bodies melted into the fertile soil, returning to Mother Earth’s embrace—warm, tranquil, basking in sunlight, eyes closed in restful sleep, unwilling ever to wake…

Johnson slowly opened his eyes to see the two brothers across the table, their eyes damp. He sighed, “Isn’t this the simplest kind of joy?”

He picked up a slice of ham, its color shifting from pale pink to deep red, marbled like natural stone. He placed it in his mouth, feather-light.

A silken touch swept across his tongue. From afar, a lady approached—fiery and passionate, eyes brimming with spring, her steps light as a butterfly, flitting around him. Her snow-white arms encircled his shoulders, warm lips grazing his ear, whispering softly, and at last, with a playful flick of her tongue, teased his most sensitive spot…

“Delicious!”

Long and Hu each took a slice of ham, eating it with the Rouge Rice. Never had they eaten a bowl of rice so attentively; the feeling was indescribable.

Johnson brought out some Bordeaux, opened a box of cheese—he’d grown used to such magical pairings—and decided to test the depth and subtlety of the so-called King of Cheese tonight.

According to scientific studies, whether it’s red or white wine, eating snacks beforehand enhances the flavor and aroma of the wine. From Swiss Gruyère to Italian Gorgonzola, the scent of cheese can counteract the tannins in red wine.

For robust wines like Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, or Zinfandel, rich and sticky cheeses such as Cheddar, Dutch Gouda, Manchego, or Pecorino are ideal partners. When smooth cheese meets a gentle wine, the result is a velvety sensation in the mouth—pure delight.

For lighter-bodied reds like Pinot Noir or Beaujolais, washed-rind cheeses with delicate flavors create an even smoother, subtly aromatic experience.

As the cheese melted into the red wine, it was like a sailboat riding the waves, stirring up the sea and sending colorful fish swirling, dazzling and dizzying the senses.

Long tasted a sip and chuckled ruefully, “We’re not refined enough—our palates are too coarse. Better to stick to another bowl of rice.”

Johnson laughed and scolded, “Bring me a bowl, the rest is yours. Cut open the melon, wash the apples and oranges, and let’s see just how extraordinary they really are.”

He peeled a Dekopon, popped a segment into his mouth—juicy and sweeter and more refreshing than any regular orange, though Johnson was a bit disappointed; it was nothing special. The apple, however, was a pleasant surprise—sweet with a hint of tartness, a unique fragrance, and a lingering aftertaste. That, at least, was worth the money.

The two brothers polished off the Rouge Rice, and after the table was cleared, Johnson sent them away. Now came the main event—savoring the caviar alone. Only those who truly appreciate great things deserve to possess them.

He’d read much about caviar in gourmet books—it was a unique term, classed alongside such delicacies as lark’s tongues, flamingo brains, roast swan, and peacock breast.

The French, ever meticulous about gastronomy, classified caviar as precisely as they did wine and champagne, insisting only sturgeon roe was worthy of the name.

Aristotle had noted as early as the fourth century BC that caviar was reserved for royalty and nobility, a symbol of status and honor. And, of course, the “Emperor of Luxury,” King Louis XIV, who made French fashion and perfume famous, was also a master at promoting caviar worldwide.

Even someone as austere as Einstein once said, “Caviar is truly delicious.”

Johnson had longed for these legendary ingredients, once only a dream glimpsed in books. Now, with his dream before him, he washed his hands, full of curiosity and anticipation, and slowly opened the box.

It felt like a wedding night—lifting the bride’s red veil, her shy, delicate face revealed bit by bit.

The label read Laura King, the largest caviar importer in Britain, whose main business was selling to super-rich clients; her customers were among the wealthiest people in the world.

To promote her products, she’d once hosted a caviar tasting at the most luxurious jewelry theater, believing that those who would buy diamonds would also be interested in caviar.

There are four main types of caviar on the market. Siberian sturgeon, native to Siberia, can live over twenty years and weigh more than fifteen kilos, taking seven to eight years to mature and lay eggs. This is now the mainstream caviar internationally, mostly brown, gray, or black, translucent, with grains over 2.8 millimeters, a pure taste, and a light, refreshing finish.

Then there’s Russian sturgeon, which can live up to fifty years, weigh over twenty kilos, and takes ten to eleven years to mature. The roe is pale yellow or golden, with grains over 2.9 millimeters, a more elastic membrane, higher collagen, a popping sensation in the mouth, and a faint nutty aroma.

The hybrid offspring of Kaluga and Amur sturgeons are wild in the Heilongjiang River. They can live up to sixty years, weigh over fifty kilos, and take eight to ten years to mature. This is a unique variety found only in China, a world treasure—pearl-gray or gray-black, with large roe over 3.0 millimeters, a resilient membrane, a rich creamy flavor, and a lingering aftertaste.

Amur sturgeon, mainly distributed in the Heilongjiang basin on the China-Russia border, can live over thirty years and takes seven to ten years to mature. The roe is brownish-yellow or pale gray, over 2.9 millimeters in diameter, with a mellow taste and a hint of fresh fruit.

Other types are more marginal, like flying fish roe, a common ingredient in Japanese cuisine, actually the eggs of flying fish. One episode of “Little Master Chef” described the sensation of crab roe bursting in the mouth—flying fish roe offers a similar delight: tiny, golden, and crisp.

Johnson took crushed ice from the fridge, arranged it around the box, and fetched the special mother-of-pearl spoon. A metal spoon would ruin the caviar’s aroma—gourmets have said: “Caviar allows no middle ground; it must be perfection or nothing at all.”