For a dish like Three-in-One Duck, unless you spend a lot of money and reserve it well in advance, you basically won't be able to taste what's so marvelous about it—many people don't even know how to eat it properly.
This was the most "gatekept" dish Lin Xu had ever encountered.
It doesn't just demand a certain cultural level from the chef; it asks the same of the diner.
If you just chew it like a cow gnawing on peonies, pulling the meat apart and shoveling meat and soup into your mouth together, then you're not only betraying the artistic conception of the dish, you're also wasting the chef's painstaking effort.
You have to savor it little by little—taste the way the soup changes, taste the flavor of the meat, taste that mysterious sense of the ingredients becoming more than the sum of their parts.
Lin Xu still didn't understand the subtleties of Three-in-One Duck; right now he was completely captivated by the Furong Sea Floor Pine in his bowl.
