"You know," Danny said, mouth full of chicken and grease glistening on his lips, "even old Tavoler probably wasn't this good in his younger days. He was more into making chili sauces—lots of those shrimp truck hot sauces come from his secret recipes."
Cheng Hao, clearly more refined in his eating habits, had already peeled off a whole chicken wing, ladled himself a full bowl of soup, and was now eyeing the chicken gizzards that looked even tastier.
Jack was quite pleased with today's chicken soup. He had no idea how those Cantonese immigrants raised their poultry, but the two hens he bought weighed over nine pounds combined. Most backyard chickens are eaten once they hit three or four pounds, so these must've been in training for at least two and a half years.
He couldn't even identify the breed—it wasn't the common white-feathered chicken found in North America, nor did it resemble the barred rock (Lu Hua) chickens.
"It's probably a feral breed from Kauai," Cheng Hao, the local, chimed in eagerly when Jack brought it up. "They're really well-adapted to the environment. Some poultry farmers even mix them in with domestic flocks to prevent disease."
He launched into a mini-history lesson: hundreds of years ago, the Polynesians—the first people to cross vast oceans and settle in this paradise—brought with them taro, sweet potatoes, and domesticated animals like pigs, dogs, and chickens.
Their chickens were closer to the red junglefowl—the ancestor of modern chickens—small, agile, and with no natural predators on the islands, they spread rapidly.
Originally, these wild chickens weren't considered much of an issue. They lived deep in the jungles where food scarcity limited their numbers.
But after two major hurricanes in the 1980s and '90s destroyed many backyard coops and farms, a huge number of domestic chickens escaped into the wild.
By the 2000s, wild chicken populations—especially in Kauai—had exploded, and so had their size.
Now they roamed everywhere: residential areas, orchards, even parking lots.
Locals started treating them like mascots—you could find them on postcards, T-shirts, even in children's TV shows. One popular host was named "Rooster Russell."
"So… they're not protected?" Jack asked, relieved. He'd only bought a couple of chickens. Hopefully he hadn't gotten that friendly Cantonese vendor into trouble—the guy had even helped clean and prep them.
"That depends. If they're in a nature reserve, they're considered wild birds—can't be hunted. But if they wander into developed areas or private property, they're just 'escaped chickens.' Totally fair game."
Kono, meanwhile, had pulled two slices of bread and a jar of mayo from the fridge. She stood staring at the giant pot of chicken soup with visible hesitation.
"You're not gonna try it?" Jack looked at her, confused. Chicken soup wasn't exactly exotic or heavy—surely not something a young woman like her would avoid unless she had gout or something.
"It just… looks kind of greasy." Kono swallowed hard, clearly tempted but still opened the mayo and started spreading it on her bread.
"Greasy?" Jack glanced at the pot with its glistening golden surface—delicious by any standard—then looked at the mayonnaise in her hand and nearly facepalmed.
She was holding a calorie bomb and talking to him about greasy food?
He motioned her over and took the jar from her, placing it in his palm. "Do you know what this is made of?"
"Egg yolk… isn't it?" she said, puzzled. Danny and Cheng Hao both looked over curiously.
Jack scanned the small kitchen and, seeing that all the ingredients were there, sighed and grabbed a large cup. "Let me show you a magic trick."
He cracked two eggs into the cup, expertly separated out the yolks, then poured in nearly a pound of vegetable oil. He added several spoonfuls of sugar, a little salt, vinegar, and fruit juice, then started whisking with shocking speed and stamina.
The others weren't just stunned by his egg-beater-like hands—they were genuinely shocked to watch a full cup of rich, fragrant mayo come together in under ten minutes.
"Greasy?" Jack scooped a spoonful and offered it to Kono. "Try it."
She hesitated, then instinctively licked it—and was surprised. It tasted exactly like the mayo she always ate.
"Salad dressing, Thousand Island, tartar sauce—almost every Western condiment you've had is made this way. You think salad is healthier than stir-fry, right?
But a plate of stir-fry actually uses less than a third of the oil this does—and hardly any sugar. And when you finish a stir-fry, you leave oil behind in the dish.
But you? You'll lick that mayo-clean plate dry, won't you?"
As he spoke, Jack ladled a full bowl of chicken soup for Kono and pushed over the dish of chicken gizzards—already one-third devoured by Cheng Hao. "Most of the fat from both chickens went into that gizzard stir-fry. I didn't use any extra oil."
Danny and Cheng Hao were still enjoying themselves, but Kono had covered her face. "Oh God, what can I even eat now?"
Jack, ever the menace, proceeded to list out the ingredients in cakes and cookies, pretty much clearing their entire usual menu and sparking a round of protests.
Just as everyone was laughing, enjoying the food, and joking that Jack's bullet wound had landed in just the wrong place—because if it were any closer, maybe he could've stayed in Hawaii as their full-time chef—Danny's phone rang.
He saw the caller ID and immediately raised a finger to his lips. Everyone quieted. He answered, "Good evening, Governor. Yes, understood—we're on our way."
"What happened?" Jack noticed Danny's face go rigid, then serious, and already had a bad feeling.
Danny looked between Cheng Hao and Kono, then turned stiffly toward Jack like his neck was rusted. "You've worked with the CDC before, right?"
At the mention of the CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), Jack's smile froze. He tried a joke, dry as dust. "Still time to reschedule my flight for tonight?"
"I think you might be staying a while longer," Danny said, patting him on the shoulder and grabbing his car keys.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.