Reborn in Japan as a Chef God-Chapter 1060 - 1059: Cultivation 7

What exactly is ’Wabi-Sabi’?

After a startled moment during his nap, the answer in Xia Yu’s heart became clearer.

Did you see the moss on the stone lantern?

Xia Yu glanced over, with a faint smile on his lips.

That’s right, this is ’Wabi-Sabi’!

It’s not some incomprehensible aesthetic or profound philosophy.

Simply put, it points directly to the essence of things, the simplicity within.

This kind of essential beauty can withstand the test of time. Just like this stone lantern, covered in moss, becoming more profound, revealing a beauty full of the sense of time.

However!

This is the ’Wabi-Sabi’ that appears on objects.

Master Yizhen once said that in the environment of this island country, ’Wabi-Sabi’ is everywhere.

In the tea ceremony, it exists.

It also exists within objects and decorations.

So, in cuisine, in the path of culinary arts, how can ’Wabi-Sabi’, or in other words, such an original doctrine of food that even reaches an "all-encompassing way," be manifested?

Xia Yu has multiple understandings of ’Wabi-Sabi’ in cuisine.

Depending on one’s perception, the shallowest level should be ’simple outside, refined inside’. This is easy to understand; indeed, when a chef’s skills reach a certain height, they can take a plain cabbage and cook it into a national banquet dish like ’Boiled Cabbage’.

The second level is the passage of time.

This level is also not difficult to understand; didn’t you see the moss on the surface of the stone lantern? That’s the accumulation and sedimentation of time!

As for the third level, Xia Yu isn’t very sure, after all, these are his personal thoughts and opinions.

It’s important to understand that if ’Wabi-Sabi’ is an aesthetic interest, it is certainly closely related to life.

And cooking, culinary arts, are simply the core of life!

The people regard food as heaven.

If a ruler lets his subjects starve, it is natural for dynastic changes to occur.

"In the end, ’Wabi-Sabi’ returns to Zen. My understanding should be fine, ’Wabi-Sabi’ isn’t desolate, it contains the vitality of time..."

Xia Yu picked up the stone lantern on the table, his fingertips gently rubbing the layer of moss on its surface.

"Is rough stone useless? It can be carved into such an object."

"This is the principle of repurposing old things."

"When stone becomes a stone lantern and is placed in the courtyard, does it become a dead object? That’s not the case. Look at this layer of moss, this seemingly useless thing brimming with vitality..."

This third level of understanding transformed into a poem in Xia Yu’s mind:

The side of the sinking boat passes a thousand sails, a thousand trees bloom before the sick one.

"Yes!"

Murmuring softly, Xia Yu’s eyes suddenly brightened.

During the nap just now, that unknown entity had actually "explicitly shown" it to him!

"...In my era, I can create my ’Wabi-Sabi Dragon Noodles’... Now I want to taste fresh cuisine..." As this thought emerged in his mind, Xia Yu stood there, quietly smiling.

The old tree blooming?

An inheritance?

No problem!

Let me fulfill it for you!

The confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced by boundless eagerness. Xia Yu clenched his fist, "Let’s give it a try."

All insights must ultimately be transformed into practice.

Unity of knowledge and action.

In the path of cooking, without practice, true knowledge is never attained.

...

Abbot’s Court.

The electric fan in the tearoom was creaking as it oscillated and blew air.

Come to think of it, Shi Lin Temple is clearly a giant in the culinary world with no shortage of wealth, using helicopters even for transporting ingredients, yet there’s not a single air conditioner found in the temple. What’s going on? Aside from the professional kitchen equipment, outside, an electric fan is a rare cooling apparatus in this scorching summer season.

Moreover, the fan exudes an aura from the eighties and nineties.

"Phew——"

After several cups of hot tea, Aoki Motota’s forehead was even more soaked in sweat.

With his monk’s robe half undone, Aoki Motota’s demeanor was summed up in one word:

Unrestrained.

Yet, coincidentally, the elderly Master Yizhen was also baring his chest while sipping hot tea, making a smacking sound.

Thud.

Aoki Motota placed his teacup down with a laugh, "Teacher, how long do you think before our Instructor Xia comes out?"

He raised his hand and pointed towards the mountain foothills.

The tea room was open on all sides, and the Abbot’s Court, situated at a higher ground within the temple, allowed a view of Xia Yu’s living quarters below. A door had remained unmoved from noon to afternoon for quite some time.

"Easy to come out, hard to enter," the old monk chuckled.

In the old abbot’s view, it would take a few days for the young man to grasp the Zen associated with the moss on the stone lantern.

As for ’Wabi-Sabi’, being an even deeper Zen concept, he shouldn’t even think about it.

The old monk apparently hadn’t tasted Xia Yu’s masterpiece. So, his judgment wasn’t off.

Aoki Motota obviously caught the mention of "Zen," clicked his tongue, "Actually, Teacher, we should have tidied up the temple long ago. This time it’s Instructor Xia; next time, who knows? After all, Shi Lin Temple is practically half a Buddhist sanctuary."

His tone was subtly cautious. As he spoke, he observed the old monk’s expression.

Old Monk Yizhen merely responded with a faint hum.

Aoki Motota sighed inwardly.

Shi Lin Temple’s current state is a consequence of the abbot’s "indulgence."

Some matters from the past, the teacher still couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know how to continue persuading him.

...

Afternoon, with a gentle breeze blowing.

The temple naturally had few people, and as it wasn’t mealtime, the temple’s dining hall, located in a secluded corner, was shaded by trees and darker, cooler than other areas.

The clogs clacked "click, click, click" along the stone path, leading all the way to the dining hall.

The old monk, who had been chatting and drinking tea with Aoki Motota in the tearoom before, was now carrying a wooden tray as he stepped into the dining hall.

Steam rose from the tray.

A bowl of fragrant ramen was placed by the old monk on a table.

This table was in a very special spot; usually, no one dared sit there, essentially considered a "restricted area" of the dining hall. However, every time a meal was served, if it involved ramen, a portion would definitely be placed on this table.

"Eat up."

Monk Yizhen, sitting on the tatami beside the table, beckoned to the air.

Naturally, there was no response.

The ramen on the table was steaming hot, and the vapor did not show any peculiar movements.

"Really, just like before, do I have to help you set the bowl and chopsticks every time?" Despite complaining, the old monk bent down to pick up a pair of black chopsticks from the wooden tray on the floor.

The chopsticks landed with a clink, resting on the rim of the bowl.

At the same time, two young monks happened to pass by outside the dining hall. Hearing sounds, they stopped, glanced at the dim room from afar, and started whispering:

"Wow, the abbot must be secretly cooking noodles for himself again!"

"Actually, I really want to tell the abbot, can he stop making noodles? At least two or three days a week, we’re eating ramen, I’m really tired of it!" one of the young ones said with a bitter face.

"Then tell Senior Brother Aoki," the companion suggested.

"Okay!"

Before they could turn around, someone behind them spread his arms and rested his hands on their shoulders.

"Senior Brother!" the two were startled.

Aoki Motota glared at them, "You two, hurry up to the evening class, or there won’t be any noodles, or even a grain of rice! You’ll go hungry tonight!"

The young monks could only flee hurriedly.

Taking a pause, Aoki Motota marched straight into the dining hall, his expression shifting from the forced calm shown to the young monks to one of urgency, "Teacher, Xia Yu... he’s cooking now!"

The scene inside didn’t surprise or confuse Aoki Motota.

The old monk sat quietly by the table, the ramen before him untouched, gradually cooling, with less steam rising.

Ramen!

The old monk’s pupils constricted, glancing at the empty spot on the table beside him.

That thing... is he here?

Aoki Motota discreetly watched.

He could never see it; even when sensing it strongly, he couldn’t pinpoint it.

"Is he?"

Master Yizhen’s eyes filled with astonishment.

"Yes, he’s cooking now!"

"Aoki here, nodded with utmost confidence.

"And he even asked Yamamoto to find flour for him..."

Ramen!

The old monk’s pupils contracted as he looked at the empty spot on the table next to him.