Day Thirty-Nine: The Deserted Island Gourmet Festival (Part Two)

As the sun set and darkness fell, the moon rose high in the sky, its silvery light streaming through the gaps in the treehouse above. I was already busy in the lower level, while Little Black lay beside the fire, resting—this was the only time it ever showed such rare patience.

The rice was cooked, though I must have misjudged the heat today; a slight crust of burnt rice had formed along the edge of the pot. Fortunately, it was only a little, so the burnt taste hadn’t seeped into the rest. The rice was a reward for both Little Black and myself—an indulgence I likely wouldn’t repeat, since once my limited supplies were gone, I’d return to the old days again.

Today, the ingredients were abundant. I laid out a heap of plates on the ground, each filled with the delicacies I was about to prepare. By the way, on the way back, Little Black and I had even caught a coconut crab. It had already been cleaned and prepped; now, with an array of kitchen tools at my disposal, it was time to put my culinary skills to the test!

The first dish had already begun. I had said I’d be extravagant tonight, so I poured a generous amount of oil into the pot. The pan was scorching hot, and as soon as the oil was added, the temperature soared, and countless tiny bubbles rose from the bottom. I waited, letting the bubbles grow larger and more numerous.

At last, the moment came! I grabbed the wooden spatula with my right hand and in my left, tossed in the shredded potatoes I’d prepared. With a satisfying sizzle, the potatoes hit the oil, sending up wisps of fragrant steam, and I quickly began to stir-fry. My makeshift stove wasn’t very stable, but for the sake of flavor, I had to move as quickly as possible.

Shredded potatoes—such a simple dish—now exuded an irresistible aroma. As they cooked, I sprinkled salt evenly across them. Before serving, I added a few drops of vinegar. Unable to resist, I took up my chopsticks, picked up a small portion, and tasted it.

“Mmm!” The potatoes crackled crisply between my teeth, fresh and aromatic, instantly refreshing my entire body. The familiar flavor opened every pore, and even after swallowing, the sweet and tangy taste lingered, tempting me to reach for a second bite.

Of course, seeing Little Black’s disgruntled expression, I didn’t dare eat first.

The fish soup was simple, but this time, I had oil. Passing the fish through a hot oil bath before boiling removed some of its odor, sealed in moisture, and made the flesh tender and delicious. After adding broth, I covered the pot. The high heat would soon bring it to a boil, and in just a few minutes, a pot of milky-white fish soup would be ready. All I had to do was wait.

Little Black was already excited, circling my legs and swishing its tail so hard against my thigh it stung. When the soup was done, I removed the fish from the bones and placed the meat in a massive crew bowl, added half a pot of rice, mixed it, and set it down in front of Little Black. It was so eager that even before the bowl touched the ground, its tongue was already licking at the edge.

As for me, I still had two dishes left to make. I split the fish head in two and placed it in a bowl, brushed it with oil and a bit of salt, then set it in a pot of water. Steamed fish head—it only needed time. Of course, it would be perfect with chilies, but I had none, so the famous spicy fish head would have to wait.

The coconut crab meat was next. After removing the yellow from the shell, I discarded the carapace and separated all the meat. Now, the crab meat and roe sat in a plate by my side.

The final dish was a sudden inspiration: coconut crab fried rice! To call it an experiment would be generous—it was more of an adaptation from a dish I’d seen on a cooking show, though I had no idea about the method or ingredients. So, I had to improvise everything.

I started the oil and lightly stir-fried the coconut crab meat, removing it quickly for fear of overcooking. The aroma drew Little Black closer—even though its fish soup rice wasn’t finished, it sniffed eagerly in my direction, clearly interested. Sometimes I thought Little Black was more like a cat, with how much it loved fish soup!

Next, I reheated the oil, added the rice, and stir-fried quickly until it crackled and individual grains leaped in the pan. At that moment, I poured in the juice from a whole coconut. The rice sizzled and fluffed up instantly, and I hurriedly dumped in the crab meat I’d set aside.

Suddenly, an indescribable fragrance filled the air, marvelous and complex, as if all the aromas had mingled together. Even Little Black couldn’t resist—though some fish soup remained in its bowl, it lost all interest in it and came straight over, clearly fascinated by the fried rice.

I added a few drops of soy sauce for color, a dash of salt and MSG to enhance the flavor, then served it up. Seeing Little Black so eager, I gave it half. To my surprise, before I’d even started eating, it had finished every last grain, and then lay down by the fire to nap, not even bothering to go upstairs. I supposed it must be completely stuffed—the greedy little thing!

A plate of tangy shredded potatoes—no, without chili, it was really just stir-fried potato. A portion of steamed fish head, a serving of crab fried rice, and a can of soda—life felt like a vacation.

The potatoes were oily but not greasy, fine but not mushy, crisp and refreshing—an appetite-whetting delight. The steamed fish head, the very definition of freshness, owed part of its allure to being wild-caught. Even with no MSG added, the flavor was stimulating and pure. I hadn’t expected steamed fish to taste so wonderful—after being cooked by the steam, the flesh was incredibly tender, melting in the mouth like tofu and sliding smoothly down the throat.

And as for the fried rice—it was even better. I hadn’t anticipated that such a combination would fundamentally transform the ingredients. Every grain of rice was infused with the aroma of crab and roe; even if you didn’t bite into a piece, you could taste it throughout. The subtle scent of coconut didn’t overpower but instead complemented the crab, making its flavor shine even brighter.

As I savored the meal I had prepared, suddenly a sharp “bang” echoed from above—it was clearly from the upper floor, just like the sound of a door being pushed open…