南郊竹屋烧烤

The mountains here are high and the roads are steep. The length of the chicken's leg bone is enough to tell that this was a big, wild, and adept climber! 🐓 Yesterday, a friend from Ganzi left a message telling me they were eating wrong! When you go barbecue in Kangding, you have to try the roasted chicken. Today, Lao Bai and I climbed up to this roasted chicken shop on the mountainside! The fire was burning brightly. Two rows of plump free-range chickens, held in iron tongs, roasted over the charcoal pit. The charred skin sizzled under the flames, and the fat splattered, sparkling with sparks. The dish, seasoned with a blend of chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, and local spices, will burst into your mouth with a bold yet delicate highland flavor! It's a delightful treat for truck drivers on a long-distance break, and it's the most fiery expression of the fireworks in this snowy mountain town. The roasted pork belly at the roasted chicken shop makes me philosophically ponder: How, after all, do you stuff three pieces of meat wrapped in lettuce into a human mouth? Each bite feels like a groundhog frantically stockpiling food. My cheeks are so full they can't chew. Slowly activating my chewing muscles and getting them into working order is a real challenge! It's no exaggeration to say that this mouthful of meat requires three separate chews. Only three days into my first visit to the plateau, my jaws have already experienced the power of highland meat. The cooking methods here seem to have been tempered at 3,000 meters above sea level; the chewiness of any cut is astonishing. I expected the 318 meal to get increasingly drier, but I didn't expect it to be this dry right from the start! Dry! Dry! Dry! It's like a grinder in my esophagus, crushing even stones into pulp.