Chapter 107: Food Hypnosis Chapter 107: Food Hypnosis The smell was already incredible, but the taste?

It was a hundred times better!

Nnenna marveled at how people had been missing out on such a delicacy.

“Grandpa, this is amazing!

I’ve been missing out!

How do you make these so good?” The old man chuckled.

“It’s a special recipe.

I can teach you if you want,” he offered.

She blinked in surprise.

Who just willingly shared their secret recipe like that?

The fact that he trusted her enough to offer was shocking.

“No, no, Grandpa!

You don’t have to teach me,” she waved her hands frantically.

“I just want to help cook!” He nodded approvingly.

“Alright then, let’s get started.” Right in front of her, he began preparing the dish again, moving with practiced ease, his hands swift yet precise.

He did not mind that she was watching his every move, if anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

The old man’s hands moved with a practiced rhythm, each motion deliberate, each cut, stir, and pour an act of quiet mastery.

Smoke curled lazily from the fire, blending with the rich aroma of palm oil as it sizzled in the pot.

The air beneath the tree shade grew thick with the scent, earthy beans, ripe plantains, and a promise of something mouthwatering.

Nnenna stood nearby, arms folded, sunglasses hiding the curious glint in her eyes.

Her shawl draped loosely over her shoulders, masking her true self beneath the worn fabric of a servant’s attire.

was drawn in by the old man’s cooking, watching as if this

in a way, it

wooden spoon, “I don’t usually cook outside like this.” A

what they were missing.” The old man huffed a laugh but did not

on the pot, eyes sharp as

Soft.

Perfect.

plantains and dropped them in, the slices sinking into the bubbling

Ssssshhhhh.

fire sent a rich, fragrant steam

around them like an invisible hand, coaxing out a

the pot, fusing with the

awe, though she

generous handful

wove into the dish, deepening the

bubbling grew louder, the stew thick

sizzled in the pan,

spread far and wide, drifting down the street

turned, footsteps slowed, and soon enough, people who had no intention of stopping were now gravitating toward the stall, their noses leading

thirty minutes, more people began arriving, their steps quick, their eyes scanning eagerly as if they had been waiting all along, just to be sure

“Old man!

Give me one dish!

it here!” a construction worker announced, his voice loud and filled

sweat off his brow and let

has been messing with

I couldn’t even concentrate!

to myself, ‘Forget it, take the break now before I go mad!'” Laughter rippled through the small crowd as the old man smiled, ladling out a steaming portion of

you know when to give in,” he remarked, handing it

another, customers stepped forward, the line

with chatter, spoons clinking, and satisfied hums of

tree had transformed into a bustling, lively

turned into an hour,

steady precision, serving, stirring,

over the market, he stood staring

Gone.

last dish

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