Chapter 126: Miao's Kitchen Chapter 125: Skill

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

It was a dinner banquet, but Song Miao had started preparations with Cheng Erniang early in the morning.

Afraid the rain would flood and ingredients would be hard to buy, chickens, ducks, fish, and such had been purchased several days earlier; since they weren't setting up the stall lately, they were temporarily kept in cages in the back courtyard, just right for letting those that should fatten up fatten up, and those that should lose their muddy smell lose their muddy smell.

But fresh fruits and vegetables could only be picked as used.

Fortunately the rain stopped last night, and this morning there was only a light drizzle; the standing water on the road had receded a little, and there were some pedestrians.

The two waded through the water to the vegetable stall.

The Song Family Eatery's location was considered high ground; by the time they reached the entrance of Suanzao Alley, they saw the standing water getting deeper and deeper, nearly reaching the knees, and some households even had their doors wide open, constantly scooping and shoveling water from inside to outside—looking in from outside, nothing inside was not soaked.

On the road, children came out to step and play in it, and others squatted happily on the ground scooping water and splashing it around, splashing themselves filthy, then were caught by their families, thrown down, and given a round of spankings, crying and wailing loudly.

Idle people took basins and bamboo hats to shovel passing fish on the water street, and others cursed their parents, saying whose roof had collapsed and smashed their own tiles, causing their own house to leak.

Still others said their main gate had been washed away by the water, and the furniture inside was gone, asking others to keep an eye out.

Someone else shouted that a thief had entered the house, insisting the neighbor had stolen his hidden two hundred coins, and loudly demanded to go find the Xunpu to report to the authorities, but his father came out and said: "So the money in the earthenware jar was yours? I thought it was money I hid years ago and already took it to buy a fishing rod."

The son immediately cried: "What fishing rod costs two hundred coins? You might as well hang me!"

Everywhere was a mess.

Song Miao saw such a scene with her own eyes for the first time, finding it completely novel, especially when she saw someone actually catch fish from the "Street River," she almost couldn't resist wading through the water to see what kind of fish it was.

Cheng Erniang was even more wide-eyed, but worriedly said: "Earlier I heard the young lady say there were boats on the street; surely it won't really come to that?"

Song Miao shook her head: "Hard to say. There's been too much rain this year. Looking at the situation, the spring flood might be manageable, but the summer flood will be troublesome."

Speaking of this, her heart, which had been enjoying the excitement, suddenly felt heavy.

The two went to the vegetable stall; as soon as they asked the price, Song Miao, who had already prepared herself, knew that with days of heavy rain, everything must be expensive. Ordinary vegetables that were usually five or six wen per jin were now fifteen or sixteen wen, nearly triple, and pork and mutton had risen to the point where people could hardly afford them—it was truly terrifying, making her hand that was about to take out money tremble.

Cheng Erniang haggled several times but couldn't bring the price down. The vendor said: "You're all regular customers; I won't shout my price at you! I pay twelve wen per jin for the goods myself. If I had any choice, I wouldn't want to sell so expensive—where's the profit in that, and I still get scolded by customers!"

She then showed Song and Cheng the vegetables behind her covered with a wet cloth: "The leftovers from yesterday that I couldn't sell, a dead loss for me. If you want cheap ones, buy those leftovers; I'll give you eight wen per jin. Pick off the yellow leaves and they're still edible!"

Today they were hosting guests, so naturally they couldn't buy leftover dishes from the day before.

On the way home, Cheng Erniang felt heartache the whole way, constantly calculating the cost.

Song Miao said: "It's fine. It's not like there's no profit to be made. Besides, for us doing business, reputation is more important than anything. Right now it's our first time taking a banquet order; we only need to worry about not doing it well, not about earning too little."

After returning home and eating lunch, she began making various arrangements.

First, she had to make soup.

Lately there had been much rain; many people didn't sweat, and their bodies easily felt heavy and sticky.

Before going out, Song Miao had soaked chicken bone grass. This is an herb, cool in nature, sweet and slightly bitter in taste.

She intended to use it to make a pot of Chicken Bone Grass Pork Trotter Soup.

Whether students or teachers, many stayed up late. Drinking this soup would, first, clear liver fire and dispel dampness, and second, protect the spleen and stomach.

After cleaning the pork trotter and ribs, she added chicken bone grass, red adzuki beans, fresh ginger, dried tangerine peel, and then large dates. After bringing it to a boil over high heat, she simmered it slowly over low heat.

While the soup simmered, she had to start slaughtering chickens and cleaning fish. Cheng Erniang and Xiao Lian also worked together to scrub the snail shells.

Choose large snails, cut off two or three rings of hard shell at the tail, use an iron pick to pry out the snail meat, remove the innards and intestines, then rub repeatedly with coarse salt to wash off the slime on the snail meat.

At this point, chop the snail meat, soaked soft mushrooms, pork front leg, and plenty of mint together. Because Teacher Chen requested it, this leg meat was eighty-twenty fat to lean—in Song Miao's opinion, it should be forty-sixty, or at worst thirty-seventy fat to lean. Mixing streaky pork with lean meat was better, because the filling needed to be fattier to be more oily and moist; otherwise, it wouldn't easily be sucked out of the shell when eaten.

But Teacher Chen had some self-knowledge, fearing that too much oil or fat would upset his stomach—he was already planning to eat heartily, so he had thought everything through in advance.

Chopping snail meat also had its technique: it was best to divide it into two batches, adding one batch first and the other later, so as to ensure the snail meat was distributed finely and evenly in the filling while still occasionally providing a noticeable texture.

After the filling was chopped, it was stuffed back into the cleaned snail shells. At this time, the filling should be kept as loose as possible, lightly filled, but not packed too tightly.

Although there were one and a half dozen helpers, in the end, only Song Miao was the true head cook.

Two tables, eight dishes and one soup. Wanting to ensure the dishes were served in order without making guests wait too long, but also wanting them to come out of the pan immediately rather than being pre-cooked and reheated, was actually not easy.

Song Miao had made her plan early. Now she was calculating the timing: what should be simmered was simmered, what should be steamed or boiled was steamed or boiled, what should be pan-fried or deep-fried was pan-fried or deep-fried, what should be baked was baked. She worked busily but without chaos. By the time a group of teachers and students finally arrived outside, some holding umbrellas, some wearing raincoats, everything was already seven or eight parts done.

Today, since the banquet was set up in the front hall, to avoid filling the house with oil smoke, she specially cooked the dishes in the back courtyard kitchen.

Soon Cheng Erniang came in to report that she and the other party had carried out two small plates of cold dishes. Dried fruits were already on the table, and she greeted everyone.

The students were all familiar; they were former students of the pig trotter rice shop. Once inside the house, they were as relaxed as if they were home, even refilling their own tea.

The teachers arrived a little later. Only two had come so far, and both were strangers to her, so she hurried forward to greet them and introduced the dishes to everyone.

The fruit was a plate of assorted fresh fruits such as plums and pears. The cold dishes were a plate of lamb zhà and a plate of tossed lettuce stem strips.

Hearing her introduction, everyone couldn't help but pick up their chopsticks to taste—after all, cold dishes didn't need waiting.

Once in the mouth, the lettuce stem strips were crisp and tender, refreshing without need to say more. The latter was made by cutting lamb leg meat into thick slices, chopping them loose with the back of a knife, cutting into small pieces, blanching in boiling water, draining the water, then twisting out the remaining moisture with a cloth. Then vinegar, salt, Sichuan pepper oil, tsaoko, and ground cardamom were mixed in.

The lamb was very tender. The Sichuan pepper oil enhanced the freshness extremely well and suppressed a bit of the muttony smell. There was also vinegar, used very skillfully—it was peach vinegar. Eating this lamb zhà was both appetizing and refreshing.

Seeing that not everyone had arrived yet, and each person had only half a piece with chopsticks, the cold dishes were finished. A group of people lifted their heads to look at Song Miao. Without Cheng Zijian speaking, Wang Chang said: "Stall Owner Song, we're all our own people. Please give us more cold dishes! The standing water outside is deep; Teacher Chen walks slowly, so he might not arrive so early. Don't let our Teacher Cao and Teacher Wei go hungry."

Hearing the student use them as an excuse, Teachers Cao and Wei hadn't yet spoken when they heard someone outside laugh heartily: "Who walks slowly?"

Speaking of Cao Cao, Cao Cao arrives—Teacher Chen wore a bamboo hat on his head, and beside him, little Xiao You held an umbrella. He wore a pair of boots, stepping through the water, mighty and high-spirited as he came.

Behind him followed several other teachers.

At once, everyone in the house stood up and went out to welcome them.

After they were seated, Teacher Chen said: "Today's banquet is because several students have been promoted to dormitory status. Out of consideration for your hard work teaching them before, they specially wanted to prepare this. You've eaten good things, so don't just eat without doing anything. If there's anything you usually can't say, say it all at once."

He was highly respected and known for being generous. Since he had spoken, naturally everyone agreed.

Taking advantage of this time, the other teachers all began to comment one by one. One said so-and-so's essay had flaws somewhere; another said so-and-so's foundation wasn't solid enough and needed more effort. Still another said someone's brushwork had some problem.

Usually, whether in the Xue Zhai or after class, the teacher was the teacher and the student was the student—one side serious, the other restrained. Some things weren't easy to say heavily, and some things didn't dare to be asked too much.

At this time some sat at one table, others sat across the table; everyone held chopsticks in hand and cradled bowls. Though they could not drink wine, getting a mouthful of Purple Perilla Boiled Water to sip made everyone feel suddenly much closer.

Thus the speakers had fewer scruples, and the listeners dared to ask follow-up questions; it truly made the students gain a great deal.

Just as they were speaking, humming and clattering, Song Miao and Cheng Erniang had each carried a sandal pot to the table, serving soup to everyone.

In an instant that table was like a hundred ducks having their necks pinched at once, all closing their mouths, only watching the bowls of soup being ladled out, each calculating which bowl might be theirs, whether there was more or less filling inside.

Song Miao then introduced this soup to everyone, and said: "This soup specially counters staying up late and excessive liver fire, dispels dampness and relieves fatigue. If anyone sweats a lot, feels heavy, has a thick greasy tongue coating, is tired day and night, dreams a lot yet sleeps poorly, you might as well drink another bowl. Though it carries a slight herbal taste, it does offer some help."

She said one sentence, and the hearts of the people at the two tables jumped heavily with each one. By the time she finished these words, everyone was practically thumping thump-thump, clanging like a gong and drum, as if drums were about to play a tune. They all began to match themselves in their hearts—wasn't this talking about me?

More than half a table were Taixue students who would be sent back to their hometowns if they didn't advance; who among them had the qualification not to stay up late?

Less than half a table were instructors, who had to stay up late even more! Moreover, most were older in age; even if they didn't stay up late, who wasn't heavy-bodied and sweating?

So everyone hurried to take a sip first.

Hearing there were herbs, many had already prepared themselves for it not tasting good. But as soon as the soup went down, almost everyone let out a long sigh in unison.

Clear sweet, with a returning sweetness, meat soup as the base, with a slight herbal taste, but a very acceptable herbal flavor, very moistening. One sip gave rise to an illusion—drinking such soup, I am truly taking good care of myself!

After finishing the small bowl of soup in hand, everyone busied themselves asking for more, not forgetting to first refill for the instructor, then taking their turn for the students.

Refilling for the instructor was naturally without fault, but once it was the students' turn to divide it themselves, seeing the soup was not enough, everyone began seriously discussing the topic of "who deserves to drink more."

For a moment this one said he stayed up late more, that one said his liver fire was stronger, and others chased each other to compare whose tongue coating was thicker. Even at the dining table, they were still serious enough to stick out their tongues and compare to see the reason.

Just as they were arguing, the second dish was served.

It was Five-finger Peach Steamed Chicken.

This chicken was steamed very fragrant; the coconut aroma and chicken aroma blended together. The whole chicken was steamed, preserving the chicken juice to the maximum. Cut quickly while hot; the chicken skin was tight and translucent, the chicken meat tender but not rotten, yet with chew. A bite would make a popping crisp sound, followed by the rich fresh chicken juice bursting out from inside.

Though Song Miao had also prepared a stack of minced ginger oil dipping sauce, this chicken meat was already delicious without any other sauce. It was already salted; when eating, dip a little into the chicken juice essence that flowed out of the steamed chicken in the dish. The rich fragrance was simply wonderful!

Next was a spicy simmered grass carp. The grass carp was fried in an oil pot before cooking, fragrant, spicy, perfect with rice!

Then fresh shrimp stir-fried with celery...

As dish after dish was served in succession, all were complete in color, aroma, and flavor.

Two mats, twenty-some people, not few. Yet during the meal, almost no one spoke. Clearly a teacher's appreciation feast, everyone had drinks in their cups, but each ate so absorbed they forgot themselves, not even raising their cups. Only chewing sounds, bowl and chopstick collision sounds, meat-gnawing sounds.

Occasionally a few words of dialogue: "This chicken is truly fragrant," "Fragrant and tender," "Shrimp so bouncy and sweet," "Celery so crisp and tender," "Hoo hoo, such spicy fish, so flavorful, pass me a drink, spicy spicy spicy!" and such talk about dishes.

Between the two tables, the rest ate heartily, afraid they would eat too little. Only one person held back on almost every dish, eating only a few bites.

His chopsticks moved very slowly, and he ate very slowly. By the time seventy or eighty percent of the dishes were served, cups and plates were in disarray. Finally someone beside came to their senses and hurriedly asked: "Instructor, why are you eating so little? Is it not to your appetite?"

Chen Fuzi shook his head and said: "It is delicious, but there is still one dish afterward. I had never eaten it before. Since yesterday when I heard that Song Stall Owner describe the method, I've been thinking about it all night, wondering what it tastes like, even dreaming of it—I want to save my stomach for it."

These words out, both tables became curious.

For a moment Song Miao and Cheng Erniang served the last two dishes. One was stir-fried mixed vegetables, stir-fried extremely crisp and oily bright. The other indeed looked familiar yet strange.

A large plate of field snails. As soon as served came a strong meat fragrance mixed with mint fragrance.

The mint fragrance was especially piercing to the nose. That meat fragrance was also special, instantly covering all the other dishes' smells at that table.

Everyone looked closely, only to see that inside all the field snails were not ordinary snail meat, but stuffed full with meat filling.

Chen Fuzi's eyes brightened with a swish. Just as he was about to pick up chopsticks, Song Miao hurriedly said: "This dish is called Stuffed Field Snails. There's nothing else, only one particularly important thing—eating this dish requires some technique. It's best to first dig out the meat exposed outside and eat it, then gently suck the meat inside the shell. If you can't suck it, turn it around and suck backward against the field snail tail, then suck the meat forward again. Cut carefully, use little force, not too much force. Otherwise if the meat suddenly comes out, choking your throat would be uncomfortable!"

Speaking, she had Cheng Erniang serve bamboo skewers to each table.

Chen Fuzi listened seriously, picked up one, and was about to eat. But that Wang Chang sitting at the same table hurriedly said: "Instructor, wait! Let a student try it for you first. If you choke, it won't be good!"

Saying this, he indeed took a Stuffed Field Snail. Following what Song Miao said, he used chopsticks to dig out the exposed meat. Before he could even eat it, he strained to suck at the snail shell opening.

Meat of two parts fat and eight parts lean, soaked with soup juice, very fragrant. But the meat was still somewhat tight, not so easy to yield.

He sucked and sucked, sucked and sucked. Turned the snail tail and sucked backward a few times, then turned back again. No one knew if it was from effort or from being watched by the two tables, but his face was a bit red. Yet the stuffed meat inside remained clearly motionless.

For a moment, almost everyone's gaze toward him was somewhat off.

—Can't even suck out the meat stuffed inside a field snail. You like this, can you really study? Can you really make progress?!?