Chapter 150

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Song Miao's heart stirred slightly, so she asked a few more questions.

It turned out that the old woman's family had two sons and one daughter; her youngest son had died early, his widow had remarried, leaving behind a little girl, who was being raised together by the eldest son and his wife.

Because he needed to earn money to make ends meet, the eldest son went out to work as a peddler, traveling from village to town, selling southern goods in the north and northern goods in the south; although it was hard work and he earned only small change, he could barely support his family.

Once the eldest son left, he would be gone for ten days to half a month; most household matters were handled by the eldest daughter-in-law, and the fields were farmed by the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law together.

"My wife is a very good one, quick and capable, but pitiful—after marrying into our family, she didn't enjoy two days of good fortune before she was always toiling and working hard, helping to raise the second daughter, never complaining once; now she says she's sick and she's sick, and the doctor prescribed many medicines, but she doesn't get better after taking them."

"Recently there has been much rain; my son went out to sell goods and has been delayed many days without returning. Seeing that our family's money is running short, I took out the things I grew to sell them, getting whatever money I can, at least to go to town and find a good doctor to get medicine for her."

Hearing the old woman speak, Song Miao thought well of her, so she said: "I've ordered a pot of tea inside; whether one more person drinks or one less, the money is the same anyway. Old lady, why don't you come in and sit, and wait out the rain before you go?"

The old woman hurriedly declined.

Song Miao smiled and said: "Why be so polite? When out and about, doesn't everyone look out for each other? If a stranger came to your home to take shelter from the rain one day, wouldn't you give them a bowl of water to drink, Granny?"

The old woman anxiously said: "That can't be!"

Song Miao added: "I see your garlic leaves and water celery are quite good. I've been staying at this relay station recently; if you have more next time, I'd still like to buy some."

She then invited her inside.

This old woman was very particular: first she took grass from the bamboo basket, dipped it in water to wash the yellow mud off her shoes clean, then stomped them, and even wiped the soles with a scrap of cloth she carried, so the shoes wouldn't be so wet, before she dared enter.

After entering, she wanted to sit on a chair, but didn't forget to untie her head cloth and place it under her buttocks. Seeing Song Miao looking at her, she felt embarrassed and explained: "I'm wet on my body; I'm afraid I'll dirty this relay station stool."

Song Miao smiled and chatted a few idle words with her. Seeing her fidgeting, she poured her tea with a clean teacup.

Da Bing was holding a brush writing on the table. Seeing an old person arrive, wet all over, he immediately put away the paper Song Miao had given him, then ran to the back and soon came out, handing over a piece of dry cloth: "Grandma, wipe yourself. This cloth was given to me by Title of Niangzi (Song); it hasn't been used yet!"

The old woman hurriedly waved her hands.

Da Bing was young, but used to being an apprentice. Having heard Song Miao speak earlier, and now seeing the old woman declining, he went up and wiped the wetness off her clothes himself, saying: "Don't be polite—if my father and mother were out there, they'd also want someone to help look after them!"

The old woman could only say thank you, unable to say another word.

After wiping the wetness off her body, though it couldn't be fully dried, she was at least more comfortable.

Song Miao then chatted with her for a while, asking about her household situation and the harvest of the fields. Seeing the rain outside not stopping and mealtime approaching, shopping was out of the question. Just then, the relay station cook ran in from outside wearing straw sandals and a raincoat.

As soon as he entered, he hurried to the back kitchen and called to a yamen runner beside him: "My nephew fell on the road when he came and broke his leg; he's gone to see a doctor. Now we're short-handed and the back can't keep up. Go quickly and explain to the various officials, apologize, and just say there aren't so many dishes tonight—only two dishes!"

Song Miao heard this and followed him over, greeting the cook and looking at the ingredients for tonight.

Hua Prefecture was a large prefecture. The daily quantity of meat, grain, and cereals in the relay station was supplied according to the number of guests and their official ranks that day. They had been delivered early today. The cook had used some at lunchtime, and there was still plenty left: pork and mutton were all available, plus fish and some vegetables.

Song Miao had just bought garlic sprouts and water celery from the old woman. Now she simply decided to use these two ingredients to pair together. Considering it was inconvenient to pick out good meat and good dishes to take away, she looked around, greeted the cook, and said: "If you're too busy, why not give me a few pieces of pork to make a dish? Count our people's share; just don't go over it."

Seeing it was Song Miao and hearing her speak, he sighed in relief at once.

The flower rolls Song Miao made yesterday had everyone in the hall asking about them; her skill was beyond question. But after all, she was just passing through and wouldn't take his work. Since that was the case, the relay station cook was paid by the month, whether he did more or less, it was the same price. Who didn't like doing less work?

Now that the ingredients were divided, she could take care of the dishes for her own group of ten or so people. Even if she only made one dish, she could relax a bit.

The cook surnamed Zhang nodded quickly and said: "You pick and choose, take whatever you want. Your group of ten or so people, the portion is enough—by regulation, Wu Gong is allocated one and a half jin of mutton per day. Do you want some?"

Song Miao said: "Your mutton is cooked very fragrant. Yesterday they said it wasn't enough to eat, so I won't make trouble for myself. Just take two pieces of pork to stir-fry a dish."

Cook Zhang received a flattery, but in his heart he also felt his mutton was well cooked. He was secretly pleased and took the initiative to step forward and pick meat for Song Miao.

Hearing her say she wanted front leg meat and pork belly, he specially selected three or four nice pieces, put them in a large basin.

Song Miao took it, smiling and thanking him, only placing it aside for the moment. Knowing the other side was busy at this time, she didn't fight for his stove but stepped aside, so as not to get in the way.

When she took a large basket and went out to the front to get the garlic sprouts and celery, she happened to hear the old woman asking about the time.

Da Bing said: "It's almost shen hour."

The old woman sighed, only pretending to sigh, and said: "I really can't make it back now."

Song Miao knew her livelihood was difficult and wanted to treat her to a meal, but this old person had just been uneasy even drinking a mouthful of water, and surely wouldn't eat and stay for free.

She thought for a moment and said: "Granny, if you have free time, how about helping us wash some vegetables? Picking and washing these garlic leaves and celery leaves is troublesome. I'm afraid Da Bing alone can't handle it. I have no money to give you, but I'll treat you to two meals tonight and tomorrow morning."

The old woman certainly understood Song Miao was looking after her, but at the moment she really had no ability to refuse. She only secretly thought that next time she would send several more jin of vegetables as a return gift. Outwardly, she hurriedly agreed: "Thank you, young lady, I'm coming! I'm coming!"

After going to the back kitchen, sure enough, she picked and washed vegetables, everything skillfully.

Seeing that Cook Zhang inside was too busy, Song Miao went in to ask, then came out and asked the old woman to help go in and pick and wash the vegetables on the other side too.

Cook Zhang had no free hand to knead dough and steam flatbreads. He only boiled rice and made two or three easy dishes: just plain boiled mutton, and two braised dishes.

Seeing that all the dishes were about seven or eight parts done, only a braised dish in the pot was still waiting for time. Song Miao pointed to the old woman and said to him: "Granny Li's home is far away. Today she probably can't go back. She says she wants to find a ruined temple to stay in, and we can't persuade her. Cook Zhang, you're familiar with the city. Do you know any suitable place for lodging?"

Cook Zhang thought for a moment and simply said: "Behind our relay station there is a woodshed. Inside there is a shelf built, and a set of bedding. It's for the people who deliver firewood and chop firewood to rest. Although it's simple, it's a place to block wind and rain. Why not sleep there tonight? It's better than going out to find some other place to stay—the wind is strong and the rain is heavy."

The old woman hurriedly thanked him again and said: "My family grows many vegetables on the half-slope. This time the flood didn't damage them heavily. Tomorrow after I go back, I'll pick the best and send some to both of you!"

Although she said this, she had after all lived several decades more. No matter how much she thanked, she was very clear in her heart that although the cook was also kind-hearted, if it weren't for this young lady helping to ask, he would probably not pay attention at all.

It rained for half a day. Around shen hour, it actually stopped.

Seeing this, Song Miao asked Cook Zhang and learned the stove was already finished. She didn't wait any longer, and started cooking as the group of students left the yamen and walked back.

Garlic sprouts were fragrant, and water celery was also fragrant. But these two ingredients both had strong flavors. Some people didn't like the former, and some didn't like the latter. She simply made one cooking method into two dishes, and added a Xiangdong stir-fried meat dish.

Since it was a quick stir-fry dish, she specially told Da Bing to watch the fire. This time, full high heat throughout, heating the pot until it was almost red. Without adding oil, she directly stir-fried the pork belly in an empty pot.

A red pot was actually less likely to stick.

The pork belly slices were cut very thin, more fat than lean, already close to four-six split. Cut to a thickness of only one Portion. In the blink of an eye, the fatty part turned transparent in the pot, sizzling out oil. The lean part turned white immediately.

Rather than saying it was a fierce fire stir-fry, it was more like half-grilling and half-frying. Compared to simple stir-frying, it was more charred and fragrant. In a short while, the pork belly slices all turned golden yellow with charred edges. After a while, both sides were already charred yellow.

At this time, she added salt and a little soy sauce to stir-fry the pork belly until flavorful. She pushed it to one side, then added minced garlic and fermented black beans to explode the fragrance.

The garlic cloves were smashed, loose but not scattered, retaining their shape. The fermented black beans were cut finely.

This time she used the Liu Yang fermented black beans brought from the Capital; both the fragrance and the fermentation aroma had a unique flavor, and only after stir-frying out the flavor did she add plenty of crushed cornel and mustard seeds.

Very quickly, the whole room filled with white smoke so pungently spicy that the other three all retreated outside.

After all, Dabing cared for Song Miao; he hadn't been outside long before he returned covering his nose, bringing in a damp cloth.

Song Miao couldn't help but laugh; she covered her mouth and nose with the damp cloth with one hand, while with the other she ladled a bowl of hot water and poured it into the wok.

The hot water met the boiling oil, and almost instantly the soup turned a milky white.

With soy sauce present, and also the crushed cornel and mustard seeds, the soup quickly took on a color slightly lighter than deep yellow, very thick, very fragrant — pork and lard soup fragrance, but white was the base.

At this point she added a spoonful of salt to the soup, making it lean salty, then put in sliced pork leg meat, lightly stir-fried evenly, and used that soup water to "braise".

Just as it was evenly mixed, the meat hadn't even changed color, Song Miao scooped out half, and tossed the cut garlic leaf segments into the wok.

The soup had plenty of oil; half stir-fry, half flash-fry, half braise — the garlic leaves were about to turn raw-break but not yet, when Song Miao drizzled a small spoon of tea oil from the wok edge, the oil fragrance just emerging, she immediately dished it out, washed the wok and heated it, returned the previous meat, repeated the process, and stir-fried a final batch with water celery.

Large wok, small stir-fry; the result was plated on an extremely large platter, and just as it left the wok the courier returned to report, saying the student group had come back.

Dabing hurriedly carried the rice and dishes out.

The people returning tonight were exceptionally numerous; besides the original dozen or so, Lu Wenming also brought three fellow group members back from the Xian.

Having rushed about all day, returning to the Zhou Ya, busy reporting the situation to Han Li and Wu Gong, and now walking another stretch, his two legs practically refused to obey.

But at this moment, just as he entered, he saw Dabing bringing dishes out from across the way; smelling that fragrance, it was as if some hook had caught his two nostrils and lifted them up — Lu Wenming first sniffed and sniffed, then raised his head, then straightened his back, and in a very short time completed a transformation from listless to spirited.

He practically called out asking: "Is Song Xiaoniangzi cooking tonight???"

The fellow students had already half-surrounded Wu Gong pressing forward; someone excitedly turned and told him: "The Young Lady added a side dish for us!"

A basin of rice, two large platters of dishes, plus a basin of stewed dish and a basin of braised dish, all arranged neatly on the tabletop.

Today they split into two tables, but at every table, almost everyone relied on just two eyes and two nostrils to identify which dish Song Xiaoniangzi made, and which dish they should attack first.

The students still knew to serve rice to Wu Gong and Lu Wenming first, then scramble for their own; once they had rice, everyone's chopsticks went straight for the platters in unison.

Lu Wenming liked Qing Su; he picked up the garlic leaf platter.

One bite into the mouth brought fresh spiciness, the flavor delivered both directly and satisfyingly, followed by the salty fragrant mellow spicy taste of the meat slices.

The first tasted was pork belly.

Dishes stir-fried in a fierce-fire wok always have wok hei that hits the face, but this time because the method was "chao chao ao", the wok hei was strong but not fierce, and added three parts of rich soup flavor.

The meat slices were cut very thin, seared very dry in a wok hot enough to turn red; although fat-heavy and lean-light, the fatty parts had absolutely no ability to be greasy — the oil had been fried out, leaving only burnt fragrance, dry enough that even after rolling in soup for a while they still retained a very full crisp texture, chewing with a "crunch crunch" sound.

But because they had soaked in soup after all, the burnt fragrance on both sides lacked that "oil-dry" taste when eaten, instead soaked full of rich spiciness, fermented black bean fragrance, garlic fragrance, becoming oil-soup soaked, both spicy and fragrant.

Just this one bite, Lu Wenming wolfed down two mouthfuls of rice.

He couldn't wait to pick piece by piece slowly with chopsticks; he hurriedly found a gap, took the large soup spoon from the braising basin, scooped a spoonful of soup, meat, and vegetables together from the platter into his own bowl, and wolfed down another mouthful of rice.

The rice was Chen Mi, the taste very ordinary, the rice cooked a bit dry, but at this moment getting this spoonful, Lu Wenming suddenly felt these flaws didn't matter at all.

Pork belly burnt fragrant crisp, front leg meat fine tender, garlic leaves oil-water flash-fried, fragrance completely activated by the oil, not overcooked, still retaining garlic leaf freshness, all of this carried soup, that soup was rich soup from fat emulsification, both spicy and fragrant, rice coated in such soup juice, as if a toddler learning characters, clearly not a single stroke pleasing to the eye, yet the upper right corner happened to get a touch from Wang Xizhi.

Thus everyone only stared at that one touch, completely forgetting what the other strokes looked like.

This plate of small stir-fry pork for Lu Wenming was that one touch; no amount of rice was enough to go with it.

A group of students, one Gongshi, one Menke, all eating with loud relish, heads full of sweat, completely forgetting there were still two basins of dishes on the table.

Eating with great gusto, yet they heard conversation voices from the doorway.

"How come Xie Yuanzai has leisure to come today? Looking for whom?"

"Looking for a Young Lady surnamed Song, the one who came from the Capital with the Du Shui Jian, is she here?"