Chapter 18

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

As for afterward, every three or five days, the Song family had generous gifts for holidays and festivals, and even when the Lin family's daughter married they exerted great effort — that goes without saying.

The neighbors on both sides watched the two families' comings and goings, and saw that Song Miao, once pampered, now pushed a cart alone to sell food, while the Lin family, aside from coming once on the day the coffin stopped, did not show their faces afterward — naturally, they could not help but sigh.

But no matter how much they sighed, no one expected that the Lin family did not even wait for Song Dalang's funeral day — they had already broken off the engagement.

At this moment, Zhu Shi was suddenly informed and was also startled, but it was not appropriate to ask much; she offered a few words of comfort and then took her leave.

Seeing Zhu Shi off, recalling what the other party had said, Song Miao could only sigh.

The Song family had originally fled the epidemic from Yingzhou to the Capital many years ago; their hometown relatives and friends were dead or scattered, and there were long since no clan relatives left.

As for Song Dalang, never mind that he was a live-in son-in-law — even if he had paternal relatives, encountering such a matter they would mostly not lift a hand; moreover, with his originally fine physique and appearance, if not for the loss of his family fortune and elders, why would he have become a live-in son-in-law?

As long as there was half a way out, the original self would not have…

However, now that Zhu Shi suddenly came to warn her, Song Miao guessed that most likely there was some movement at Wu Yuanwai's place.

If the other party does not move, she cannot deal with it for the moment, and is somewhat passive.

She had originally planned to discuss with Cheng Zijian tomorrow — if there was any inconvenience, absolutely do not force it; she could find another way, just get another copy of the "Wei Xing Tong" — and this thought became even more urgent now; she simply set aside the vegetables she had bought back and began counting the silver she had earned these past few days.

Because the main ingredients for the mung bean paste glutinous rice were already at home, the expense was entirely in the other condiments and firewood; the cost was not much, and adding the little surplus money she originally had, a calculation showed she had saved five strings of cash.

In another one or two days, there should be even more; if truly pressed, gritting her teeth and buying a set herself was not impossible.

Looking at these several strings of strung copper coins, reaching out to lift them — heavy and solid — Song Miao finally let down her heart slightly.

She arranged tomorrow's tasks, ate a simple meal, then went to wash up and rest.

Doing the breakfast trade, one cannot avoid reversing day and night.

Today she had to make new food; the first time trying such a large quantity, Song Miao feared she could not gauge the time, so the next morning just past Yin Hour she got up.

She lit the fire first, and with practiced ease put the glutinous rice on to steam.

Once the glutinous rice was in the steamer basket, Song Miao could free her hands to start on other things.

She washed the pork bones and pork ribs, put them in the pot with ginger; when the water had boiled for a while, she skimmed the foam, closed the stove door, and let the low fire simmer slowly.

To avoid clashing with the food sold by other stall owners in Food Alley, Song Miao considered for two days and still decided to make lamb shaomai.

A few days ago when she went to the street she had seen peddlers carrying baskets; the shape was somewhat similar to shaomai, only the taste was not quite the same.

Shaomai is also called shaomai; one saying is that it got its name because it was sold along with tea in tea houses in Guangnan, Jiangnan and other places; another saying says it resembles a gauze cap, taking a homophone.

But further north, especially beyond the frontier, there is also a kind of lamb shaomai, and the flavor is equally good.

This time Song Miao planned to make both southern and northern shaomai; the meat fillings were divided into green onion lamb and green onion pork; the vegetarian filling was seasoned with shepherd's purse, spring bamboo shoots, and dried tofu.

The two tastes differ greatly — the former relieves cravings, the latter cuts greasiness.

Ordinary food shops making green onion meat filling generally use raw scallions and raw meat directly, but Song Miao likes to add a bit of fried scallion mixed with raw scallion, and blend in a spoonful of green onion oil to enhance the fragrance.

Even though now she is doing student business, she is unwilling to be perfunctory; at this moment she poured in sesame oil, waited for the oil temperature to slowly rise, first put in ginger slices and garlic cloves, then slid a large handful of washed and drained scallion whites in from the edge of the wok.

The scallion whites were cut into segments, and split halfway through the middle, still carrying wisps of water not shaken dry and the scallion juice inside; the moment they hit the wok they began to crackle and pop.

Song Miao did not let them run wild; she used long chopsticks to gently press and move them, letting the scallion white segments fully soak in the oil.

Very quickly, the scallion fragrance was released by the hot oil, and the aroma gradually grew strong.

When the scallion whites were fried half-dry, Song Miao added the scallion leaves.

The scallion leaves went into the wok; taking advantage of the oil temperature dropping, she casually tossed in a few Sichuan peppercorns to enhance flavor and cut greasiness.

Although it was low heat, before long the scallion leaves and scallion whites were both fried just right; seizing the moment while they still retained a hint of their original color, Song Miao fished them out and drained them in a bowl.

The scallions left the wok; in no time they turned crisp.

She picked up two with chopsticks and put them in her mouth; the heat had not over-fried them — the scallions were crisp, fragrant, not a trace of bitterness, only scallion fragrance and oil fragrance clear and distinct in the mouth, clean and neat.

If at this moment she did not have to go set up stall, but could make some noodles — a spoonful of lard at the bottom of the bowl, two spoonfuls of homemade fresh soy sauce and a bit of vinegar, mixed with this scallion oil…

The fine noodles just out of the pot, immediately tossed into the bowl and swirled a few rounds; at this moment the noodles' own rolling heat is completely enough to melt the lard, every strand able to coat fully in scallion oil and sauce; one bite, and just by imagination Song Miao seems to be able to feel that taste.

By then the noodles wrapped in lard fragrance, rich scallion oil fragrance, soy sauce fragrance, and the indispensable vinegar fragrance for enhancing flavor; one bite down, the noodle fragrance fuses all fragrances — that taste…

Could even make the mouthful of noodles an emperor to thank it…

Song Miao admits she could eat two large bowls!

Pity a person cannot only think of eating — still have to earn money…

Song Miao sighed, ladled out the scallion oil, and began kneading dough.

The skins for lamb and pork shaomai must be especially thin, like paper, but absolutely must not tear; otherwise once the meat juice flows out, both appearance and taste will be greatly discounted.

For this thin yet tough skin, Song Miao today specially used boiling water to scald the dough.

And the shepherd's purse spring bamboo shoot dried tofu shaomai skin must be thin and soft; in order to see the filling inside after steaming, she used warm water to knead, and besides flour added a bit of wheat starch.

Once the dough skins were respectively kneaded well, set aside to rest, Song Miao began seasoning the fillings.

Shepherd's purse add a bit of oil and blanch; once the water boils, fish it out immediately into cold water, wring dry then chop fine, to preserve its emerald tenderness.

Dried tofu cut into dice, pressed slightly crushed for better flavor absorption; also the soaked wood ear chopped into mince; both stir-fried in clear oil, the moment the wok breath rises they must come out of the wok.

Bamboo shoots peeled of shells also must be blanched; after blanching cut into dice; this time however stir-fried in lard.

Vegetarian shoots with meat oil — most fresh and fragrant, naturally carrying mountain wild flavor.

Vegetarian filling done, Song Miao was not anxious to mix; only waiting until the end to add salt, and went to make the meat fillings.

The lamb in the meat filling must not be chopped too fine; she used cutting, cutting into meat granules of similar size.

Pork, however, was chopped, made into minced meat state.

Same as last time making lamb buns, this time the meat was also each divided in half, raw and cooked both used.

All morning she chopped, stir-fried, pan-fried, and deep-fried until all the fillings were finally prepared; last she added salt and the remaining seasonings, and only then did she begin wrapping them.

Making shaomai required no pleating: she simply placed the rolled-out wrapper, its edges kneaded into lotus-leaf ripples, in her palm, pressed the filling into the center, drew her thumb and forefinger together, and the flowered edge formed—no sealing needed, much simpler.

Song Miao had calculated the wrappers and fillings precisely; by the time she finished wrapping, every last bit was used up, neither too much nor too little.

Once the shaomai were done and placed in the steamer, the glutinous rice was already steamed, and the soup had been braised long enough.

Before leaving, Song Miao washed two white radishes, sliced them thin into the soup, added salt, and only then pushed the cart out.