Chapter 191

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

At this hour it was still early; seeing Zhang Gongchu and his nephew preparing the evening meal, Song Miao used a spare small stove together with Dabing.

She said the dish was simple, but making it took a lot of effort; because she knew everyone on the river works would finish late today, she was not in a hurry.

When she returned she had bought many pork spine bones; at this point she had washed and blanched them, selected a stress point on each, gave a light tap with the back of the knife to snap them apart, then took a deep pot, added ginger slices, scallion knots, a splash of vinegar, and a full measure of boiling water, brought it to a rolling boil over high flame, then lowered to a slow simmer.

What she was braising was pork spine bone soup.

She used the spine bones with extreme generosity — by headcount, not only one per person, but she had prepared extras in case someone could not eat their fill; at this moment a pile of pig bones lay crisscrossed at the bottom of the deep pot, truly sparing no ingredients, and before long the broth had already taken on a bone-soup color.

Just as she was about to scrub the hard-shelled shrimp together with Dabing, she heard someone call "Song Xiaoniangzi"; Song Miao turned and saw a retainer of Wang Shuji, Master Wang, standing outside the door.

She washed and wiped her hands, stood up, went out to greet him, and asked his purpose.

The retainer hurriedly said: "Because the roads outside have gradually cleared, my master dare not delay; he plans to set off tomorrow."

"Last time we gave an invitation card, but fearing Young Lady might come to the door and find us gone, with no time for a second visit and thus miss you, we wanted to ask: where is Young Lady's food shop located? Let Master note it down; first, if an opportunity arises he still wishes to visit and support the business; second, it will also be convenient to inquire after news later..."

Wang Shuji had lingered in Hua Prefecture for half a month, and with official business on his back, however anxious he was he could not move.

He did not wish to engage in excessive socializing; after all he was in a foreign place with no superiors, and listening to flattery alone had no real use, so he simply spent more time running to the river works.

He heard that Wu Gong and a group of technical officials from the Du Shui Jian had newly researched a type of river sweep, optimal for flood prevention and water blocking; being half a colleague himself, he naturally wanted to understand it, and also to see how such a massive project in Hua Prefecture was managed and what its progress was like.

When he reached the river dike, Han Li humbly came to ask; since the man was on his home ground and still bore the Du Shui Jian's name while eating many of Song Miao's dishes, he could not refuse outright, and helped with many pointers.

Through repeated contact, the more Wang Shuji saw, the more he praised exceedingly those who had come to Hua Prefecture, especially the three — Wu, Song, and Han.

The one surnamed Wu has official identity; if needed, one can approach superiors to find a way to recruit him; the latter two, however, are a bit troublesome.

Wang Shuji himself has followed many river projects; he knows well that the more people, the harder to coordinate; managing civilian laborers is a major headache, and logistics is also a problem — feeding, drinking, moving, and relieving thousands of people can never be simple.

When the weather turns hot, heatstroke strikes instantly; when it turns cold, frostbite and freezing injuries occur at the slightest lapse.

Press too hard, the supervisors turn ruthless, and it is very easy to injure or kill people.

Don't press, and the lowest commoners are actually the craftiest; if they only slacked off it would be fine, but there are those who muddy the waters and still complain incessantly — just two or three in a squad can corrupt the atmosphere, and such people are often superb actors, impossible to catch.

But here in Hua Prefecture, every single issue has been solved well.

Besides repeated patrol inspections, every stretch of river has a grass shed on the bank for rest; three times daily they deliver a beverage — really just a bit of firewood and a few herbs and ingredients; it seems merely to quench the laborers' thirst and heat and give them shade, but Wang Shuji took the statistics and compared them with his own projects of the same season, and both injuries and illnesses were reduced by more than half.

Not only that, the worksite also specially hired a physician — this physician was actually provided free by a wealthy Zhang household in the neighboring prefecture.

But this free provision is not without benefit; the Zhang Family Medical Hall's signboard goes out, half the river workers are Weizhou people; once familiar with the physician and the signboard, when these people return home and fall ill, which medical hall will they seek?

Truly both sides profit.

In addition, daily rewards of bonus money and extra meat are given to the laborers with the fastest progress and best quality.

At first hearing, he only felt this was outside the budget, and whether dispensing money or adding meat, both cost money and effort; but seeing the final effect, seeing what people would do for thirty wen, for a mouthful of meat, Wang Shuji immediately shut his mouth.

Calculate it: compared to the benefits gained, this bit of monetary cost in such a huge project is truly not worth mentioning.

"The young are formidable" — this is exactly what it means.

It is not that these methods are so remarkable or capable; doing them is not hard; what is rare is to think of them, to think so finely and thoroughly, and to be willing to truly settle one's heart and expend effort on things that may or may not bring benefit.

There are also mistakes, but every mistake discovered is never evaded or glossed over; it is immediately corrected, taken as a warning, to prevent recurrence.

Also the use of students and women this time gave Wang Shuji great inspiration.

Students have enthusiasm and some ability; though they cannot match subordinates' familiarity with affairs and procedures, they are obedient and hardworking; just watching how Han Li commands people and the results he commands, Wang Shuji felt moved — so they can be used this way!

As for women, they work cleanly and efficiently, especially able to endure hardship; with Song Xiaoniangzi leading, the food produced is clearly big-pot worksite fare, yet not only fills the belly but even has some palatability.

Without exaggeration, that cookhouse is the cleanest Wang Shuji has seen on any worksite.

Even Wang family's nephew, upon returning, when speaking of food, rarely complains, only feels there is no meat.

Wang Shuji has always known logistics is important; after all, the army does not move until grain goes first.

But this is the first time he realized that a cookhouse, with a manager who cares about every detail inside it, can actually produce such great effect.

Cen Dezhang — truly, what virtue, what ability, what fortune!

Meeting one such person in ordinary times would make one secretly rejoice; he encountered three at once, and even now he probably still does not know what he possesses!

Seeing so many benefits, Wang Shuji naturally could not help wanting them.

Han Li is a Taixue student and a famous talent; he may not be persuaded with a sentence or two; but this Song Xiaoniangzi's family has declined, yet she has such ability — setting up a stall or opening a food shop is a real waste; better to bring her to work for myself!

However the Transport Commission is ultimately a government office; the compensation it can give, though not little, compared to the profits after doing big business in the Capital, is really not very attractive.

So taking advantage of his departure, he sent a retainer to leave a live opening, thinking to find a way to wield the hoe later.

Although Song Miao did not know Wang Shuji's train of thought, at this moment the retainer came to ask, and she knew it was goodwill, so naturally she would not hide or conceal.

She told the location of her home, and added: "It just so happens I had leisure to return early today; these days whether on the river works or at home, we have all been much cared for by Master Wang; though I cannot manage a proper farewell banquet in time, it just so happens I am cooking shrimp today — please convey a word, I will also add a dish for Master, merely to express my sentiments."

Having seen off the Wang family retainer, Song Miao only then returned to the kitchen.

Seeing Dabing had already scrubbed the shrimp seven or eight parts done, Song Miao joined him in twisting from the middle segment of the hard-shelled shrimp's tail to pull out the shrimp vein, then used scissors to open the head.

Opening the head means snipping off the tiniest piece of hard shell at the shrimp head, picking out the black sand pouch, washing as clean as possible without leaking the shrimp roe inside, then trimming the antennae and cracking the two hard claws.

Two large buckets of shrimp — processing them was naturally not easy.

Fortunately at this point Zhang the cook had already finished his work, wiped his hands, and brought his apprentice over to help.

He was experienced after all; while scrubbing he asked: "You pulled the shrimp vein and opened the head; this shrimp differs from the usual green shrimp — handled this way, won't the shrimp meat fall apart?"

Song Miao said: "The shrimp vein originally holds the meat together; pulling it early definitely makes the texture not as good as leaving it, but there is no choice — there is loss and gain; removing the vein and pouch makes it cleaner, and one eats with peace of mind."

She added: "In a while we'll blast the fire hotter, hot oil will tighten the meat, barely salvaging it."

Four people working together, it was fast after all; once washed and drained dry, Song Miao fired up the stove.

This round she set two woks over fierce flame to heat, hot wok cold oil, and stir-fried the shrimp in batches.

There was plenty of oil, the wok was hot enough; rather than calling it a stir-fry, it was half stir-fry, half deep-fry — the shrimp hit the wok and with a sizzling crackle the shells turned red, the shrimp meat and shrimp paste inside quickly tightening and solidifying along with it.

As if in a single instant, the fresh flavor and juices were locked inside the shells; only the aroma grew two legs and escaped in a wisp of smoke, circling round and round in the not-large kitchen.

Once the shrimp paste set, she didn't stir-fry much longer, quickly dished them out, left the base oil to fry whole garlic cloves, bean sauce, Sichuan pepper, plenty of crushed xun guan and mustard seeds, stir-frying until the whole room was filled with pungent spicy fragrance; at this point she returned the hard-shell large shrimp to the wok and tossed them evenly with the seasonings until fragrant, added soy sauce and a bit of maltose, and finally poured in a ring of turbid wine.

Two large woks of shrimp, bright red and glistening with oil, braised together with the rich, fresh-spicy seasoning — hard to say whether the Sichuan pepper's numbing or the xun guan mustard seeds' heat was more prominent, but everyone in the room was already staring fixedly at that wok.

Cook Zhang still remembered he had come to inspect the dishes; mentally calculating the seasoning quantities, he couldn't help asking: "Won't the flavor be too heavy? We're using this much xun guan mustard seed, and the shrimp have been split open — the meat inside easily absorbs flavor."

Song Miao smiled and said: "There's soup."

As she spoke, she lifted the lid of that pork bone soup pot on the side.

Braised for over an hour, the pork bone soup's fat and gelatin had already been cooked out; the marrow hid inside the bone tubes, the outermost layer a deep brown, the soup itself milky white, rich and mellow, thick.

Song Miao skimmed off that layer of thick oil, poured bones and soup together into the wok until the liquid just covered the shrimp bodies, brought it to a brief boil over high fire, then half-closed the stove door to reduce to a medium-low flame, covered the lid and slow-braised, slow-cooked.

Cook Zhang reacted instantly, clapping his hands: "Right! I originally thought the pork bone soup was meant to pair with the shrimp to counteract the heat, only felt it wasn't enough — after all, hot soup can't counteract heat — but never expected it was actually for cooking together; exactly right! Just as it should be!"

When the braised head shrimp were seven or eight parts done, the moon had already risen to the treetops, and the whole group had also returned from the riverway.

A large basket of baked cakes and steamed buns, a whole basin of rice, seven or eight dishes laid out on a table.

Everyone chimed in enthusiastically, led by that Wu Gong, eating while praising Cook Zhang's skill.

It wasn't empty praise — the flavors were indeed all good; an official relay station cook able to reach this standard deserves a word of praise.

But when the Zhang family nephew serving dishes left, someone — unknown who — looked up and suddenly shouted: "The big cakes are here!"

Everyone looked up and sure enough saw Dabing carrying a large basin over.

Two tables full of people, with a clatter almost everyone simultaneously stood up gripping chopsticks — even Wu Gong, who had walked all day and just complained his legs would break and his old waist couldn't take it, instantly straightened his back; not only did he stand up, he opened his mouth and shouted: "Big cakes!"

Never mind official rank — just by age, he was the oldest.

Dabing hurriedly brought the basin to Wu Gong's table first.

A huge basin — at a glance, pork bones piled like mountains, lying in the soup, truly an arrogant, overbearing sight; and a basin full of large shrimp, bright red, heads and bodies intact, at least half of them, some even whole, soaked in the soup juices.

Too beautiful a basin!

The soup was extremely rich; originally the xun guan mustard seeds and Sichuan pepper already made it intensely numbing and spicy — the moment it hit the table, everyone smelled it and saliva involuntarily flowed in their mouths — yet such heavy pungent spice could not overpower the pork bone soup's rich fragrance.

Climbing up and down the riverway all day, watching the craftsmen build new revetments, then going into the river to check the silt deposition at the river bottom — Wu Gong felt he had sweated out the second half of his life's sweat today.

Seeing this basin, he loudly called out "Everyone serve yourselves, no need for me to tell you!" while his own chopsticks moved like lightning, plunging into the basin from both ends.

He pried up half a pork bone with his chopsticks into his bowl, then took the large soup ladle and scooped two ladles of shrimp and soup; because the soup smelled truly fragrant, he couldn't help bringing the bowl edge to his lips and drinking a mouthful.

After one mouthful, another, then another — quickly, Wu Gong's mind held only one thought: to get a mouthful of such soup, today's hardship was worth it no matter what!

The seasoning was salty, fresh, numbing, spicy; the pork bone soup fragrant and rich — the two cooked together, the broth already both concentrated and thick.

The xun guan mustard seeds were used extremely heavily, the Sichuan pepper even lavishly mixed with a bit of pepper — all relying on the rich bone broth to embrace them, softening that original fierce heat and numbing spice; entering the mouth, the degrees of heat and numb were just right, like old friends long separated meeting again, the playful punches and embroidered-leg kicks they give each other — too heavy won't do, would truly hurt; too light even more won't do, unable to express the heart's longing and affection.

The shrimp heads were split open; after braising, the shrimp roe portion inevitably flowed into the soup, making the base flavor even fuller and richer, adding a strand of river-and-stream extraordinary freshness.

After drinking several mouthfuls of hot soup in succession, on this early summer night, Wu Gong drank until a thin layer of sweat seeped from his forehead; he was about to wipe it, but when he lowered his head he saw the shrimp heads split open, their cavities filled with thick soup — he forgot to raise his hand, subconsciously lifted his chopsticks and sucked a mouthful of soup at that opening.

In one mouthful he sucked the shrimp roe together with the soup into his mouth!

The shrimp roe had a slightly congealed texture; entering the mouth it was both dense and silky, extraordinarily fresh, extraordinarily beautiful, extraordinarily richly fragrant — with the bone broth's meat fragrance combining and the numbing-spicy seasoning assisting, the flavor simply cannot be described.

The shrimp shells were thick and hard, but after long braising and prior oil-blasting, the meat naturally shrank away from the shell — peeling them wasn't difficult.

Thinking of that soup flavor, Wu Gong even forgot not to first suck a mouthful of shrimp shell before peeling!

Split open, the middle tail segment removed; the shrimp had braised for a long time and were thoroughly flavored — the meat, though not winning on springy tenderness, hadn't lost a single point; relying on high heat and hot oil it maintained the shrimp meat's proper firmness, and had eaten through the numbing-spicy freshness — fresh in an utterly, utterly, utterly natural way.

While Wu Gong ate shrimp here, in the back courtyard Wang Shuji was sucking pork bone marrow.

The marrow fragrant and rich, the meat fragrant and tender, the shrimp even more delicious — leaving one fully satisfied.

Before him a basin of braised head shrimp without xun guan mustard seeds, only a bit of Sichuan pepper added — yet equally delicious, eating until he couldn't help sighing, thinking secretly: such a good cook, why can't he follow me?

While the official relay station front and back were busy eating shrimp and meat, in a residence in Wang County under Huai Prefecture's jurisdiction, someone suddenly asked in a startled voice: "You say the Huai Prefecture riverway wants to recruit a Tingjiao Hang?"

"Exactly, Xiang Xiong — this is a good business; I have some money on hand, but unfortunately no connections; last time you met that old friend on the road, he seemed quite familiar with the Tingjiao Hang — why not ask him? If he lacks capital, I'm willing to invest a share!"