Chapter 32: Miao's Kitchen Chapter 32: Helping Out

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Song Miao couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong?"

Cheng Zijian had no choice but to move the hand covering his chin away, saying somewhat embarrassedly, "It's just a pimple — really unsightly, I wanted to cover it up a bit, so as not to disgust the young lady."

Only then did Song Miao discover that there was actually a pimple the size of a soybean bulging high on his chin, red and swollen, looking very painful at a glance.

"Did you eat lamb meat buns and lamb meat shaomai these past two days, causing internal heat?" she asked.

Cheng Zijian hurriedly defended his beloved lamb meat, saying, "No such thing! Even before the Song stall owner arrived the other day, it had already started hurting; I suppose it's because I've been thinking about the upcoming imperial examination, my liver fire is flourishing, that such a thing grew out early!"

He added, "Not just me alone; in the academy these past days, quite a few people have grown pimples — Song Xiaoniangzi, my pimple has absolutely nothing to do with that lamb meat, you must absolutely not stop making it because of this!"

Seeing him like this, Song Miao couldn't say anything more, so she just smiled and let it go.

Having collected the pomelos, she packed a food box for Cheng Zijian, then asked roughly how many students had helped her copy books the other day.

Cheng Zijian recalled for a moment, saying, "More than ten or twenty, the exact number I really don't remember; some copied more, some left halfway through because something came up, so it's hard to count — why do you ask?"

"Those books I needed very urgently; thanks to their help, I was able to get them this quickly..."

Song Miao hadn't finished speaking when Cheng Zijian already guessed her meaning, and hurriedly waved his hands repeatedly, saying, "They all came to help on their own initiative, you don't need to worry about it! Besides, even if this favor needs repaying, it's my personal favor; if the Song stall owner steps forward herself, that would be slapping my face!"

Song Miao shook her head, saying, "They were helping me to begin with, how did it become the young master's personal favor? Besides, between me and the young master, we have mutual give and take, already very trusting; favors can be owed indefinitely, and it doesn't matter if they're repaid or not, but outsiders are different."

"I don't have anything else good to give, so I thought of making some food as thanks, it's not anything precious — besides, my family situation, outsiders don't know, but does Young Master Cheng not know?"

"Having thanked them today, who knows, there might be another day when I need to trouble them for help again."

Song Miao was not being polite.

Her coming here to set up a stall naturally carried the intention of borrowing strength to exert strength.

But compared to those students who actively offered to help just now — they were certainly kind-hearted, but ultimately it was just a momentary impulse, and they didn't know there would be so much trouble afterwards.

Whereas these people who helped her copy books already had a preliminary understanding of the Song family's situation, and with Cheng Zijian, an acquaintance, as a bridge, approaching through them was naturally more appropriate.

Song Miao explained so clearly that Cheng Zijian naturally had no reason to refuse; moreover, hearing words like "very trusting," "doesn't matter if repaid or not," "outsiders," his heart truly felt as comfortable as eating ice watermelon in the dog days of summer, and he thought to himself: Exactly, the trust between me and the Song stall owner, how could others compare.

He recalled seriously for a while, saying, "There should be about twenty-five, but those who actually copied the most are at most thirteen or fourteen people — if you want an exact number, it's best to wait until I go back and ask carefully."

"No need to wait; looking at the handwriting in the books, aside from Young Master Cheng who copied the most, not counting him, there should be thirteen who copied a fair amount; the rest who copied less aren't worth counting, but it doesn't matter either; I'll calculate based on thirty-five, erring on the side of more rather than less, is that enough?"

"More than enough! Definitely more!" Cheng Zijian agreed immediately.

Song Miao then said, "Then I'll have to trouble Young Master Cheng to help with one more thing: pass the word to them, just say I intend to send some food over; tomorrow's breakfast and lunch are both covered, ask them to save their appetites — only I can't go in myself; morning is fine, two or three people will suffice; at noon, might need four or five people to help carry things in, don't know if anyone is willing, if it's easy to arrange manpower?"

"What do you mean willing or not! With the Song stall owner's food, never mind four or five, even fourteen or fifteen they'd fight to come!"

But while Cheng Zijian made sweeping promises, he also worried a bit, asking, "You still have to set up stall in the morning, and at noon cook the thank-you meal, all by yourself, how can you manage? Need a helper? Or a few of us can go to your food shop to carry it back, saving you the back and forth!"

Since it's a thank-you gift, how could the benefactor be made to go fetch it herself; Song Miao shook her head smiling, "They're all simple things, not much effort."

The two agreed on the time like this, arranging to meet right here.

As they spoke, the remaining few people who had ordered things came to collect one after another; in the end only one set was left, which was what He Qi ordered yesterday.

Seeing the agreed time had already passed, Song Miao still had many things to prepare in advance today, and didn't want to wait too long, so she had to entrust Cheng Zijian to help deliver it into the Guozixue; if he really couldn't find He Qi himself, he could just eat it himself.

Pushing the cart back home, Song Miao washed what needed washing from the cart, tidied what needed tidying; once cleaned up about seventy-eighty percent, what remained on the cart was just that one cloth bag of pomelos.

She poured them out on the ground to look; six in total, each one large; she didn't have time to eat them now, so she just rolled them aside into a corner, and sat down herself, slowly thinking about how to arrange tomorrow.

Morning she already has to set up stall; if she also makes other things it would definitely be extremely rushed, busy and prone to mistakes; Song Miao also didn't plan to fuss too much, finally decided to make more glutinous rice and shaomai tomorrow, and give each person a soup — by now her glutinous rice and shaomai have gained some fame in the Taixue; students might queue up early and still not be able to buy them; using them as return gifts, I expect it won't be too shabby.

As for lunch, it still needs to be slightly presentable.

Giving a thank-you meal to students of this age, naturally meat cannot be lacking.

Lamb meat, chicken, duck, goose meat are all too expensive; the most suitable price leaves only pork.

She usually returns from stall at a time that's already not early; wanting to cook a meal for thirty-odd people within an hour or two, she can only prepare in advance.

With a direction in mind, Song Miao went to the Fangzi and headed straight for the pork stall.

She planned to make pig trotter rice.

This thing only needs to be braised thoroughly in advance, and isn't afraid of sitting.

When the time comes, cook the rice, slice the braised pig trotters, arrange them on the rice, add some green leaf vegetables, half or whole braised eggs, a spoonful of pickled vegetables, pour braising sauce over; although the cost isn't high, there's meat, vegetables, eggs, students would find it hard not to like... right?

She searched several stalls before Song Miao bought four pairs of pig front trotters and four pairs of pig hind trotters.

Pigs have four trotters; the front two are called pig hands, the rear two are called pig feet; they look like they're all pig trotters, but actually texture and meat quality differ quite a bit.

Front trotters, pig hands, because they bear the most activity of the pig's body, have tighter meat texture, more suitable lean-to-fat ratio.

Compared to front trotters, rear trotters move less and bear less force; this means their meat is fatter, tendons more dispersed; meat quality though not as firm as front trotters, fortunately they don't turn mushy with long cooking, and don't easily become stringy.

Taking the section near the pig's thigh, there's often the most meat; taking the section near the pig's trotter, there's often the most gelatin, mostly skin, not fat meat, very good eating.

And the section of lower leg between the pig's trotter and thigh, because it's between the four toes, carries the hoof tendon, called four ounces of gold; it has tendon, meat, not fat, not lean; after braising it becomes soft and glutinous, and most easily absorbs the braising sauce flavor; it is the trotter among trotters, the essence of the pig.

Having bought the pig trotters and pork, she also picked up two pieces of pig skin, and together with the slaughtered whole chicken, half an old duck, large pig bones, these meats all went into the bamboo basket; just as she hoisted it onto her back, Song Miao felt as if she was pressed down a whole head shorter out of thin air.

She didn't dare delay, afraid that if she delayed outside any longer, she'd get used to being pressed by this mountain of ingredients, and afterwards might find it hard to grow taller.

With meats bought, she couldn't skip buying side dishes.

Song Miao originally wanted to make a three-white soup; one, to reduce internal heat; two, to cleanse the palate; but after walking around the vegetable stall, just as she bought the radish, she saw a stall not far away selling mustard greens.

Mustard greens clear heat, perfectly suited for Cheng Zijian and company who have internal heat; adding some meat into it, compared to three-white soup, the flavor would also be richer; I expect those Taixue students would like it.

Song Miao then changed her mind on the spot, bought some mustard greens.

Before returning home, she specially detoured to the Guangnan Huohang, saving to buy a few dieyu gan and bimu yuzi, also winter vegetables and thin dou fu pi.

Finally everything was bought; arriving home, Song Miao ignored everything else and started making the braising soup first — this takes the longest time, but is the most, most important.

As long as the braising soup flavor is right, never mind pig trotters, even throwing a pair of straw sandal soles in would let you eat a bowl of rice with that braising sauce flavor.

All were fresh meat and bones; blanching would lose the meat flavor, so after washing them clean, she put them straight into the pot: one whole chicken, half an old duck, several pork bones, two pieces of cleaned pigskin, plus sea fish and ginger to slowly simmer the broth.

This broth needed to simmer over low heat; it could not be rushed.

Song Miao then moved a chair beside the stove, resting while watching the fire.

She had been busy from midnight through the morning, running back and forth; to say she wasn't tired would be false.

Running a stall alone, she had to cook, sell, purchase supplies, and occasionally buy fresh food or receive gifts—she really was a bit overwhelmed.

But if she hired someone at the price that student suggested today, good help wasn't so easy to find.

She was alone to begin with; hiring a young, childish person might not help much, and hiring an experienced one required guarding against being manipulated.

Still, she was too poor now, with too many debts, far from being able to consider hiring help.

Song Miao merely set the matter aside for now, planning to consider it again when conditions allowed.

She caught a few fitful naps like a chick pecking at grain, then got up to prepare the ingredients for tomorrow's glutinous rice, and leisurely fried seven or eight meat rolls—these were to accompany pig trotter rice, made by chopping hind leg meat into minced meat, mixing it with preserved vegetables, fried garlic, and other seasonings, spreading it evenly on thin bean curd skin, rolling it up, and frying it in oil, called meat rolls.

Since Song Miao didn't much like the old soy-egg taste and preferred tender eggs, she boiled thirty or forty eggs, half six-tenths done, half seven-tenths done.

Taking advantage of having all ingredients on hand, especially the green onion oil which was quite rare—fried over low fire with scallions, cilantro, green onions, small onions, and garlic heads—compared to before, several more things had been added; the fragrance was indescribable.

After simmering the green onion oil, she wrapped most of the leftover fried bits in cloth with most of the salted pig trotters; there was still a little left, just right for making soy eggs.

She peeled the eggs, soaked them in seasoned liquid, and Song Miao matched raw and cooked seasonings, specially adding plenty of evodia to add spice, then covered the lid to let them slowly absorb flavor.

By now the sky was growing dark, the sun about to set, and the broth had finally simmered long enough.

The broth with dried fish added had a flavor completely different from the meat broth made with only chicken, duck, and pork.

Even without opening the lid, the house was filled with an extremely rich aroma.

Dried fish had its own sea flavor; those unaccustomed would find it extremely fishy, but after long simmering, the broth's taste would be richer by far, with an indescribable freshness.

When the smell was right, Song Miao also toasted various seasonings over low fire.

Spices were expensive; with her current means, she couldn't match them all, but grass fruit, Sichuan pepper, bay leaves, dried tangerine peel, licorice, and so on were ordinarily priced, enough to make do.

She prepared the seasonings, put them in a fine gauze bag, crushed them with the back of a knife, soaked them in water to remove bitterness, mixed them with the green onion oil prepared earlier, then added soy sauce and other seasonings.

The pig trotters had already been scorched over high fire by the stall owner; now she scrubbed them clean with effort and added them all in to slowly braise over low fire.

Braising was most troublesome—not only was the early preparation extremely complicated, but even after the braising liquid was ready, one still had to watch the fire.

But the benefit was that once the braising liquid was made, if properly stored afterward, it would get more fragrant the longer it was kept and could be used for a long time.

After finishing the other matters seven or eight parts, the pig trotters were also about done braising.

Unable to wait until tomorrow, and rarely making such troublesome things, Song Miao first cut a few pieces of meat—it took no effort at all, the meat surrendered at the touch of the knife; after blowing a few breaths, she, being near the water, got the moon first, and was the first to taste it.

The meat was hot, steaming, already braised very tender; a touch with chopsticks, if she didn't hold back her strength, it would poke right through.

As soon as it entered her mouth, the texture was indeed extremely soft and glutinous; even the lean meat was not at all dry, melting at a bite.

The braising liquid's flavor was also as expected—fragrant; combined with the meat fragrance, when chewing, its richness was such that even Song Miao herself, having made it with her own hands, couldn't help but smile.

She didn't have time to prepare anything else; eating just these few pieces of meat, she polished off a steamed bun she had bought on her way back during the day.

Busy from daytime into night, finally everything was prepared, just waiting for tomorrow.

The next day she rose again at dawn.

After steaming the glutinous rice and putting the various wrapped shaomai into the pot, and ladling out the broth drinks, Song Miao finally went out the door.

The portions prepared today were especially large, so the cart was particularly heavy; even though she left early, pushing a while, stopping a while, by the time she arrived it was already later than usual.

By now there were already quite a few people watching the wind at the entrance of Food Alley; seeing her cart, some ran back with all speed, as if to report to someone, while two others hurried forward to welcome her, volunteering to help push the cart.

Song Miao hurriedly thanked them, saying there was no need.

The two were very enthusiastic; one was so anxious he was about to grab the cart, and still didn't forget to explain: "Song Xiaoniangzi, we were called over by Cheng Zijian to help you—we're not the sort who can't get a spot and rush to cut in line!"

Song Miao suddenly realized: this was someone she had arranged with Cheng Zijian yesterday to come pick up breakfast.

She smiled: "So you're the benefactor who kindly helped me copy books—where is Young Master Cheng? Wait a moment; let me find a spot to set up the stall, then I'll give you the things."

Another person beside her had already put one hand on Song Miao's cart, helping to push, and said: "Zijian went to borrow baskets and won't be back for a while; Song Stall Owner, how can you be so polite? If you won't let us lend a hand, how can we feel good about eating your glutinous rice?"

"Exactly, exactly! If just copying a few characters could get us so many good things to eat, that would be too easy—after all, we're scholars; we can't be that shameless!" The first speaker half-snatched, half-persuaded, taking the cart handle from Song Miao's hand.

Afraid the two would fight over it and tip the cart over—that would be counterproductive—Song Miao had to step aside and hold the cart body too, letting him steer.

While speaking, they had already arrived inside Food Alley.