Chapter 74: The Marvelous Kitchen Chapter Seventy-Four: Unexpected

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

The two small workers heard this, glanced at Song Miao once, then hurriedly ran toward the opposite side.

Su Shifu had given Song Miao several displays of authority in succession; now he called the small workers over and immediately had them running around in circles under his direction.

He first had this one cut and chop meat, then shouted at that one to pick scallion flowers and tend the fire, while he himself squatted to one side, rummaging through boxes and cabinets, no one knew what he was busy with, clattering noisily.

After fiddling for a long while, he took a small lock and locked the cabinet, then returned to the chopping board, kneading the dough on the board with all his might, putting on an appearance as if there was nothing in his eyes but work, not saying a word to Song Miao.

Song Miao had long received Han Li's warning and knew that Zheng Guanren was mostly looking for trouble; seeing him take Su Shifu out, and then the latter return with this trick, she found it unsurprising.

The Da Wei government offices had fixed quotas and staffing; cooks were all hired externally, paid only by the month.

Hired cooks wanting to stay stable still had to listen to the current manager—this Su Shifu was merely acting on Zheng Guanren's orders.

Though the troublemaker wasn't him, this behavior of picking good meat and snatching people was truly detestable.

However, Zheng Guanren had already hidden himself away; if Song Miao started a quarrel with Su Shifu now, whether she would suffer a loss was another matter, but time would definitely be delayed.

Song Miao couldn't be bothered to argue with him in detail; she rummaged through the seasonings in those basins, jars, and cabinets, saw that everything else was present, only oil was missing, and asked: "May I ask Su Shifu, where is the oil in the back kitchen?"

"Oh dear! It seems to be used up!" Su Shifu only then raised his head, answering with a serious air, "I said yesterday it was used up, and was about to go get more, but just never had a free hand."

Speaking, he lifted the oil pot before him, opened the lid to show Song Miao, and said: "I only have a little left here; I need it soon for mixing filling and kneading dough, and can't wait. Once they finish cleaning up, I'll send someone to get more—you go do something else first!"

Then, in Song Miao's presence, he shouted: "Dabing, once you've chopped the filling, go get two buckets of oil from Zheng Guanren."

The small worker called Dabing was stunned for a moment, and only after a good while answered in assent.

How could Song Miao fail to see there was something fishy going on?

The other side was deliberately delaying; who knew when that oil could be fetched back.

If it couldn't be fetched back and there was no oil, were these dishes supposed to be boiled in water?

But Song Miao didn't argue with him; after searching around, she saw that condiments like evodia, mustard seed, Sichuan pepper, and fermented black beans were all complete, and there was even a large cloth bag of shrimp skins and dried shiitake; after making a round, she also saw a basket of mung bean sprouts in a large basket in the corner.

Since Su Shifu had said she could use the kitchen ingredients as she pleased, she asked no more, took a bowl, and was about to scoop up the seasonings she needed when she heard someone outside the door ask: "Which one is Song Xiaoniangzi?"

Song Miao turned to look and saw two miscellaneous servants standing outside, so she answered: "It is I."

The two hurried inside and introduced themselves; they were the ones Han Li had arranged to help. Although they had no cooking skills to speak of, they had cooked before and both knew how to tend a fire.

Song Miao greeted the two, then asked one to tend the fire and sit by the pot, and asked the other to wash rice and cook with her.

A large pot of rice differs from a small pot; wanting it cooked through and fragrant is not easy. If one doesn't pay proper attention to the heat, the bottom will burn while the upper layers remain uncooked, or the top will be soggy and soft while the bottom is dry.

At this moment, in a rush, there was no time to soak the rice in water beforehand.

But Song Miao had experience; her method was to steam and cook twice. After the first steaming, once steam rose, she steamed for two incense sticks' worth of time, then poured out the cooked rice to let it cool uncovered for a moment, then added water and oil, mixed evenly, and steamed and cooked again.

Rice steamed this way, even if it's inferior or aged rice, will taste much more fragrant and soft.

After washing the rice, just as she put the full thirty jin of rice and water into the pot to steam, Su Shifu, who had originally kept his head down, saw her movements, watched for a long while, and then spoke: "I have steamed buns and Steamed Bun here, and also baked flatbreads to eat. You're still cooking rice—how could it all be eaten?"

But Song Miao didn't believe him at all. This behavior was precisely to guard against this person causing more trouble, so she said: "It doesn't matter. Prepare it first. If someone is hungry at night, we can make fried rice with it."

The other furrowed his brow, glanced at the oil pot before him, gave a cold snort, but in the end said nothing.

Song Miao didn't pay him any mind; taking advantage of the spare time, she carefully considered how to best combine the kitchen ingredients.

The Censor, yamen runners, clerks, and others of the Left and Right Military Patrol Academy had been busy all day, and next had to continue staying up all night. If they were given only clear soup and water at night, it simply wouldn't do, and they couldn't endure it.

Song Miao felt that although the ingredients couldn't be called abundant, she still had to find a way to give them a filling meal.

The meat remaining was only pork belly and beef.

Beef is good meat, with fat and lean intermingled, but there were only four or five jin.

This meat shrinks a lot when cooked; once cooked, if seventy percent remained that would be good. Sliced and spread over a hundred or so people, no matter how good the knife skills or how thinly sliced, each person wouldn't get much at all—it simply wouldn't be presentable.

But on the counter there was still a board of tofu, and the cabinet also had fermented black beans, Sichuan pepper, evodia, mustard seed, and other seasonings—perfect for making beef minced spicy tofu.

When the time comes, adjust it to three or four parts spicy; that level of spiciness would be acceptable to more people, and even Guangnan people could barely manage it. It would go well with rice, and be delicious used to fill flatbreads, Steamed Bun, or buns.

Once the rice-accompanying dish was settled, she needed to think of a proper meat dish.

Time was tight; there was no time to simmer or braise meat. The usable pork belly came in whole slabs, very fatty. That pig, who knows how much it had snatched from its trough mates while alive—even its fatty parts were thicker than those of a proper pig. If not handled well, it would be extremely greasy.

She thought it over; better to simply pan-fry it. When the time came, shovel it out hot from the pot—crispy and fragrant on the outside, meaty fragrance within. Cut into large slices with a knife; though it couldn't be called a grand dish, the flavor would definitely not be bad.

Large pot dishes are hard to have wok aroma, but pan-fried pork belly doesn't fear that. Cook it over low fire, and only start slicing when people arrive—that will preserve the fragrance.

The main meat and rice-accompanying dish were both settled; now add a vegetable dish and a soup.

Three dishes and one soup; as long as the portions are sufficient, even someone with a huge belly and intestines could be filled to bursting, and wouldn't be able to be picky.

Having made up her mind, Song Miao didn't go ask Su Shifu. Instead, she asked the two miscellaneous servants about the usual mealtime, glanced at the water clock in the corner, and silently calculated the time in her heart.

Cooking sometimes isn't just about skill. When there are many dishes and large quantities, in the end what matters is calculation and coordination ability.

How to make different dishes all come out of the pot at their best texture at the same time; how to adjust seasonings according to the quantity of dishes—all rely on calculation.

Relying only on feel is fine for a small family table, but large pot dishes are very hard to make well.

After deciding on the dishes and the time each would take, and planning the use of pots, stoves, and manpower, Song Miao then called the two miscellaneous servants over.

She first pointed to the water clock, then separately instructed the two on what each should do, the order, and by when each task must be completed. After finishing speaking, she asked: "I don't know if the two of you can manage it, can you do it?"

It was only washing vegetables, tending fires, cutting vegetables, and other miscellaneous tasks, requiring no cooking skills at all. The two thumped their chests and agreed.

After arranging these, Song Miao immediately washed the slab of pork belly with water. When the pot was hot, she placed the skin side directly into the hot pot to sear the surface, burning off the pigskin's gamey smell. After washing it clean again, she cut it into palm-sized pieces, about half a cun thick, roughly uniform in size. She then separately removed the fattest part and sliced it thinly.

—There was no oil at the moment, so she naturally couldn't pin her hopes on waiting. She added water, ginger, and such to the thin slices of fatty meat, and first slowly rendered out some oil.

While the oil rendered here, on the other side she put the chunks of pork belly into the pot with cold water, added ginger, scallion, and salt, brought it to a boil over high heat, then turned to low heat to let it simmer.

At this time, the two miscellaneous servants: one was helping chop and cut the beef, the other was washing cabbage and bean sprouts.

Song Miao saw they were doing things smoothly, so she didn't interfere further. She went to lay out the seasonings and condiments she would use, chopped scallion, ginger, garlic, and other ingredients, and only then began to beat the eggs.

There wasn't time to simmer soup, but she didn't want to serve just a clear broth; she happened to have shredded napa cabbage and eggs, and flour was on hand. Though there was no pepper—after all, it was too expensive—Sichuan pepper could suffice, and she could whip up a Lanhudai Cabbage Tang.

The soup was fragrant and rich; using a little less flour so it wasn't too thick-pasted would make it very pleasant to eat.

There were still those bean sprouts; stir-fry them with vinegar later, divide them among several small pots, and stir-fry one pot at intervals. Though she would work harder herself, it would guarantee the bean sprouts stayed crisp and refreshing, without wilting.

After Song Miao cracked all the eggs and beat them evenly, she went to check the oil simmering over low heat in the pot; it was ready. There was also that pot of boiled pork belly; she poked it with chopsticks and easily pierced it, so it was ready too.

She ladled out both, washed the pot, kept the small fire under the stove, laid the pork belly pieces one by one on the pot bottom, added no oil and no other seasonings, letting them fry slowly, then turned to check the rice.

Sure enough, the first batch of rice was already cooked.

At that moment, a miscellaneous servant had just finished washing the shredded napa cabbage and had a free hand, so Song Miao called him over to help ladle the rice out and transfer it into a large basin, add water and the freshly rendered lard, stir it all together, let the rice grains sit to absorb water and absorb oil, then return them to the pot to steam and cook again.

Though there were only two miscellaneous servants, and both were entering this yamen's back kitchen for the first time, Song Miao led them, assigned tasks item by item, instructed orally and demonstrated by hand. Most importantly, she arranged only extremely simple tasks that they could learn at once. All her instructions were done one thing at a time, then another, with every step fitting together extremely properly.

The two did as told, neither hurried nor busy, and instead both appeared neat and efficient in their movements.

Song Miao kept praising them, praising this vegetable as washed clean, leaves broken neatly and sized appropriately, praising that meat as chopped fine and fast, and the fire as well watched and tightly watched.

However, in the same kitchen, the scene at the opposite white kitchen station was completely different.

Those two small workers might be helping at the white kitchen station for the first time; they didn't know if they were just clumsy or for some other reason, and were scolded nonstop by Su Shifu.

The cook grumbled that one person's steamed buns had too much meat filling and would easily burst open later, then said another's dough portions weren't even, so the buns wrapped afterward would be big and small, not good for steaming.

His temper was clearly not good; his voice was very loud and noisy, and he cursed terribly in his mouth. Sometimes while speaking, he would even kick with his foot, and use his oily hand to slap the head of the large flatbread—the latter half-dodged and half-sidestepped to avoid it.

Song Miao watched, frowning continuously.

She couldn't stand Su Shifu, but she didn't know that Su Shifu opposite had also been observing her all along, observing while his inner anger grew greater.

—Song Miao here used two novices and made them work so well, while he used two experienced hands and was still bumbling, making it seem as if he couldn't manage people at all.

He cursed and swore, but was actually distracted observing Song Miao's movements, from time to time finding excuses to walk over and look closely, only guessing what she wanted to do.

This cook actually didn't quite believe a young young lady could make anything good in such a rush, but seeing her conduct orderly and methodical, his annoyance rose, especially when he saw Song Miao cut fatty pork belly at the very beginning to render oil, which made him even more furious.

However, when he saw Song Miao later cutting palm-thick slices of pork belly, Su Chuzi breathed a sigh of relief, his cursing voice lowered somewhat, and a smile involuntarily appeared on his face.

This woman, cutting the pork belly into such palm-thick, palm-long slices, must be making ba zi Meat, right?

If making ba zi Meat, with less than half a shi left, it was absolutely impossible to cook well; the meat would definitely be fatty and greasy!

Especially today he had carefully examined that pork belly; it was extremely fatty, and besides, right now in the kitchen she could only find a small jug of soy sauce, and the sugar had been taken away by him; the seasonings were not complete at all, far from enough. When the time came to feed those censors and yamen runners, wouldn't they scold her?

Besides, there was no oil.

He had just seen clearly that the bit of oil the other side had rendered earlier was all poured into the rice; did she really expect someone to bring her oil back?

The dream was quite beautiful!

Setting his mind at ease, Su Shifu turned to glance at the water clock, only to discover that the time was already pressing, while he himself had been busy watching the excitement and had hardly tended to his own work. If it got any later, he feared he wouldn't have time to steam and wrap, so he hurriedly lowered his head to work.

Song Miao didn't know the other side had so much idle time.

She timed it to flip the fried pork belly several times; after two rounds under the pot, by now a little over half a pot of lard had been rendered.

She poured the lard into a hot pot to the side, then directly from a height poured the beaten egg liquid in thinly, pouring while using chopsticks to stir circles in the pot.

Hot pot, hot lard meeting egg liquid soon burst forth an extremely rich fried egg aroma, scattered by the chopsticks into fine small pieces of egg.

Song Miao fried two large basins in a row, adding some Sichuan pepper grains among them, making the rich aroma of the fried eggs carry a slight pungent note, very flavor-enhancing.

She put in a lot of lard; rather than saying it was fried eggs, it was more like half-fried half-deep-fried, and the aroma bursting forth was truly rich, drawing the two miscellaneous servants to involuntarily turn their heads to look.

Not only were the miscellaneous servants watching, but those two small workers opposite were also secretly poking their heads over to look.

Song Miao focused on cooking and naturally paid no attention; she was just adding flour to the oil, stir-frying it over low heat until fragrant, and had just added boiling water when she heard the opposite side go "Clang!", followed by consecutive "Bang bang" sounds, not knowing what messy thing had fallen to the ground, immediately followed by an "Ow!" of a miserable cry.

She was startled at once, not knowing what had happened, and hurriedly raised her head to look.