What Zhao Tieying said made both Zhou Yan and Zhao Hong chuckle.
"Fourth Grandma, Youngest Uncle!" Zhou Lihui greeted them with a simple smile, standing ramrod straight with his schoolbag on his back.
"Huihui, you’re up early as always," Zhou Yan said with a smile.
"He was reciting his lessons the whole way here. It’s the first ti I’ve ever seen him take the initiative to study. He said he wants to learn every single character," Zhao Hong said, full of pride.
Zhou Yan nodded upon hearing this. "That’s the kind of drive he needs."
"Mhm." Zhou Lihui nodded emphatically.
Zhou Liangliang wasn’t afraid of Zhou Yan, but he still felt a little intimidated by Zhao Tieying. He happened to look up and et her gaze, so he could only force a smile and say, "Mrs. Zhao, you’re here early."
"I’m not early. You lot are the ones with sharp noses, showing up the second you sll sothing good." Zhao Tieying’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Zhou Liangliang’s mother, Gao Cuihua, was the village’s Won’s Director. She had lost a fight with Zhao Tieying two years ago over Zhou Momo’s household registration, becoming a defeated foe hardly worth ntioning.
Zhou Liangliang gave an awkward, foolish laugh, not daring to reply.
He was far too low-level, and he knew he was no match for a shrew like Zhao Tieying.
Seeing that he didn’t even dare to respond, Zhao Tieying lost interest and looked away.
Zhou Yan lifted Zhou Momo out of the back basket and gently placed her on the bed.
The little one was like a caterpillar; the mont she touched the bed, she burrowed under the covers and continued to sleep soundly.
Zhou Yan tucked the corners of the quilt in for her, then turned and went downstairs.
Outside the restaurant, Zhou Jie parked his bicycle by the side of the road, locked it, and glanced at the stall across the street. He was a little surprised. "Zhou Liangliang? Why did they move their stall here?"
"They moved it here yesterday," Zhou Yan said with a laugh. "Probably think business will be better next to ."
"That son of a bitch has so nerve. Back then, he saw my business was good and insisted on setting up his stall next to mine. Now he sees your business is good, so he moves across from you. Does he think we brothers are easy to bully?" Zhou Jie’s face darkened, and he rolled up his sleeves, ready to march across the street.
"Co on, let it go. It’s not easy for anyone." Zhou Yan quickly pulled him back. "Just let him set up. If he doesn’t, soone else will. When you’re in this business, it all cos down to skill and flavor."
"But..."
"He only sold ten to twenty bowls a day when he was next to you. His business can’t be much better across from ," Zhou Yan said with a smile. "That couple isn’t the type to put in honest work. They haven’t even mastered selling their soup pot, and now they want to add noodles. They’re biting off more than they can chew."
Zhou Jie looked at Zhou Yan’s confident expression and smiled too. "Makes sense."
"Co on, I’ll teach you the authentic way to make Kneeling Beef today."
"Kneeling Beef? Isn’t it just a soup pot?"
"’Soup pot’ doesn’t have enough of a gimmick, so I’m using ’Kneeling Beef,’ a na the older generation used." Zhou Yan led Zhou Jie to the sign in front of the earthen stove to show him the brand’s little story.
After reading it, Zhou Jie nodded repeatedly. "It does look more high-class than ’soup pot.’ You’re the smart one."
"Co on, I’ll teach you how to make it today." Zhou Yan walked into the restaurant.
"Mrs. Zhao, Sister-in-law." Zhou Jie greeted them as he entered. Seeing Zhou Lihui standing to the side, he was a bit surprised. "Eh? Huihui, what are you doing in the shop?"
"Third Uncle, I’m here to learn how to cook from Youngest Uncle," Zhou Lihui replied.
"Aren’t you in your last year of junior high? Are you quitting school?" Zhou Jie asked, confused.
"He’s still going to school. He cos over with his mom in the morning to help out until seven-thirty, and then he heads to school," Zhou Yan explained. "He wants to be a Chef, so I’m just letting him get a feel for it first."
"It’s a great idea to learn cooking from your Youngest Uncle! He’s incredibly skilled. Even I’m here to learn from him today," Zhou Jie said, smiling as he put an arm around Zhou Lihui’s shoulder. "From now on, we’ll be fellow apprentices under the sa master."
"So... does that an you’ll call Senior Brother? And I’ll call you Third Uncle?" Zhou Lihui asked with an expectant look.
"In your dreams. It’s more like you should be calling Senior Brother," Zhou Jie said, lightly tapping him on the head.
Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere beca light and cheerful.
"Alright, Jie, let’s start with how to make the stock today." Zhou Yan smiled and beckoned Zhou Jie over. Then he said to Zhou Lihui, "Huihui, this morning, you’re in charge of fetching water. You need to fill this pot."
"Got it, Master Zhou," Zhou Jie said with a smile.
"Got it! Master Zhou!" Zhou Lihui also turned and headed for the kitchen.
Zhou Yan began by explaining how to arrange the bones in the pot, how many bones to use for one pot of soup, which cuts of bone to use, the exact quantities, the selection of beef offal... he explained everything in ticulous detail.
Zhou Jie held a small notebook, writing down all the key points Zhou Yan ntioned.
He had been making soup pots for two years, and what Zhou Yan was saying wasn’t actually all that different.
But the difference between a good Chef and an ordinary one lay precisely in those subtle distinctions. Zhou Jie understood this principle very well.
His own soup pot had managed to stand out among so many stalls at the docks precisely because of the small differentiations he had painstakingly researched. Subtle differences determined the flavor of a whole pot of soup.
Even a slight difference in the amount of spices could result in a completely different tasting soup.
Zhou Lihui poured bucket after bucket of water into the pot, working with great effort.
Although he was only fifteen, he had the inexhaustible strength of an ox. He could even carry two buckets of water at once. This was practically a family talent.
"These are the spices, and here are several types of Chinese dicinal herbs..." Zhou Yan held a small scale, weighing the ingredients as he packed them into a cheesecloth bag. "The asurents must be precise. Too little, and they won’t be effective. Too much, and the flavor will be overwhelming, turning the soup into dicine that’s impossible to drink."
"Adding so many dicinal herbs... the cost must be pretty high, right?" Zhou Jie asked, a little surprised.
"If it were the sa as the soup pots everyone else sells, I wouldn’t dare charge sixty cents," Zhou Yan laughed.
"So you really are putting the good stuff in," Zhou Jie nodded, carefully noting down the quantities of each spice and herb.
"Don’t let the fire get too hot at the beginning. Use a fine-sh skimr to remove the scum little by little. If you do this step well, the broth will be clear, without any impurities. It’ll be pleasant to look at and to drink—savory, not gay." Zhou Yan handed the skimr to Zhou Jie. "From here on, you just have to watch the pot and keep skimming. A low, slow simr is all it needs. I’ll have my mom tell you the other things to watch out for."
Zhou Yan had Mrs. Zhao take over the coaching duties while he went into the kitchen to start making the toppings and stir-frying the ground at sauce.
Zhou Lihui beca his little assistant, tasked with nial jobs like washing vegetables and tending the fire.
He should have started by practicing his Knife Skills, but the restaurant didn’t have any spare ingredients for him to practice with, so they had to put it off for now.
The young man didn’t complain in the slightest. He sat in front of the stove, his gaze as determined as soone cramming for a graduate school entrance exam.
Zhao Hong watched this scene with a smile, then went to the doorway to join Zhao Tieying for a chat.
「Around seven o’clock」
Workers started arriving for their shifts.
Zhou Yan placed the notice he had written yesterday in a conspicuous spot by the entrance. It was an advance announcent: Effective imdiately, Zhou Yan Restaurant would only serve noodles in the morning. For lunch and dinner, it would only offer braised and stir-fried dishes.
Across the street, Zhou Liangliang and his wife began to hawk their wares at the top of their lungs: "Noodles for sale! Noodles for sale! Fifty cents a bowl! Only fifty cents a bowl!"
"Cheapskates. They’re ten cents cheaper than us and shouting about it so loudly," Zhou Jie muttered, grinding his teeth in frustration.
Zhao Tieying was perfectly calm. "Don’t worry. Wang the Fifth is eating prison food now. The feng shui of that spot isn’t very good. They won’t succeed."
The buzz from the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute students eating there two als in a row hadn’t faded yet. Many of the workers who hadn’t gotten to try the noodles the day before yesterday had already decided this morning to co and see for themselves just how delicious the noodles at Zhou Yan Restaurant were, to have earned such high praise from the university students.
Zhou Liangliang’s shouting did manage to attract the attention of a few workers.
"Zhou Liangliang’s soup pot and noodles? Is this an internal struggle in Zhou Village?"
"He took over Wang the Fifth’s noodle stall to sell noodles. Looks like he’s trying to challenge Zhou Yan. I wonder how his cooking skills are?"
"That’s the Zhou Village soup pot simring in that pot, right? It’s ten cents cheaper than Zhou Yan Restaurant’s, but doesn’t a normal Zhou Village soup pot only sell for thirty cents?"
Once their curiosity was piqued, a few people naturally drifted over to take a look.
Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua quickly plastered on smiles, their hearts blooming with joy. ’Business at the entrance of the textile factory really is easy! A fifty-cent bowl of noodles can attract so many workers with just a shout, and they can all afford it.’
But as soon as they got close, the workers all frowned.
A gay sll of improperly cleaned beef offal wafted out of the soup pot with the steam, hitting them in the face and making them pause.
Then they looked at the few basins of noodle toppings set out in front of the noodle pot.
The ground at sauce was dry and crumbly, not the least bit rich or moist.
The braised beef had lost its shape and was just a mushy ss in the basin, clearly overcooked.
The color of the chicken giblets was all wrong—pale white and completely unappetizing.
"What is this ss of toppings and sauce? My grandma’s cooking is better than this. He’s not even as good as Wang the Fifth!"
"Can just anyone set up a stall these days?"
"He’s selling this stuff for fifty cents? Even Wang the Fifth wasn’t that greedy."
The workers shook their heads and turned to leave, as if they had made up their minds about sothing.
The custors who loved noodles were a discerning bunch; they had standards.
The smiles on Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua’s faces froze. Confused, bewildered, and resentful, they watched as the custors walked straight toward Zhou Yan Restaurant.
Of course, the smiles hadn’t disappeared.
They had simply moved to the faces of Zhao Tieying and Zhou Jie.
"Co on in, dearies, have a seat! The pickled radishes today are fantastic..."
Mrs. Zhao greeted the arriving custors with a wide, beaming smile.
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