Chapter 4: Chapter 3: It’ll Work for Sure This Time
Zhou Yan moved to the noodle-making area, lifted the lid off an enamel basin, and sprinkled a handful of flour onto the countertop. He took half the dough, pulled it from both ends, and gave it a sharp flick. The dough stretched out evenly. With a gentle shake, it twisted naturally into a rope-like shape. He repeated this several times, coiling the dough into a long, uniform strand.
With the strand coiled, he grasped both ends and began to pull with force. He stretched it to his full arm’s length, then folded it in half to stretch it again. With each flick and pull, the long rope of dough transformed into thin, round noodles.
Zhao Tieying and the other two watched, their eyes lighting up.
Zhou Yan’s technique was simply masterful. The dough flipped and folded in his hands, and before they could get a good look, it had transformed into thin, long strands of hand-pulled noodles. The entire process was as fluid as flowing water, a dazzling sight to behold.
"Wow! Is Brother doing a magic trick? He turned the big ball of dough into long noodles!" Zhou Momo’s mouth hung open in utter astonishment.
"His noodle-pulling technique is way better than that Wang the Fifth’s. I never thought he was hiding a skill like this," Zhou Miao said with admiration. ’He’s my son, after all.’
"His skill is impressive. Looks like he made his fair share of hand-pulled noodles at the canteen," Zhao Tieying agreed, nodding repeatedly. Making noodle dishes was her greatest weakness in the kitchen.
While they were talking, Zhou Yan finished pulling the noodles. The strands were thin and uniform, looking plump and smooth. He was thrilled with himself for being able to achieve such a result on the first attempt.
He pinched off the thick clump of dough at the very end and dropped the noodles directly into the pot of rolling, boiling water beside him.
The moment the noodles hit the pot, he lined up three large bowls and one small one on the stove and began to prepare the base seasoning.
Sichuan peppercorn powder, MSG, soy sauce, and a spoonful of chili oil.
Just as the base for the sauce was ready, the noodles floated to the surface of the roiling water.
He plunged a large, bamboo-woven strainer into the pot, gave it two sharp shakes, and poured the noodles into a bowl. Then he ladled a scoop of the freshly stir-fried double pepper beef topping over it. A bowl of Double Pepper Beef Noodles was complete.
Zhou Yan had been starving all day, and even he couldn’t help but gulp.
Even by his own high standards, this serving of Double Pepper Beef Noodles was exceptional. Most noodle shops wouldn’t go to the trouble of making them by hand.
There was no need for ceremony among family. Zhou Miao and Zhou Yan each carried two bowls out of the kitchen and set them on the table.
Zhou Momo trotted out after them. The little girl wasn’t even as tall as the table. She tried to clamber onto the long bench herself, but after a good deal of scrambling, she still couldn’t make it up. Her two little pigtails swung back and forth as she grew more and more frantic.
Zhou Yan casually lifted her onto the bench and had her sit beside him.
Zhao Tieying picked up her chopsticks and gave the noodles a stir. The white strands were instantly stained by the red chili oil and coated in the beef topping. The steaming fragrance of the noodles, mingled with the aroma of meat and spice, wafted straight into her nostrils. It was a feast for the senses.
She couldn’t help but exclaim, "Wow, these noodles look way better than anything Wang the Fifth makes."
"Give it a taste," Zhou Yan said with a smile, his expression full of anticipation.
Double Pepper Beef Noodles are meant to be eaten dry-tossed!
The flour had yielded an impressive amount of noodles. Zhou Momo, being only three and a half, was given a small bowl, while the other three each received a hefty portion.
In those days, people’s diets were lean, and they had the hearty appetites of hard workers. Naturally, you couldn’t be stingy with your own family.
SLURP!
Zhao Tieying lifted a thick bundle of noodles with her chopsticks. They were coated in sauce and topping, glistening with oil. She brought them to her lips and devoured them with a single slurp.
Numbing, spicy, and savory flavors exploded on the tip of her tongue. The chewy noodles were mixed with bits of beef that were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, all infused with the fiery heat of millet chilis. The unique tang of pickled peppers and ginger added yet another layer of complexity.
’Delicious! This is absolutely delicious!’
Their family was no stranger to beef; she often kept the unsold trimmings for them to eat at home. But she had to admit, the beef she cooked was never as delicious as what Zhou Yan had just made.
’This beef topping isn’t just good on noodles,’ she thought. ’It would be absolutely incredible over rice, too!’
One bite followed another; it was so good she couldn’t stop eating.
Although they were "dry" noodles, the topping was rich with savory oils, making every mouthful incredibly smooth and not the least bit dry. It was utterly satisfying.
"These noodles are fantastic, even better than your Shredded Cucumber," Zhao Tieying said after swallowing a mouthful, looking right at Zhou Yan. "If you wanted to turn the restaurant into a noodle shop, I would fully support it. With a bowl of noodles like this, there’s no one in the whole commune who could compete. I guarantee it would be a success."
Since the restaurant had opened, people from the commune and the village had been gossiping and making fun of Zhou Yan and his parents.
Zhao Tieying was known throughout the area as a cantankerous woman, with fists as sharp as her tongue. In her youth, people had nicknamed her the Iron Maiden. She had managed to stomach all the gossip aimed at her lately.
They could talk about her all they wanted, but not about Zhou Yan.
If anyone dared to say a bad word about Zhou Yan to her face, she would genuinely march right up and tear their foul mouth to shreds.
She knew Zhou Yan was under immense pressure and had been in low spirits lately; she worried he wouldn’t be able to bear hearing too much of the idle talk.
Although the thought of the wasted money hurt, the thought of her son’s pain hurt even more.
It was about eight hundred yuan. If worst came to worst, she and her husband could scrimp and save for a few years and pay it off.
But what mother doesn’t want to see her son be capable and successful?
This bowl of noodles had far exceeded her expectations, and it finally gave her hope that Zhou Yan could make a living from his craft.
With that said, she lowered her head and took another huge bite, forcing back the tears that were welling in the corners of her eyes.
"Let me try," Zhou Miao said, taking a large bite. His eyes instantly lit up.
Zhou Miao loved noodles. He usually started his work—butchering cattle—in the middle of the night, and by morning, he’d find a stall for a bowl of noodles. When it came to noodle-eating, he considered himself a semi-expert.
Dry-tossed noodles were usually made with a pork topping. Half-fatty, half-lean pork was naturally oily, so it didn’t require much extra oil when stir-frying the topping.
