Chapter 44: Chapter 38: Legacy
Zhang Shufen proved with her actions that their tight-knit, grandmother-grandson bond was no match for this pot of aged marinade.
CLANG!
The lid was slammed shut. The old lady protected that pot of aged marinade like a cow protecting its calf.
But...
’He was a calf too, wasn’t he?’
’Just a moment ago, she was calling me her precious grandson.’
"Scram." Zhang Shufen waved her hand, warning, "If you dare touch my aged marinade, I’ll immediately call Tie Ying and Zhou Miao over for a mixed-doubles beating."
"I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare! Grandma, I was just kidding," Zhou Yan said, quickly waving his hands.
He had no doubt that if Mrs. Zhao and Comrade Zhou were successfully summoned, he’d probably end up crying harder than Fanwa.
After all, even Comrade Zhou was afraid of getting beaten.
This pot of aged marinade was the old lady’s pride and joy. She had nurtured it for over a decade, bringing it to a boil every few days to maintain it.
Getting to eat the old lady’s braised dishes during holidays and festivals was the entire family’s greatest anticipation.
This system-triggered quest seemed simple, but in reality, it was completely impossible to complete.
Unless he came to sneak it away in the middle of the night.
But at that point, it wouldn’t just be a matter of a mixed-doubles beating from his parents.
While filming videos, Zhou Yan had met many cold-dish chefs. More than one had said, "Pickles, chili oil, and marinade are a cold-dish chef’s three treasures. You don’t let just anyone touch them. It’s like a butcher’s cleaver—if you touch it, they’ll fight you to the death."
This wasn’t hard to understand.
A pot of aged marinade is the result of daily care and maintenance. The amount of time and effort invested is unknown to outsiders.
But if it fell into the hands of a novice or someone who didn’t know how to cherish it, it could be ruined in just three days.
Anyone in that situation would flip out.
The old lady looked at him and asked, "You want to sell braised dishes?"
"Yes. Right now, no one is selling braised dishes at the textile factory gate. The factory workers have good incomes, so there will definitely be people willing to buy a tasty cold dish to take home after work." Zhou Yan nodded with a smile. "The braised dishes you make are absolutely the best in Suji."
"You kiddo, you sure know how to spin a yarn." The old lady smiled, a hint of smug pride on her face. "Last time, for Zhou the Seventh’s son’s wedding banquet, that country chef they hired... his braised beef and pig ears were really just average. Not as good as mine."
"But for Zhou the Seventh’s son’s wedding, they hired the best banquet chef in all of Suji! Everyone who ate his braised dishes said they were delicious. But even at that level, compared to your aged marinade, he’s still leagues behind." Zhou Yan seized the opportunity to lay it on thick, looking completely sycophantic. "He’s at least ten stories below you. Just how high is your skill level?"
"Of all my grandsons, you’re the best at the Dragon Gate Formation." The old lady’s face broke into a smile, her expression turning nostalgic as she looked at the pot of marinade. "After I married your grandpa at eighteen, he would slaughter the cattle, and I would set up a stall to sell braised beef offal, braised beef tongue, and braised pig’s head. My business became the best in Suji. People even came all the way from Jiazhou just to buy from me, and restaurants would place orders.
This recipe for braised dishes was passed down to me by your great-grandmother. Your great-great-grandfather used to be a head chef in the home of a high official in Rongcheng. He was a renowned Grandmaster of the red kitchen.
Back then, women weren’t allowed to learn cooking, but the country was in turmoil and survival was difficult. So, my maternal grandfather secretly gave the secret marinade recipe to my mother, which is how our family survived.
I relied on this skill to raise five sons and find wives for all of them. Later, when they wouldn’t let us run stalls anymore and we had to eat at the communal canteens, that pot of thirty-year-old marinade was thrown out. The heartache was unbearable. I couldn’t sleep for a whole week."
Zhou Yan listened, captivated. He’d never imagined such a history behind it all. This was a story that even Zhou had never heard.
"Grandma, national policies have changed now. They’re encouraging the development of private businesses. More and more sole proprietors are setting up stalls and opening shops on the streets. Life will get better and better," Zhou Yan said in a gentle voice.
The old lady had lived through the most turbulent half-century. To her, this pot of aged marinade truly held an extraordinary significance.
"So, do you want to learn or not?" the old lady asked, looking him in the eyes.
Her eyes were ringed with wrinkles, but they were still clear and bright.
"I do," Zhou Yan nodded without hesitation.
"If you want to learn, I’ll teach you. This craft can’t end with me. It must be passed down," the old lady said, nodding with a smile.
Zhou Yan’s eyes lit up. He rubbed his hands together and said, "Grandma, then this pot of aged marinade..."
"Don’t even think about it!" The old lady pursed her lips. "As long as I’m alive, you’ll never get this aged marinade."
’Is this... the throne of the King of Braised Dishes?’ Zhou Yan was struggling to keep a straight face, an inexplicable urge to laugh bubbling up.
"A marinade only has the right flavor when you nurture it yourself. How you treat it is how it will turn out." The old lady looked at Zhou Yan and said, "If you really want to learn, I’ll teach you how to make a new marinade and how to age it."
"Grandma, you’re forever the best grandma in the world." Zhou Yan felt like kowtowing to her right then and there.
’To teach such a great recipe just like that... she really is my own flesh-and-blood grandma.’
The old lady said, "This afternoon, I’ll write you a list. Go buy everything on it. Whenever you’re ready to make the marinade, come pick me up and take me to your shop so I can teach you."
"Alright," Zhou Yan nodded. "Then I’ll need to build another stove, one specially for making the braised dishes."
Although he hadn’t managed to take his grandmother’s aged marinade, Zhou Yan was already very satisfied with the prospect of being personally taught and guided by her.
He could only shelve the system quest for now. Once he slowly nurtured his own pot of aged marinade and learned the essence of braising from his grandmother, the result would be the same.
This was a legacy.
The spareribs were stewing in the pot. Zhou Yan estimated the time, carried a wooden bucket over to the well in the courtyard, and began to clean the fish.
Footsteps sounded at the courtyard gate. Zhou Yan turned to look.
A tall, thin young man stood at the gate, shouldering a hoe. He had a crew cut and deep-set features, bearing a six- or seven-tenths resemblance to Zhou Yan. A menacing scar by the corner of his eye made him look somewhat fierce. The left sleeve of his short-sleeved sailor shirt was empty, swaying slightly in the breeze.
His back was ramrod straight. Shouldering the hoe, he gave off the uncanny impression of a man shouldering a rifle.
"Uncle, you’re back," Zhou Yan said, standing up with a smile.
"Mhm, went to weed the fields. Zhou Yan, it’s been a while since you last came," Zhou Weiguo nodded, but his gaze drifted toward the main hall.
As if he had seen something, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and his cold, stern aura melted away.
"Little Uncle!" Zhou Momo came dashing out of the main hall. She trotted over to Zhou Weiguo, stopped in front of him, and held up her small hand. "Have some Tangtang for you! It’s the big bunny kind! Super sweet!"
"Momo can have it. Uncle doesn’t like candy," Zhou Weiguo said with a doting smile.
"No, you have one. I’ll feed you," Zhou Momo said, shaking her head. She tore open the candy wrapper and stretched up on her tiptoes to offer it to him.
"Alright, I’ll eat it," Zhou Weiguo said with a helpless smile, bending down to take the candy from Zhou Momo’s hand.
"Is it sweet?" Zhou Momo looked at him, full of expectation.
Zhou Weiguo smiled and nodded. "Sweet. Super sweet."
"Hehe," Zhou Momo giggled along with him. "Come on, there are oranges too. The oranges are yummy-yummy!"
"Alright," Zhou Weiguo replied. He placed the hoe behind the door and followed Zhou Momo toward the main hall, a constant smile on his face.
It was only when he started walking that one would notice his left leg had a slight limp, but each step he took was firm and steady.
Zhou Yan silently squatted back down to clean the fish.
His uncle was thirty-four this year. He had joined the army at eighteen and was medically discharged after being wounded in the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese Self-Defensive War.
Two plaques hung at the old family home: "Home of a First-Class Merit Honoree."
One was for his grandfather.
The other was for his uncle.
This, too, was a legacy.
