Free Web NovelChapter 83: Chapter 76: Your Grandma is Here
Zhou Yan dropped the noodles he was holding into the pot. After washing and drying his hands, he took out Zhou Momo’s drawing and unfolded it, his eyes widening slightly.
The drawing was clearly done with charcoal. It showed a small courtyard with a little girl in pigtails. A cat sat at her feet, and a large goose followed behind her.
A small, smudgy black handprint in the corner was likely Zhou Momo’s unique signature.
Charcoal wasn’t a pen, after all, so the little girl’s facial features were blurry. The drawing was far from beautiful, but a closer look revealed a certain charm, a sense of childish wonder. ƒrēewebnovel.com
’And Zhou Momo is only three and a half!’
The little tyke usually just picked up a stick to doodle in the dirt; no one had ever taught her how to draw.
’To think she had this kind of talent.’
Zhou Yan thought it was wonderful—a gift full of heart. He carefully folded it, tucked it into his pocket, and hurried to fish the noodles out of the pot.
After breakfast, Zhou Yan went upstairs to get the letter he’d written the previous night. He added a line explaining that the drawing was from Zhou Momo, then put it back in the envelope, sealed the flap with a grain of cooked rice, and walked to the factory entrance to drop the letter into the mailbox.
CLANG.
The letter dropped into the empty mailbox with a faint sound.
Zhou Momo had followed him over at some point. Standing on her tiptoes, she asked curiously, "Brother, does Yaoyao live inside this can? Lift me up, I want to see."
"Alright, take a look." Zhou Yan chuckled and lifted her up, letting her peek through the long slot of the mailbox.
"Yaoyao, turn on the light! I can’t see you!" After peering inside for a moment, Zhou Momo cupped her little hands around her mouth and shouted into the mailbox.
The scene even made the security guard on duty at the factory entrance chuckle.
"It’s a mailbox, a place for letters," Zhou Yan explained with a smile, setting her down. "You put a letter inside, and a mail carrier comes to get it. Then they travel over mountains and rivers to deliver it to Yaoyao, so she can read your letter."
"So she lives really, really far away?" Zhou Momo asked, not quite grasping the concept.
"Mm-hm. It’s very far. Over three hundred kilometers. We’d have to go to Jiazhou first, then take a bus to Chongqing. It’s a shaky ride, so it would probably take a whole day," Zhou Yan said, nodding with a smile.
Zhou Momo thought for a moment after hearing this, then looked up at him. "So when are we leaving?"
"Huh?" Zhou Yan stared at her.
"One day is just one little sleep away!" Zhou Momo tugged on his hand, swinging it back and forth as she pleaded in a sweet, childish voice, "I want to go play with Yaoyao! Brother, please take me!"
"We can’t go just yet. Hao is getting married tomorrow, and you’re supposed to be his flower girl, remember? And there’s going to be a big outdoor feast. You don’t want to miss that, do you?" Zhou Yan said, looking at her.
Zhou Momo thought for only a second. "Then let’s go after the feast."
"Deal. Next time I’m free, I’ll take you on a trip to Jiazhou first. Mountain City is still too far," Zhou Yan said, patting her on the head. He then turned and walked back toward the restaurant.
"Okay!" Zhou Momo hopped along behind him. "I want a popsicle."
"Then you’ll have to ask Mrs. Zhao."
"I... I don’t want one anymore."
...
Workers started trickling in for their shifts, and the restaurant gradually grew busy.
Zhou Lihui had become a very competent fire-tender. He could keep the heat for the two noodle pots perfectly steady and was even able to help with the seasoning.
Zhou Yan noticed the boy had steady hands and a precise feel for the right amount of seasoning. After a few days of watching, he gradually learned to control the portions perfectly.
A talent for seasoning is crucial for a Chef.
Some "Salt Kings" could make a customer drink an extra two bottles of water a day.
Being involved in work beyond just fetching water and stoking fires made Zhou Lihui feel incredibly motivated.
Even if it was just adjusting the flavor, it meant he was deeply involved in the creation of a bowl of noodles.
Zhou Yan watched him, a smile in his eyes. Huihui had a patience rare for a boy his age, which was essential for the tedious process of learning to cook.
’After all, not everyone could be like him, effortlessly becoming a Chef by perfectly inheriting the foundation that Comrade Zhou had spent two and a half years building.’
At seven-thirty sharp, Zhou Lihui slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and left for school.
Though his recent work at the shop was all manual labor, his enthusiasm for his studies had surprisingly increased.
According to Zhao Hong, he was waking up early to memorize his lessons and practicing his penmanship at night. He was taking it all very seriously.
This left Zhou Yan with mixed feelings. If Huihui got serious, unlocked his Ren and Du Meridians for academics, and his grades started soaring, Zhou Yan couldn’t in good conscience let him quit after middle school to become an apprentice.
In this day and age, if you had the chance to study, that was undoubtedly the path with the brightest future.
’As for cooking... you could learn that anytime.’
By now, Zhou Yan could handle making eighty bowls of noodles each morning with ease. He figured he could probably even manage if the orders doubled. Unfortunately, the number of workers buying noodles had hit its peak. Maintaining eighty bowls a day was already great, and he was content with that.
A bicycle pulled up to the restaurant’s entrance.
An elderly woman dismounted, walked into the shop cradling an earthenware pot, and announced, "Zhou Yan, Grandma’s here."
Zhou Weiguo parked the bike and followed her inside. He wasn’t wearing his usual Zhongshan suit; today he was back in his military uniform, which made him look even sharper.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" Mrs. Zhao froze as she came out carrying a bowl of noodles, stunned to see the old woman.
"Grandma?!" Hearing her voice, Zhou Yan rushed out from the kitchen. He froze, staring at his grandmother and his uncle who had followed her in.
’Oh my god.’
’Are this mother and son pair completely nuts?’
’He has a limp, and he dared to ride a bike with his seventy-five-year-old mother all the way from the village to town on those terrible roads?’
’One was brave enough to pedal, and the other was brave enough to ride along.’
"Here, take this caramelized sugar inside," the old woman instructed.
Zhou Yan hurried forward and took the jar from his grandmother. He looked at Zhou Weiguo to confirm. "Uncle, you brought Grandma all the way here?"
"Mmm," Zhou Weiguo nodded.
"What’s the big deal? He’s a very steady rider," the old woman said, completely unfazed.
The customers in the shop glanced at the two of them, looking a little surprised as well.
The two people involved, however, acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Grandma! Youngest Uncle!" Zhou Momo slid down from her high stool and ran over to hug the old woman’s leg.
"My sweet girl." The old woman reached out to pat her head, smiling warmly. "Mmm, your braids look so pretty today. You look adorable."
"Really!" Zhou Momo’s eyes lit up, and she touched her braids with a hint of pride. "Mommy braided them for me."
"Tie Ying really is skilled, isn’t she? Making you look so adorable," the old woman said with a laugh.
"Uh-huh, Tie Ying is the best!" Zhou Momo nodded emphatically.
Her words made everyone laugh. The little tyke really did repeat everything she heard.
Beside them, Mrs. Zhao’s face lit up with a smile, and she quickly invited the old woman to take a seat.
The old woman curiously sized up the new stove by the entrance; it hadn’t been there on her last visit. But with the shop full of customers, she didn’t ask questions. Instead, she turned her attention to the menu on the wall, studying it for a moment before saying, "Give me a two-liang portion of the beef and dried bamboo shoot noodles. Weiguo says your noodles are good. I want to see for myself just *how* good."
"I’ll have the minced beef mixed noodles," Zhou Weiguo said.
"Coming right up." Zhou Yan carried the jar into the kitchen, then pulled, boiled, and cooked the noodles in one fluid motion.
Soon, two bowls of noodles were brought to the table.
The old woman picked up her chopsticks. She started with a piece of beef, nodding slightly. Then she tried a piece of dried bamboo, a smile touching her lips. After a bite of the noodles, her eyes lit up. Finally, she took a sip of the broth before speaking. "There’s real skill in this. Best noodles in all of Suji."
Standing nearby, Mrs. Zhao let out a sigh of relief, a smile finally appearing on her face.
The old woman loved to cook, so she rarely praised anyone else’s food. For Zhou Yan to receive such a high compliment meant the bowl of noodles had truly won her over.
Hearing this from the kitchen, Zhou Yan grinned with satisfaction.
Zhou Weiguo finished his meal and left for work.
The old woman ate slowly, finishing not just the noodles but every last drop of the broth.
By the time she finished, the shop had emptied of other customers. Zhao Hong came over to clear the bowl and take it to the kitchen.
"Is that stove for simmering the stock for a soup pot?" the old woman asked, looking at Zhou Yan.
"Yes, but in my shop, we call it Kneeling Beef," Zhou Yan nodded.
"You even know such an old-fashioned name," the old woman chuckled. She got up and walked over to the pot, gently waving the steam away with her hand. She nodded. "Mmm, the broth smells authentic. So savory. Zhou Jie said he learned how to make this soup pot from you, and that his business is booming now."
Zhou Yan smiled. "Jie is just being modest. He’s a good cook, and his business at the pier was already the best. All he learned from me was how to increase his prices and make a little more profit."
"His can’t hold a candle to yours. I can tell just by the smell. It’s his good fortune you were willing to teach him." The old woman shook her head and turned toward the kitchen. "Come on, let’s get the brine started. I have to go see your second uncle’s family this afternoon."
"Right away!" Zhou Yan replied, eagerly scurrying after her.
The old woman first inspected the aluminum pot Zhou Yan had prepared. "This pot is perfect," she nodded. "The brine won’t turn dark even after simmering for a long time. Some people who don’t know any better use iron pots, and the brine turns black after just a few uses. The meat comes out all dark and looks unappetizing."
"Alright, pour the brine into the pot."
Zhou Yan immediately went over, removed the cheesecloth covering the container, and carefully poured the brine into the aluminum pot.
The brine was a bright, glossy red—a natural, beautiful color achieved with the caramelized sugar.
The moment it was poured, the rich, savory aroma of the brine filled the entire room.
Zhou Yan loved braised delicacies. He was a fan of braised duck parts and even rabbit heads, but his absolute favorite was a rich, unctuous bite of braised pork intestine.
But the brine from those shops claiming to have "century-old master stocks" was nowhere near as mellow and fragrant as his grandmother’s. Hers was a natural flavor, free of any modern additives.
