1984: Starting from a bankrupt Sichuan restaurant

Chapter 42: Can just anyone set up a stall now?
Zhao Tieying's words made Zhou Yan and Zhao Hong laugh.

"Fourth Grandma, Uncle!" Zhou Lihui stood straight with his schoolbag on his back, greeting the two with a simple smile.

"Huihui, you're up early again," Zhou Yan said with a smile.

"He was reciting his lessons the whole way here today. It's the first time I've seen him study on his own initiative. He said he wanted to recognize all the characters," Zhao Hong said with satisfaction.

Zhou Yan nodded upon hearing this, "That's the kind of drive you should have."

"Yes." Zhou Lihui nodded vigorously.

Zhou Liangliang wasn't afraid of Zhou Yan, but he still felt a little intimidated when he saw Zhao Tieying. He looked up and unfortunately met her gaze, so he could only force a smile and say, "Aunt Zhao, you've arrived early."

"I wasn't early, but you guys have a keen sense of smell; you came as soon as you smelled it." Zhao Tieying said with a forced smile.

Zhou Liangliang's mother, Gao Cuihua, is the village's women's director. She had a fight with Zhou Momo a couple of years ago over the issue of registering Zhou Momo's household registration. Gao Cuihua is a defeated opponent that Zhou Liangliang is not worth mentioning.

Zhou Liangliang gave an awkward, silly smile and didn't dare to reply.

He was too low-level and didn't think he could beat that crooked woman Zhao Tieying.

Seeing that he didn't even dare to respond, Zhao Tieying withdrew her gaze in boredom.

Zhou Yan lifted Zhou Momo out of the basket and gently placed her on the bed.

The little guy, like a caterpillar, burrowed into the blankets as soon as he got into bed and continued to sleep soundly.

Zhou Yan tucked the blanket around her and turned to go downstairs.

At the restaurant entrance, Zhou Jie parked his bicycle on the side of the road, locked it, and glanced at the stalls across the street, somewhat surprised. "Zhou Liangliang? Why did they move their stalls here?"

"They moved here yesterday," Zhou Yan said with a smile. "They probably thought it would be easier to do business next to me."

"That bastard has a thick skin. He insisted on setting up his stall next to mine because he saw that my business was good. Now that he sees that your business is good, he's moved to the opposite side of the street. Does he think we brothers are easy to bully?" Zhou Jie said with a dark face, rolling up his sleeves and heading to the other side of the street.

“Garlic bird, garlic bird, it’s not easy for anyone.” Zhou Yan quickly pulled him back. “Let him set up his stall. If he doesn’t, someone else will. Selling garlic relies on skill and taste.”

"but……"

“If he puts his pot next to you, he only sells a dozen or twenty bowls a day. If he puts it across from me, his business certainly won’t be much better.” Zhou Yan said with a smile, “That couple isn’t the kind of people who are down-to-earth. They haven’t even figured out how to sell soup pot properly, and now they want to sell noodles. Taking too big a step will only lead to disaster.”

Zhou Jie looked at Zhou Yan, who had a confident expression, and smiled, "That makes sense."

"Come on, today I'll teach you the authentic way to make braised beef with 'Qiaojiao' (a type of beef dish)."

"Qiaojiao Beef? Isn't that a hot pot?"

“The hot pot wasn’t catchy enough, so I used a name that the older generation used: Qiaojiao Beef.” Zhou Yan led Zhou Jie to first look at the signboard in front of the earthen stove and the brand’s story.

After looking at it, Zhou Jie nodded repeatedly, "It looks more upscale than a soup pot. You're so smart."

"Come on, I'll teach you how to make it today." Zhou Yan walked into the shop.

"Fourth Aunt, Sister-in-law," Zhou Jie greeted as he entered. Seeing Zhou Lihui standing to the side, he was somewhat surprised. "Eh? What's Huihui doing in the shop?"

“Third Uncle, I’m here to learn cooking from my younger uncle,” Zhou Lihui replied.

"Aren't you only in the third year of junior high? Are you giving up your studies?" Zhou Jie asked, puzzled.

“He still needs to study. He comes over with his sister-in-law to help out in the morning until 7:30, and then goes to school.” Zhou Yan explained for him, “He wants to be a chef, so I’m letting him experience it first.”

“It’s great to learn cooking from your uncle. He’s incredibly skilled. I’m here today to become his apprentice.” Zhou Jie smiled and put his arm around Zhou Lihui’s shoulder. “From now on, we’ll be fellow apprentices.”

"Then... you'll call me senior brother? And I'll call you third uncle?" Zhou Lihui asked expectantly.

"You really dare to think that way. You should call me senior brother." Zhou Jie gently patted his head.

Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere became relaxed and pleasant.

"Come on, Brother Jie, let's start by talking about making broth today." Zhou Yan smiled and beckoned Zhou Jie over, then said to Zhou Lihui, "Huihui, this morning you'll be in charge of fetching water and filling this pot to the brim."

“Okay, Master Zhou,” Zhou Jie said with a smile.

“Okay! Master Zhou!” Zhou Lihui also turned and walked towards the kitchen.

Zhou Yan started by explaining how to arrange the bones in the pot, how many bones to use for a pot of soup, which parts of the bones to use, how much to use, and the selection of offal... He explained it in great detail.

Zhou Jie held a small notebook in his hand and wrote down all the key points that Zhou Yan had mentioned.

He had been making soup pots for two years, and what Zhou Yan said was actually pretty much the same.

But the difference between a good chef and an ordinary chef lies in that small gap, a principle that Zhou Jie understands very well.

His soup pot stands out among so many stalls at the dock because of the subtle differences he painstakingly researched and refined. These subtle differences determine the taste of a pot of soup.

Even slight differences in the amount of spices can completely alter the flavor of a soup. Zhou Lihui carried bucket after bucket of water into the pot, working with great effort.

Although he is only fifteen years old, he has inexhaustible strength and can lift two buckets of water in one go, which is a family talent.

“These are the spices, and also these Chinese herbs…” Zhou Yan held a small scale, weighing the herbs as he put them into a gauze bag. “The dosage must be precise. Too little and it won’t be effective; too much and the flavor will be too strong, and the soup will become medicine and become undrinkable.”

"With so many kinds of Chinese medicine added, the cost must be quite high, right?" Zhou Jie asked, somewhat surprised.

“If it were the same soup pot that everyone else sells, I wouldn’t dare sell it for six cents,” Zhou Yan said with a smile.

“They really put in some good stuff.” Zhou Jie nodded, carefully noting down the amounts of various spices and Chinese herbs.

"Don't turn the heat too high at the beginning. Use a fine-mesh strainer to skim off the foam little by little. If you do this step well, the soup will be clear and free of any impurities. It will look and taste delicious, fresh without any gamey smell." Zhou Yan handed the strainer to Zhou Jie. "Next, just watch the pot and slowly skim it off. Just simmer it over low heat. Let my mom tell you the precautions."

Zhou Yan asked Aunt Zhao to provide guidance, while he went into the kitchen to start cooking the toppings and meat sauce.

Zhou Lihui became his little follower, taking on odd jobs such as washing vegetables and tending the fire.

We were originally supposed to let him start by practicing knife skills, but the restaurant doesn't have enough ingredients for him to practice with right now, so we have to give up on that for the time being.

The young man didn't complain at all. He sat in front of the stove with a determined look, as if he were preparing for graduate school entrance exams.

Seeing this, Zhao Hong smiled and went to the door to chat with Zhao Tieying.

Around seven o'clock, workers began to arrive at work.

Zhou Yan placed the notice he wrote yesterday in a prominent position at the entrance, informing customers in advance that starting today, Zhou Erwa Restaurant will only serve noodles in the morning, and only braised dishes and stir-fries for lunch and dinner.

Across from them, Zhou Liangliang and his wife also started shouting their wares: "Noodles for sale! Noodles for sale! Five cents a bowl! Only five cents a bowl!"

"They're really shameless. They're a penny cheaper than us, and they're still shouting about it." Zhou Jie pouted, his teeth itching with anger.

Zhao Tieying remained calm: "Don't worry, Wang Laowu is already in jail. This stall has bad feng shui, it won't do any good."

The aftermath of the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute students eating two meals in a row has not yet subsided. Many workers who did not get to eat noodles the day before yesterday are determined to come and try them this morning, just to see how delicious the noodles at Zhou Erwa's restaurant are that they could make the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute students praise them so highly.

Zhou Liangliang's shout did attract the attention of some workers.

"Zhou Liangliang's soup pot and noodles? Is this some kind of internal strife in Zhoucun?"

"He took over Wang Laowu's noodle stall to sell noodles. Is he going to compete with Zhou Yan? I wonder how good his cooking is?"

"Is that soup stew in the pot from Zhoucun? It's a dime cheaper than Zhou Erwa's restaurant, but a regular Zhoucun soup stew only costs three cents, right?"

Once curiosity is piqued, people will naturally gather around to take a look.

Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua quickly put on smiles, their hearts filled with joy. Business was so easy at the entrance of the textile factory; a bowl of noodles for five cents could attract so many workers with just a shout, and they could all afford it.

As soon as they got close, the workers frowned.

A strong, unpleasant smell of uncooked beef offal wafted from the hot soup pot, hitting you in the face and making you pause in your tracks.

Then look at the several bowls of noodle toppings placed in front of the pot.

The minced meat sauce was dry and crumbly, not oily at all.

The braised beef was not properly shaped and was mushy in the pot, which meant it had been stewed for too long.

The chicken giblets were the wrong color; they were all white, which made them unappetizing.

"What kind of toppings and sauces did he make? My grandma makes them better than him, not even as good as Wang Laowu!"

"Are any kind of person allowed to set up a stall now?"

"Selling this thing for 50 cents? Even a penny-pincher wouldn't be that greedy."

The workers shook their heads and turned to leave, as if they had made up their minds.

There's only a small group of customers who love noodles, and they have specific requirements for what they eat.

The smiles on Zhou Liangliang and Wu Guihua's faces froze. They watched, puzzled, confused, and unwilling, as the guests walked straight towards Zhou Erwa's restaurant.

Of course, the smile didn't disappear.

It simply shifted to the faces of Zhao Tieying and Zhou Jie.

"My darlings, come in and have a seat. The pickled radish cakes are really good today..."

Aunt Zhao greeted the guests with a smile.

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(End of this chapter)