After the divorce, he took care of his child and sold fried rice; his ex-wife was filled with regret

Zhao Chengming stopped, smiled, and spoke in a very amiable tone:

"As long as you can get used to the taste, it's fine. The broth is made by our own cooking, and the beef tallow is rendered little by little from crude oil brought back from the slaughterhouse. We didn't add any of those weird flavorings. The base is thick, so it gets more and more fragrant the longer it cooks."

"The boss is so generous! Waiter, two more plates of freshly sliced ​​brisket!" the young man shouted.

Zhao Chengming nodded and turned to walk towards the kitchen.

The kitchen at Shuweitang is extremely large, with a clear division of labor. Dozens of workers are busy working in an orderly manner, cutting meat, washing vegetables, and preparing the broth.

The supplier just delivered a batch of fresh tripe that we need to replenish for the evening market, and it's currently soaking in a large stainless steel basin.

Zhao Chengming walked over, rolled up his sleeves, and reached in to scoop up a piece of tripe.

He rubbed the tough bits on the surface of the tripe with his thumb and forefinger, then smelled it under his nose, and his face immediately darkened.

"Who received this batch of tripe?" Zhao Chengming turned to ask the head chef standing to the side.

The head chef quickly came over, glanced at the bowl, and said, "Mr. Zhao, the supplier just delivered it this afternoon. I thought the color was quite vibrant, so I accepted it."

"Watery my ass." Zhao Chengming threw the tripe back into the basin heavily, splashing water everywhere.

Zhao Chengming pointed at the basin of tripe, his tone stern.

The head chef was a bit hesitant: "Mr. Zhao, this... the customer flow is too large tonight, and the batch of good tripe from this morning is almost gone. If we return this batch, we're afraid we won't have enough to sell. The customers are all specifically asking for this."

"If there aren't enough to sell, put up a 'sold out' sign." Zhao Chengming left no room for negotiation.

"I make hot pot with a clear conscience. When my great-grandfather was selling hot pot at the docks, he would rather go hungry himself than use rotten offal to fool people."

"Serving this kind of waterlogged tripe is ruining the reputation that has been passed down for four generations of my Zhao family. I'm calling the supplier immediately and demanding that they return the entire container and all the tripe. From now on, no goods from this supplier are allowed to enter our store."

The head chef didn't dare say anything more and nodded repeatedly: "Understood, I'll take care of it right away."

After finishing his business in the kitchen, Zhao Chengming went up the stairs to his office on the third floor.

As soon as the door opened, the lobby manager, Lao Xu, followed him in with a thick ledger. Lao Xu had worked for Zhao Chengming for ten years and was a veteran of the store, specializing in overseeing the outdoor area and table reservations.

"Mr. Zhao, the preliminary figures for today's revenue are in." Old Xu placed the ledger on his desk.

Zhao Chengming walked to the sofa, sat down, poured himself a cup of hot tea, took a sip, and said, "Speak."

"So far, the turnover rate of the individual seats on the first and second floors has reached 3.5%, and the revenue has exceeded 300,000. There are still more than 40 tables waiting outside. At this rate, it will be no problem to reach 400,000 before closing time today."

Zhao Chengming nodded, his face expressionless. Winter is usually the peak season for hot pot, and with the cold weather in Jiangcheng, this level of turnover is normal.

"How are the private rooms on the third floor?" Zhao Chengming asked.

The third floor of Shuweitang is all high-end private rooms, which are not open to individual customers and are reserved for the business tycoons of Jiangcheng to entertain and hold gatherings.

The first and second floors generate revenue through popularity and hard work, while the private rooms on the third floor are where the real profits come from.

Those big bosses can casually order some top-quality fresh seafood, plus a few bottles of high-end Moutai, and the cost of a single table can be several thousand or even tens of thousands of yuan.

Old Xu flipped through the notebook in his hand, his brows furrowing.

"Mr. Zhao, this is exactly what I wanted to report to you. The occupancy rate of the private rooms on the third floor these past few days hasn't been quite right."

"Something's not right?"

"It's mostly empty," Old Xu said in a low voice. "Several of our regular customers haven't booked a single private room this week."

Zhao Chengming put down his teacup and looked up: "Who?"

"Mr. Li Dayong, who runs a building materials business, and Mr. Chen, who is in real estate. They used to come here to eat at least three times a week, without fail."

"I haven't seen them for a while. And that Mr. Qian who does import and export trade, he just booked a private room yesterday, but suddenly called this afternoon to cancel it."

Zhao Chengming pondered for a moment: "Is it because the checks are stricter at the end of the year, making it inconvenient to eat and drink out? Or are you all on business trips?"

"It's not a business trip." Old Xu shook his head and walked to his desk. "I asked Mr. Li's driver privately. He said that Mr. Li has been going to Jin Street every morning these past few days."

Zhao Chengming was taken aback. Li Dayong and Chairman Chen's group were very picky eaters.

What delicacies haven't we eaten in Jiangcheng? Why would we go to a run-down street to eat on this cold morning when there are warm, upscale restaurants available?

"Home-style cooking?" Zhao Chengming asked.

"It's not a proper private kitchen. I heard it's just a place that sells noodles and stir-fries." Old Xu shook his head.

"I heard that this restaurant just launched a new dish called 'Supreme Charcoal-grilled Lamb Hot Pot'."

Old Xu paused for a moment, then added, "It's supposedly a clear broth hot pot. Besides water, there are only a few slices of ginger and scallions in it. The weirdest thing is, I heard that the mutton they sell doesn't have a gamey smell, and it costs 888 yuan a pot."

Zhao Chengming was dismissive when he heard "888 yuan per pot" and "clear broth", but he sneered when he heard "no gamey smell".

"Old Xu, are you kidding me?" Zhao Chengming stood up and walked to the window to look at the sleet outside.

"In a damp and cold place like Jiangcheng, they cook mutton in clear broth? And they dare to sell it for over 800 yuan?"

Zhao Chengming crossed his arms. As an expert who had spent half his life making hot pot broth, he felt this was utterly ridiculous.

"No matter how you remove the acid or how you process mutton, as long as it's meat, it will still have a gamey smell." Zhao Chengming turned around, his tone very confident, which stemmed from his decades of experience in the industry.

"The south doesn't produce good sheep locally; they all rely on imports from the north. Frozen sheep are a different story—they have such a strong gamey smell that they're inedible, and the meat is tough. Even live sheep that are air-freighted in still have that gamey smell they're born with."

Zhao Chengming pointed in the direction of the lobby downstairs.

"Why should I go through all that trouble, using dozens of spices, butter, and fermented soybean paste to stir-fry this broth?"

"It's to use a rich aroma to suppress the gamey smell in the meat and to enhance its freshness. Without a strong-flavored base, if you cook mutton in a clear broth, the smell will be so strong that it will drive people away when it's served."

Zhao Chengming's brows furrowed.

Lamb without any gamey smell? That simply doesn't exist. Even the best Yanchi Tan sheep, when cooked in a clear broth, will still retain a slight hint of the lamb's natural flavor.

"There's only one possibility." Zhao Chengming walked back to the sofa and sat down, his tone turning cold.

"This meat has chemical deodorizers added. There are many of these shady high-tech powders on the market now. Soak it overnight, and all the fishy smell of dead pigs and rotten sheep is gone. Then add some flavor enhancers, and it tastes especially fresh."

Old Xu nodded: "Mr. Zhao, that's what I think too."