Chapter 275 - 166: Braising Grandmaster

Chapter 275: Chapter 166: Braising Grandmaster

[Ding! Mission Complete: Entered Kong Qingfeng’s Memory Fragment!]

[Reward received: Knife Skills proficiency +10086!]

Zhou Yan had just lain down when a notification popped up before his eyes.

Zhou Yan’s eyes lit up. ’There really is a reward!’

And it was for Knife Skills proficiency, too.

’What a huge boost!’

He glanced at his status panel. The Knife Skills column read:

[Knife Skills (Advanced): 16,686/100,000]

His proficiency had skyrocketed, creating a significant gap between it and his Seasoning and Fire Control, which were still at the intermediate level.

Zhou Yan closed his eyes, and various scenes of Kong Qingfeng honing his Knife Skills flashed through his mind.

When he opened them again, he seemed to have reached a new level of understanding.

It was a difficult feeling to put into words, one he would probably only truly grasp when he was actually cutting vegetables.

In truth, once one’s Knife Skills reached the advanced level, they were sufficient for the vast majority of situations and dishes.

Anything beyond that came down to subtle differences in detail, which only became apparent when handling ingredients with exceptionally high preparation requirements.

For Zhou Yan, today’s trip had been incredibly beneficial.

He had only a vague understanding of how to take on a disciple. The original Zhou’s memories were stuck in the apprentice stage of practicing Knife Skills, a time of endlessly chopping potatoes and radishes.

Zhou Lihui had been a Fireman at the restaurant for over a month, but Zhou Yan still hadn’t figured out the right way to teach him how to cook.

Experiencing Kong Qingfeng’s memory fragment had shown him the complete, self-contained cycle of the Kong Sect’s inheritance.

It started with practicing Knife Skills and Knife Techniques, then teaching the disciple how to select ingredients, how to learn from simple dishes, and how to grow step-by-step into a qualified Chef before finally graduating.

That was the true inheritance of the Kong Sect, not just a few of its famous dishes.

To Zhou Yan, this was even more precious than the 10,086 proficiency points.

As the restaurant grew busier, training an apprentice needed to be put on the agenda.

...

At the crack of dawn the next day, young Comrade Zhou and old Comrade Zhou set out to buy groceries.

They went back to Zhou Village to buy beef. After picking out the cuts, Zhou Yan had his father wait for them to be portioned while he rode his bicycle back to the old family home.

The sky hadn’t fully brightened, but a dim, yellow light was already on in the courtyard.

"CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK—!"

His grandmother’s voice drifted out from the courtyard. It sounded like she was feeding the chickens.

Zhou Yan walked up, knocked on the gate, and called out, "Grandma!"

"Who is it?"

"It’s me, Zhou Yan!"

The courtyard gate opened. His grandmother, a ladle in her hand, looked at Zhou Yan standing at the entrance and asked with a smile, "Zhou Yan, what brings you here so early?"

"Grandma, do you remember when I came to borrow the Blue and White Porcelain Bowl?" Zhou Yan said with a smile.

"Your mother said you borrowed it for a photoshoot. Said you were going to be in some magazine. What now? You need to borrow a bowl again?" his grandmother asked, looking at him.

"I’m not here to borrow a bowl this time. I’m here to invite you to be interviewed by the deputy chief editor of *Sichuan Cuisine* magazine. You can talk about your experiences selling braised dishes at Suji Bridgehead back in the day." Zhou Yan said with a grin, "You’ll be in a magazine—a professional culinary magazine! Everyone in the country will know how good Zhang Shufen’s braised dishes are."

His grandmother waved her hand dismissively at his words. "What’s there to talk about with making braised dishes? And being in a magazine... people will laugh if they hear about it."

"There are so many stories you could tell about your braised dishes! You could talk about how you inherited this craft from my great-grandfather and carried it forward. Talk about how you turned a small stall into a delicious memory for the people of Jiazhou with your Zhang’s Braised Shop. Talk about how you raised five sons with just that one stall. Talk about how you passed the craft down to me so I can carry on the tradition." Zhou Yan looked at his grandmother seriously. "Grandma, no one will laugh."

His grandmother looked at him and fell silent for a moment before asking, "What kind of shady magazine is this? They’ll publish you for just spinning a few yarns?"

Zhou Yan: ?

"Grandma, *Sichuan Cuisine* is a professional culinary magazine sponsored by the Provincial Vegetable and Catering Services Company. It’s a legitimate publication! Many professional Chefs dream of being in it and never get the chance." Zhou Yan couldn’t help but laugh as he earnestly explained. He took the magazine out of a cloth bag in his bicycle basket. "Look, this is the cover photo. It’s the Kneeling Beef in that Blue and White Porcelain Bowl I borrowed from you."

His grandmother took the magazine and moved closer to the lamp, squinting at it for a moment before nodding. "Mm, it’s a good photo. Shows some skill."

Zhou Yan flipped the magazine open and continued, "See, these two pages are about the Kneeling Beef I made. The article before it is about Grandmaster Hua, a Special Level Chef from Rongyuan Garden, and the one after is about Grandmaster Xu, another Special Level Chef, explaining how to make several types of noodle toppings."

"Your improvements to the Kneeling Beef’s broth pot are indeed excellent, and your other stir-fried dishes are good too. You deserve to be called a professional Chef. In the future, you might not be any worse than those two Special Level Chefs." His grandmother looked up at him with a smile. "But do you really think it’s appropriate for a nearly illiterate old country woman like me to be featured alongside these Grandmasters?"

"It’s appropriate! It’s more than appropriate!" Zhou Yan closed the magazine and looked at his grandmother. "Grandma, you’re not just some old country woman. You are a grandmaster of braised dishes, the founder of Zhang’s Braised Shop, the matriarch of the Zhou Family, the mentor who guided the rising star of the culinary world, Zhou Yan, in the art of braising, the wife of a First-Class Merit recipient, and the mother of a First-Class Merit recipient—you are Comrade Zhang Shufen!"

His grandmother stared at him, stunned for a moment, and a shimmer appeared in the corners of her eyes.

"Grandma, you’ve spent half your life making braised dishes. You turned Zhang’s Braised Shop into a delicious memory for a generation of Suji people. You are worthy of the title ’Grandmaster’." Zhou Yan said with a serious expression, "You’ve witnessed half a century of turmoil, and your pot of braised dishes has been a constant through it all. I think that’s a story worth recording."

His grandmother was silent for a long time before she nodded. "Alright. I’ll listen to you."

A smile spread across Zhou Yan’s face. "Then it’s a deal. After the lunch rush at the restaurant is over, I’ll bring Chief Editor He to the house for the interview."

Carrying the beef, he returned to Stone Bridge Head. Zhou Yan parked his bicycle in front of Zhang the Third’s meat stall, glanced over to confirm the quality of the pig heads and meat was fine today, and left his father to handle weighing and loading. He then headed toward Lai Fu’s tofu stall.

It was market day, so the streets were especially crowded with vendors. There were people selling homegrown eggs, chickens, ducks, and geese from baskets on their backs, others with shoulder poles carrying handmade goods like dustpans, wooden spatulas, and brooms. Most of all, though, there were vegetable sellers.

The crowd of shoppers was just as large, with people rubbing shoulders as they moved through the throng. The air was filled with the sounds of hawking and haggling.

"Eighty cents for a dustpan! No bargaining."

"Forty cents!"

"Who haggles by cutting the price in half? That’s too low! It takes me a whole night to make one."

"Thirty cents."

"Forget it, forget it. Forty cents, and it’s yours. I need to buy a couple pieces of tofu to cook with some pork."

Zhou Yan bought two bunches of fresh, tender greens and saw from a distance that a crowd had gathered around the tofu stall.

Lai Fu was weighing tofu for customers with a smile on his face. As always, he held the beam of the scale high, and business was booming.

As Zhou Yan approached, an auntie holding a block of tofu was paying and muttering, "You should make more next time. I wanted to buy two extra pieces to pan-fry for my youngest daughter. Your tofu is better than anyone else’s."

"He can’t hear you," Zhou Yan reminded her with a smile.

"I know, I just like to ramble a bit." The auntie smiled, handed the money to Lai Fu, and then recommended to Zhou Yan, "This kid is as honest as they come. He always gives a little extra on the scale, and his tofu is delicious. But he’s sold out for today. If you want to buy some, you’ll have to come earlier next time."

"Alright," Zhou Yan said with a nod and a smile.

On the small table, the two slabs of tofu were already sold out. A few more customers came over, took a look, and walked away disappointed.

Lai Fu’s face broke into a happy grin when he saw Zhou Yan, his smile as pure as ever.

He handed Zhou Yan a basket covered with gauze, along with a large bundle of tied-up dried tofu skin.

Zhou Yan took it, glancing at Lai Fu’s hands, which were covered in bloody blisters. The basket was filled with dried tofu, heavy in his arms, and the large bundle of dried tofu skin had to be at least ten catties or so.

On top of the basket was a slip of paper that read: Dried Tofu—10 catties, Dried Tofu Skin—16 catties. Total: 16.80 yuan.

Zhou Yan put the basket down, picked up the nearby scale, and reweighed the dried tofu skin. It was 16 catties and 6 taels.

Then he weighed the dried tofu. 10 catties and 7 taels.

He knew it. That Lai Fu was too honest for his own good; he loved to round up in the customer’s favor.

Zhou Yan took out seventeen and a half yuan and handed it to him, then pulled out a pen and paper to write, "If the scale is this inaccurate next time, I’m not buying."

Lai Fu took the money and scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

Zhou Yan wrote another sentence: "The dried tofu skin production has increased a lot. That’s great."

Lai Fu took the pen and paper and wrote, "I helped make some."

Zhou Yan wrote, "How are your grandma’s eyes and legs?"

A smile appeared on Lai Fu’s face as he wrote back, "Her eyes are a little better. Her legs are the same."

Zhou Yan smiled too. ’It seems the grandaunt has been in a good mood lately.’ He then wrote, "You’ve been doing great. I’ll go visit her soon."

Putting away the pen and paper, Zhou Yan picked up his things and turned to leave.

Lai Fu was now selling only two twenty-catty slabs of tofu a day, and he had already sold out before it was even six o’clock.

Zhou Yan figured he could probably sell out even if he brought four forty-catty slabs.

But Zhou Yan didn’t bring it up.

Lai Fu was too thin. One could only imagine the hardship of carrying a twenty-catty slab of tofu on his back, plus ten catties of dried tofu and sixteen catties of dried tofu skin all the way to town with such a frail body.

Zhou Yan did some quick math. The dried tofu skin production had reached eight catties a day. He himself bought ten catties of dried tofu daily. Just from his orders alone, Lai Fu could make ten yuan and forty cents every day.

The profit would be over half of that, around five yuan and twenty cents.

Selling the two slabs of tofu would earn him another two yuan.

He and his grandmother could now earn over seven yuan a day.

That was nearly two hundred yuan a month.

This income already far exceeded that of an ordinary worker at the textile factory.

Of course, Zhou Yan didn’t need to see it with his own eyes to imagine how laborious it was to grind tofu, make dried tofu skin, and bake dried tofu entirely by hand. They must be busy from dawn till dusk.

But being a little tired was better than having no hope.

The grandaunt’s medical treatments cost money, and Lai Fu had to earn that money with his own two hands.

"Zhou Yan, your old man said you’re on a magazine cover, huh? You’re really something, kid!" Zhang the Third exclaimed as Zhou Yan walked over, his eyes full of admiration for someone else’s child.

Zhou Yan glanced at his father, whose lips were curved into a proud smile, and nodded with a grin of his own. "Yes, the latest issue of *Sichuan Cuisine*. Mr. Zhang, you should subscribe to a copy and check it out."

"Alright." Zhang the Third nodded. Seeing the large bundle of dried tofu skin in his hand, he added, "That’s a lot of dried tofu skin, huh? I hear that stuff is a pain to make, and it doesn’t even weigh much."

"Yes, the restaurant uses a lot for its braised vegetarian dishes, and it is troublesome to make," Zhou Yan nodded.

"That kid is really considerate. He came here yesterday and bought a piece of leaf lard and some pork belly. I charged him eighty cents a catty. Then this morning, he brought me two blocks of tofu and refused to take any money for them." Zhang the Third said with emotion, "He may not be able to speak, but his heart is as clear as a mirror."

"Thank you for looking out for him, Mr. Zhang," Zhou Yan said.

Zhang the Third puffed out his chest. "What’s there to thank me for? Don’t you worry. I’m here watching. If anyone dares to bully him, I’ll definitely have his back."

"Alright." As Zhou Yan and his father rode back on their bicycles, he felt a warmth in his heart. ’They’re all such good people.’

The morning was as busy as ever.

The lunch service ended.

As Zhou Yan came out of the kitchen, he finally noticed the message that had popped up in the corner of his eye:

[Side Quest: The Battle to Defend the West Bank Tofu Legacy! Progress: 50%]