Chapter 351 - 189: This Is a Restaurant, Not a Cafeteria?

Chapter 351: Chapter 189: This Is a Restaurant, Not a Cafeteria?

"You’re young, but you’ve got a wicked good eye for picking winter bamboo shoots," the old man said with a smile. He had just lit his small, bamboo-root pipe and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Every one you picked is a good one, not a single mistake."

"I run a restaurant, so knowing how to pick good ingredients is a basic skill," Zhou Yan said. He glanced at the pile of winter bamboo shoots in front of him, estimating there were about ten jin. There weren’t any more good ones left on the ground. With a smile, he added, "Sir, this is all of them. Please weigh them."

"No wonder you need so many." The old man took a smaller basket out of his large carrying basket. He first weighed the empty basket in front of Zhou Yan, then filled it with the selected winter bamboo shoots and weighed it again.

"After subtracting one jin and three liang for the basket, the shoots come to ten jin and three liang. Let’s just call it ten jin. That’ll be two yuan." The old man held the steelyard out for Zhou Yan. "See for yourself."

"Looks right." Zhou Yan took a careful look, then pulled two yuan from his pocket and handed it to the old man. He took the basket and poured the shoots into his own carrying basket.

’Ten jin of winter bamboo shoots will yield about four jin of edible flesh. One serving of Fish-fragrant Shredded Pork uses two liang of winter bamboo shoots, so this should be enough for about twenty servings.’

’The Fish-fragrant Shredded Pork is a new item on the menu today, so preparing for twenty servings should be about right.’

’If the feedback is good today, I can increase the quantity tomorrow.’

"That’s a lot of bamboo shoots. Did you spend a long time digging them up yesterday?" Zhou Yan wasn’t in a hurry to leave and asked out of curiosity.

"I took a nap yesterday afternoon, then went up the mountain a little after two. Dug for three hours, then went home for dinner. It wasn’t long at all," the old man replied casually, putting the money away while restacking his remaining bamboo shoots.

"You’re amazing at digging up winter bamboo shoots! To get so many in just three hours," Zhou Yan said, a note of awe in his voice.

’He has over ten jin of bamboo shoots left, which he can sell for another two-plus yuan. That means his hourly wage for digging shoots is more than one yuan.’

’It’s skilled labor. He deserves to earn that much.’

"Winter bamboo shoots? They’re easy to dig," the old man said, sitting down on a small stool. He took a puff of his pipe and grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth with a hint of pride. "You just have to know how to follow the bamboo rhizomes. One swing of the hoe, one shoot. No effort at all."

"Sir, will you be back tomorrow?" Zhou Yan asked him. "I have a restaurant at the entrance of the textile factory, and I’ll need at least this many shoots again tomorrow. Could you deliver them to my shop? I’ll pay you cash." He added, "But I only want the same quality as the ones I picked today."

The old man’s eyes lit up. "Of course, I’ll be here," he said, nodding. "I sell my stock in the morning, go home for lunch, and then head back up the mountain to dig some more. What’s the name of your shop? I’ll pick out some good ones and bring them over tomorrow morning. You can take another look and pick through them yourself then."

"Zhou Yan Restaurant. It’s the first one at the entrance of the textile factory," Zhou Yan said. "Sir, how should I address you?"

The old man nodded and replied, "My surname is Wan. Everyone calls me Wan the Sixth."

"Wan, could you bring them to the shop around six tomorrow morning? If you come any earlier, I’ll be out shopping for other ingredients and no one will be there."

"Got it!"

Zhou Yan shouldered his carrying basket and left, buying some cabbage, green onions, and garlic on his way.

’And just like that, I’ve found a long-term supplier for a large quantity of winter bamboo shoots.’

’Some people go up the mountain to forage for fun, while others do it professionally.’

’Those who know how can find one with every swing of the hoe, while those who don’t could dig up the entire mountain and still come up empty-handed.’

’Only a professional can guarantee both quantity and quality.’

’Every town has a few experts who are great at digging up winter bamboo shoots. All I need is one of them, and my supply for the whole winter will be guaranteed.’

’Wan the Sixth’s winter bamboo shoots are better quality than the other two vendors. That means besides his skills, he must also have access to a good bamboo forest.’

’Plus, he seems like a really honest guy, which is another reason I chose him.’

"What are you buying so many winter bamboo shoots for? A new dish?" Comrade Zhou asked curiously on the way.

"Green bamboo shoots are out of season," Zhou Yan explained. "I’m using winter bamboo shoots as a substitute to make Fish-fragrant Shredded Pork."

"Winter bamboo shoots are a lot more expensive than green ones, but they do taste better."

"It’s fine," Zhou Yan said with a smile. "The price of pork has dropped. At two yuan a serving, we’re guaranteed to make a profit."

The two of them chatted idly along the way and soon arrived at the Yankantou Slaughterhouse.

It was still dark, but the large yard was lit by numerous lamps, revealing dozens of Cow Slaughterers at work.

After Comrade Zhou stopped working as a slaughterer, Zhou Yan sourced his beef and offal mainly from a few of his uncles.

His aunt, Ma Jinhua, would clean the beef offal early in the morning down by the Qingyi Riverfront, so all he had to do was show up and take it.

His aunt wasn’t a great cook—her hot pot was subpar—but she was exceptionally skilled at cleaning the offal, getting it spotless just as Zhou Yan required.

In addition to paying for the offal, Zhou Yan also paid his aunt a monthly salary of fifteen yuan just to wash it for him.

When his Uncle wasn’t slaughtering a cow, he would just buy from another family.

Dozens of families in Zhou Village slaughtered cows, and not all of them wanted to sell hot pot. As long as he arranged it in advance, he could usually buy high-quality, fresh beef offal.

Once the offal was back at the restaurant, Mrs. Zhao only needed to give it one final, meticulous rinse with well water. This alone saved her a good two hours of labor.

As a result, Mrs. Zhao was now getting a full night’s sleep. Waking up at six every morning, her complexion looked much healthier than before.

Before, when she used to help Comrade Zhou with the slaughtering, she had to be up at three o’clock every morning.

And Zhou Momo’s days of sleeping as a nomad in a back basket were finally over.

"Zhou Yan, look! Today’s tripe is fantastic," Ma Jinhua said, approaching with a large basket, a wide smile on her face. "Your Uncle slaughtered a yellow steer, and the quality is outstanding."

[A basket of premium-quality beef offal]

"This tripe really is excellent, and you’ve washed it so clean, aunt," Zhou Yan said, nodding with a smile. He glanced at her reddened hands. "The weather’s getting cold. You should get a pair of rubber gloves to wear for washing, so you don’t get sick."

"Okay, I will," Ma Jinhua nodded. "I’ll head over to the supply and marketing cooperative later to see if they sell them."