Cross-legged beef? Zhou Yan was slightly taken aback.
He was no stranger to this dish. If one was to name Suji's most famous delicacy, it would undoubtedly be Cross-legged Beef. It was not only a local specialty, but even Chengdu itself was dotted with Cross-legged Beef restaurants.
The fact that this lightly flavored soup pot, served with a dipping sauce, flourished throughout Sichuan and Sichuan speaks volumes about its uniqueness.
He had visited Suji in previous life and interviewed two inheritors of the intangible cultural heritage of Cross-legged Beef.
This dish actually originated in Sha Niu Zhou Village. It's said to have been invented by an old Zhou family butcher, or by an old Chinese medicine practitioner from Zhou Village.
Two of his cousin brothers now sell Cross-legged Beef at the Qingyi River wharf. When beef and offal are slow to sell, his mother also sets up a stall, making it a family tradition.
Of course, he didn't know how to make it.
But now he's almost there.
Most importantly, while others selling Cross-legged Beef have to worry about sourcing fresh ingredients, he can rely on his parents for support, thanks to his father's direct supply!
In the catering industry, food supply is a crucial component.
With the village of slaughterhouses nearby, he had no worries about beef and offal.
"What are you daydreaming about?" Zhao Tieying waved her hand in front his eyes.
"Nothing. Business is over. I'm going to lie down for a while. It's too early to get up this morning." Zhou Yan smiled and stood up, heading for the stairs.
"Go ahead. I'll call you later." Zhao Tieying nodded.
This kid got up early to buy groceries, stir-fry the stew, and then knead the dough and make the noodles. He must be exhausted. He used to whimper and cry at the slightest bit of work, but these past two days, he's been silent, like a real man.
Zhou Yan went upstairs and closed the door. Then, he used his mind to open the recipe for the Cross-legged Beef. A flood of information flooded into his mind, leaving him stunned.
Three minutes later, Zhou Yan's vision cleared again. And as his thoughts shifted, everything about the Cross-legged Beef merged with his memory, as if he already knew it.
"If it sells well, it'll be a good growth point, and it won't affect noodle sales at all." Zhou Yan pondered.
Although the textile factory had over 2,000 employees, few people would eat noodles at 60 cents a bowl everyday. He would be satisfied if he could consistently sell 100 bowls a day.
But he wasn't satisfied with just earning 30 or 40 yuan a day. He had plenty of free time during lunch and dinner.
It's the end of October, and the weather will gradually cool down. A steaming pot of Cross-legged Beef will be very attractive.
However, to sell Cross-legged Beef, he needs the support of Comrades Old Zhou and Old Zhao.
...
"Zhou Momo is so cute, and Zhou Yan is quite interesting, too." Xia Yao said with a smile, sitting on the back of bicycle, one arm around Meng Anhe's waist.
"His polite and mature beyond his years, quite interesting." Meng Anhe also smiled slightly, then quickly added, "But you two might not be a good match."
"Huh?" Xia Yao was stunned for a moment, then understood what Meng Anhe meant. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she whispered anxiously, "Auntie, what are you talking about!"
"I'm just warning you. Don't be tempted, or your mother will tear me apart." Meng Anhe glanced back at her and said gently, "Zhou Yan saved you. We will be grateful and repay him. Don't feel burdened."
"You'll be returning to Hangzhou after graduation. You both four thousand miles apart. He runs a restaurant in this small town, and you'll be working and living in Hangzhou, so it's unlikely you two will have any further contact."
"I know, and I never had that thought..." Xia Yao said helplessly. She hadn't thought much of it; she just thought Zhou Momo was very cute and Zhou Yan was quite interesting.
"Then consider it my fault." Meng Anhe said with a smile. "I'm going to Rongcheng after lunch tomorrow. I have some business to attend to at the Design Institute. I'll take you to downtown Jiazhou on the way. Your leave is until tomorrow, too."
"Okay." Xia Yao agreed.
...
The lunch break was almost over when Comrade Old Zhou rode into the shop with his 28-inch bicycle, holding a colorful windmill that whirred in the wind.
Zhou Momo, sitting at the door, saw this and skipped over to him, muttering, "Windmill!"
Zhou Miao stopped the bicycle and handed the windmill to Zhou Momo.
"Thank you, Dad!" Zhou Momo shouted happily, then ran out the door, windmill in hand.
Zhou Miao watched from the side, his arms folded, a bright smile on his face.
"He's just a daughter slave." Zhao Tieying complained to Zhou Yan in the shop.
"He's really good. I can't even play." Zhou Yan nodded in agreement.
"You're already old, and you still want play windmill? You're thicker-skinned than a city wall." Zhao Tieying smiled and patted his arm.
The restaurant was empty, so the family started lunch. They cooked rice today, and scooped up a bowl of braised beef and a plate of minced beef with two peppers as side dishes, along with a plate of pickled radish and some stir-fried green vegetables.
"Have you sold all the meat?" Zhao Tieying asked casually.
"The meat's all sold. I'll let Zhou Jie take the offal. He can sell it in soup pots." Zhou Miao slurped a mouthful of rice.
"That's fine. It's better than letting it rot in hands." Zhao Tieying nodded.
Zhou Yan listened to the conversation and had a thought: "How's Brother Jie's Cross-legged Beef business?"
"It's ok. The weather's getting cold, so business will be better." Zhou Miao replied.
"Why don't we try selling Cross-legged Beef?" Zhou Yan suggested.
"If you want to sell it, you can give it a try..." Zhou Miao hadn't finished speaking.
"Your noodles are just starting to pick up, and you're going to sell soup pots too?" Zhao Tieying frowned slightly. "Soup pots do sell better when the weather gets colder, but most people who eat beef offal are those doing manual labor at the docks. I sold it for a while in the winter these past two years, but I rarely see textile factory workers eating there."
"That's right." Zhou Miao nodded immediately in agreement. "Zhou Jie and the others are just earning a hard-earned living, and if they can't sell, they'll lose money."
Zhou Yan had anticipated their reaction and smiled, "When I was in the factory cafeteria, I learned a medicinal dish. I plan to combine it with soup pot. This way, the soup pot will not only be more delicious, but also have a certain medicinal properties."
"Also, instead of calling it a soup pot, we'll call it "Cross-legged Beef" in our restaurant. Our ancestors in Zhou Village invented this dish over a hundred years ago. During that time, an old Chinese doctor set up a stall to sell Cross-legged Beef and improved the recipe. This way, we have both a legacy and a story to tell."
"That's okay?" Zhao Tieying and Zhou Miao exchanged glances, a little confused.
"Of course, if we want to sell our soup pots at a high price and get the workers to love them, we have to tell a good story about this dish, from its historical origins and allusions to its legacy." Zhou Yan nodded confidently.
He'd heard countless brand stories while filming his restaurant exploration videos, including that of Suji Beef, so he already had a rough idea of how to tell this brand story well.
He wasn't great at cooking, but storytelling was his forte.
He wasn't making up stories; he was simply organizing and retelling them to help the dish flourish.
Zhao Tieying and Zhou Miao nodded thoughtfully. They didn't understand these things, but Zhou Yan said he learned it from the factory cafeteria, so that must be right.
"Then I'll slaughter the cow tomorrow. I'll save the offal for you." Zhou Miao said.
"You don't have to keep it all. Leave me an extra half pound of the sirloin, and some of each of the tripe, beef intestines, and beef tendon. Send the extra to Brother Jie. Let's cook a pot tomorrow and try it out." Zhou Yan's expression was serious. "If really want to sell it, I'm planning to build a stove outside the door just for cooking the Cross-legged Beef. The smell will spread like wildfire and be more effective than any advertisement."
"Sure," Zhou Miao nodded.
"Then I'll process the offal you asked for by the river tomorrow." Zhao Tieying said.
"Thank you, Comrade Zhao Tieying." Zhou Yan said with a smile.
He was deeply moved by the unconditional trust and support shown by Comrade Zhao Tieying and Comrade Zhou Miao.
Family, who understands? This is what it feels like to have family!
In this life, he must work hard to earn money, pay off his debts as quickly as possible, relieve his parents' stress, and allow them to live a good life.
Zhou Yan went out with the money in his pocket, and the menu of Cross-legged Beef he got was the pinnacle version improved in later generations.
In 1984, during a time of material scarcity, most people still struggled to get enough to eat. However, some working class people with stable jobs and decent incomes were gradually beginning to pursue both adequate and better food.
As people's living standards continued to rise, so did their expectations for food quality. This was an objective reality.
From adding spices to remove the fishy smell, to adding traditional Chinese medicine to enhance flavor, to nourishing the stomach, dispelling dampness and cold, and strengthening bones, the dish catered to diners' pursuit of quality.
Stalls selling "Cross-legged Beef" abounded in Suji Town and along the Qingyi River, 90% of which were run by people from Zhou Village. They offered a daily supply of fresh beef offal, focusing on affordable prices and generous portions.
If Zhou Yan wanted to raise the price of his Cross-legged Beef, he had to differentiate it, targeting flavor, texture, and efficacy, and also tell a compelling story.
He went to two veteran Chinese medicine practitioners in town and had them weigh out over ten herbs, including Angelica dahurica, Piper longum, Amomum villosum, Amomum villosum, and Kaempferia galanga. The quantities weren't large, but it still cost him 8.2 yuan.
Firstly, there were so many varieties, and secondly, certified Chinese herbs were still expensive.
Zhao Tieying looked at Zhou Yan coming back with several bags of Chinese medicine wrapped in brown paper, and asked in confusion, "Are you feeling unwell? Why did you buy so many Chinese medicines?"
"I'm fine. These medicines are added to the Cross-legged Beef." Zhou Yan explained briefly.
The medicines are added to the Cross-legged Beef to enhance the flavor and, secondly, to enhance the dish's medicinal properties, thus differentiating it from other restaurants.
"We do add some medicines, but not that much, right? Besides, Chinese medicines are expensive. Few people in our village actually add them to soup pots." Zhao Tieying frowned. "You'll probably lose money if you add them like that."
"It won't, I know the answer." Zhou Yan said confidently.
Work ended early tonight, and ninety bowls of noodles were sold out long beforehand. Zhou Yan apologized and declined a few customers who wanted noodles, asking them to come earlier tomorrow.
His parents finished dinner and took Zhou Momo home.
Zhou Yan soaked the dried bamboo shoots and made a jar of pickled radishes. He took a cold shower in the yard and returned to his room early.
The room was small, barely illuminated by a five-watt bulb. The rough walls were covered with sheets of yellowed newspaper. The glass window had a crack in it, patched with newspaper and tape, and the edges were warping, allowing wind to blow in through the gap.
The bed was a few uneven wooden planks spread across two benches. The mattress was a thin, old, dark quilt, passed down from who knows when. It was hard and prickly.
The pillow was a Xinhua Dictionary, and the quilt was also thin and not at all warm. He had to cover himself with his coat over it at night to sleep.
A bamboo pole strung with a rope served as his wardrobe, and two coats and two pairs of trousers were all he had.
To say his house was bare was an understatement.
Little Zhou was a good comrade. He spent all the money he borrowed on the most important things and didn't enjoy anything himself.
Zhou Yan had started out as an orphan in his previous life, so he was considered someone who could endure hardships.
But he never imagined that after enduring his own hardships, he would have to endure the suffering of others.
What a sin!
Make money!
He was now filled with motivation.
Only by making money could he break free from his poverty.
Once he made enough, he would buy himself a Simmons mattress! Make a thick, new cotton quilt! Get a softer pillow! And patch up the glass windows!
No, no, this aspiration was still too low.
It should be a refrigerator, a TV, and a washing machine!
The pursuit of a better life should be something more sophisticated.
The box containing money put beside the bed, and he opened the lid to count it.
Today he earned 54 yuan, spent 15.3 yuan on meat and vegetables, and had a balance of 35.5 yuan yesterday, bringing his cash in hand to 74.2 yuan.
Tomorrow's rent is due, and after that he'll have some money left over to expand the outdoor stove needed for the Cross-legged Beef.
There was also the fountain pen Xia Yao had given him, still filled with ink. Zhou Yan unscrewed it and wrote down his bill for the day.
The expensive imported item wasn't just exquisite in appearance, it also wrote much smoother than his ninety cent plastic-barreled Yongsheng 233 pen.
But what was she thinking, giving a fountain pen to a chef?
What a strange girl.
He pulled the bedside cord, the tungsten light went dark, and Zhou Yan fell asleep instantly.
The fatigue from a long day left him no time to dwell on other matters; he felt as if he had fainted from exhaustion.
...
The next morning, before dawn, Master Little Zhou rode his 28-inch bicycle out to buy groceries.
A few lights were lit at the Yankantou slaughterhouse, barely illuminating the area. Several butchers were busily butchering and carving up the meat.
"Zhou Yan!"
Zhou Yan's bicycle had just stopped when a resounding voice rang out from behind him.
He turned around when he heard the sound and saw two burly men walking towards him with bloody knives.