PFC Chapter 34: Such an overbearing flavor! Fang Jiajin's shock!
Chapter 34: Such an overbearing flavor! Fang Jiajin's shock!
Chapter 34 What a domineering aura! The shock of the Fang family's daughter!
As the sun began to set, the dilapidated wooden door in the backyard of the imperial kitchen suffered another blow.
With a creak, the door hinges groaned in pain.
Li Lizhi leaned half her body in, not yet holding the food box, but instead grabbing another piece of light blue sleeve with her other hand.
"Hurry up, what are you dawdling for? If you're any later, there won't even be any soup left."
The person she was pulling took very small steps, tentatively stepping on the uneven, muddy ground with their toes, their brows furrowed tightly.
She wore a blue ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress) with intricate embroidery, and the jade hairpin in her hair dazzled in the sunlight. She exuded a scholarly air, which was completely out of place in the backyard where chicken feathers and duck blood were scattered everywhere.
Fang Qingjun, the daughter of Fang Xuanling.
She was completely stunned.
Today, I was supposed to go to the palace to accompany Princess Chang Le in studying calligraphy and painting, but after writing just two characters, the princess threw down her brush and mysteriously said she would take me to see a "good place".
The road twisted and turned, becoming increasingly remote, and eventually led us into the back door of the imperial kitchen where swill was disposed of.
"Your Highness—we've trespassed into forbidden territory."
Fang Qingjun lowered her voice and nervously looked around, afraid that a guard would jump out and capture them as assassins. "This will get us punished."
"What punishment? Father doesn't care." Li Lizhi didn't care at all and skillfully dragged the person into the courtyard.
Fang Qingjun looked up and was dumbfounded.
The yard was a mess, with piles of firewood half a person high at the base of the wall, a large black pot in the middle, and a strange-looking wooden frame next to it.
The most outrageous one was that man.
A young man dressed in coarse cloth sat there with an air of authority, holding a gleaming woodcutter's knife in his hand.
He was shaving bamboo skewers.
A small pile of finely shaved bamboo skewers had already accumulated at my feet, each one about the same length with its head rounded off.
"I'm here again!"
Little Sizi emerged from behind Li Lizhi just then, like a little swallow returning to its nest, still clutching an unfinished pear in her hand, hopping and skipping as she rushed over.
"Brother, what's the date today? Is it that running meat duck?"
Su Mu stopped wielding his knife, blew away the wood shavings from the skewer, and glanced at the extra person.
"No more roujiamo (Chinese hamburger)."
He tossed the shaved skewers into a bowl of water beside him. "We're having cold pot skewers today."
"Cold pot—skewers?"
Little Sizi tilted his head, muttered those words to himself, and his eyes lit up instantly. "Did you let the pot get cold?"
Fang Qingjun stood there, her handkerchief almost torn to shreds.
This person not only failed to bow to the princess, but also sat in such an insolent manner. Moreover, Princess Chang Le and Princess Jin Yang were not angry at all?
"What are you still standing there for?" Li Lizhi turned around and glanced at her best friend, who was still in a daze, and waved her over. "Come and help."
Fang Qingjun pointed to herself: "Me?"
"No work, no food; that's the rule."
Li Lizhi sighed, disregarding any semblance of dignity as a princess of the Tang Dynasty. She rolled up her sleeves and walked naturally to a large vat, lifting the lid. "Su Mu, is this today's food?"
The jar was filled with a bunch of random things.
Sliced lotus root, torn tripe, some innards whose original shape was hard to discern, and even chunks of chicken feet?
"right."
Su Mu pointed to the bowl of skewers, "You two are in charge of skewering them, one skewer per piece of vegetable, and don't skewer them crookedly."
Fang Qingjun looked at Li Lizhi—
That pampered young lady, who usually had even her teacup served by a maid, actually squatted down, grabbed a handful of wet bamboo skewers, and began clumsily poking a slice of lotus root into it.
This world has gone mad!
"Still watching?"
Su Mu suddenly had a palm-leaf fan in his hand, which he was idly waving. "Miss Fang, is that right? Since you're here, don't put on airs like the daughter of a prime minister. If you want to eat this, you'll have to do it yourself."
Fang Qingjun blushed, feeling both ashamed and annoyed.
How did he know who I was?
And her tone was even more forceful than when her father was lecturing her!
"Who—who would want to eat something like you!"
Fang Qingjun muttered to herself, but seeing the pleading look in Li Lizhi's eyes, she could only sigh helplessly, lift her skirt, and carefully sit down on the dusty little stool next to her.
A bamboo skewer was stuffed into his hand.
It feels slightly cool to the touch.
She picked up a slice of potato, cut as thin as a cicada's wing, and tentatively tried to thread it through.
Surprisingly, it was somewhat relaxing?
The courtyard fell silent for a moment, with only the "slurp" of bamboo skewers piercing through the food and the crunch of the little ox munching on a pear.
Su Mu was not idle.
He got up and walked to the stove.
A deep earthenware basin is placed in the center.
Inside, there was already a base layer: toasted white sesame seeds, crushed peanuts, finely chopped pickled mustard greens, and a spoonful of some kind of dark brown sauce.
The key is that pot of oil.
Su Mu lifted the lid of a small pot next to him.
An intensely fragrant aroma exploded out instantly!
Fang Qingjun couldn't help but sneeze.
That's not the usual smell of cooking oil; it's the essence left after dozens of spices, such as chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, and cinnamon, have been repeatedly simmered in oil.
Bright red, thick, and domineering.
Su Mu picked up the oil pan.
The scalding hot chili oil poured down onto the base of the dish.
"Sizzle—"
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A violent sound.
The red oil sizzled and the white sesame seeds danced on the noodles. The aroma, a blend of caramelized, numbing, and spicy fragrance, instantly filled the entire backyard and even drifted outwards along the wall.
Fang Qingjun almost dropped the string of chicken gizzards she had just skewered.
She had never smelled such a pungent odor before.
Unlike the lukewarm steaming and boiling methods in the palace, this aroma was like a burly man wielding a sledgehammer, smashing the fragrance directly into your brain.
My throat felt tight, and my saliva started flowing uncontrollably.
"What...what is this?"
Fang Qingjun couldn't help but ask, her voice losing all its former reserve.
"Red oil".
Su Mu stirred it with long chopsticks, "The soul of Bo Bo Chicken."
He turned around and poured the cooled broth into it.
The red chili oil floating on the soup noodles was a finger's thickness, bright red and shiny, making one's scalp tingle just by looking at it, yet irresistibly curious to explore its depths.
"Is it all strung up yet?" Su Mu urged.
"Okay, okay!"
Although Xiao Sizi hadn't done any work, she was the most enthusiastic at this moment. She held the large bunch of skewers that her two older sisters had just painstakingly strung together in her arms, and handed them over like a bouquet of flowers, saying, "Here you go, brother!"
Su Mu took the large handful of sticks.
Some ingredients are pre-cooked and cooled, while others are blanched.
He dipped the whole bunch of skewers into the bowl of red soup.
Gum!
The ingredients are submerged in chili oil, leaving only sections of bamboo skewers sticking out, resembling a dense bamboo forest.
"Soak for 15 minutes."
Su Mu clapped his hands. "Just wait and see."
For Fang Qingjun, those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.
The pot of red soup was right under my nose.
Every now and then you can see half a piece of tripe peeking out from the bubbling red oil, or lotus root stained red.
That cool fragrance kept wafting into my nose.
She felt her stomach starting to rebel, even making an extremely uncouth "gurgling" sound.
Fortunately, the louder rumbling of Li Lizhi's and her little brother's stomachs masked her embarrassment.
"eat!
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