Call Me Daddy

However, since crossing the age of 65, 2 years ago, Su Quangen felt somewhat inadequate.

While machines could replace kneading dough for breakfast, he couldn’t avoid manually stir-frying dishes for lunch and dinner. He used traditional cast-iron pots known for their flavorful dishes, reminiscent of the past. But these pots were heavy, and by the end of the day, his wrists ached so much he could barely lift them.

Once, while stir-frying, Su Quangen almost lost control, dropping the pot which cracked the tiles on the floor.

Miao Yinhua was younger than her husband but struggled more with the heavy iron pot. Moreover, her culinary skills didn’t match Su Quangen’s, who had once been a head chef at a state-run restaurant. Some gourmets in Xijiang knew of Su Quangen’s father, who had pampered his son and never made him endure rigorous training. After his father passed away, Su Quangen only managed to learn some superficial skills.

Even so, Su Quangen’s cooking skills were enough to impress the neighbors, outshining ordinary fast-food joints. Otherwise, Su’s small eatery wouldn’t have stood firm in this urban village for decades.

*****

Su Aobai was awakened by the enticing aroma of bone broth.

Opening his eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings, he realized he had arrived in a new world.

His memories from the original owner quickly assimilated. Minutes later, he rubbed his temples, got up from bed, and headed downstairs.

It was already 11 in the morning, and a few customers were seated in the small eatery. Miao Yinhua was jotting down their orders in a notebook, while Su Quangen busied himself in the kitchen at the back.

Because business was good, they hired a woman from out of town who rented their room. Her husband worked on a construction site. Since the elderly couple took over the expenses of their two children studying, which were considerable, she came to the shop to help out every afternoon and evening.

Her main tasks were washing and chopping vegetables, and finally helping the elderly couple wash dishes and clean the kitchen together. She earned 3,500 yuan a month, not a high salary, but the elderly couple allowed her to take home some leftover vegetables, fish, and meat from the day, as Su’s small eatery only sold fresh ingredients delivered that day.

This way, she could save a lot on food expenses, and since it was close to home, the woman started helping out in the shop, a job she had been doing for over 6 years.

“Son, you’re up? Have you washed your face and brushed your teeth? There’s breakfast left for you in the kitchen. If you don’t want breakfast, let your dad stir fry a couple of dishes for you.”

Seeing her son coming down the stairs, Miao Yinhua quickly reminded him.

People who work in catering don’t have regular meal times. The elderly couple and the kitchen helper usually have lunch after 1 or 2 o’clock when there are fewer customers.

Sometimes, the original owner and his son ate with the elderly couple. But most of the time, the elder couple were busy frying vegetables themselves.

“The small dishes today are good. The blood was soaked in water first. If you want to eat, let your dad get you some sweet and sour short ribs.”

The guest who ordered the dish nearby heard it and hurriedly ordered a sweet and sour short rib. The lady said that it was good, so it must be good.

Su Aobai nodded and walked to the kitchen.

The Su small eatery had been renovated several times, and the last time the kitchen was decorated, air conditioning was also installed because the kitchen was too hot in summer and several stoves were lit at the same time to fry vegetables. It was hot enough to steam people, so when Su Aobai walked into the kitchen, he didn’t feel very hungry.

Su Quangen had started cooking. The kitchen helper was busy cutting vegetables, and the scent he had smelled earlier came from two large clay pots stewing on the stove.

“You’re up.”

The Su family’s small eatery only served two kinds of stewed soups each day. One was complimentary, offered with any dish ordered, and the other could be purchased at a reasonable price ranging from 5 to 12 yuan depending on the type of soup. For larger groups dining together, they could order a large bowl, such as the braised pork trotter and soybean soup currently priced at 38 yuan, which was much more cost-effective compared to outside restaurants.

The pork trotters had been stewing since early morning, and both the skin and meat were tender. In many places, soybean pork trotter stew emphasized the stewed meat and thick broth; but here in Xijiang, people preferred drinking the soup. The Su family’s version was stewed in its original flavor without pre-frying with soy sauce, resulting in a thick, creamy-white soup; a mark of success.

Underneath the clay pot, the fire simmered gently, with the soybeans bubbling up along with the broth, the aroma of which Su Aobai had smelled upstairs earlier.

***

Su Aobai took a small bowl and ladled some soup with a clean spoon. This soup still lacked seasoning, so its taste was somewhat mild, but at this stage, its true flavor could still be appreciated.

Su Aobai smacked his lips and finished the bowl of pork trotter soup.

“This boy, I haven’t added seasoning yet.”

Su Quangen had just finished cooking a dish when he saw his son slurping down the bland pork trotter soup. Quickly, he fetched another bowl, sprinkled some salt and chicken bouillon into it, and prepared to ladle another serving for him.

“Dad, I can do it myself.” Su Aobai waved his hand.

“You really worry me, son.”

Su Quangen looked at him somewhat uneasily for a moment, but just then, Miao Yinhua called out new orders from outside the kitchen. Seeing business picking up, Su Quangen could only offer a few more words of advice to his son before getting busy with cooking.

Su Aobai glanced at the pile of seasonings behind him, grabbed a few fennel seeds, a bit of rock sugar, and added salt and chicken bouillon. He poured these seasonings into the clay pot where the soup was stewing, stirring them in with a ladle.

The soup itself wasn’t a big issue; it had stewed sufficiently and used fresh ingredients—but there were some areas that could be improved. Pork trotters weren’t the cleanest of ingredients, and improper handling could leave behind unwanted flavors. Su Quangen’s method of handling them was still a bit rough, and the soybeans hadn’t soaked enough in advance, resulting in a noticeable bean smell.

Now that the soup was stewed, these issues were hard to correct, so adjustments would have to be made through seasoning.

The amount of seasoning was tricky to gauge, especially for such large pot dishes. Even experienced chefs could sometimes miss the mark, which was why rural banquet meals occasionally tasted overly salty or bland, despite being cooked by the same chef.

Of course, this also depended on individual preferences; some preferred saltier food while others liked it milder. Large pot dishes catered to the tastes of the majority.

Su Aobai had once been groomed as the heir to a prestigious restaurant, trained as a culinary prodigy in a past life. Spices and seasonings had been part of his life since childhood. For most of his brief existence, he had spent the majority of his time in the kitchen. He never attended school; his education was squeezed in between cooking sessions, taught by private tutors.

If it weren’t for meeting someone who could fry eggs to perfection, he might have ascended to the highest culinary honors.

But he didn’t dwell on those unhappy things anymore. Strictly speaking, he was now one of those who had mastered the art. He used to resent them, but after discovering the joys of it himself, he thought; Wow, this is really something!

As soon as the fennel went into the pot, the aroma immediately became more complex. Too many strong spices could overpower the natural flavors of the ingredients, but the right amount could balance out any undesirable tastes.

“You! I told you to add the seasoning to the bowl, not dump it into the soup pot!”

Su Quangen was nearly frightened to death by his son and hastily scooped out a bowl of soup to taste the seasoning.

His precious son, now in his forties, had barely set foot in the kitchen. If it wasn’t homemade by them or delivered, he had no idea how much seasoning he had just added. He prayed he hadn’t ruined the pot of pork trotter soup.

After a sip of the soup, Su Quangen was stunned.

It was rich and smooth, typical of pork trotter soup, with a slight gelatinous texture from the skin and meat simmering together. The presence of this gelatinous texture allowed the rich broth to linger longer in the mouth, its aroma enduring.

Su Quangen had stewed pork trotter soup hundreds of times in his life, but rarely had he achieved such a perfect balance of flavors. Sometimes he would add a hint of fennel, but if not carefully measured, the soup could easily retain too strong a taste of fennel, which some people disliked. Adding too little wouldn’t neutralize the pork’s strong flavor either.

He finished the soup in two or three mouthfuls, smacked his lips, and suddenly wanted another bowl.

“You’ve seasoned it well, but let me handle this in the future,” Su Quangen remarked casually, thinking it was just a coincidence.

“Old man, customers outside are waiting for their dishes. Pick up the pace.”

Miao Yinhua came in and brought out several dishes that had already been cooked.

“Good, good, good,” Su Quangen responded repeatedly, too busy to chat with his son.

***

Even though the kitchen had air conditioning, Su Quangen was still sweating profusely. Miao Yinhua ran between the dining area and the kitchen, taking orders, serving dishes, and handling payments, her face flushed red from all the activity.

Despite considering the original owner’s persona, Su Aobai found it difficult to watch the two elderly people work so hard.

Helping with cooking was out of the question. First, it would be hard to explain why he had never cooked before yet had such good culinary skills. Secondly, his father would never allow him to start cooking.

Su Aobai thought for a moment and decided to go outside.

Miao Yinhua watched her son carry out the cooked dishes from the kitchen.

“Which table ordered the stir-fried lamb tripe and pan-fried tofu?”

Miao Yinhua pointed in two directions with a puzzled expression.

“One order of stir-fried lamb tripe and pan-fried tofu is for that table, and another order of stir-fried lamb tripe is for this table.”

She snapped out of her daze only after her son passed by her and then walked worriedly into the kitchen.

Oh no, our son was trying to curry favor again. He must want to squeeze some big money out of us!