Chapter 6 006 Claypot Rice
Wen Fan stepped out of his house, enjoying the fresh morning air. He practiced a set of Baduanjin exercises in the park on the street corner, stretching his arms and legs, before slowly setting off.
Elderly people going out for morning exercise, children hurriedly squeezed onto the back of electric bikes by their parents to rush to their extracurricular classes, and young people eating breakfast while catching their rides.
As Wen Fan walked and looked around, he unknowingly arrived at a morning market.
The place was bustling with noise, and the voices of vendors were amplified through a strange loudspeaker, repeating themselves over and over again.
"Watermelons! Watermelons! Kirin watermelons are on sale at a low price!"
"Freshly picked bok choy! Two yuan a bunch!"
"Big steamed buns, both meat and vegetarian options are available."
...
This noisy market was more familiar to Wen Fan than the well-managed vegetable market.
In her previous life, she had only left the palace a few times to shop, and she had seen such lively scenes outside the city.
The difference is that people here are more willing to spend on food than in the past. Especially now that refined ingredients like white sugar, rice, and flour are more readily available, the variety of food is also much richer.
As Wen Fan walked down the street, he felt an urge to show off his skills. By the time he came to his senses, he was carrying a bag of three sausages and a bag of fresh corn with husks still on.
Fortunately, the backpack was big enough. Wen Fan stuffed his things into the backpack and set off for the library as usual.
But when they arrived at the destination, Wen Fan was dumbfounded.
She was just looking for a place to study based on the original owner's memories, but she didn't expect that even the library would be overcrowded during the summer vacation.
I used to think that weekends were mostly spent with students, but now the place is full of kids running around, and a few parents are walking around admiring the sight.
"Thank goodness there's a place like this, with air conditioning and it's safe."
"Yes, yes, it's great that the children can read books here."
What do your children eat for lunch?
“I gave him twenty yuan. There are small stalls outside at noon. If all else fails, I’ll order takeout for him.”
"Ordering takeout is good; I'm planning to order some for my child too."
"What did you all choose? Let me see."
...
Wen Fan frowned, feeling that such parents were rather irresponsible.
Are there no child abductors in this era?
Even if there are no kidnappers, what if a child gets hurt or injured in a public place?
Meeting the lifeless library staff's gaze, Wen Fan had no choice but to decide to head home for the day.
As she walked, she thought back to the conversation the parents had just had.
"Ordering takeout", "food delivery"...
Wen Fan narrowed his eyes.
...
Mr. and Mrs. Wen were shocked by their daughter's cooking skills that morning. If they didn't know their daughter so well, Mr. Wen would have wondered if she had secretly apprenticed with some master chef based on that beef patty alone.
The couple got on the tricycle, and Mr. Wen was still surprised.
"It tastes even better than my master's!"
Wen's father learned his cooking skills from a master chef in the village who made weddings and funerals. He worked odd jobs for three years and studied cooking for five years, but in the end, he was just average in the city.
But Wen's father thought that even the master craftsman who was famous for his skills in the surrounding villages could not make the same taste as this morning!
Wen's mother was more composed than Wen's father; her only thought about her daughter's cooking was pride.
"Our daughter is so smart! Do you remember when she was little, she could memorize ancient poems in just three to five minutes!"
Wen's mother was both proud and gratified: "My child has become so sensible; she can even cook for us now. Didn't you say that Xiao Fan made you some pickled vegetables yesterday?"
Mr. Wen stopped his tricycle. Just as Mrs. Wen was about to ask him what he was doing, she saw that Mr. Wen had already lifted his shirt and wiped his face.
Mother Wen:......
Mr. Wen choked up a little: "I just feel... I feel that my child is too sensible."
In the past, when they saw her complaining about her parents being shameful, they felt only sadness.
But now that she's so sensible, Wen's father feels uncomfortable.
"...It's all that bastard's fault!"
Wen's mother suddenly raised her eyebrows and began to look for the culprit directly.
"Old Wen, we have to work hard and save more money for our daughter!" Wen's mother suddenly felt a surge of ambition.
The relationship caused her daughter a lot of suffering, so Wen's mother decided that no matter whether her daughter got married in the future, she would give her the most security.
Full of fighting spirit, Wen's mother began to study how to run a food delivery business. After fiddling with her phone for a long time, she finally registered a rider account.
I was just about to find a helmet and go out to run a couple of orders to familiarize myself with the system while there are fewer people this morning.
I heard the phone ring twice.
Wen's mother looked down.
"Old Wen, we have an order!"
When an order came in, Mrs. Wen naturally stopped walking out the door.
The order this time was similar to yesterday's, still two rice bowls, with a note to change one to pickled chili peppers.
Ms. Wen was already used to this, but what surprised her even more was not the order, but a positive review she received in the back office.
[Thanks to the shop! This little shop gave me my own personal pickled vegetable dish! I highly recommend the owner add pickled peppers to the menu. With these peppers, I could eat three bowls of rice! Of course, the rice bowls are also pretty good, and the shop is quite clean. Five-star review!]
This comment appeared all alone in the comment section, and Wen's mother stared at it blankly for a long time.
Mr. Wen was numb. He took a plate of pickled peppers from the stainless steel basin and shared his daughter's cooking with his wife.
After eating it, not only Mr. Wen's father, but also Mr. Wen's mother noticed the huge difference.
Mr. Wen finally gave in: "Pack it up... and put the pickled vegetables on the shelf later."
Most importantly, when his daughter comes back, he really wants to ask her how the pickled vegetables can taste like this.
Wen Fan had anticipated this question. She took out the sausages and corn from her bag and said casually, "I just learned it from the internet. Well, I added a few things in the middle."
Mr. Wen asked impatiently, "What did you add?"
Wen Fan pointed to the counter: "Those spices, the tutorial said to fry them into sesame oil, and then I saw that there was some catnip and cardamom in the refrigerator, so I put some of them in."
"What about the beef patties this morning?"
"I just made it on the spot. I thought the minced meat wasn't fine enough, so I ground it again, added ice water, onions, and black pepper. As for my own improvisation... I just added whatever I saw."
Mr. Wen looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Wen Fan, however, did not want to discuss this issue any further.
She excitedly prepared to go into the kitchen: "Dad, shall I make you a clay pot rice for lunch?"
Mr. Wen responded absentmindedly, his mind racing with speculation.
Sudden.
"Dad, come here and teach me how to use the stove!"
Wen Fan pointed to the cluttered stove: "Why can't this stove be lit?"
Yesterday, we used a small stove for frying oil. Others thought it was good, but Wen Fan always felt that the oil temperature wasn't high enough and it wasn't quite cooked properly.
Father Wen finally snapped out of his daze, laughing inwardly at himself for overthinking things: "Here we are."
Wen Fan quickly learned how to use the gas and stove, which made her even more satisfied.
The gas provides sufficient heat, making many things easier to do.
Wen Fan occupied a stove to make claypot rice. To dispel her parents' suspicions, she even placed a recipe on her phone in front of her.
While stir-frying the toppings, Wen's father observed his daughter. Wen Fan seemed to be really inexperienced in cooking; she would smell the seasonings first, and sometimes even dip her chopsticks in them and smack them to taste.
Even so, once the rice is cooked in the clay pot, the aroma is impossible to hide.
Wen's mother was at the door collecting cash, and although she wanted to go out to deliver food, she couldn't get out of the door.
Although the restaurant still didn't fill all eight tables, there were significantly more customers than usual.
Some customers even came in and exclaimed how delicious it smelled, then asked her what was being made in the kitchen.
"Give me one of everything, no matter what!"
Wen Fan readily agreed and told her mother that she had prepared enough for six people.
"If we keep enough for the three of us, we can sell three more portions."
Wen's mother swallowed hard: "Okay."
After thinking for a moment, he went out and quoted a price: "Claypot rice, one serving costs eighteen yuan."
Seeing her fair-skinned daughter sitting in the kitchen, sweating profusely in the summer heat without air conditioning, Wen's mother felt that calling her eighteen was not a bad thing at all.
Some people complained about the price, but in the end, three portions were successfully sold.
Two of the recipients were young people, but the last one was from an acquaintance.
"Sister Yang, what brings you here? Wait a moment, I'll get you a bottle of ice water!"
Yang Hong sat there, her expression revealing no particular happiness.
She wasn't thinking about anything else, but rather about the poorly made fried rice she had for lunch yesterday.
She felt unwell!
Firstly, they felt that Wen's father might have known that they had ordered it, which was why he deliberately did it poorly.
Secondly, it's because of...cravings.
I'm so hungry I'm practically itching to eat it.
She ate too fast yesterday morning, so much so that her stomach reacted, but her heart still felt unsatisfied. The ordinary fried rice at lunchtime was simply not enough to comfort her!
Last night, she still didn't believe it and drove out to Jin Yu Tang around 9 p.m. to order a Jin Yu Man Tang fried rice.
Two hundred and eighteen servings of fried rice, in a magnificent, golden hall.
But Yang Hong still felt it wasn't enough!
The rice wasn't moist enough, there weren't enough vegetables, the seafood wasn't fresh, and the shredded meat wasn't fragrant enough.
In short, Yang Hong went home hungry.
What's even more infuriating is that the rent from the Wen couple also arrived around that time, making her unable to even contact them in the middle of the night to ask if they had any complaints about the rent if they came to her house in the morning.
Yang Hong endured it for a long time, but at noon she couldn't hold back any longer.
They didn't even sit at the card table; they rushed in to sit down before the store opened for lunch.
Wen's mother was very polite. She first offered Yang Hong a bottle of chilled cola, and then asked her what she wanted to eat.
Yang Hong hesitated, wanting to say she wanted fried rice, but worried it would be as bad as yesterday's lunch. But when she smelled the aroma coming from the kitchen, she didn't hesitate anymore.
"Give me one of those that smells good!"
I'll try anything, even if it's a dead end; anything that smells good can't be bad!
Wen's mother successfully sold three servings of claypot rice, and several customers outside the door had already started eating the noodles and rice bowls made by Wen's father.
Looking at his daughter's hair, which was all wet and stuck to her forehead, Wen's father felt a pang of heartache: "I'll keep an eye on things for you, you can go out now."
Wen Fan shook his head: "That depends on the fire."
Controlling the size of the stove fire, a sizzling sound soon came from inside.
Wen Fan breathed a sigh of relief: "All done!"
With a fragrant aroma wafting towards you, the lid is lifted, revealing neatly arranged Chinese sausages and crisp bok choy in the casserole, along with golden corn kernels and an egg nestled in the center.
Mr. Wen's throat bobbed as he listened to his daughter muttering about not having time to prepare the ribs and missing some sauce.
"Xiao Fan, is it ready to eat?"
The sausages inside are neatly cut and simmered in the clay pot until the edges become translucent and the pointed ends curl up. A bit of the golden-brown bottom is visible through the crust at the edge of the pot, and a few chopped scallions are sprinkled on top of the freshly cooked rice...
Wen Fan smiled: "Alright."
A note from the author:
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