Chapter 105 Crying While Eating Vegetarian Food
Su Yingxue put on her apron and tied the apron straps into a tight knot at her lower back.
This apron was left over from my previous company. It's faded a bit from washing, and the front still has the logo of a certain catering brand printed on it, with the words "Delicious Companionship" written in white on a blue background.
She glanced down at the mountain of potatoes piled up in the sink, took a deep breath, and picked up the kitchen knife from the counter.
The cleaver was heavier than I expected. She gripped the handle; the cool metal pressed against her palm, and the blade was duller than she had anticipated. The potatoes in the sink had rough skins and were speckled with mud; Wang Datou had casually tossed them into the sink after buying them, without having had time to wash them.
"Let's start with potatoes," she muttered to herself, reaching out to scoop up a potato the size of a fist.
The potato's surface was cool; her fingertips brushed against its uneven texture, feeling the dampness of the soil. She turned on the tap, and cold water gushed down, instantly spreading the mud spots on the potato's surface and flowing down the grooves.
She rubbed the dirt off her fingertips and placed the potato on the cutting board. The cutting board was made of natural wood, with some cracks at the edges; it had been used for a long time, and there were a few shallow knife marks in the middle. She raised the knife, the blade aimed at the top of the potato, and cut hard—
"Clang." The blade got stuck in the potato skin, only half a centimeter down.
"..." Su Yingxue frowned, adjusted her posture, pressed the potato down with her left hand, gripped the knife handle tightly with her right hand, and exerted force with her wrist. This time, the blade finally cut in, and the potato skin cracked open, revealing the pale yellow flesh inside.
She slowly peeled along the crack, the blade scraping against the potato skin with a rough yet subtle feel, like peeling a stubborn stone.
By the time she got to the third potato, she finally found her rhythm. The blade slid smoothly along the potato skin, and bits of dirt mixed with peel scraps fell off with a soft patter as they landed in the sink. After peeling five potatoes, beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and the inside of her left thumb was red from being pressed against the knife handle—she had used too much force and the handle had hit her knuckle.
"Phew..." She shook her wrist, piled the peeled potatoes aside, and turned to look at the two cabbages remaining in the sink. The cabbage stalks were bright green, but the edges of the leaves were slightly wilted, a sign that they had been sitting for a while. She turned on the tap, letting cold water rush into the gaps between the cabbage leaves, washing away the dirt and sand hidden inside.
As the water flowed over the leaves, it carried a few withered yellow vegetable stalks, which floated and swirled on the water's surface.
"We need to pick some fresh ones." She picked at the cabbage, peeling off the outermost wilted yellow leaves to reveal the tender green heart inside.
When you break off the third layer, a whole cabbage leaf suddenly splits open from the middle, and the crisp sound is particularly clear in the quiet tea room.
Next came the eggplant. The glistening purple eggplants lay on the cutting board, their skin shiny and smooth to the touch. She remembered Wang Datou saying these were "the cheapest eggplants," small in size but incredibly fresh.
She used the tip of a knife to make a cross on the top of the eggplant, then snapped it open with force—
"Snap." A small piece of the eggplant skin cracked open, revealing the snow-white flesh inside. She paused for a moment, then realized: she had to peel it. Eggplant skin was too thick, affecting the taste, and besides... she glanced at the trash can in the corner, which was already piled with several potato peels and cabbage stalks; throwing in a few more pieces of eggplant skin wouldn't be too much.
She picked up the knife again and slowly peeled along the eggplant skin. The eggplant skin was harder than the potato skin, and a faint "scratching" sound could be heard as the blade scraped against it, like sandpaper.
Halfway through peeling the eggplant, she suddenly noticed that a pale purple juice was seeping from the flesh, sticking to the blade and dripping onto the cutting board, leaving a small purple stain.
"I need to cut it faster." Su Yingxue quickened her pace, cutting the peeled eggplant into chunks. When the blade fell, the eggplant flesh was soft, unlike the hard potatoes, making it easier to cut. However, crumbs stuck to the blade, so she had to wipe it with a cloth after every few pieces.
The tofu was processed last. Two blocks of soft tofu were in a plastic box, water droplets still clinging to the lid. She carefully lifted the box, afraid of crushing the tofu. Lifting the lid, the milky white tofu trembled, like a piece of freshly solidified cloud. She gently sliced the surface of the tofu with a knife; the blade penetrated half a centimeter, but the tofu didn't crack; instead, it slightly indented along the blade.
"I have to use a spoon to scoop it out," she muttered to herself, putting down the kitchen knife and picking up the small metal spoon.
She slowly scooped along the edge of the tofu with a spoon, and the milky white tofu block landed on the cutting board, irregularly shaped but intact. She cut the tofu into small pieces, each one as light as if afraid of breaking it.
After all the ingredients were prepared, Su Yingxue's apron was soaked with water and crumbs. The shredded potatoes were piled in a stainless steel bowl, as thin as vermicelli.
Eggplant chunks are soaked in water to remove the bitterness from the surface; the cabbage stalks and leaves are separated, and the cabbage leaves are torn into bite-sized pieces; tofu cubes are arranged on a plate, resembling a small pile of warm, lustrous jade.
She turned on the gas stove, and blue flames shot out with a "whoosh," licking the bottom of the cast iron pot. The pot was fairly clean; she had just wiped it clean for a while, and it made a slight "sizzling" sound as it heated up.
She poured in a small spoonful of oil—Linda bought it; the bottle had a "non-GMO" label, and the price tag was still on, showing "¥18.9/bottle." She bought a small bottle. Saving money.
After the oil was hot, she first poured the shredded potatoes into the pot. The moment the shredded potatoes hit the bottom of the pot, they made a "sizzling" sound, and oil splattered up. One drop landed on the back of her hand, burning her so much that she hissed.
She quickly used a rag to stir-fry the potatoes, which gradually softened in the pan and changed color from pale yellow to translucent.
Next came the eggplant chunks. She took the eggplant out of the water, drained it, and poured it into the pot. Eggplant has an amazing ability to absorb oil; as soon as it touched the bottom of the pot, the oil level dropped noticeably.
She stir-fried the eggplants, watching them slowly turn from purplish-black to dark brown. The resistance from the spatula decreased as she turned the eggplants, indicating that they had softened.
Finally, she added the cabbage. First, she poured the cabbage stalks into the pot and stir-fried them until slightly softened, then added the cabbage leaves. The leaves quickly curled up upon contact with the heat, releasing green juices, and the broth in the pot gradually became clear. She added a small spoonful of salt, and the fresh aroma of the cabbage immediately filled the air.
The tofu was added last. She gently placed the cut tofu cubes into the pot, pushing them aside with the back of a spatula to prevent them from breaking. The tofu slowly absorbed the flavors of the hot broth, infusing it with the aroma of the cabbage and seasonings, until its surface turned slightly yellow.
"Dinner's ready!" Su Yingxue turned off the stove and put the stir-fried shredded potatoes, eggplant casserole, and cabbage and tofu soup into three stainless steel lunch boxes.
The lunchbox was left over from her previous company; the corners were a bit dented, but it was still usable. As she carried the large lunchbox out of the break room, she heard gasps of surprise coming from the office.
"This...this really is shredded potato?" Xiao Li leaned closer to smell it, his eyes widening. "It smells pretty good?"
Ada stared at the eggplant casserole, her chopsticks hovering above the lunchbox: "I thought it was going to be a culinary disaster..."
Mengmeng had already picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of cabbage and tofu soup, and looked at it: "Hmm, it looks like it has the sweetness of cabbage..."
Su Yingxue placed the lunchbox on the communal dining table and wiped the sweat from her brow. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on her slightly flushed cheeks and making the logo on her apron, which read "Deliciousness Accompanies You," stand out brightly.
"Let's try it first," she said softly. "Next time... I'll try to give everyone more meat."
A few muffled laughs echoed in the office; some people had already started eating.
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