Chương 12: Qiaojiao Beef

Qiaojiao Beef? Zhou Yan was slightly taken aback. He was familiar with this dish. If there was one dish that became the most famous in Suji later on, it would undoubtedly be Qiaojiao Beef. Not only was it a local specialty, but Qiaojiao Beef restaurants were also everywhere in Chengdu. A light-flavored soup pot, served with a dipping sauce, could flourish throughout Sichuan, which was enough to show its uniqueness.

He had been to Suji in his previous life and had even interviewed two inheritors of the intangible cultural heritage of Qiaojiao Beef. Speaking of which, the origin of this dish was in Zhou Village, where cattle slaughtering took place. It was said that an ancestor of the Zhou family who slaughtered cattle invented the way of eating it, while others said it was invented by an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor in Zhou Village. Two of his cousins were now selling Qiaojiao Beef at the Qingyi River Wharf.

When beef and offal were not selling well, his mother would also set up a stall, which was a family tradition. Of course, he didn't know how. But now he would learn very quickly. Most importantly, while others selling Qiaojiao Beef had to consider how to obtain fresh ingredients, he could rely on his parents, with his father supplying him directly! In the catering industry, the supply of ingredients is a very important link.

Backed by the village of Sha Niu Zhou, he had no worries about running out of beef and offal.

"What are you daydreaming about?" Zhao Tieying waved her hand in front of his eyes.

"Nothing, business's slow anyway, I'm going to lie down for a bit, I got up too early this morning." Zhou Yan smiled and got up to walk towards the stairs.

"Go ahead, I'll call you later." Zhao Tieying nodded. This kid got up early to buy groceries, stir-fry toppings, then knead dough and pull noodles, he must be exhausted. He used to complain and yell at the slightest work, but these past two days he hasn't uttered a sound, like a real man. Zhou Yan went upstairs and closed the door, then used his mind to open the recipe for Qiaojiao Beef. A flood of information rushed into his mind, and he was stunned.

Three minutes later, Zhou Yan's vision cleared, and his thoughts raced. Everything about Qiaojiao Beef had merged with his memories, as if he already knew it.

"If it sells well, it could be a good growth point, and it won't really affect noodle sales," Zhou Yan thought to himself. Although the textile factory had over two thousand employees, few people would eat a bowl of noodles that cost six cents every day. He was content if he could consistently sell a hundred bowls a day. But he wasn't satisfied with earning thirty or forty yuan a day; he was quite idle at lunchtime and in the evenings. It was late October, and the weather would gradually cool down.

At that time, a pot of steaming hot braised beef would become very appealing. However, he needed the support of Comrade Zhou and Comrade Zhao to sell braised beef....

"Zhou Momo is so cute! Zhou Yan is quite interesting too," Xia Yao said with a smile, sitting on the back of the bicycle, one arm around Meng Anhe's waist.

"Polite and mature beyond his years, quite interesting." Meng Anhe smiled slightly, then quickly added, "However, you two might not be a good match."

"Huh?" Xia Yao was taken aback, then understood Meng Anhe's meaning, a blush rising to her cheeks as she whispered urgently, "Auntie, what are you saying!"

"I'm just warning you, you can't fall for someone so easily, or your mother will tear me apart." Meng Anhe glanced back at her, speaking gently, "Zhou Yan saved you, we will be grateful and repay him, you don't need to feel burdened. After you graduate, you'll be returning to Hangzhou, which is thousands of miles away. He runs a restaurant in this small town, while you work and live in Hangzhou, it will be difficult for you to have any contact."

"I know, and I didn't even have that thought..." Xia Yao said helplessly. She hadn't thought about it that way at all, she just thought Zhou Momo was cute and Zhou Yan was quite interesting.

"Then I'll just assume you're overthinking it," Meng Anhe said with a smile.

"I'm going to Rongcheng after lunch tomorrow; I have some things to take care of at the design institute. I can take you to Jiazhou city on the way. I've also asked for leave for you until tomorrow."

"Okay," Xia Yao replied.... After finishing up at noon, Old Zhou rode his old bicycle into the shop, holding a colorful little windmill that spun in the wind. Zhou Momo, who was sitting by the door, saw this and skipped over to him, muttering, "Windmill!" Zhou Miao stopped his bike and handed the windmill to Zhou Momo.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Zhou Momo shouted happily, running around in front of the shop with the windmill in her hand. Zhou Miao watched from the side with his arms crossed, his smile also very bright.

"He's such a doting father," Zhao Tieying complained to Zhou Yan in the shop.

"Seriously, I don't even get to play with her," Zhou Yan nodded in deep agreement.

"You're so old, still acting like a fancier? Your skin's thicker than a city wall." Zhao Tieying laughed and patted his arm. The shop was empty, so the family started eating lunch. Today they cooked rice, scooped out a bowl of braised beef and a plate of minced beef with two kinds of peppers as side dishes, along with a dish of pickled radishes and some stir-fried greens.

"Is all the meat sold out?" Zhao Tieying asked casually.

"The meat is sold out. Zhou Jie took the offal to sell; he can sell it for hot pot." Zhou Miao shoveled a mouthful of rice.

"That's fine, better than it rotting in our hands." Zhao Tieying nodded. Hearing their conversation, Zhou Yan had an idea.

"How's the business of selling 'Qiaojiao Beef'?"

"It's alright, but the weather's getting colder soon, business will be better." Zhou Miao replied.

"Why don't we try selling 'Qiaojiao Beef' too?" Zhou Yan suggested.

"If you want to sell, you can try..." Zhou Miao hadn't finished speaking.

"Your noodle business is just starting to pick up, and now you're going to sell hot pot?" Zhao Tieying frowned slightly.

"Hot pot will definitely sell better when the weather gets colder, but most people who eat offal are laborers at the docks. I've sold it for a while these past two winters, and I've rarely seen textile factory workers come to eat it."

"That's right." Zhou Miao immediately nodded in agreement.

"Zhou Jie and the others are just making a little money from hard work; they even lose money when they can't sell it." Zhou Yan had anticipated their reaction and smiled.

"When I was in the factory canteen, I learned a medicinal cuisine recipe. I plan to combine this recipe with hot pot. This way, the hot pot will not only be more delicious but also have some medicinal properties. Also, we won't call it hot pot anymore; our shop will call it 'Qiaojiao Beef.' Our ancestors in Zhou Village invented this dish over a hundred years ago. There was even an old Chinese medicine doctor who sold Qiaojiao Beef at a stall and improved the recipe. This way, we have both heritage and a story."

"Is that okay?" Zhao Tieying and Zhou Miao exchanged glances, a little confused.

"Of course, to make the hot pot more expensive and get the workers to love it, we need to tell a good story about the dish, from its historical origins and anecdotes to its heritage," Zhou Yan nodded confidently. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! He had heard countless brand stories while filming restaurant review videos, including those about Suji Beef, so he already had a general idea of how to tell this brand story well.

He wasn't good at cooking, but storytelling was his specialty. Adaptation wasn't fabrication; he was simply organizing and retelling to help the dish gain wider recognition sooner. Zhao Tieying and Zhou Miao nodded thoughtfully. They didn't understand these things, but Zhou Yan said he learned them from the factory canteen, so it must be true.

"Then I'll save the offal for you when we slaughter the cow tomorrow," Zhou Miao said.

"No need to keep it all. Leave me an extra half jin of the hanging tenderloin, and a little of each of the tripe, intestines, and tendon. Send the extra to Brother Jie. Let's cook a pot tomorrow and see how it goes." Zhou Yan said earnestly.

"If we really want to sell it, I plan to build a stove at the entrance specifically for cooking this beef offal. The aroma will be more effective than any advertisement."

"Okay." Zhou Miao nodded.

"Then I'll process the offal you wanted by the river tomorrow." Zhao Tieying said.

"Thank you for your trouble, Comrade Zhao Tieying." Zhou Yan said with a smile. He was deeply moved by the unconditional trust and support from 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 soon as possible, ease his parents' burden, and let them live a better life. Zhou Yan went out with the money in his pocket.

The beef offal menu he received was a pinnacle version improved from later generations. The latest novels are first published on 69shuba! In 1984, an era of scarcity, most people were still struggling to have enough to eat. However, some working-class people with stable jobs and decent incomes were gradually starting to pursue not only being able to eat their fill but also eating well. As people's living standards continued to improve, their demands for food quality also increased, which is an objective law.

From adding spices to remove the fishy smell, to adding Chinese medicine to enhance the flavor, and then to nourishing the stomach, dispelling dampness and cold, and strengthening bones, Qiaojiao Beef caters to diners' pursuit of eating well. There are many stalls selling Qiaojiao Beef in Suji Town and along the Qingyi River, 90% of which are run by people from Zhoucun. Fresh beef offal is supplied every day, and the main selling point is that it is cheap and plentiful.

If Zhou Yan wants to raise the price of Qiaojiao Beef, he has to differentiate himself, attacking the market from three aspects: taste, texture, and efficacy, and also telling a good story. He went to two old traditional Chinese medicine doctors in town and bought more than ten kinds of Chinese herbs, including angelica, long pepper, cardamom, amomum, and galangal. The quantities weren't large, but it still cost him eight yuan and twenty cents.

Firstly, there were many kinds, and secondly, qualified Chinese herbs are still expensive. Zhao Tieying looked at Zhou Yan carrying several bags of Chinese herbs wrapped in brown paper and asked with some doubt, "Are you feeling unwell? Why did you buy so many herbs?"

"I'm fine. These herbs are for adding to the braised beef," Zhou Yan explained briefly. Adding herbs to the braised beef enhances the flavor and also increases its medicinal properties, differentiating it from other restaurants.

"You do need to add some herbs, but not that many! And herbs are expensive; even people selling soup pots in our village rarely add them," Zhao Tieying frowned.

"You're probably going to lose money by adding them like this."

"I won't lose money; I know what I'm doing," Zhou Yan said confidently. He finished work early tonight, and all ninety bowls of noodles sold out quickly. Several customers who wanted noodles were politely turned down by Zhou Yan, who told them to come earlier tomorrow. His parents ate dinner and took Zhou Momo home. Zhou Yan soaked dried bamboo shoots, made a jar of pickled radishes, took a cold shower in the yard, and went to his room early. The room was small; a five-watt light bulb barely illuminated it.

Yellowed old newspapers were pasted on the rough walls. One pane of the window was broken, patched together with newspaper and tape, and the edges were peeling, letting in drafts. The bed was just two benches with a few uneven planks on top. The mattress was a thin, dark old cotton quilt, passed down from who-knows-when, hard and uncomfortable to lie on. The pillow was a Xinhua Dictionary, and the quilt was also thin and not warm at all; he had to put his coat on top of it to fall asleep at night.

A bamboo pole with a rope served as his wardrobe, holding two pieces of clothing and two pairs of pants—that was all his possessions. Describing it as utterly destitute wouldn't be an exaggeration. Xiao Zhou was a good comrade; he spent all the borrowed money wisely, enjoying nothing for himself. Zhou Yan had started his life as an orphan, so he was quite hardworking. But he never expected to suffer the hardships left behind by others after suffering his own. What a tragedy! Make money!

He was now full of motivation. Only by making money could he break free from this abject poverty. Once he earned enough, he'd buy himself a new Simmons mattress! A new, thick cotton quilt! A soft pillow! And repair the windows! No, no, that's too modest. It should be a refrigerator, a TV, a washing machine! His pursuit of a better life should be more sophisticated. He placed the box containing the money on the bedside table, opened the lid, and began to count it.

Today's income was 54 yuan, and the expenses for meat and vegetables were 15. 3 yuan. He still had 35. 5 yuan left from yesterday, bringing his total cash balance to 74. 2 yuan. He had enough for tomorrow's rent, and after paying that, he'd still have some left over to expand the outdoor stove needed for his braised beef noodles. There was also the fountain pen Xia Yao had given him; it still had ink inside. Zhou Yan casually unscrewed it and wrote down today's expenses.

The expensive imported pen was not only exquisitely designed, but it also wrote much smoother than his cheap plastic pen. But what was she thinking, giving a chef a fountain pen? What a strange girl. He pulled the cord by the bedside, the tungsten filament light went out, and Zhou Yan fell asleep instantly. The exhaustion of the day left him no time to think about anything else; he felt like he'd passed out from exhaustion.... The next morning, before dawn, Master Zhou rode his old bicycle out to buy groceries.

A few lights were strung up at the slaughterhouse at Yankantou, barely illuminating the area where several groups of butchers were busily butchering and butchering cattle.

"Zhou Yan!" A loud voice rang out behind Zhou Yan as he stopped his bicycle. He turned around and saw two burly men approaching him, carrying blood-stained knives.