Chương 76: Your Grandma's Here

Zhou Yan put the noodles in the pot, washed and dried his hands, took out Zhou Momo's drawing, and opened it, his eyes widening slightly. It was clearly a charcoal drawing, depicting a small courtyard with a little girl with pigtails, a cat crouching at her feet, and a goose following behind. A small, dark handprint was imprinted in the corner, likely Zhou Momo's unique signature.

Charcoal isn't a pen, so the little girl's features were blurry and not particularly beautiful, but upon closer inspection, there was a certain charm, a childlike innocence. Zhou Momo was only three and a half years old! The little one usually liked to pick up a twig and draw in the sand; no one had ever taught her how to draw. Unexpectedly, she had such talent. Zhou Yan thought it was wonderful, filled with affection, carefully folded it and put it in his pocket, then quickly scooped the noodles out of the pot.

After breakfast, Zhou Yan went upstairs to get the letter he had written the night before, adding a note that it was a drawing Zhou Momo had made for her. He then put it back in the envelope, sealed it with rice, and went to the factory gate to drop it into the mailbox. Clang. The letter landed softly in the empty mailbox. Zhou Momo, who had somehow followed him, stood on tiptoe and asked curiously, "Brother, does Sister Yaoyao live in the mailbox? Let me see!"

"Let me see," Zhou Yan said with a smile, picking her up and letting her peek through the long, narrow opening of the mailbox.

"Sister Yaoyao, turn on the light! I can't see you!" Zhou Momo looked for a while, then cupped her little hands into a megaphone and shouted into the mailbox. This scene amused the security guards standing watch at the factory gate.

"This is a mailbox, where you put your letters." Zhou Yan smiled and put her down, explaining, "If you put your letter in here, the postman will come and pick it up, then he'll travel over mountains and valleys to deliver it to Sister Yao Yao, so she can see your letter."

"Does she live in a very, very far place?" Zhou Momo asked, seemingly understanding.

"Yes, it's very far now, over 300 kilometers. We need to go to Jiaozhou first, then take a bus to Chongqing. It'll be a bumpy ride, probably taking a whole day." Zhou Yan nodded with a smile. Zhou Momo thought for a moment, then looked up at him: "When do we leave?"

"Huh?" Zhou Yan looked at her.

"A day, we'll be there after a nap." Zhou Momo took his hand and shook it, saying in a childish voice, "I want to go play with Sister Yao Yao, bro, take me!"

"We can't go right now. Tomorrow is your brother Hao's wedding, and you'll be a flower girl, and there's a banquet. Aren't you going to eat?" Zhou Yan looked at her and said. Zhou Momo only thought for a second: "Then let's have the banquet first and then go."

"Okay, next time I have time I'll take you to Jiaozhou for a trip, Shancheng is too far." Zhou Yan reached out and patted her head, then turned and walked towards the restaurant.

"Okay!" Zhou Momo skipped after him, "I want to eat popsicles."

"Then go tell Aunt Zhao."

"I... I don't want to eat them." The workers came to work one after another, and the restaurant gradually became busy. Zhou Lihui is now a very qualified fire starter, able to control the heat of the two noodle pots very steadily, and can also help with the seasoning. Zhou Yan found that his hands were quite steady, and he had a relatively precise control over the amount of seasoning. After watching him for a few days, he gradually learned to control the amount well.

A talent for seasoning is quite important for a chef. Some salt masters can make guests drink two more bottles of water a day. Participating in work other than carrying water and starting the fire greatly excited Zhou Lihui. Even if it's just adjusting the flavor, at least he is deeply involved in the cooking process of a bowl of noodles. Zhou Yan looked at him with a smile in his eyes. Huihui possessed a patience rarely seen in a young man, which was crucial for the tedious task of learning to cook.

After all, not everyone was like him, perfectly inheriting the foundation that Comrade Zhou had spent two and a half years building, making his journey to becoming a chef painlessly smooth. At 7: 30 sharp, Zhou Lihui would shoulder his schoolbag and head off to school. Recently, he'd been helping out at the shop, doing mostly physical labor, but his enthusiasm for learning had actually increased considerably.

According to Zhao Hong, he would memorize his lessons in the morning and practice calligraphy at night—he was incredibly diligent. This left Zhou Yan unsure whether to be happy or worried. If Huihui truly took it seriously and unlocked his learning potential, his grades would skyrocket, and he really wouldn't want him to finish junior high and become an apprentice at the shop. In this era, being able to study was undoubtedly the most promising path. As for cooking, it didn't matter when one started learning.

Now, Zhou Yan was already quite adept at making eighty bowls of noodles every morning. Even if orders doubled, he could probably handle it. It was just a pity that the number of noodle-eating workers had reached its limit; maintaining eighty bowls was already quite good, and he was content. A bicycle was parked in front of the restaurant. An elderly woman got off, carrying a ceramic jar, and walked into the restaurant, saying, "Zhou Yan, your grandma's here." Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road.

Report any occurrences elsewhere. Zhou Weiguo parked his bicycle and followed her in. Today, he wasn't wearing his Zhongshan suit; he was back in his military uniform, which made him look more energetic.

"Mom? What brings you here?" Aunt Zhao came out carrying noodles and was stunned to see the old woman.

"Grandma?!" Zhou Yan heard the voice and immediately came out of the kitchen. He was equally stunned to see the old woman and his uncle who followed her in. My goodness! Are these two so wild? One of them has a limp, yet he dares to ride his 75-year-old mother all the way from the village's bad roads to the town? One dares to ride, and the other dares to ride!

"Come on, take the caramelized sugar inside," the old woman called out. Zhou Yan quickly stepped forward, took the jar from the old woman, and looked at Zhou Weiguo to confirm, "Uncle, you brought Grandma here?"

"Yes," Zhou Weiguo nodded.

"What's the big deal? He rides his bike very steadily." The old lady remained calm. The customers in the shop glanced at the two of them, somewhat surprised. The two involved, however, felt the situation was reasonable.

"Grandma! Uncle!" Zhou Momo slid down from the high stool and ran over to hug the old lady's leg.

"Good girl." The old lady reached out and patted her head, smiling, "Hmm, your braids look beautiful today, you look so cute."

"Really!" Zhou Momo's eyes lit up, and she proudly touched her braids, "Mommy braided them for me."

"Tie Ying's skills are really good, she dressed you up so well." The old lady said with a smile.

"Yes, yes, Tie Ying is the best!" Zhou Momo nodded. This made everyone laugh; the little guy really dared to imitate anything! Aunt Zhao, standing nearby, beamed and quickly invited the old lady to sit down. The old lady curiously examined the newly built stove by the door. It wasn't there when she last came, but with so many customers, she didn't ask further. She then looked at the menu on the wall, glanced at it for a moment, and said, "Give me two ounces of beef and bamboo shoot noodles.

Weiguo said your noodles are delicious; I want to try them and see if they're really that good."

"I want minced beef noodles," Zhou Weiguo said.

"Okay, I'll make them for you right away." Zhou Yan carried the pot into the kitchen, quickly pulling, cooking, and preparing the noodles. Soon, two bowls of noodles were on the table. The old lady picked up her chopsticks, first tasting a piece of beef, nodding slightly, then eating a piece of dried bamboo shoot, a smile appearing on her lips. She then tasted a bite of noodles, her eyes brightening. Finally, she took a sip of the soup before speaking, "These noodles are truly excellent, the best in Suji."

Standing beside her, Aunt Zhao breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across her face. The old lady loved cooking herself, so she rarely praised other people's food. For Zhou Yan to receive such praise from her meant that the noodles had truly touched her heart. Hearing this from the kitchen, Zhou Yan smiled smugly. Zhou Weiguo finished eating and went to work. The old lady ate slowly, not only finishing the noodles but also the soup. By the time she finished, there were no other customers in the shop.

Zhao Hong went to collect the bowls and took them to the kitchen.

"Is that the stove for making the broth?" the old lady asked, looking at Zhou Yan.

"Yes, but in my shop, it's called 'Qiaojiao Beef'," Zhou Yan nodded.

"You even know such an old-fashioned way of calling it?" The old lady smiled, got up and walked to the pot, gently fanning the steam with her hand, nodding and saying, "Hmm, the soup tastes authentic, it smells so fresh. Zhou Jie said he learned to make soup pot from you, and now his business is booming." Zhou Yan smiled and said, "Brother Jie is good with words, and he cooks soup pots well too. His business was already the best at the docks.

Learning from me just means he can raise the unit price and the profit is higher than before."

"His cooking is far inferior to yours. I can tell just by smelling it. It's his good fortune that you're willing to teach him." The old lady shook her head, turned and walked towards the kitchen, "Come on, let's cook the braising liquid. I still need to go check on the second son's house this afternoon."

"Okay!" Zhou Yan followed quickly, like a lackey. The old lady first examined the aluminum pot Zhou Yan had prepared, nodding and saying, "This pot is perfect. Even after long cooking, the braising liquid won't easily turn black. Some people who don't know any better use iron pots, and their braising liquid turns black after just a few uses, making the braised meat look dark and unappetizing."

"Come on, pour the braising liquid into the pot." Zhou Yan immediately went over, lifted the gauze covering the lid, and carefully poured the braising liquid into the aluminum pot. The braising liquid was a bright reddish-brown, a natural and beautiful color achieved through caramel coloring. As soon as it was poured out, the aroma filled the room. Zhou Yan loved braised food, especially braised duck, rabbit heads, and, most of all, the juicy braised pork intestines.

But those shops claiming to have century-old braising liquid couldn't compare to the rich, mellow flavor of the old lady's pot of old braising liquid—a natural flavor without any high-tech additives. (End of Chapter)