Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots

Zhou Miao rode the Twenty-Eight Bicycle home, carrying Zhao Tieying and Zhou Momo.

Zhou Momo sat on the front bar and did not forget to tilt her head and wave at Zhou Yan. In her babyish voice, she called, "Brother, I'm going home!"

"Okay." Zhou Yan answered with a smile.

This Twenty-Eight Bicycle was not merely a means of transportation; it was also his father's delivery vehicle. Every day, it hauled several hundred jin of beef to the market.

In this era of scarce supplies, money alone was not enough to buy a bicycle. You also needed a bicycle coupon.

"Today's Zhou Yan seemed a little different somehow." Zhao Tieying wrapped her arms around Zhou Miao's waist and said with a smile.

"He seemed more mature, and closer to his younger sister too. Being a hero really did make a difference," Zhou Miao replied.

"These noodles really were delicious today. I've never had noodles this good in all my life. He really did learn some skills." Zhao Tieying's smile grew brighter, but she soon looked puzzled. "But he learned his cooking from Master Xiao. If the Factory Canteen's noodles were that good too, why would anyone still go to Wang Laowu's noodle stall?"

"It is a little strange..."

"Zhou Yan, are you planning to transfer this restaurant?" Just as Zhou Yan was about to go inside, Wang Laowu's voice came from behind him.

Zhou Yan frowned and turned around.

He looked at Wang Laowu, who was about five foot one, with a balding head, a slightly chubby build, and a shrewd smile.

Zhou Yan said, "Who said that? My restaurant is doing just fine. I'm not transferring it."

The smile on Wang Laowu's face stiffened. He said anxiously, "You don't even get one customer a day, and you call that doing fine? Who does business like that? Even if your parents have money, they can't withstand you burning through it like this. Uncle's words may not always sound pleasant, but..."

"If they don't sound pleasant, then hold them in. Best stay far away from me." Zhou Yan took a step back. "I have trypophobia. I'm most afraid of people with too many schemes."

Wang Laowu's noodle stall was set up at the entrance of the Jiazhou Silk Factory, directly across from Zhou Yan's restaurant. Zhou Yan knew Wang Laowu meant no good, otherwise his mother would not have scolded him earlier.

Then he smiled. "Instead of worrying about my restaurant, you should worry about how many hairs are left on your head. Starting tomorrow, my restaurant will be selling noodles too. I'm afraid your hair will fall out even faster."

After saying that, Zhou Yan turned and went into the restaurant, shutting the door behind him.

"Selling noodles?" Wang Laowu was dumbfounded for a moment. Once he understood what Zhou Yan meant, he flew into a rage from embarrassment. "That wastrel probably doesn't even know where to buy noodles, and he wants to sell them? Does he really think opening a noodle shop is that easy? His restaurant will definitely collapse within half a month!"

He did not care about the shop's fifteen-yuan monthly rent, but he had long coveted the Eight Immortals tables and long benches Zhou Yan had made. When the time came, he could press the price down and buy a few sets. Wouldn't that be far cheaper than hiring a carpenter himself?

Zhou Yan went into the kitchen and took stock of the ingredients. There were still around ten jin of flour left, enough for tomorrow.

He needed to prepare the chilies, dried bamboo shoots, scallions, ginger, and other vegetables and seasonings today. Tomorrow morning, once he got the meat, he would have just enough time to cook the toppings.

Before leaving, Zhou Yan counted the money he had. He originally had three yuan, eight jiao, and five fen. His father had secretly slipped him two yuan, Zhou Momo had contributed five fen out of friendship, and his mother had given him another ten yuan and four jiao, making sixteen yuan and four jiao in total.

It was not much money, but it was all in one-yuan and five-jiao notes, making a thick stack in his hand.

This was Zhou Yan's entire fortune, the capital he would use to turn the tables, and it also carried his parents' expectations.

Zhou Yan tucked the money away, locked the door, and set off to buy supplies.

By the time he returned to the restaurant with bags of vegetables large and small, dusk had already fallen.

"Bicycles really are great. Once I make money, I still need to buy a bicycle first." Zhou Yan set the large bags of dried bamboo shoots and vegetables on the Eight Immortals table, shook out his numb hands, picked up the pot of cold tea on the table, and gulped down several big mouthfuls.

There were too many places to run to when buying ingredients. Relying entirely on Bus Route Eleven—his own two legs—was truly exhausting. At that moment, his desire for a Twenty-Eight Bicycle had reached its peak.

He bought ten jin of dried bamboo shoots at fifty-five fen per jin, one jin each of millet chilies and Erjingtiao chilies at fifteen fen, and five jin each of radishes and celtuce. The vegetables cost one yuan, and altogether he had spent six yuan and eight jiao. He took out an account book from behind the counter and recorded the expense.

He made himself a simple bowl of flour dumplings to eat, then found two sheets of red paper and a writing brush.

On one sheet, he wrote the new menu and pasted it on the wall. There were only three kinds of noodles, six jiao a bowl, with clearly marked prices.

On the other, he wrote a new signboard, nailed it onto a wooden display board, and planned to set it outside tomorrow to attract customers.

He grabbed two handfuls of dried bamboo shoots to soak, then cut the radishes into long strips and put them into the Pickled Vegetables jar.

The beginner's gift pack from the system contained not only three noodle dishes, but also a secret manual for Pickled Vegetables. If he pickled them today, they would be ready to eat the day after tomorrow.

After finishing all that, he washed up and went upstairs early. The moment his head touched the pillow, he fell asleep.

Before dawn the next day, Little Chef Zhou got up and went out to buy groceries.

When it came to making money, Zhou Yan had always possessed twelve parts enthusiasm.

He could not help it. He had been poor for too long.

Carrying a Tiger-Head Brand flashlight, he followed his memories to the Yankantou Slaughterhouse in Zhou Village. Zhou Miao had already prepared one jin of chuck flap, one jin of beef brisket, and ten jin of beef bones for him.

The chuck flap and brisket were priced at one yuan and five jiao per jin, one yuan cheaper than the beef stalls outside. The beef bones cost nothing. This was what a real father was!

On the way back, he made a detour to Stone Slab Bridgehead and picked up one jin of premium ribs he had reserved in advance from Zhang Laosan.

"Zhou the Second, why are you only taking one jin of baby back ribs today? Don't you want pig trotters, pork belly, and the rest?" Zhang Laosan looked at Zhou Yan in confusion. During this time, Zhou Yan had been one of his biggest customers. Whenever he came, he bought not only meat, but plenty of pork kidneys, pork liver, and intestines as well.

"Uncle Zhang, I've switched to selling noodles. I bought ribs to make Braised Pork Rib Noodles. Come have a bowl after you're done here," Zhou Yan replied with a smile.

Zhang Laosan was on good terms with Zhou Miao, so he charged Zhou Yan one yuan and nine jiao per jin for the ribs today, two or three jiao cheaper than elsewhere.

Butchers were important suppliers for Sichuan restaurants. It was very necessary to build a good relationship with them, especially with the friendship between their fathers already there.

"Sure." Zhang Laosan answered, lowering his head to continue cutting meat.

When Zhou Erwa Restaurant had first opened, Zhou Miao had invited him for a meal. It was the first time he had eaten at such an awful Sichuan restaurant. It was simply ruining perfectly good meat.

On the way back, Zhou Yan spent another three jiao on two bundles of small greens.

They had been picked from the fields by villagers early that morning and tied with straw. Each bundle weighed over a jin, and dew still clung to the leaves. They were exceptionally fresh.

It was only five o'clock when he returned to the restaurant. The brisket and ribs both needed to stew for quite a while, and the beef bone broth needed to be prepared in advance. He did not dare delay. He chopped the ribs into evenly sized pieces and cut the brisket into uniform chunks.

He lit the stove and began preparing Braised Beef and Braised Spare Ribs. In the pot beside it, beef bone broth was already simmering.

Once the wok was hot, he added oil. He first stir-fried the brisket to render out the fat until the surface turned lightly golden, then added broad bean paste, ginger, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns, stir-frying until it colored. Next came a small amount of star anise, sand ginger, and cinnamon bark, followed by cooking wine.

Once the fragrance emerged, he added enough water to cover the beef, put on the lid, and simmered it for an hour.

Once the beef was tender, he added the sliced dried bamboo shoots. The rich beef broth submerged them as they slowly simmered over low heat.

Bubble, bubble—the aroma of meat spread everywhere.

He skimmed the scum from the bone broth again and again, until a pot of thick, milky-white beef bone broth had taken shape. The cracked beef bones made the broth even richer. Once the soup was done, the beef marrow would be a delicacy in its own right.

Checking the time, Zhou Yan kneaded the dough for the noodles in advance so he would not be caught unprepared once customers arrived.

In the other pot, the ribs bubbled beneath a thick sauce. He immediately took them out and transferred them into a large earthenware bowl he had prepared beforehand.

The ribs, cut into thumb-sized pieces, were distinct chunk by chunk and coated in sauce, looking exceedingly tempting. Zhou Yan decided to taste one.

The tender ribs trembled when he picked them up. With a single press of his lips, the meat slipped right off the bone. The faintly sweet sauce was rich without being greasy, and the interweaving aromas of meat and spices complemented each other perfectly. The fat clinging to the ribs was the finishing touch. One huge bite, and his soul nearly ascended to heaven.

"I'm a freaking genius!" Zhou Yan's eyes lit up. These Braised Spare Ribs had astonished him. A success on the first try!

He placed the large earthenware bowl on the stove to keep warm, then without pausing, quickly rinsed the wok and began stir-frying the Double-Pepper Beef Topping.

By the time the Double-Pepper Beef Topping was done, the Braised Beef on the other side had also reduced enough and was ready to be served.

Zhou Yan tasted a piece of dried bamboo shoot. It had been cut slightly smaller than the beef chunks and had soaked up the rich beef juices. Crisp, fragrant, and utterly delicious!

He had gotten up at four and worked until half past six. Zhou Yan was so hungry his heart was fluttering, so he hurriedly cooked himself a bowl of hand-pulled noodles. He seasoned the bottom of the bowl first, added two ladles of milky-white beef broth, three liang of noodles, then a spoonful of Braised Beef with Dried Bamboo Shoots.

After finishing the steaming bowl of noodles and drinking every drop of soup, warmth immediately spread through his entire body.

This bowl of Braised Beef Noodles was simply unbeatable, flawless in every way.

And this Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots could be a restaurant signature dish even on its own. It would absolutely make people devour rice by the bowlful!

With the noodle mince and toppings ready, Zhou Yan carried out the sign he had written last night and set it up at the entrance of the restaurant.

The Jiazhou Silk Factory stood beside the Qingyi River in Suji Town. It was a major taxpayer in Jiazhou, with more than two thousand employees, eighty percent of them female workers. It ran its own school for employees' children and its own staff hospital, with exceptionally good benefits. The people of Suji Town took great pride in working at the silk factory.

The sky was already bright. Workers rode their bicycles to work. Some stopped at the stalls outside the factory entrance for a bowl of noodles or some buns, but more went to the Factory Canteen for breakfast.

The Factory Canteen served breakfast, and it was even cheaper with meal coupons. A bowl of plain noodles cost only one jiao, far more economical than eating outside.

The moment Zhou Yan stood at the entrance holding his wooden sign, he immediately caught the attention of several young female workers.

He was six feet tall, straight-backed and strong, with a neat crew cut and a sharply defined face. Even though he wore nothing more than a white cotton shirt, blue work pants, and an apron tied around his waist, the young women could not help looking at him a few more times.

"Zhou Yan really is handsome. His legs are so long too—he looks better than a movie star!"

"Handsome won't fill your stomach. He gave up being an apprentice at the canteen just to become a private businessman."

"Zhou Yan may be handsome, but his cooking is truly awful. If he's selling noodles now, they definitely won't taste good either."

"Who in our factory still goes to Zhou Erwa Restaurant? No matter how bad the Factory Canteen food is, it's still better than what he makes."

The young women rode past Zhou Yan with giggles and bold glances, yet not a single one stopped.

As those words reached Zhou Yan's ears, the smile on his face nearly gave way.

Little Zhou had really done a fine job of destroying his reputation. It looked like even opening for business today might be difficult. In the food service industry, reputation was everything.

Prejudice in people's hearts was a mountain.

Meanwhile, Wang Laowu's noodle stall across the street already had seven or eight customers.

"Zhou the Second, I'm afraid you won't be able to sell those noodles. Skill is valued for refinement, not quantity. Selling everything like this definitely won't work. You need to be responsible to your customers." As Wang Laowu tossed noodles into the pot, he did not forget to mock Zhou Yan a couple of times. The smile on his face could not be hidden at all.

Zhou Yan selling noodles meant he was here to steal his business. Naturally, Wang Laowu would seize the chance to needle him.

"Wang Laowu, you're standing there with your mouth wide open, spraying spit into the pot. That probably won't work either. You should be responsible to your customers," Zhou Yan replied with a beaming smile, unwilling to indulge him.

The customers waiting for their noodles immediately craned their necks to look at Wang Laowu, concern showing on their faces.

Wang Laowu's expression changed. He hurriedly waved his hands. "No, no, that little brat is talking nonsense."

The corners of Zhou Yan's lips rose slightly. Business wars were just this plain and unadorned.

Winning an argument would not bring Zhou Yan customers. Standing at the entrance and watching the bustling workers pass by, he had already begun thinking of ways to reverse his reputation and draw traffic to the restaurant.

There were quite a few methods, such as offering free samples. Someone would surely try something free, and he could use his ability to shatter their doubts.

Or he could build a stove outside the entrance, stir-fry the toppings on the spot and hand-pull noodles fresh. Once that meaty fragrance drifted through the air, discerning foodies would naturally come looking.

The methods were all simple and effective. They just cost money.

And what Zhou Yan lacked most right now was money.

He had to sell all thirty bowls of noodles he had prepared today, or he would not be able to pay the rent in three days. He could not possibly ask his parents to borrow money for him again. He could not bring himself to say it.

The flow of people at the factory entrance grew larger and larger. Wang Laowu's noodle stall had already served two rounds of customers, while Zhou Yan had not made a single sale.

Wang Laowu glanced at Zhou Yan standing at the entrance from time to time, his face practically splitting from his grin.

Seeing that it was already half past seven, Zhou Yan figured there was no hope for this morning. He would have to settle on a promotion plan in the morning and put it into action at noon. Otherwise, the toppings and noodles prepared today would go to waste, and he would lose even more.

Just then, two bicycles broke away from the stream of traffic and stopped outside Zhou Erwa Restaurant.

"Deputy Director Lin, this is Zhou Erwa Restaurant," one of them said.

Zhou Yan looked over at the sound. The two men were middle-aged. He recognized the slightly chubby one on the right as Zhao Dong, director of the silk-reeling workshop. Zhao Dong usually liked to visit the canteen for special dishes and had rather strong tastes.

The man on the left was tall and broad, dressed in a dark gray Zhongshan suit with a white Dacron shirt underneath. He had a square face, black-rimmed glasses, and meticulously combed hair. A fountain pen rested in his breast pocket, and a Shanghai Brand Watch was on his wrist. He gave off the air of an intellectual. He was pushing a brand-new Twenty-Eight Bicycle, with a large red silk flower tied to the front.

Was this Lin Zhiqiang, the Deputy Factory Director transferred here two years ago?

"You're Comrade Zhou Yan, right?" After parking his bicycle, Lin Zhiqiang strode forward excitedly, grabbed Zhou Yan's hand, and said loudly, "I'm Lin Zhiqiang. You saved my niece yesterday. I came to thank you!"