Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots

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

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

"Okay." Zhou Yan answered with a smile.

This Twenty-Eight Bicycle was not only his father's means of transportation, but also his delivery vehicle. He relied on it to haul hundreds of pounds of beef to the market every day.

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

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

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

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

"That is a little strange..."

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

Zhou Yan frowned and turned around.

He looked at Wang Laowu—five foot one, with a balding head, a slightly plump 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 get a single customer all day, and you call that doing fine? Who does business like that? Even if your parents have money, they can't afford to let you burn through it like this. Uncle's words may not always sound pleasant, but..."

"If they don't sound pleasant, then keep them to yourself. Better yet, stay 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 right outside the silk factory gates, directly opposite Zhou Yan's restaurant. Zhou Yan knew Wang Laowu had no good intentions, or his mother would not have scolded him over it earlier.

Then he smiled again. "Instead of worrying about my restaurant, why don't you worry about how many hairs you have left on that head? Starting tomorrow, my restaurant will be selling noodles. I'm afraid your hair will fall out even faster."

After saying that, Zhou Yan turned around, entered the restaurant, and shut the door.

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

He did not care much about a shop that rented for fifteen yuan a month, but he had his eye on the Eight Immortals tables and long benches Zhou Yan had made. When the time came, he could buy a few sets cheaply. Wouldn't that be much more cost-effective than hiring a carpenter himself?

Zhou Yan went into the kitchen and took stock of the ingredients. There were still around ten pounds 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 still have time to cook the toppings.

Before heading out, 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 sponsored him with five fen, and his mother had given him another ten yuan and four jiao, for a total of sixteen yuan and four jiao.

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

This was Zhou Yan's entire fortune, the capital he had to turn things around, and it carried his parents' hopes for him.

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

By the time he returned to the restaurant carrying bags of vegetables, the sky was already growing dark.

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

There were too many places to visit when buying ingredients. Relying entirely on his own two legs was exhausting, and his desire for a Twenty-Eight Bicycle had reached its peak.

He bought ten pounds of dried bamboo shoots at fifty-five fen per pound, one pound each of millet chilies and Erjingtiao chilies at fifteen fen, and five pounds each of radishes and lettuce stems. The vegetables cost one yuan, and the total came to six yuan and eight jiao. He took out an account book from behind the counter and recorded the expenses.

After making himself a simple bowl of dough drop soup, he 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, clearly marked.

On the other, he wrote a new sign, nailed it to a wooden display board, and planned to place 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 pickle jar.

The beginner's gift pack from the system included not only three noodle recipes, but also a pickling guide. If he pickled them today, they would be ready to eat the day after tomorrow.

After finishing all that, he washed up early and went upstairs. The moment his head hit 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 been one hundred and twenty percent enthusiastic.

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

Holding a Tiger-Head Brand flashlight, he followed his memories to the Yankantou Slaughterhouse in Zhou Village. Zhou Miao had already prepared one pound of hanging tender, one pound of brisket, and ten pounds of beef bones for him.

The hanging tender and brisket were priced at one yuan and five jiao per pound, one yuan cheaper than the beef stalls outside. The beef bones were free. Now that was a real father!

On his way back, he stopped at Stone Slab Bridgehead to pick up one pound of premium ribs he had ordered in advance from Zhang Laosan.

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

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

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

Butchers were important suppliers for Sichuan restaurants. It was necessary to maintain a good relationship, especially when their fathers already had ties.

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

When Zhou Erwa Restaurant had first opened, Zhou Miao had invited him there for a meal. It had been the first time Zhang Laosan had eaten at such a terrible Sichuan restaurant. It was simply a waste of good meat.

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

The villagers had picked them from the fields early that morning and brought them to sell. Each bundle was tied with straw and weighed over a pound, with dew still clinging 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 a long time, 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. Meanwhile, a soup pot beside him began simmering beef bone broth.

Once the wok was hot, he added oil and stir-fried the brisket until it rendered fat and its surface turned lightly golden. Then he added doubanjiang, ginger, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns, stir-frying until the meat took on color. After that came a small amount of star anise, sand ginger, and cinnamon, followed by cooking wine.

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

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

Glug, glug. The scent of meat filled the air.

After skimming the scum from the bone broth again and again, a pot of thick, milky-white beef bone soup had taken shape. The cracked beef bones made it even richer. Once the soup was ready, the marrow inside the bones would be a delicious treat as well.

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

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

The thumb-sized rib pieces were distinct and fully coated in sauce, looking incredibly tempting. Zhou Yan decided to taste one.

The tender rib trembled as he lifted it with his chopsticks. With one bite, the meat slipped cleanly off the bone. The faintly sweet sauce was rich without being greasy, while the meat and spices complemented each other perfectly. The fat on the ribs was the final touch. After one mouthful, it felt like his soul had ascended to heaven.

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

He placed the large earthenware bowl on the stove to keep warm, quickly rinsed the wok, and began stir-frying the Double-Pepper Beef Topping.

By the time the Double-Pepper Beef Topping was finished, the Braised Beef had reduced into a rich sauce and was ready to come out of the pot as well.

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. It was crisp, fragrant, and utterly delicious!

Having gotten up at four and worked until six-thirty, Zhou Yan was so hungry his stomach hurt. He hurriedly cooked himself a bowl of hand-pulled noodles. He seasoned the bottom of the bowl first, added two ladles of milky beef broth, three liang of noodles, and then a spoonful of Braised Beef with dried bamboo shoots.

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

This bowl of Braised Beef Noodles was absolutely outstanding. There was nothing to criticize.

And this Beef Braised with Dried Bamboo Shoots could stand on its own as a signature restaurant dish. It would be perfect with rice!

With the Noodle Mince and toppings ready, Zhou Yan carried out the sign he had written the night before and set it up outside the restaurant.

Jiazhou Silk Factory stood on the banks of the Qingyi River in Suji Town. It was one of Jiazhou's major taxpayers, with more than two thousand employees, eighty percent of them women. It ran its own school for employees' children and its own staff hospital, with excellent benefits. People in Suji Town took great pride in working at the silk factory.

By then, the sky was bright. Workers rode their bicycles to work. Some stopped at stalls outside the factory gates for a bowl of noodles or steamed buns, while more headed to the Factory Canteen for breakfast.

The Factory Canteen served breakfast, and it was even cheaper if you used ration coupons. A bowl of plain noodles cost only ten fen, far more economical than eating outside.

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

He was six feet tall, straight-backed and powerfully built. His neat crew cut and sharply defined face made him strikingly handsome. Even though he wore only a white cotton shirt, blue work pants, and an apron around his waist, the young women could not help stealing a few extra glances.

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

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

"Zhou Yan may be good-looking, but his cooking is truly awful. If he's selling noodles now, they probably taste awful too."

"Who in our factory would eat at Zhou Erwa Restaurant? Even if the Factory Canteen's food is bad, it's still better than anything he makes."

The girls rode past Zhou Yan laughing and joking. Their gazes were bold, but not one of them stopped.

Hearing those words, Zhou Yan could barely maintain the smile on his face.

Little Zhou had really destroyed his reputation completely. It looked like even opening for business today would be difficult. The food industry lived and died by its reputation.

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. Craftsmanship values quality over quantity. You're selling a bit of everything, so it definitely won't work. You have to be responsible to your customers." Wang Laowu tossed noodles into the pot while still finding time to mock Zhou Yan. The smile on his face could not be hidden at all.

Zhou Yan selling noodles meant he was here to steal his business, so naturally Wang Laowu seized the chance to ridicule him.

"Wang Laowu, you keep opening that mouth and yapping, and your spit's spraying into the pot. That probably won't do. You have to be responsible to your customers." Zhou Yan did not indulge him and replied with a cheerful smile.

The customers waiting for their noodles immediately craned their necks to look at Wang Laowu, concern written across 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 curled upward slightly. Business warfare was just this simple and unadorned.

Winning an argument would not bring Zhou Yan customers. He stood at the entrance, watching the bustling stream of workers pass by, already thinking about how to turn around the restaurant's reputation and draw traffic inside.

He had plenty of methods. For example, he could offer free samples. People would definitely be willing to try something free, and he could use his skills to break their doubts.

Or he could build a stove outside the entrance and stir-fry the toppings and pull noodles fresh on the spot. Once the aroma of meat drifted through the air, food lovers who knew what was good would naturally come seeking it out.

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 prepared today, or he would not be able to pay the rent due in three days. He could not possibly ask his parents to borrow money for him again. He could not bring himself to say that.

The flow of people outside the factory gates grew larger and larger. Wang Laowu's noodle stall had already served two rounds of customers, while Zhou Yan had not sold a single bowl.

Wang Laowu kept glancing at Zhou Yan standing at the entrance, his face nearly splitting from his grin.

Seeing that it was almost seven-thirty, Zhou Yan figured there was no hope for the morning. He needed to settle on a promotion plan that morning and start carrying it out at noon. Otherwise, the toppings and noodles he had prepared today would go to waste, and he would lose even more money.

At that moment, 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. Two middle-aged men had arrived. He recognized the slightly plump man on the right: Zhao Dong, director of the silk-reeling workshop. He usually liked to eat special dishes at the canteen and preferred strong flavors.

The man on the left was tall and broad. He wore a dark gray Zhongshan suit over a white Dacron shirt. With his square face, black-rimmed glasses, meticulously combed hair, fountain pen in his breast pocket, and Shanghai Brand Watch on his wrist, he had the air of an intellectual. He was pushing a brand-new Twenty-Eight Bicycle, with a 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?" Lin Zhiqiang parked his bicycle, stepped forward excitedly, grabbed Zhou Yan's hand, and said loudly, "I'm Lin Zhiqiang. You saved my niece yesterday. I came to thank you!"