One moment, she was asking detailed questions about how many people were in his family and whether his parents were in good health; the next, she was asking with concern whether, young as he was, he had already married.
Whenever she looked at Cui Jiuyang, her eyes held unmistakable affection and approval, as though she liked him more the longer she looked.
By lunchtime, Zhang Yuanbao still had not returned.
On the grounds that Cui Jiuyang was the only member of the younger generation at the table, Old Madam Li kept piling food into his bowl, leaving him rather overwhelmed by her hospitality.
The family meals at the Li Residence certainly lived up to their reputation. The dishes were plentiful, pleasing in color, aroma, and flavor, and several local Tianjin specialties were particularly authentic and flavorful.
Tianjin was a major northern hub for water and land transport. Merchants from north and south gathered there, and its food culture had consequently absorbed flavors and characteristics from all over.
As for seafood, the city lay beside Bohai Bay, with fresh catches unloaded from fishing boats every day, still alive and kicking.
When it came to beef and mutton, the many people who had moved there from Beyond the Pass had considerable expertise in preparing them, producing rich, full-bodied flavors.
What was more, Tianjin at the time also had foreign concessions, and some of the cooking methods brought by foreigners had quietly found their way into the local cuisine.
As a result, Tianjin cuisine embraced a vast range of dishes, drawing on the strengths of many traditions.
To Cui Jiuyang, the dishes were almost beyond reproach, apart from being slightly too oily and salty.
But in an age when supplies were relatively scarce, generous oil and salt were not shortcomings at all, but