deltrittennovels Chapter 4 Broken Gold Rice
Chapter 4 Broken Gold Rice
Chen Feng carried a black knife bag and walked into the kitchen.
This kitchen has been abandoned for far too long.
Although the dust had disappeared from the air, a chilling, brick-like atmosphere lingered—as if telling of his loneliness, that no one had used him for too long.
He reached out and ran his fingertips along the edge of the large iron pot, which was nearly a meter in diameter.
A layer of dark red rust clung to his fingertip. He brought it closer and smelled it, trying to sense something.
"Fengzi, is this pot still usable?"
Zhang Qiang carried a bucket of cold water he had just drawn from the well, placed it with a clatter beside the stove, and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"How about I go to the town entrance and buy you a non-stick pan first?"
"This thing looks like an unearthed artifact."
Don't make Mengmeng's stomach upset.
Chen Feng didn't look up, but pulled a slender boning knife from his bag.
I tapped the pot lightly twice on the rim, listening to the crisp echo.
"This pot is a good thing; it's made of cast iron, with thick walls, so it heats evenly."
This kind of pot develops a "wok hei" (wok aroma) after prolonged use, which modern industrial pots can't match.
As Chen Feng spoke, he rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his forearms.
"Mengmeng, help Daddy move the little stool over here."
Mengmeng was holding onto the kitchen door frame and peeking her head inside.
Upon hearing the call, it immediately took small, hurried steps and huffed and puffed as it carried the bamboo stool that it had just wiped clean to Chen Feng's feet.
"Dad, are we going to give the iron pot a bath?"
"Yes, give it a hot bath. Only when it's clean will it be willing to cook delicious food for Mengmeng."
Chen Feng smiled and patted his daughter's head.
He picked up a rough loofah, dipped it in a little alkali, and vigorously scrubbed it down on the rust stains on the bottom of the pot.
Zhang Qiang wasn't idle either; he squatted in front of the stove, staring at the half-collapsed earthen stove with worry.
"These fire doors are all blocked; I need to clear them."
Zhang Qiang found a thick wooden stick and started fiddling with it, jokingly saying:
"Fengzi, your hand is charged by the second in Beijing, isn't it?"
Why did you suddenly decide to come back to do this hard work?
"Hands are for working; it doesn't matter who does the work."
Chen Feng's hands didn't stop; the loofah sponge rubbed against the iron wall, making a rough sound.
"I've spent my whole life cutting truffles and beef outside."
In the end, he couldn't even provide his own daughter with a comfortable life. What's the point of keeping his hands?
Zhang Qiang was taken aback.
Chen Feng didn't tell Zhang Qiang why he came back, and Zhang Qiang didn't ask either. He just came when Chen Feng called him.
At this moment, Zhang Qiang seemed to suddenly understand the reason.
He grinned and, without asking any further questions, said, "Okay, you're right."
There's nothing shameful about men working hard.
He mustered his strength, carried a bundle of dry straw from the backyard, chopped a few pieces of firewood, and stuffed them into the stove.
With a crisp click of the lighter, a wisp of orange-red flame rose up slowly.
"Mengmeng, look! The flames are dancing!" Zhang Qiang pointed to the stove like he was showing off a treasure.
Mengmeng squatted down next to Zhang Qiang, the firelight reflecting in her big, round eyes, making them sparkle.
She reached out her little hand to touch it, but Zhang Qiang stopped her with lightning speed.
"Oh my little darling, you can't touch this, it'll break my heart if your godfather gets burned."
Zhang Qiang carefully pulled Mengmeng back a little.
"Mengmeng, sit here and help your godfather watch the fire. If the fire gets too small, just call me, okay?"
"Okay!" Mengmeng replied earnestly, looking as if she were guarding some incredible treasure.
Chen Feng's pot has been washed back to its original silvery shine.
He scooped up some water and rinsed the pot several times until the water was clear before putting it back on the stove.
"Qiangzi, turn up the fire, burn it dry."
As the fire in the stove intensified, the remaining water in the large iron pot evaporated rapidly, producing a plume of white steam.
Chen Feng pulled out a piece of uncut pork fat from a woven bag next to him.
Instead of using a knife, he grabbed the greasy piece of pork fat with his hands and swirled it rapidly around the hot pot.
"hiss--"
A rich, oily aroma exploded in the air.
As Chen Feng moved, the originally silvery iron wall was covered with a layer of oily black sheen.
"Is this what you call 'seasoning the pot'?" Zhang Qiang sniffed. "It smells so good! I haven't even put the rice in yet, and my mouth is already watering."
"If the pan is properly seasoned, the fried rice won't stick."
As Chen Feng spoke, he magically produced a small white porcelain jar from his suitcase.
He opened the lid and used a spoon to scoop out a spoonful of bright red, glistening red beans.
"Mengmeng. Do you remember what you promised me?"
"These are the red beans we'll use to make the eyes for the little bunny Baozi later."
Upon hearing this, Mengmeng immediately jumped off her little stool and ran to the table. Chen Feng placed the bowl of red beans in front of her.
"Daddy's going to make red bean porridge in a little while. Mengmeng, can you help Daddy pick out the naughty little pebbles in it?"
Mengmeng puffed out her little chest and took the bowl with a serious expression: "I will look at it very carefully, and I won't let a single bad stone go unnoticed."
Watching from behind, Zhang Qiang couldn't help but shake his head and sigh:
"Fengzi, it seems like taking care of kids is your main job."
If I had your patience back then, my second child would probably be in elementary school by now.
Chen Feng smiled and ignored him.
He pulled a basket from under the stove, which contained local indica rice that Zhang Qiang had specially bought before he came.
He grabbed a handful of rice with one hand, brought it to his nose, and smelled it.
"The rice is good, but it's a bit old and dry."
Chen Feng muttered to himself, "But this kind of rice is perfect for making Broken Gold Rice."
He fetched water to rinse the rice, his movements as gentle as if he were washing pearls.
It was as if every single grain of rice needed his approval.
Zhang Qiang watched from the side, feeling extremely uneasy.
"No, Fengzi, why are you washing rice like you're counting gold?"
"We're not that particular at home, hurry up and cook, my stomach's starting to rumble."
"Qiangzi, ingredients have their own tempers," Chen Feng replied without turning his head.
"If you treat it perfunctorily, it will treat your mouth perfunctorily."
"Grandpa has to watch over the first meal, so we don't bring shame to the Chen family."
The fire crackled in the stove, and the red bean porridge in the pot was bubbling away, releasing a sweet aroma.
Chen Feng turned around and picked up the fresh free-range eggs from the cutting board.
He gently tapped the egg with his left hand, and the shell cracked open, the yolk flowing smoothly into the porcelain bowl.
He held a pair of bamboo chopsticks in his right hand and stirred them very quickly.
"Da da da da..."
The sound of chopsticks tapping against the bowl was crisp and pleasant, like a short drumbeat.
"Wow, that voice is beautiful!"
Zhang Qiang slapped his thighs in rhythm under the stove.
"Fengzi, this isn't cooking, it's more like playing music."
"You mean those rich people used to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a meal with you, just to hear this noise?"
"They did it to hear the sound, I did it to let air into the egg mixture."
Chen Feng stopped beating; the egg mixture in the bowl had already been whipped into fine foam.
"If there's enough air intake, it will be fluffy when cooked."
"That's what you call professional!" Zhang Qiang exclaimed.
Chen Feng brought over the freshly cooked white rice.
The rice, spread out on a clean bamboo mat, had cooled slightly and was now distinct grain by grain.
"You can add more fuel now, Qiangzi!" Chen Feng shouted in a low voice.
Zhang Qiang immediately stuffed two handfuls of dry firewood into the stove, and the flames suddenly shot upwards.
Chen Feng picked up the specially made long-handled spatula, scooped out a piece of lard, and slid it into the bottom of the pot.
With a crisp "sizzle," the egg mixture fell into the pot like golden clouds, instantly expanding.
He quickly poured in the rice, then flicked his wrist.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The large iron pot made a heavy thud on the stove.
Chen Feng's body moved rhythmically with the pot, and the originally distinct grains of white rice, coated in golden egg liquid, looked like a group of joyful elves jumping in the pot.
Each grain of rice was evenly coated with a layer of gold by the egg liquid, gleaming in the firelight.
"Wow—it's so beautiful!" Mengmeng couldn't help but clap her hands, her eyes wide open. "Daddy, the rice changed color! It turned into gold!"
Zhang Qiang was completely stunned. He was the closest and could feel the unique aroma, a mixture of egg, rice, and lard, surging towards him like a tide.
It was a scent he had never smelled before.
A scent that is extremely primal, extremely domineering, and goes straight into the depths of the soul.
"This...this is Broken Gold Rice?" Zhang Qiang swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
"Fengzi, I feel like I've wasted my life. Was all that fried rice I ate before really fried rice?"
Chen Feng turned off the heat and took the pot off the stove.
Three bowls of golden fried rice were placed on the somewhat old octagonal table, next to three small bowls of rice porridge that had been cooked until thick and had a fragrant aroma of red beans.
The room was quiet, with only the occasional chirping of insects coming from outside the window.
Chen Feng took off his apron and pulled Mengmeng to sit down.
He first scooped up a little porridge with a small spoon, blew on it, and brought it to Mengmeng's mouth.
"Eat slowly, be careful it's hot."
Mengmeng opened her little mouth and took a slurp.
The red bean porridge melted in her mouth, with a light red bean paste texture, gently soothing the little girl's fatigue after a long day.
She then scooped up a large mouthful of fried rice and stuffed it into her mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and froze completely.
"Daddy..." Mengmeng called out indistinctly, a thin layer of mist rising in her eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you not used to the food?" Chen Feng's heart tightened.
"It's delicious, so delicious!" Mengmeng swallowed hard, revealing a big smile. "This is the most delicious meal Mengmeng has ever eaten."
Zhang Qiang, who was standing to the side, couldn't hold back any longer. He picked up a spoon and stuffed it into his mouth like a whirlwind.
With each bite, his brow furrowed deeper, until finally he put down his spoon and stared at Chen Feng for a long while.
"Fengzi, I've made up my mind."
"Decid what?" Chen Feng asked casually as he ate his porridge.
"I'll bring people over first thing tomorrow morning to fix this shop."
Don't mention money to me, we're brothers, there's no need for that.
Zhang Qiang wiped the grease from his lips, his eyes filled with fanaticism.
"If this kind of food doesn't spread, I'll be a sinner for all time."
"I'm not going anywhere else. I'll stay here and be your bodyguard. As long as I can get this meal every day, I'd die happy."
Chen Feng knew his best friend's personality, so he didn't mention the wages to him.
Looking at his delighted expression, and then at his daughter beside him, whose face was flushed and whose little belly was round and bulging from eating.
The last bit of regret Chen Feng had about Beijing finally vanished completely.
He looked up at the photo of his grandfather hanging in the center of the main room and whispered to himself:
"Grandpa, I'm back. The Chen family's fire has been rekindled."