Night when starlight clung even to the windows. From the inn kitchen: “You fry bluefish this thick?”
“Trust the cook, sir. Did we not pay a generous price? If you mix wine into the batter of rice flour and bean flour as I said, it will turn out quite well.”
“Precious Shaoxing wine, wasted….”
“Let us fry sweet potatoes too. As a side, of course. The sesame oil and lard seemed well blended, so… There! That sound!”
An old man’s exclamation of delight. Jeong Yeonshin, who had come out of his room, stopped halfway down the stairs. First floor kitchen.
They really were frying something. Busy sounds continued amid the savory smell. The old man gave all sorts of instructions, and the cook moved exactly as told.
The cook was also the owner here, and he had already closed the inn’s entrance. Jeong Yeonshin recalled the face of the middle-aged cook, worn by the world’s storms. It seemed the cook had received a rather large payment.
Of course, as a person of the Jianghu representing a nation, the old man’s purse would be deep.
“Why do you pour soy sauce on fried food? The sour taste should be dipped separately.”
“Half-learned cook, I see. Good households all do it this way. The Central Plains too, for that matter.”