Mr. Lin's Morning Feast

Tucked away deep in Wangyue Lane, Jiangcheng's oldest alley, is Shiwei, a little shop that serves breakfast and nothing else.

Its owner, Lin Mo, is a young man who doesn't say much. He's as steady as the old locust trees in the alley. His shop has no menu, and what he serves each day depends entirely on his mood. Its hours never change: it opens at six in the morning and closes promptly at eight. The rules are enough to make anyone gawk: no reservations, no lunch service, and no amount of money can buy you anything extra.

Yet this “capricious” little shop still gets countless people out of bed early to queue.

Old Zhang says the bowl of white rice porridge tastes of the rice from fifty years ago. The white-collar workers rushing to their morning shifts say one bite of plain noodles can soothe every anxiety. The occasional diner says the everyday warmth here holds the most healing kind of magic.

As picky food bloggers, deep-pocketed bosses, and nostalgic longtime residents of the old neighborhood all find themselves drawn to this tiny shop, Lin Mo tends the stove and keeps the old days alive. One bowl of hot porridge, one bite of noodles, one homestyle flavor at a time, he slowly simmers down the truest taste of life:

The most moving flavors never need flashy gimmicks. All they need is a heart that treats everyday life with care.