Song Xiaodong, a cook from Northeast China, has been working in the kitchen for ten years. When the last dish of the New Year's Eve dinner came out, he threw himself into the big wok and opened his eyes again - he was in Bianjing in the Northern Song Dynasty.
I have no money, no pot, and no seasoning. There was only Zhao Da, a hungry and idle man beside him, and a bag of thick noodles, half a jar of salt, and a few wilted green onions.
He borrowed a broken pot, bought a bowl of oil on credit, and fried a bowl of noodles using a method that no one had ever seen before. With a sizzling sound, the fragrance exploded half the street.
Bianjing people have never eaten stir-fried vegetables. They don't know that the moment the pot is hot, the oil is hot, and the onions, ginger, and garlic are added, it will smell like this.
A stall was set up under the city wall, selling a bowl of fried noodles for fifteen cents. Some people find it expensive, while others queue up. The old man selling tofu ate it and his tears fell into his bowl. The young man driving the donkey cart ate it and brought his brothers back the next day. Fanlou's boss Sun sent someone to take a taste. He was silent for a long time and said, "Are you willing to come to Fanlou? Five rations a month."
Song Chao went. He is not there to make money. He went to learn how to open a restaurant. Save enough money and open it yourself.
He has only one secret: he is not from the Song Dynasty. But his cooking skills were something no one in the Song Dynasty had ever seen.
The pot is hot. The oil is hot. I have never tasted this taste in Bianjing City.
