Investment banking elite Shen Qiushi resigned and returned to his hometown, only to take over an old ancestral restaurant that was on the verge of closure.
Everyone persuaded her to change hands and cash in, but the broken recipe left by her grandmother was missing the last page, and there was also a jar of old stew that had been raised for forty years.
Science students use Excel to learn how to cook, cut potatoes until their fingertips bleed, and practice nine-layer sausage until they collapse and cry.
A veteran noodle chef supervises the school with a vicious tongue, a documentary director follows and films the art journey, and fellow chain brands spend a lot of money to dig up recipes and maliciously suppress them.
Looking through old things, I get a glimpse of half of my grandmother's life: running away from famine and meeting her mentor, struggling to study lost famous dishes due to lack of food, and sticking to a small shop even though she refused a million-dollar salary.
In order to keep her intangible cultural heritage status, she traveled to small towns in the south of the Yangtze River to find the lost Guizhou Tang.
It wasn't until I opened the paper that had been hidden for many years between the recipes that I understood the answer to my grandma's life -
Cooking is never about replicating the taste, it is about making the diners want to take one more bite.
