I wonder if Lu Runrun’s heart is too devout…
Wei Yangyang couldn’t stay for long. She was there to carry dishes, along with many other madams from the Tableware Department. Everyone came in an orderly manner and would leave in the same way to serve the dishes. After all, it would look unseemly to go up in a chaotic mess—hardly befitting the orderly demeanor of the Four Departments and Six Bureaus.
After secretly arranging with Lu Runrun, she returned to her position, waiting for the dishes to be placed on her tray in turn.
While waiting, she winked at Lu Runrun, who was handing peony petals to Tan Xianniang. Lu Runrun instantly understood, curling her lips into a nod and giving a reassuring look.
Thus, Wei Yangyang seemed to be in quite a good mood as she carried the tray away.
Tan Xianniang, noticing Lu Runrun’s distraction, stared at her sternly.
Lu Runrun turned back and, seeing this, gave an awkward smile.
Outside, mother and daughter shared both glory and disgrace. Tan Xianniang couldn’t be bothered to scold her and simply resumed frying the peony petals once Lu Runrun refocused. Meanwhile, the assisting madam continuously arranged the plates, piecing the fried petals together to form a complete peony. Their color remained as tender and pink as ever; from a distance, one could hardly tell they had been fried and might even mistake them for a freshly bloomed peony.
Others from the Tableware Department were specifically responsible for placing the arranged crystal plates of crispy fried peony petals onto the trays of the madams tasked with serving.
Yes, crystal plates.
These were items from the Four Departments and Six Bureaus. In the Song Dynasty, there were no restrictions on commoners using gold or silver utensils. Large Zhengdian establishments used gold and silver bowls and plates for guests, while porcelain ones were actually unpopular. In terms of rarity and expense, crystal surpassed gold and silver.
Even for imperial nobles, using crystal utensils at a banquet was a great honor.
However, it was likely difficult for them to gather enough crystal bowls and plates for an entire banquet’s worth of guests. Using them only for the main table would seem stingy. This was one of the advantages of choosing the Four Departments and Six Bureaus—they could accomplish even the most challenging tasks, and everything was handled with meticulous care.
Lu Runrun helped her mother coat the petals and assisted the assisting madam in arranging them on plates, never stopping for a moment.
Once all the crystal plates had been carried away, she couldn’t help but let out a long sigh of relief.
Being a professional female chef was truly delicate work.
There were still plenty of fried petals left in the bamboo draining basket. Lu Runrun looked at her mother without saying a word, just grinning obsequiously.
Seeing her own likeness wearing such an expression, Tan Xianniang silently turned her face away and said calmly, “Take some yourself. Why are you looking at me?”
A mother didn’t even need to look—she could smell her child’s little schemes.
With permission granted, Lu Runrun hastily found a cheap porcelain bowl, filled it with some crispy fried peony petals, and covered it with a bamboo lid to hide it away.
The meaningful look Wei Yangyang had given her earlier clearly indicated she wanted to taste them too. As longtime work partners in the Four Departments and Six Bureaus, how could Lu Runrun not understand her friend’s thoughts?
As for the earlier savory snacks and gestures, they were arrangements to meet at the Zhouqiao Night Market for a late-night snack during the first watch.
Thinking of this, Lu Runrun, in high spirits, casually picked up a petal to taste.
The petals should have been moist and soft, with fragrance but poor texture. However, after being deep-fried, they developed a thin, crispy outer shell. When bitten into, the inner petals shattered along with the crust, offering a purely crispy texture. As the aftertaste emerged, the mouth filled with floral aroma, carrying a hint of subtle sweetness.
Moreover, the more one ate, the more fragrant it became. Beyond the sweet floral scent, there was a unique aroma that tantalized the appetite.
Outsiders might not know, but Lu Runrun had been privately taught by Tan Xianniang. The secret lay in the oil used for frying the peony petals. Tan Xianniang did not use ordinary oil but ghee, similar to modern butter, which enhanced the flavor and made it exceptionally fragrant.
Furthermore, achieving a result that neither obscured the delicate veins of the peony petals nor compromised the crispy texture required exceptional mastery of oil temperature and heat control.
Lu Runrun felt the crispy batter coating the petals resembled the tempura she had tasted in modern times, but the flavor was richer and the technique more challenging.
She couldn’t help but nod and sincerely praise, "Madam, your skills have improved even further."
Tan Xianniang paid no heed to Lu Runrun’s genuine flattery. To her, such a simple dish hardly deserved praise.
Even others could have prepared it.
However, since this was the first dish of the banquet and she had been invited to oversee the kitchen, it was only fitting for her to prepare it, ensuring the guests would know who was responsible.
Banquet dishes were not prepared one by one. Instead, all ingredients were prepared in advance. Steamed dishes were timed and placed in steamers ahead of schedule, while slaughtering sheep and fish was handled by specialized personnel early on.
The second dish was bao rou jiaozi, a type of elongated stuffed bun, and the third was lotus meat oil cake. Both were prepared by the pastry chefs from the Four Departments and Six Bureaus, all experienced professional female chefs. Tasks like kneading and proofing dough required little of Tan Xianniang’s attention. She merely tasted the fillings to adjust the seasoning slightly.
Such ordinary foods naturally failed to whet Lu Runrun’s appetite. She followed her mother to inspect the slaughtered quails.
Despite having learned culinary skills from her mother for many years, she still found it difficult to get used to such scenes.
Quail soup was a common preparation, but while the method was ordinary, the ingredients were not. Quail was a prized meat, likely beyond the reach of ordinary people. For this banquet’s quail soup, only the tenderest parts of the quails were used. A single bowl required at least ten quails, highlighting just how many had to be slaughtered.
Even though specialized personnel handled the slaughtering and Lu Runrun had studied culinary arts for years—even capable of slaughtering chickens and sheep herself—the sight of so many densely packed quails spread on the ground still sent shivers down her spine.
No wonder it was said that gentlemen should stay away from the kitchen.
Who could witness such a scene without feeling a pang of guilt and pity?
Alas, someone had to take on the role of the cook.
Lu Runrun averted her gaze and followed her mother, helping to inspect the quality of the meat and ensure no inferior parts were being passed off as premium.
Fortunately, everyone understood the rules. Unlike imperial chefs in the palace, they had no fear of guests lodging complaints. Those in the Four Departments and Six Bureaus valued their reputation above all. While there were ways to profit—for instance, selling the remaining parts of the quails after removing the tenderest portions could yield a considerable income—they dared not deceive the refined palates of the nobility and officials.
Lu Runrun followed Tan Xianniang back to the kitchen and was about to fetch water for washing when Tan Xianniang stopped her.
Tan Xianniang asked Huan'er, who was tending the fire, "After the quail soup comes clear poached abalone and poppy milk fish, right? Then we'll have the chicken silk rolls."
Huan'er was quiet by nature, only knowing how to work diligently in silence. So when faced with Tan Xianniang's question, she merely lifted her head and nodded slowly.
She was a maid the Lu family had bought years ago, and everyone in the household was accustomed to her temperament. Tan Xianniang didn't make a fuss about it—what did it matter if she wasn't talkative? As long as she was honest and hardworking, that was enough.
Tan Xianniang turned and instructed Lu Runrun, "You don't need to help me anymore. Go, today's chicken rolls will be your task."
This was Tan Xianniang's way of training her daughter. For one, chicken silk rolls were simple and not difficult to make; for another, there was plenty of time. Even if Lu Runrun messed up, it would be easy for Tan Xianniang to step in and fix it.
Parents who love their children plan for their future. It wasn't enough for Lu Runrun to just bury herself in learning culinary skills—she also needed to be able to handle banquet preparations. Whenever an appropriate opportunity arose, Tan Xianniang would let her try.
Lu Runrun showed no signs of nervousness on her face; instead, she was eager to give it a try.
What a joke—she had been learning from her mother for several years now. How could she not know how to make chicken silk rolls?
Finally, it was her time to shine!
So Lu Runrun decisively put down the quail meat in her hands—though, admittedly, she was also a bit reluctant to handle it—and swiftly went to select bamboo shoots.
At this time of year, spring bamboo shoots were naturally the choice, but summer was approaching, and the shoots were in a transitional phase. Many spring shoots had grown old, becoming tough and fibrous, greatly diminishing their quality. However, red-shell bamboo shoots were just right, and their texture stood out among all spring shoots. They were delicious whether steamed or stir-fried, though winter bamboo shoots were still better for stewing.
Looking at the full basket of fresh, tender red-shell bamboo shoots still covered in soil, Lu Runrun couldn't help but think of the "bamboo grove feast" style of eating.
Recently, whenever she went out, it was to meet Wei Yangyang for savory snacks. Although they had fun every time, doing it too often inevitably became a bit dull. Coincidentally, around the beginning of spring, she had accompanied her mother to work at a banquet to earn some extra money. Why not take advantage of the season and invite Wei Yangyang to a bamboo grove feast?
The so-called "bamboo grove feast" involved picking bamboo shoots fresh in the bamboo forest and cooking them on the spot.
The fresher the bamboo shoots, the better they tasted. Coupled with the refreshing breeze blowing through the bamboo grove, it created a comfortable and pleasant atmosphere. She would cook, and Wei Yangyang was skilled in whisked tea art—they would make a great pair.
However, the immediate task was cooking. Lu Runrun quickly pushed the thought aside and handed the selected red-shell bamboo shoots to a kitchen helper to peel and wash.
Meanwhile, she took the cleaned sheep caul fat and placed it in a pot of boiling water, quickly blanching it before spreading it out and cutting it into portions. The chicken silk had already been stripped of its membranes, and Tan Xianniang had marinated it earlier with minced ginger, scallion sections, salt, wine, and beaten eggs.
By this time, the bamboo shoots were washed and brought over, and another kitchen helper began slicing them into thin strips.
Lu Runrun then neatly arranged the marinated chicken silk on the caul fat, layered bamboo shoot strips in the middle, and rolled it up like a spring roll. The only difference was that she had to seal the edges with a paste made from mung bean starch and eggs.
Feeling that she was working too slowly on her own, Lu Runrun called over another kitchen helper to assist her with rolling.
This wasn't difficult.
Next came steaming in the steamer. The timing was crucial—too little, and the rolls wouldn't set; too much, and the meat would become tough.
She counted silently in her mind, and when she reached one hundred eighty, she took them out to cool.
Then coat it in egg batter and deep-fry, then fry again until golden brown, with the aroma of oil thoroughly crisped and a faint scent of meat.
She picked up a chicken shred roll, cut off a small piece to taste. The chicken was marinated tenderly, wrapped in lamb caul fat to lock in moisture, so the moment she bit into it, hot, fragrant, and savory juices burst from the meat, scalding her lips and tongue, yet she couldn’t help but suck it in and take another bite, feeling the perfectly fried, non-greasy crispy lamb caul fat blend with the fresh, crunchy bamboo shoots. The natural flavors of the ingredients alone were delicious enough.
Lu Runrun picked up a piece with her chopsticks and fed it to the assisting Madam, whose eyes also lit up as she sincerely praised, “Crispy but not hard, excellent skill!”
Although the assisting Madam couldn’t claim exceptional culinary skills, she was better at judging flavors than outsiders. After finishing one piece, she couldn’t help but say, “Young Madam is so clever. Did you add Sichuan pepper? The aftertaste is fragrant with a slight numbing sensation, oily but not greasy.”
Common folks never tire of oily and meaty dishes, but banquets often invite high-ranking officials and nobles—what delicacies haven’t they tasted? It’s impossible to impress them with just crispy, oily fried food. Moreover, after so many rich and savory dishes earlier, especially since Song Dynasty banquets often pair staple foods with other staples, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. A little ingenuity is necessary.
Since the chicken was already marinated, Lu Runrun added a bit of finely ground Sichuan pepper powder, and the result was surprisingly good!
After tasting it, Lu Runrun continued coating the chicken shred rolls in batter and frying them in the oil. With many guests at the banquet, she had to work quickly, and the order of dishes mattered.
Once everything was fried and plated, even someone as physically strong as Lu Runrun couldn’t help but rub her waist and shoulders.
Even though it was just one dish, it was still exhausting!
Lu Runrun couldn’t help but glance at her mother, who was both cooking herself and overseeing others’ work, directing them with a stern face yet full of energy and vigor—clearly in excellent health.
Lu Runrun decided not to be too hard on herself. Age-wise, her mother was in her thirties, the prime of life when energy and vitality were at their peak, capable of achieving great things.
And her?
At seventeen, it was perfectly normal for someone this age to lack energy!
Thinking back to her previous life at this age, she was still a high school student, starting senior year a month early, studying until she looked pale and thin, walking as if floating, resembling a sickly ghost ready to ascend to heaven at any moment.
Though the two situations couldn’t be compared, she comforted herself well and stopped taking the initiative afterward, only occasionally cutting vegetables or arranging plates, slipping into her usual habit of slacking off.
Soon, she coasted through the banquet until the end.
The people in the kitchen were paid by the Four Departments and Six Bureaus. Lu Runrun had come with her mother and, like Huan’er, received no wages—her mother was the one paid. But…
She received tips.
Though not much, hosts usually gave extra tips for good luck if the banquet went well, not only to outside workers like them but also to the household’s own servants.
However, today, perhaps because she had properly prepared a dish herself, in addition to the usual one hundred Wen like everyone else, she even received a small silver lotus pod. Though small, even the lotus seeds on it could move individually.
She weighed it in her hand, estimating it to be about four or five taels.
One tael of silver was roughly equivalent to one guan, meaning she had just come into a windfall.
Four or five guan would be enough for her to enjoy a good stroll at the monthly market held on the fifth day of each month at the Great Xiangguo Temple. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since she last picked out fabric. No, Lu Runrun shook her head. Buying cloth to make clothes was something she couldn’t pay for herself—major expenses should still come from the family funds. She needed to save this money as her private stash.
Soon, Lu Runrun picked up a candied cherry from the dish—an extra that hadn’t been served at the banquet. She popped it into her mouth and chewed, first tasting a sweet flavor, but as she bit through the cherry, a sourness hit her, making her frown involuntarily.
These were freshly made candied cherries, but the season wasn’t right, so the cherries weren’t ripe enough, making them intensely sour.
Fortunately, her heart felt even more sour than the candied cherries. In the past, whenever she received extra reward money, it had always been handed over to her mother.
Lu Runrun couldn’t help but sigh, clutching the newly acquired small silver lotus seed pod, reluctant to put it away.
Saving up for herself seemed like a distant dream.
While her mother was away meeting the host, Lu Runrun decided to hold onto it a little longer. Perhaps if she warmed it with her hands, it would gain a spirit and stay with her.
Whether it was due to Lu Runrun’s sincere devotion or not, Tan Xianniang surprisingly didn’t take away the additional valuable reward given by the host, leaving Lu Runrun puzzled. How much reward money had the host given her mother this time for her to forget even this?
The wages were fixed, as Lu Runrun knew. They were paid to her mother by the Four Departments and Six Bureaus, totaling one hundred guan, with twenty guan paid upfront as a deposit and the remaining eighty guan given after the banquet was completed.
Typically, given her mother’s reputation, the additional reward would normally be around eighty to one hundred guan.
For her mother to be astonished by the reward, was the household of the Grand Princess of Wei truly that extravagant?
Although she was a grand princess, the emperor didn’t seem particularly close to this aunt of his, and her rewards were ordinary. She had married into an average noble family, and there was nothing particularly special about her.
As Lu Runrun pondered deeply, she didn’t notice Tan Xianniang glancing at her several times, each time hesitating to speak.
After a long while, Tan Xianniang finally spoke directly.
She wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
"Runrun, I’m going to remarry."
"Ah?"
Author’s Note:
Savory snacks: In Bianjing, people referred to going to the Zhouqiao Night Market for supper as "savory snacks."
The recipe for shredded chicken rolls in the text is from "Song Banquet."
Quail soup: This was a dish favored by Cai Jing, but the number of quails required for one serving wasn’t ten as mentioned in the text—it was hundreds. Considering this was a banquet with many guests, the quantity was adjusted. Otherwise, the pile of quail carcasses would likely have resembled a small mountain.
The second dish was fried meat dumplings, and the third was lotus-shaped meat oil cakes. The dishes here were referenced from a state banquet during the Southern Song Dynasty that Lu You once attended. Therefore, it should still be reasonable for a combination of staple foods—steamed buns and meat oil cakes—to appear at a banquet for the nobility. After all, the author, aside from this, also arranged several other luxurious dishes. In comparison, the feast here was much more lavish than the state banquet Lu You attended, as that banquet consisted of nine dishes in total, with the fourth being white meat Hu-style cakes (another type of meat cake) and the fifth being Taiping Bilo (a type of stuffed steamed bun). Four out of the nine dishes were staple foods. Of course, this might also be related to national strength. State banquets during the Northern Song Dynasty were much more reliable. During Emperor Renzong’s reign, there was even an instance where Liao Dynasty envoys were entertained with one cup of wine paired with four dishes (in formal Song Dynasty banquets, it was generally one cup of wine paired with one dish, with each new cup of wine requiring the previous dish to be replaced). However, there were special circumstances here, as the standard protocol for entertaining foreign guests was typically one cup of wine paired with two dishes.
Regarding the female protagonist’s mother’s salary of one hundred Guan, with a normal tip of eighty to one hundred Guan, this was referenced from Jiang Xing Za Lu (Miscellaneous Records of River Travels), which contains a story about a Professional female chef. A prefect hired a Professional female chef from the capital, and she made a grand entrance. Upon arriving nearby, she stopped and had the porters deliver a letter, insisting that a special sedan chair be sent to fetch her. The prefect then sent someone to pick her up. When the prefect met the Professional female chef, he found her to be in her early twenties, attractive and skilled, capable of writing and arithmetic, and even her kitchen utensils were self-supplied, all made of gold and silver. Her cooking methods were extremely extravagant: to prepare five servings of lamb head rolls, she used ten lamb heads, taking only the cheek meat, and to prepare five plates of scallion relish, she used fifty catties of green scallions. After finishing, the Professional female chef demanded not only her wages but also a tip, stating it was customary. The prefect had someone check the standard for customary tips, and the Professional female chef produced a list of previous tips. The prefect discovered that each tip was quite generous, typically around two to three hundred Guan. The prefect was astonished at the time, feeling that only the extremely wealthy could afford such a Professional female chef, so he soon found an excuse to dismiss her.
Since Jiangxing Zalu dates from the Southern Song period, the purchasing power of copper coins may have declined. For example, in the eighth year of the Tiansheng era during the Northern Song, grain prices were approximately 300 wen per dan, whereas by the twenty-ninth year of the Shaoxing era in the Southern Song, the price had risen to over 1,600 wen per dan (these grain price figures are sourced from Research on Prices in the Song Dynasty). Although annual grain prices fluctuated significantly depending on whether the harvest was abundant or not, the overall trend was upward. Therefore, I set the reward Tan Xianniang received at around one hundred guan. This is mainly because in Jiangxing Zalu, the professional female chef only prepared a small banquet for a few people, whereas Tan Xianniang handled a larger-scale feast, so I did not proportionally reduce the amount based on grain prices. It is worth noting that one hundred guan was by no means a small sum. In the later years of Emperor Taizong of Song, when Emperor Zhenzong was still the Prince of Xiang, he built a small residence in the capital to house a favored woman, spending five hundred taels of silver, equivalent to about five hundred guan. At that time, a relatively high-end residence for a mid-level official during Emperor Taizong's reign cost around five thousand guan, while a residence for a high-ranking official in power was approximately ten thousand guan (these figures are from Research on Prices in the Song Dynasty, which provides detailed examples; interested readers may refer to it for a comprehensive overview of prices). Thus, Tan Xianniang can be considered a high-income earner, moving among high-ranking officials and nobles, as only the extremely wealthy could afford her services. Moreover, she was not simply summoned and dismissed but received considerable respect—a treatment shared by other female-dominated professions of the time, such as entertainers and needlework artisans. While the powerful could indeed be formidable, ancient times were not a wilderness survival scenario; they had complete legal systems and social order. Additionally, wealth-based marriages were popular in the Song Dynasty. The female protagonist inherited a large residence in a prime location in Bianjing, making recruiting a matrilocal son-in-law entirely reasonable.