Ding Baozhu stepped out of the room and looked around. Combining what she saw with the memories in her mind, she gained a general understanding of the Ding family’s layout.
The Ding household was much larger than some of the scattered cottages in the village; after all, including both the young and the old, there were more than ten people in the family.
Aside from the courtyard, there were four large rooms, all built with rammed-earth walls and wooden roofs covered in straw. These served as the living quarters for the three branches of the family and the grandparents of the younger generation, Ding Jin and Madam Jiang.
Additionally, there were smaller structures like the kitchen and the latrine, as well as a piece of land enclosed by a fence, which contained a chicken coop housing several chickens.
Overall, the Ding family was not as impoverished as she had imagined.
Ding Baozhu successfully located the kitchen. As she expected, it contained a stove pit and several pots; starting a fire was a necessary step before cooking.
Fortunately, as a food blogger, she had produced videos featuring large-stove cooking and iron-pot stews. For that reason, she had specifically learned how to build a fire, so at the very least, she wouldn’t be completely lost.
Several pieces of dried meat, no larger than a fist, hung from the ceiling—there was no telling how long they had been there. Surrounding the area were several partially filled bags. Peeling back the covers to take a look, she saw that they were all filled with grain.
Yet, even in the relatively well-off Ding family, there was no refined rice or white flour among the stored grain. The bags contained brown rice, broomcorn millet, buckwheat, and soybeans.
These were relatively fresh grains. Ding Baozhu also discovered dried sweet potatoes and dried taro, likely kept this way for long-term storage.
In an era without modern methods to preserve ingredients, squeezing out moisture and sun-drying was an effective technique.
In the earthenware jars placed nearby, Ding Baozhu lifted a lid and caught a whiff of a salty aroma.
These were surely the family’s homemade salted vegetables, sauces, and pickles, perhaps left over from the winter.
A pot sat atop the stove pit, and beside it were several dark jars of varying sizes. She guessed these must be the seasonings. Just as she was about to open the lids to take a look, a voice suddenly came from behind her:
“Oh, who’s that sneaking around over there?”
Ding Baozhu turned around and saw two women walking into the doorway one after the other. Both wore headscarves with their hair tied in buns, and their coarse cloth clothes had been washed until they were faded and stiff.
The New Year had already passed. During the New Year, it was inevitable to buy new fabric to sew new clothes, but those new clothes usually went to the younger generation, while the elders continued to wear their old ones.
Not to mention, Ding Hong and Liu Ping had specifically bought a piece of brightly colored fabric to make a new outfit for their daughter’s wedding. It had been finished and was just waiting to be worn when that incident occurred, so it had been set aside.
Of the two women before her, the one in front squinted at her, looking at her as if she were a thief, and her tone just now had been somewhat sarcastic. The one following behind had her willow-leaf brows slightly furrowed, wearing a look of faint impatience—though it wasn’t directed at Ding Baozhu, but at the woman in front.
Ding Baozhu recognized them immediately. These two were the wives of the first and third branches—the original owner’s eldest aunt and youngest aunt.
The wife of the first branch, Wu Tang, relied on the fact that she had given birth to the eldest grandson and had successively added more sons to the family. To some extent, she was more favored by Madam Jiang. Over time, she had become more arrogant than her sisters-in-law, especially toward the sonless Liu Ping, whom she increasingly looked down upon. It could be said she had many conflicts with the original owner.
However, because the third branch was on good terms with Ding Hong, the wife of the third branch was relatively polite—moreover, it was clear that she also couldn’t quite stand her eldest sister-in-law.
Tsk tsk, Ding Baozhu sighed inwardly. It seems this Ding family isn’t very peaceful either.
The wife of the third branch, Yao Dan, glanced over and spoke up:
“Eldest Sister-in-law, how can you say she’s sneaking around? The whole family knows Baozhu was injured and just woke up. Isn’t she bound to be hungry? She must have come looking for food.”
Ding Baozhu also smiled and said:
“My father brought back some ingredients, and I wanted to make a dish out of them.”
The two looked and saw that the oil paper in Ding Baozhu’s hand indeed contained something white. They had long known that Ding Hong often brought back unsold offal to give the family a treat, so they understood what it was.
Yao Dan smiled and said: “Your injury has just healed; why are you doing the work yourself? Did Second Sister-in-law allow this?”
It was already the hour of Shen (3-5 PM), time to prepare the evening meal. By the time the men returned, it would be just right to sit down and eat.
When they arrived at the kitchen and saw Liu Ping, her face no longer bore that expression of deep sorrow, so they knew her major worry had been resolved.
However, they had also heard Madam Jiang’s scolding directed at the second branch, but neither of them had said a word to avoid upsetting their mother-in-law.
They hadn’t expected that upon entering the kitchen, the protagonist who had caused such unrest in the house would be right here.
“Thank you for your concern, Youngest Aunt. I feel much more energetic now. Since my parents are busy, I wanted to help prepare the evening meal.”
The wife of the first branch, Wu Tang, gave a cold snort. She immediately walked over to the grain bags, opened one, took a basket, and grumbled unhappily as she scooped out the grain:
“Have you forgotten all the rules of this house just because you hit your head? Cooking must be done one branch at a time, so I’m going first!”
It seemed the original owner truly didn’t enter the kitchen much, and she wasn’t very clear on these so-called rules. Seeing Wu Tang’s posture of wanting to monopolize the space, Ding Baozhu couldn’t find a way to intervene.
Yao Dan curled her lips and pulled Ding Baozhu along, saying:
“Then let Eldest Sister-in-law go first. I expect it won’t take very long. Baozhu, let’s go for now.”
Wu Tang caught the ridicule in Yao Dan’s voice and turned to glare at her twice, but Yao Dan had already led Ding Baozhu away.
Sorting through the reasons behind this, Ding Baozhu couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
It was simply because the eldest son, Ding Yan, and the grandfather, Ding Jin, farmed the family’s fields together. They mostly ate grains and vegetables, which weren’t difficult to prepare and didn’t take much time, unlike the other two branches who had other ingredients.
Ding Hong, as a butcher, occasionally had leftover offal or full cuts of meat.
The youngest son, Ding Shao, had taken up livestock raising. Besides the chickens in the front yard, he had specifically built a shed behind the house to raise ducks, so they occasionally got to eat chicken and duck eggs.
Clearly, the other two branches lived much better than the first branch.
“I’m relieved to hear your body is doing better. Just in the future, try to avoid being at odds with Eldest Sister-in-law, and restrain your temper a bit…”
Yao Dan paused here, seemingly feeling that the words she was about to say wouldn’t make Ding Baozhu restrain herself but would instead set her off again, so she didn’t continue.
Ding Baozhu understood Yao Dan’s thoughts and smiled:
“It’s alright, Third Aunt. After this ordeal, I’ve thought everything through. I won’t be so willful in the future.”
The original owner’s head-butt had been earth-shaking, with blood splattered on the spot. Waking up as a seemingly different person, people would likely feel a bit of confusion before accepting it—after all, it was good enough just to be alive.
Yao Dan nodded and smiled: “It’s good that you think that way. When the time comes, I’ll certainly be there to drink your wedding wine.”
To their surprise, Wu Tang occupied the kitchen for more than an hour. The early spring sun still set quickly, and even those who had worked hard all day were beginning to pack up and head home.
By the time Wu Tang sluggishly left the kitchen, her husband and son, along with Ding Jin, had all returned carrying their hoes.
The Ding family had about a dozen mu of land in the village. Some had been passed down from ancestors, while some had been purchased later.
This included six mu of paddy fields and six mu of dry land. A portion of the dry land had been used for the third branch’s livestock sheds, but during the spring plowing every year, the Ding family still had to work the fields diligently.
Aside from Ding Jin, there were Ding Yan and the eldest grandson, Ding Shan. Returning from the fields at sunset, the evening meal was just right for them.
When Ding Baozhu and Yao Dan entered the kitchen, the room still held residual heat and the scent of cooked grain.
The latter couldn’t help but complain: “Isn’t this obviously on purpose? My man is about to return, and now we don’t know how late we’ll be delayed.”
Ding Baozhu suggested:
“If you don’t mind, Third Aunt, let’s cook together so we don’t waste any more time.”
“That sounds great. I’ll go start the fire now.”
The firewood was kept in the corner furthest from the stove pit, which saved Ding Baozhu the trouble of starting the fire herself.
She had originally wanted to use half of the pig stomach to make soup—the part after removing the tip would have been perfect for it—but now there clearly wasn’t enough time.
Having cleaned the pig stomach early on, Ding Baozhu finally decided to make one hot dish and one cold dish.
The pig stomach had first been washed repeatedly with cold water. She had added starch and vinegar to the water to remove the slime and wash away any impurities.
Yao Dan had already nimbly scooped out several bowls of grain. Ding Baozhu took a specific look; it was mostly broomcorn millet mixed with brown rice and some beans, though the amount of brown rice was small.
The rice obtained during the autumn harvest—specifically the refined rice—had mostly been used to pay taxes. What remained of the refined rice was too precious to eat and was often sold. So in the end, people still mostly ate this brown rice, which had only its outermost hard shell removed.
Even though the second branch of the Ding family had the best living conditions, they couldn’t afford to eat refined rice every meal. Thus, Ding Baozhu followed suit and steamed a bowl of mixed-grain rice.
Even this mixed-grain rice was considered a good meal compared to the average mountain dweller.
Next, she picked up her knife and cut the whole pig stomach in one stroke, setting aside a larger portion for the hot dish.
As a food blogger who recorded videos, how could her knife skills be lacking? Furthermore, since the original owner had learned butchery from Ding Hong, her beautiful knife technique didn’t seem strange in the eyes of others.
After cutting the tip of the stomach into “flower” patterns, it was time for marinating. However, when Ding Baozhu opened all the small jars, she found that there were almost no seasonings.
The price of refined salt and white sugar was not cheap, so the small jars contained only a few chunks of coarse salt. There was no sugar at all. There was also a liquid that smelled of alcohol, bean paste, some solidified lard that had already been scooped from, half a jar of sesame oil, and some dried-out old ginger and garlic.
Well, since the flavor couldn’t be perfect, she would have to put more effort into the texture.
Ding Baozhu used the liquor and bean paste to marinate the pig stomach, and even rubbed it with salt chunks, primarily to remove the gaminess. She then squeezed the excess moisture from the stomach so that it would become crisp and tender during stir-frying.
The third branch’s evening meal looked relatively simple; they had just washed some vegetable leaves and were preparing to stir-fry them. Usually, mixed-grain rice and wild vegetables were enough for a family to eat.
Ding Baozhu also hurried to toss the prepared pig stomach into the pot for a quick stir-fry. Because it had been marinated in advance, it soon began to emit a faint fragrance.
When the pig stomach was half-cooked, Ding Baozhu scooped it out and tossed some sliced ginger and garlic into the remaining oil in the pot.
Then, she took an item out of one of the earthenware jars, quickly sliced it on the cutting board, threw it into the pot, and stir-fried it continuously.
That item was already cooked, so it didn’t take long before she added the stomach tips back in, added a third of a spoonful of bean paste, and after a few tosses, scooped it out onto a plate. She didn’t forget to drizzle a few spoonfuls of sauce over it.
Yao Dan watched from the side, absolutely dumbfounded.
Why hadn’t she seen her cook with such fluid grace before?
Wait, her eldest niece actually had such great skill?
Yao Dan was so shocked that for a moment, she even forgot the vegetables she was stir-frying.
She peered over curiously. It turned out the pig stomach had been stir-fried with pickled radish. That pickled radish had been preserved during the winter; it was sour, crisp, and appetizing. When cooked with pig stomach, not only did it remove any gaminess, but it also made the dish perfect to eat with rice.
Yao Dan said joyfully: “I didn’t expect you to have this skill. Where did you learn it? —And that remaining bit of pig stomach, how do you plan to cook it?”
Looking at the remaining small piece of pig stomach, since the tip had already been used, Ding Baozhu thought for a moment and then refilled the pot with water to boil.