“What is the Spring Trio Delicacy, what ingredients does it need, and do you want me to go with you?” Zhou Yunniang looked at her daughter with concern.
“No need, Mother. I know the way, I’ll go early and come back early. The ingredients are simple: shrimp, spring bamboo shoots, and fava beans. You and Father should prepare more breakfast at home than today, otherwise I’m afraid it won’t be enough to sell.” Su Mo replied with a smile.
“Alright, alright. Then your mother and father will wait for you at home. Be careful on your own.” Zhou Yunniang thought for a moment. Her husband really couldn’t manage alone, so she agreed with her daughter. Su Dashan also nodded in agreement.
With that, the family of three went to sleep. Exhausted from the day, they quickly drifted into dreamland.
The next day, as dawn broke, Su Mo went out with a bamboo basket on her arm.
The morning market was even livelier than the day before. The news of Su Ji Eatery’s bustling morning business had spread through East Market Street overnight like a spring breeze. As soon as Auntie Wang, the vegetable seller, saw her, she greeted with a smile, “Girl Nian He, are you buying fish today? I have fresh crucian carp, perfect for making nourishing soup!”
“Thank you, Auntie Wang, but I’m not buying fish today.” Su Mo responded with a smile, but her steps didn’t pause as she headed straight into the depths of the market.
She needed to find three things: shrimp, spring bamboo shoots, and fava beans.
The shrimp were easy. The old fisherman who sold her shrimp yesterday was still in the same spot. Seeing her, he smiled, “Girl, were yesterday’s shrimp fresh?”
“Very fresh! The customers all said they were good.” Su Mo crouched down and carefully selected. Today’s shrimp were even livelier than yesterday’s, jumping around in the wooden basin, their green shells translucent, with intact feelers and legs. “Uncle, give me one and a half catties, the biggest ones.”
“Coming right up!” The old fisherman deftly scooped and weighed the shrimp. “Fifteen wen. Girl, my son went to try your Su Ji’s fish slice congee, and it was really good! Tomorrow I’ll save the best shrimp for you again!”
“Thank you so much, Uncle.” Su Mo paid and carefully placed the shrimp into the bamboo basket lined with a damp cloth.
The spring bamboo shoots took a bit more effort. At this time of year, spring bamboo shoots had just emerged, at their freshest and most tender, but also the most sought-after. She circled through most of the market before finding an old farmer’s stall in a corner. In the bamboo basket in front of the old farmer were piled some spring bamboo shoots, still damp with soil. Their shells were a tender yellow, covered with fine, fuzzy hairs—clearly dug up from the mountains just this morning.
“Uncle, how much for these shoots?”
“Three wen per catty.” The old farmer’s voice was hoarse. “All dug fresh this morning. Look at the cut ends, they’re still oozing moisture.”
Su Mo picked one up, weighed it in her hand—it felt heavy. She peeled back a bit of the shell; the flesh inside was as white as jade. Pressing it with her fingertip, it was crisp and tender. “I’ll take five catties,” she said without hesitation.
“Five catties?” The old farmer was somewhat surprised. “Girl, these shoots don’t keep well; they’ll turn tough overnight.”
“They’ll be used today, not overnight.” Su Mo smiled. “Pick the tenderest ones for me: the tips should be purple, the bodies straight, and no black spots at the roots.”
“You know your stuff.” The old farmer nodded and carefully selected five catties of the finest shoots for her.
Lastly, the fava beans. At this season, fresh fava beans had just come into the market. Their pods were emerald green and plump, like little curved boats. Su Mo stopped at a farmer woman’s stall and selected pods that were swollen and brightly colored, weighing out three catties.
“Girl, buying so much—do you have guests at home?” the farmer woman asked while weighing.
“For the shop,” Su Mo replied simply, counting out six wen to hand to her.
The basket was much heavier on the way back, but her heart felt settled. The freshness of shrimp, the crispness of bamboo shoots, and the sweetness of fava beans—these three together captured the true taste of spring. She mentally reviewed the recipe: peel the shrimp, leaving a few whole for plating; blanch the bamboo shoots to remove bitterness; shell the fava beans fresh to keep the kernels tender. Season lightly—just a pinch of salt and a hint of sugar—to let the natural flavors shine.
By the time Su Mo returned to Su Ji from the market, the morning bustle was in full swing.
The main hall was packed with customers, warmth mingling with the aroma of porridge and noodles wafting out through the door. Zhou Yunniang was serving porridge to guests and, seeing her return, hurriedly called out, “Put the shrimp in the well to keep them cool! Don’t let them suffocate!”
“Got it,” Su Mo replied, lifting the curtain to enter the kitchen.
Su Dashan was boiling noodles in a large iron pot, the water bubbling like blooming flowers. With a flick of his long chopsticks, the noodles unfurled in the rolling water. Seeing her come in, he smiled and asked, “Did you get everything? How do you plan to prepare this spring trio?”