Chapter 33 Oily Pork Noodles

Author: The 300-pound cook

Chapter 33 Oily Pork Noodles

It has meat, vegetables, oil, and peeled millet, which is good.

What surprised Yang Chuan the most was that there was half a jar of quite full wheat in the kitchen, with a layer of ash on it. It seemed that few people liked eating wheat rice.

The kitchens of the Han Dynasty are very simple, and the food of ordinary people is also very crude. They only have a few staple foods such as steamed rice, boiled rice, and soup cakes, paired with a mouthful of meat sauce and pickles, which is a delicious meal.

The so-called "wheat rice" is not the noodles of later generations, but wheat cooked directly in a wok and eaten directly. One aspect is that it is rough and difficult to chew. The main reason is that if you eat too much of this kind of wheat rice, it is difficult to digest and can cause bloating.

There are a lot of farts.

Therefore, wheat rice was once used as feed for livestock...

Yang Chuan has always been curious about meat sauce from the Han Dynasty. He really couldn't figure out what kind of magical operation could ferment a pile of meat paste into sauce.

He deliberately searched for it and finally found half a jar of "meat sauce" among a pile of jars and jars. He opened the lid and smelled it.

vomit--

There was a strange stench that almost made him, a cook, lose his breath. He rushed to the door in a few steps and spat out a mouthful of gastric juice.

puff!

Unexpectedly, just at this moment, Sima Qian strode over and was sprayed in the face.

Both of them were stunned.

"Lord Junhou!"

"Little thief Yang Chuan!"

The two stared at each other for two or three breaths, then turned around and lowered their heads, retching for a while before stopping.

Sima Qian wiped the dirt on his face vigorously, glared angrily, and scolded: "Young thief Yang Chuan, you are seeking death!"

After saying that, he came up with fists as big as sandbags and was about to knock Yang Chuan down.

Seeing this, Yang Chuan waved his hands repeatedly, and while retching, he said with great difficulty: "Wait, come back after I finish vomiting..."

Sima Qian hesitated for a moment, frowned, glared at Yang Chuan angrily, and scolded: "You don't learn well at a young age, you are malicious and vicious... Why do you spit filth on a certain family's face?"

While cursing, he quickly got a bucket of water and washed his head and face.

Yang Chuan finally stopped retching, grimaced, and cupped his hands and said: "Forgive me, Lord Jun, but the meat sauce stored in this kitchen has gone bad and smelly. I smelled it and couldn't help it."

"Is the meat sauce spoiled and smelly?"

Sima Qian didn't know what "spoiled" meant, but it must have been that the meat sauce had been stored for too long and had a foul smell, so naturally it could no longer be eaten.

This matter may not be considered big or small, but Sima Qian was immediately concerned about it.

It should be noted that the museum was an official office of the imperial court, and it also had functions such as a post station and official residence. In the past, officials of all sizes, soldiers, and envoys of the vassal country had to stay and eat here. If the food expired and became smelly, the superiors would definitely investigate and investigate.

And, what a coincidence, this is one of the tasks that he, the military lord, is responsible for...

Sima Qian quickly walked into the kitchen, put his nose to the mouth of the sauce jar, and smelled it carefully, with a puzzled look on his face: "Is it this jar? I smelled it at a certain place, and it didn't turn stinky?"

As he spoke, he picked up the wooden spoon in the sauce jar, scooped out half a spoonful and put it into his mouth, slowly sipping it a few times, with a look of satisfaction on his purple face.

It looks very delicious?

Yang Chuan was dumbfounded.

Was there something wrong with his nose? He was a little unconvinced, so he stepped forward and sniffed twice.

vomit--

So stinky!

Yang Chuan rushed to the door again, retching loudly, but because he hadn't eaten or drank for three days and three nights, his stomach was empty, and there was no way he could vomit anything out!

Sima Qian's face gradually darkened, and he looked coldly at Yang Chuan who was retching, and asked calmly: "Little thief Yang Chuan, it seems that you have lived in the Huns' place for a long time, and you are used to their smell, and you can't get used to me.

Does it taste like a big man?"

Yang Chuan's heart suddenly shuddered, and he cursed: "Sima Qian, a man with thick eyebrows and big eyes, is now on the line?"

"Master Junhou, cough cough, this meat sauce is naturally good. Because the boy has been hungry for the past three days, he probably has a gastrointestinal problem, and his nose is also broken."

I have stayed in the toilet for a long time and don't smell the smell.

It seems that the meat sauce of the big man has this kind of spoiled and sour smell, right? Just like people outside Huguang, they can't eat and smell the stinky tofu, so you can't blame it too much.

What's more, if you like to eat this kind of meat sauce, what does it have to do with me?

Yang Chuan washed his face with water, walked up to Sima Qian in a polite manner, raised his hands and said: "Master Junhou, a gentleman will not enter the kitchen. I am about to cook, so please step aside, Master Junhou."

Really, he didn't want others to secretly learn his cooking skills, so he had to send the old man away first.

Unexpectedly, Sima Qian, who was deliberately looking for trouble, sat down on the pouf at the door and said leisurely: "I heard that you don't like the cooks in the hotel, so a certain family would like to see your cooking skills.

Okay, you are busy with your work, someone just needs a rest."

As he spoke, he took out a scroll of bamboo slips from his arms and read it with relish.

Well, this kind of academic master, even if he is pretending to be cool, he is so calm, fresh and refined.

Yang Chuan smiled bitterly and started to get busy with Tang Yi and his father.

Originally, the moment he saw Mai Zi, he really wanted to eat a bowl of fried noodles, oily and slippery, sprinkled with a pinch of shredded green onion, and paired with green celery and bok choy, mixed with two spoons.

Balsamic vinegar, a big sip, chew a clove of wild garlic...

That’s called an authentic one!

Unfortunately, the so-called "soy sauce" turned out to be meat sauce that exuded a foul smell, so I had to give it a try.

Yang Chuan took out some wheat, rinsed it with clean water, and asked Tang Yi's father to grind the flour on a small stone mill, while he began to chop the meat.

The mutton in the kitchen is very plump and plentiful. Use a sharp boning knife to cut several large pieces, and then use a polished kitchen knife to mince it into minced meat.

Then, sprinkle some Sichuan peppercorns, pepper, salt, minced green onions, coriander powder, etc. into it, then beat two very precious eggs, mix evenly with your hands, and put them aside to marinate.

I originally needed some starch, but I couldn't find it, so I had to make do with it.

Next, Yang Chuan returned to the room, specially fetched his iron pot, grabbed a handful of flax, and first made a little flax oil paste.

At this time, Tang Yi's father also ground some flour and brought it over: "Sir, is it enough? If it's not enough, I'll grind it again."

Yang Chuan roughly weighed it up and felt that it would be enough to make a simple meal of fried pork noodles, so he started kneading and waking up the noodles...

…

At first, Sima Qian was still concentrating on studying.

As Yang Chuan placed a large wok on the stove fire, began to brush oil, heat the oil, and stir-fry, the kitchen was filled with a rich aroma, mixed with the choking smell of fireworks.

Sima Qian couldn't sit still.

Especially when Yang Chuan took out the mutton and controlled the oil, poured it into the iron pot and stir-fried it again, sprinkled several condiments into it, threw in a few fresh vegetables, and tossed it a few times, a ball of flame appeared in the iron pot.

In the pot...

Sima Qian couldn't help but walked forward, stretched his neck, and looked straight.

Especially the saliva, which was secreted involuntarily, and there was no time to swallow!

"Uncle Tangyi, make some noodles."

"Fill the bowl."

"Make some balsamic vinegar and bring them some wild garlic."

"..."

In the blink of an eye, there were more than a dozen bowls of white, smooth, trembling noodles with a large spoonful of oily and fragrant "oiled lamb", and two large plates were placed. Just look at it and smell it.

One nose makes people salivate.

What a pity!

Such tempting delicacies were actually taken away by Tang Yifu, a Huns who was as strong as a bear?

There were only two lonely bowls left on the pot table. They should belong to the little thief Yang Chuan and the Huns, right?

Sima Qian swallowed a large mouthful of saliva with great difficulty, and asked with a calm smile: "Young friend Yang Chuan, does this meal... have a name?"

Yang Chuan had been concentrating on cooking, and finally the rice was cooked. When he was about to pick up a bowl, he completely forgot that Sima Qian was still in the kitchen.

At this moment, this guy suddenly spoke, which startled him: "Ah? What's the name? This is called fried pork noodles."

"Noodles with fried pork?" Sima Qian pondered for a few times, nodded slightly, and praised: "It's really extraordinary!"

"However, since it is called oily pork noodles, why do we only see oil stir-fried but not mixed?"

"The stirrer stirs, stirs and mixes."

"A certain family was so happy when they saw the hunter's heart that they couldn't help but want to stir it with their own hands. Little friend Yang Chuan, please don't turn it down in anticipation!"

Then, right under Yang Chuan's eyes, Sima Qian picked up a bowl of "oiled pork noodles", stirred it a few times with chopsticks, took a big mouthful, and half the bowl of noodles went into his big, furry mouth.

After another big mouthful, all that was left was a layer of mutton jelly at the bottom of the bowl.

After scraping the meat and vegetables in the bowl cleanly, Sima Qian wiped a handful of the greasy, furry mouth with the back of his hand and exclaimed: "It's so beautiful, it's better than the oily pork noodles!"

Yang Chuan: "..."

To be honest, he was dumbfounded.

You Sima Qian, how can you be so passionate and talented even if you eat and drink?

Yang Chuan had to admit that this Sima Qian was the most shameless scholar he had ever seen in his life...
Chapter completed!