Chapter Eighty: Duck Blood Soup

  As they spoke, Ding led Wang Kuang and the others to the banks of the Qinhuai River. Sure enough, the streets along the river were lined with wine shops, restaurants, and jewelry stores. Seeing the jewelry stores, Wang Kuang thought that he should bring Huang Da along too, after all, he had worked in a jade shop for several years and must have an eye for it. He himself only knew the names of various types of glass and ice, but couldn't tell them apart. Changing his mind, he thought that since there were many jewelry stores in Chang'an, they could take Huang Da along later to pick out some accessories. His sister-in-law's accessories were too shabby, and Autumn Fragrance and the others had worked hard, so it was only right to give them some gifts, especially Sun Han Shi, who already treated his brother as her own child, and should definitely receive a gift.

  Now that they had arrived at the destination, Wang Juan sent Ding's family back and the four of them strolled more freely. Having someone follow them would be a hindrance, unable to do as they pleased, always having to consider the host's dignity, so they couldn't eat at those small stalls and peddlers.

  "Second Brother, you lead the way. Wherever we end up is fine, you're familiar with food." Lin Xuanmu saw that Wang Kuang would ask him at every intersection, and he had never been to Jinling before, so he was also clueless about directions. As for eating, with Wang Kuang around, they wouldn't have to worry about finding good food.

  Lin Xuan raised his sleeves, with an expression that said "wherever you go, I'll follow". Wang Kuang didn't ask him anymore and instead looked around himself. He was searching for a small, ordinary food stall that locals would eat at. Only locals know where the truly good flavors are hidden, just like in later times, people who haven't lived in Xiamen for a few years wouldn't know to go to Baijia Village to eat stir-fried tofu, and those who haven't lived in Beijing for a few years would only know to go to Quanjude to eat roast duck. Tourists usually go to famous places to eat, but the truly good flavors are always hidden in small alleys, known only to locals.

  After walking for half a day, Lin Xuanmu and the three others still hadn't seen Wang Kuang enter a restaurant. Sun Jiaying whispered to the group, "I knew we shouldn't have sent him off so early, it would be better if he had led the way."

  "Ha, Sun Dalang, you just don't know, the process of finding is a kind of fun." Lin Xuanmu patted his shoulder: "You calm down and take a look around, some people are in a hurry, some people are strolling, some people are frowning, some people are smiling. The world's hundred scenes, all can be seen at a glance. Take another look at the thatched cottages by the street, listen to the music coming from the river and the sound of oars, accompanied by one or two chicken and dog barks, cow and horse calls, or children's laughter. Listen, there are also women scolding children for playing too much." He closed his eyes and sighed: "This is also a beautiful scene."

  When Lin Xuan heard this, Wang Kuang couldn't help but look at him with new eyes. To be able to appreciate such ordinary beauty from life is not something that people who are high up can do. As a government official, he was already quite exceptional in being able to do so. This was the true aristocratic style. In Wang Kuang's view, all those who looked down on others and put on airs were nothing but nouveau riche, unable to even touch the edge of nobility. What true aristocrats valued most was people's genuine respect for their character, not fear. Similarly, true aristocrats did not reject interactions with lower-class individuals; only the nouveau riche would look down on them.

  "Ah, I smell a fragrance." Just then, Wang Kuang was lost in thought, but Lin Xiangru tugged at his sleeve.

  Wang Kuang also smelled it, a mixture of leek and duck soup aroma. Could this be the duck blood noodles? Originally, according to Wang Kuang's guess, before sweet potatoes were widely planted, noodles shouldn't have appeared so quickly. Today, Wang Kuang mainly came to find salted duck.

  They didn't even need to ask around, and they saw that the small stall next door was packed with people, and many others were squatting on the ground eating from bowls, and the aroma was coming from there.

  Nanjing is famous for its ducks, and legend has it that when wild ducks migrated to the Qinhuai River and played on the river, scholars, poets, and boatmen would throw food to them. Over time, some of the ducks were domesticated and became fat and strong. The Peking duck of later generations should actually be called Nanjing duck, as it was introduced from Jinling. It's just that because of its fame, it's called Peking duck. To eat authentic roast duck, you must go to a restaurant that purchases ducks from Nanjing.

  Arriving at the stall, I found that they were not selling duck blood noodles, but rather duck blood soup. A thin man was cutting a large piece of cooked duck blood into small pieces with scissors and putting them into a bowl in front of him. Next to him, a little kid quickly moved the bowl over, sprinkled some scallions and ginger on top, then poured it into a ladle and put it into a pot to cook for a bit before scooping it up again. He then ladled out a spoonful of duck soup from the pot, and a bowl of duck blood soup was ready. Customers who had been waiting impatiently on the side quickly picked up their bowls and started eating.

  Looking at the bright yellow and clear soup, as well as the green scallions in it, Wang Kuang couldn't help but swallow his saliva. The yellow soup, green scallions, dark red duck blood, and the fragrance of the duck soup wafting over were all too enticing. It can be said that this dish truly achieved a perfect combination of color, aroma, and flavor. From the cooking method, Wang Kuang could confirm that the taste would definitely not disappoint. The entire bowl of duck blood soup, except for adding some ginger to remove the fishy smell, did not use any other seasonings at all, and was absolutely authentic in its original flavor. Moreover, looking at the color of the duck soup, it belonged to the category of thick soups, unlike later generations where one duck could be used to make a large pot of soup.

  Just as a seat became available, some diners noticed Wang Kuang and his companions' conversation and realized they were outsiders, so they politely gave up their seats to them. After Wang Kuang and his companions sat down and thanked them, the child soon brought over four bowls of duck blood soup. His skill was impressive, carrying two bowls in one hand, with one bowl still resting on his palm and the other almost standing upright on his wrist, yet perfectly stable without a single wobble. As he approached, Wang Kuang didn't even offer to help, wanting to see how the child would put down the four bowls of soup. He saw the child curve his palm, support it with his thumb, and place the two bowls of duck blood soup from his palms onto the table, then alternately place the two bowls from his wrists onto the table, without spilling a single drop of soup.

  "Good craftsmanship." Lin Xuanmu couldn't help but praise, and turned to smile at Wang Kuang: "Second Brother probably doesn't have this kind of skill, right?"

  Upon hearing the praise, the child smiled shyly, pulled at his own robe, and with a red face turned around to continue working. A nearby diner chimed in: "You folks must be first-timers, thinking four bowls is something, but I've often seen him carry six bowls; his father, that man over there, is even more incredible, able to carry eight bowls with empty hands."

  The eight-bowl king was someone I had seen before, but that was on TV. His two hands were a blur as he expertly spun the eight bowls into two rows. I never thought I'd see it in real life. This is the result of years and months of practice. As the old saying goes: "No special technique, just familiar hands." So far, none of the staff at Fuli Inn have been able to master a skill that would impress customers. It seems they lack depth. After all, Fuli Inn has only been around for twenty years or so since Sun Ming's time. If we want to turn it into a century-old shop, we need not only delicious food but also our own unique features. The method of cooking can be figured out with some thought, and if you encounter a true master, they can decipher your recipe and technique in no time. However, the staff's special skills are truly a result of hard work and cannot be learned in just a few years. I should go back and encourage them to practice. Having a special skill will not only bring honor to Fuli Inn but also provide a way for the staff to make a living if they ever leave.

  "Has Erlang gone to see Xingjun again?" Lin Wan saw Wang Kuang spacing out and patted him: "What are you thinking about? Eat while it's hot, it won't taste good if it gets cold."

  "There's nothing, just thinking of that peddler who taught me how to make food a few years ago. He said that the food in Jinling is extremely delicious." Wang Kuang smiled and shook his head: "It's only been a few years since I started making friend powder, how could there be duck blood noodles now? Even if there were, they would be made with arrowroot powder, which has a rough texture and can't be considered good-tasting. Maybe it evolved from the duck blood soup, but even that was changed to pig's blood soup in TW, and it became a popular dish among foodies, who claimed it was a local specialty. Wang Kuang felt sorry for the foodies in TW, as most of their so-called delicacies were actually passed down from the mainland, with flavors that couldn't compare to the authentic versions."

  It's likely that duck blood fans will only appear after sweet potatoes are widely planted and promoted, or when potatoes become popular. Perhaps it won't take a few years, with the traditional innovative food culture of Yangzhou and Jinling areas, after the method of making Youfan is made public, they can quickly come up with new ideas, but who knows if this premature appearance of Youfan will lead to more diverse foods than in later generations? Wang Kuang is looking forward to it.

  "What's good to eat? This brother, tell me, don't hide it from me, I don't know what good food there is in this Jinling City." Another diner at the side interrupted.

  "That peddler was talking about salted duck. We've been walking for half a day, but we haven't seen any, please let us know." Wang Kuang saw that he was very enthusiastic, so he smiled at him and then said to the stall owner: "Boss, consider this man's money as part of our bill, we'll pay it together later."

  "Haha, Lang Jun is indeed a straightforward person. However, you're from out of town, and guests are to be treated with courtesy. It doesn't make sense for the guest to pay. Let's forget about it. Logically speaking, since you're our guest, we should be the ones treating you. Unfortunately, we're also struggling financially, so let's just have someone take us to eat that salted duck you mentioned." The foodie heard that Wang Kuang wanted to split the bill and repeatedly refused. Looking at his words, he seems like a self-assured person.

  After chatting, Wang Kuang only knew that it was impossible to eat salted duck on a common stall. Think about it, how much does a duck cost? It's not something ordinary people can afford. Ordinary families only eat chicken and duck during the New Year. To eat salted duck, you have to go to a big restaurant, where literati and poets often gather, and generally, wealthy people won't come to stalls to eat. But precisely because restaurants sell salted duck, many ducks' giblets flow into street stalls, so in Jinling's stalls, 50% of the food is made from giblets. This duck blood soup shop is one of them.

  Division -

  Sorry about that. I've been busy searching for local snacks in Nanjing recently, but unfortunately didn't find any from the Tang Dynasty, so I just wrote one based on my own speculation.

  I'm deeply grateful for everyone's support, and Sparrow will continue to work hard.

  As for the protagonist, Grey Sparrow can be certain that he is absolutely not a demon, but rather someone who believes in "don't hit me and I won't hit you". If someone hits him, he will definitely fight back. Grey Sparrow thinks that if someone gets slapped in the face and still smiles to show "deep regret", they are not a descendant of the Yellow Emperor, but a eunuch.

  Continue to recommend and collect, your support is the motivation for Grey Sparrow.