Craftsmen engaged in heavy labor naturally prioritized hearty, filling meals—preferably with meat and rich flavors. Though they were paid for their work, treating them to good food put them in better spirits, which in turn ensured meticulous craftsmanship.
Thus, when Shen Miao went shopping for ingredients the previous day, she had planned carefully. She specifically asked Zheng Tuzhu, the butcher, for a set of pork offal. While she couldn’t afford prime cuts of meat, she could manage a meal of pork and lean meat soup, coarse rice, and a large stir-fry of minced meat with cabbage.
Shen Miao bought three pounds of pork and one pound of fatty meat for rendering lard. In return, Zheng Tuzhu practically gave her the entire set of offal at a bargain price. Pigs in the Song Dynasty weren’t castrated, so the offal carried a much stronger odor than in later times. It often went unsold, and since it spoiled faster than regular pork, it was cheap. But Shen Miao had her own effective methods for neutralizing the smell.
In her past life as a chef, Shen Miao had been a methodical practitioner. To perfect her Dongpo pork, she had studied the sources of pork’s gamy taste and developed a scientifically sound approach to eliminating it.
The gaminess of pork came from two main sources: First, pigs had relatively weak kidneys, leaving residual ammonia in their blood that couldn’t be fully metabolized. This was easy to handle—proper bleeding during slaughter, thorough rinsing, or blanching would take care of it. Second, uncastrated pigs retained high levels of male hormones in their meat. During her two-year stint studying Western cuisine and baking abroad, Shen Miao had suffered greatly from the pungent, uncastrated pork commonly used there. The first time she tasted it, she nearly vomited.
That experience taught her exactly how uncastrated pork tasted—if she had to describe it, it was like soaking pork in pig urine overnight and then cooking it without washing it off.
But thanks to her broad experience in her past life, Shen Miao found handling the gamy pork of the Song Dynasty surprisingly effortless.
The stubborn stench from the uncastrated pigs required serious effort to eliminate. Shen Miao’s method could be summarized in three steps:
First, cut the pork into pieces and rinse thoroughly in cold water to release and wash away the blood.
Second, soak the pork in a mixture of ginger, scallions, and cooking wine for at least fifteen minutes, then blanch it.
The blanching had to start in cold water, with added white vinegar and yellow wine. Since the male hormones lingered mostly in the fat, starting with cold water allowed the meat and water to heat up gradually. This prevented the surface from searing instantly, which would trap the blood and odor inside.
The vinegar accelerated the breakdown of fat, letting the gaminess evaporate with the steam.
Here, the most crucial detail was: Never cover the pot! The offensive odors needed an open escape route. After blanching, the meat had to be rinsed with boiling water. Using cold water would shock the meat, making it tough—a waste of effort.
Third, marinate the meat. Crush scallions and ginger to extract their juices, then soak the pork in this mixture.
Scallions and ginger were sworn enemies of gamy pork. Not only did their juices mask the odor, but they also rehydrated the blanched meat, restoring its tenderness.
Old Man Yang was busy sawing the lower door frame’s ends to create notches while his apprentices chiseled out grooves for the panels and frame joints. Engrossed in their work, they caught glimpses of Shen Miao processing the pork at lightning speed—her hands a blur as she chopped without even looking, the rhythmic thuds of the knife against the board filling the air. In no time, the meat was soaked, then tossed into the pot.
Soon, the scent of cooking meat wafted through the air, carrying only a faint trace of gaminess.
Old Man Yang’s eldest apprentice sniffed and whispered to another, "This Mistress Shen is quite generous—serving us hot soup and meals at noon. Not like Manager Wei from the pastry shop down the street. When we repaired his door, all we got were dry biscuits and cold water."
The other apprentice nodded but grimaced. "Still, this pork… I can’t stomach it. Last time my wife bought some cheap cuts, the smell alone nearly made me throw up my dinner from the night before."
"Ungrateful brat!" Old Man Yang smacked him on the head with a chisel. "You’ve lived in good times, never known hunger. Back in the day, people ate clay and tree bark—see if you’d still be picky then!"
The apprentice fell silent but rubbed his belly, thinking he’d rather have biscuits. Mistress Shen’s scallion pancakes from that morning had been flaky and fragrant, and her millet porridge rich and satisfying. He’d happily eat the leftovers instead!
With that thought, he returned to work, steadying the ladder as Old Man Yang climbed up to install the upper door frame beneath the eaves. Just then, an irresistible aroma made him crane his neck toward the kitchen.
There, Shen Miao had sliced pork intestines, liver, kidney, and lean meat paper-thin, coated them in salt and starch, then swirled them briefly in boiling water with shredded ginger. After seasoning with a dash of salt and yellow wine, she added wolfberry leaves and scallions before serving.
The large pot of soup instantly filled the room with a rich, savory fragrance.
His eyes widened. Like a curious pup, he sniffed repeatedly, baffled—the pungent smell from earlier had vanished!
The intense aroma made his mouth water uncontrollably, and he swallowed hard.
Pork offal soup required a roaring flame and rapid cooking—just enough to set the starch coating without letting it dissolve, ensuring the meat stayed tender enough to melt in the mouth, while the intestines remained crisp.
Shen Miao ladled out the soup. The multigrain rice, steamed earlier in a wooden barrel, was ready. A quick stir-fry of minced pork and cabbage later, she called out, "Take a break, everyone. Time to eat."
A large pot of soup, a bucket of rice, and a heaping pan of stir-fried cabbage—served in such generous portions that they had to be placed in basins. The small square table Shen Miao had bought from Old Man Yang barely had room for the three basins, forcing everyone to stand or squat around it, bowls in hand.
Shen Miao had already set aside portions for herself, Ji Brother, and Sister Xiang in the kitchen. The three of them sat on round stools, eating by the stove. Since the kitchen door wasn’t installed yet, Shen Miao sipped her soup leisurely while watching the craftsmen devour the meal in no time.
Old Man Yang’s youngest apprentice, barely in his teens, finished one bowl of soup, then ladled another over rice, eating until sweat beaded on his forehead. Between mouthfuls, he mumbled, "Senior brother… save some for me…"
Luckily, Shen Miao had cooked plenty. The dozen or so burly workers polished off the entire bucket of rice.
By the end, the young apprentice sat on the floor, clutching his stomach, still savoring the memory of the tender, bouncy textures.
Even Old Man Yang licked his lips, unsatisfied. He approached Shen Miao in amazement. "Mistress Shen, with skills like these—you could work at Liu Lou by Golden Beam Bridge, Fan Lou outside Jinming Pond, the Wang family’s place near Cao Gate, or even Eight Immortals Pavilion north of the city! Why settle for peddling food on the streets?"
Shen Miao had certainly considered it—though she was a woman, the Song Dynasty did not look down on women making a living outside the home. Female cooks, embroiderers, and women selling wine on the streets were common sights. If she were to showcase her skills at any renowned restaurant or grand eatery, finding employment wouldn’t be difficult.
But why work for someone else when she already had her own little noodle shop?
So, pointing to the small courtyard that was gradually shedding its desolate appearance, she smiled and said, "You flatter me, Old Man Yang! My culinary skills were all passed down through my family. Though our household has fallen on hard times, as a woman, I can’t help but think of reviving our family’s fortunes. Look, aren’t things slowly improving?"
Her words left Old Man Yang deeply respectful, and even Artisan He couldn’t help but glance at her repeatedly.
Shen Miao meant every word. She had no grand ambitions of building a vast business empire or climbing to great heights. A small courtyard, a humble shop to make ends meet, and a peaceful, stable life in this turbulent world—that seemed more than enough for her.
By afternoon, perhaps because Shen Miao’s cooking had been so satisfying, Old Man Yang and the others worked with exceptional diligence. Artisan He and his five apprentices toiled from dawn till dusk with hardly a break, completing the courtyard wall in just a single day.
All that remained was waiting for the layered earth mixture to dry.
Old Man Yang finished even earlier—the doors, windows, and the roof of the kitchen were all renewed before dusk.
Shen Miao had already arranged with Artisan He to return the next morning to build the earthen stove and repair the cooking range. Exhausted, she sprawled in the kitchen, motionless, while the ever-dutiful Sister Xiang stood behind her, massaging her shoulders.
Meanwhile, Ji Brother took it upon himself to sweep up the wood shavings and dust littering the courtyard and washed a large basin of bowls and chopsticks.
That afternoon, while the courtyard buzzed with work, Shen Miao hadn’t been idle either.
Now, in the quiet of the night, the kitchen was hung with rows of cured and dried meat sausages—she planned to start by setting up a stall selling hand-pulled pancakes and grilled sausages.
The hand-pulled pancake was actually a variation of scallion pancakes, said to have originated from the later-era island of Taiwan, a southern specialty. Thus, such a thing didn’t yet exist in Bianjing during the Song Dynasty. After scouring the night market’s food stalls without finding anything similar, Shen Miao had been inspired.
The people of Bianjing, much like their later counterparts in Henan, adored carbohydrates and wheat-based foods, seldom eating rice in their daily meals. Their three daily meals usually consisted of steamed buns stuffed with pickles and millet porridge, or a bowl of piping hot noodle soup. For a more indulgent meal, they might enjoy steamed buns filled with mutton.
Beyond that, Song Dynasty folks were particularly fond of "pan-fried tea" and wine, which was why the wine shop across the street, run by the Gu family, thrived with a steady stream of customers buying liquor every day.
Shen Miao believed a new-flavored "pancake" could capture the tastes of Bianjing’s people.
As for grilled sausages, in an era where pork was often looked down upon, they were even harder to come by—making them a novel treat. Shen Miao planned to make them cheaply with a high starch content, ensuring affordability and deliciousness, hoping to profit through small margins but high volume.
In her past life, Shen Miao had genuinely loved starchy sausages—the kind parents dismissed as "junk food." It was a childhood favorite. But after suffering stomachaches from questionable meat sources in later years, she’d started making her own, so she was quite skilled at it now.
By treating the pork with her "three-axe method"—mincing it into filling and marinating it—the gamey taste was almost entirely eliminated. Adding plenty of starch not only controlled costs but also enhanced the flavor.
After some experimentation, Shen Miao found that a single pound of pork could yield dozens of sausages.
Admittedly, calling these "meat sausages" was a stretch, but compared to the artificially enhanced versions of her past life, they seemed downright wholesome and honest!
However, as she worked, Shen Miao realized the most expensive part wasn’t the meat—it was the spices and salt used for marinating. Salt in this era was far from cheap! Even the coarse flour she bought had to be sifted nearly ten times before it was usable. Factoring all this in, the costs were higher than she’d anticipated.
But since she’d already started, she had no choice but to press on and see how sales went the next day.
She’d spent half the day preparing the casings and the meat filling—80% of which was flour. After dinner, she stuffed the sausages one by one, then got up again to knead the dough for the hand-pulled pancakes, dividing it into portions before brushing them with oil to rest.
The pancake dough was similar to scallion pancakes, but Shen Miao added a bit of sugar, salt, and sesame seeds during kneading to give the dough its own flavor. By the time the sausages were stuffed, the dough had rested enough. Now came the crucial step—creating the flaky, crispy layers that would make the pancakes irresistible.
She rolled each portion thin, folded it like a fan, stretched it into a strip, then coiled it like an incense spiral. After letting it rest another quarter-hour, she rolled it thin again—and it was ready.
Simple in theory, but the technique was everything.
Once all the pancake bases were prepared, dusted with flour, and stacked in a basket separated by oiled paper, she moved on to prepping the fillings. Cucumbers were sliced into sections, spring greens washed and torn into pieces, fried chicken cutlets, pork cutlets, pickled radish cubes, fried dough sticks… She planned to offer the hand-pulled pancakes in several tiers—vegetarian, meat-added, and meat-and-egg—to cater to customers of different budgets.
Most importantly, she’d even made a small jar of mayonnaise!
Mayonnaise was something Shen Miao had made countless times in her past life—it was incredibly simple, requiring only egg yolks, oil, salt, sugar, and vinegar. Getting the ratios right made it easy to replicate. The beauty of it was that no one could guess the recipe just by looking, and with this "soul sauce," her hand-pulled pancakes would be hard to imitate or surpass. A unique product meant guaranteed sales.
If only tomatoes were available in this era—some tomato sauce would’ve paired wonderfully with the pancakes.
And black pepper sauce? Forget it. Pepper was as precious as gold—she couldn’t afford that!
With everything prepared, Shen Miao turned in early. She couldn’t afford to miss the bustle of tomorrow’s morning market!
