The winter in Fuzhe County seldom saw snowfall, but the sensation of coldness wrapped in dampness was equally unpleasant. After winter began, the people living within the city walls rarely ventured out, preferring to stay ho and warm themselves by the brazier. Thus, the still cool late autumn beca the last chance for outings and enjoynt throughout the year.
Most people are drawn to novelty, and this trait is especially apparent in their culinary pursuits. Tired of the intricate dishes and delicate dim sum served in city restaurants, they longed for a change of pace during their rare countryside visits, eagerly anticipating a taste of authentic rural flavors.
To be fair, although Daoxiang Garden was situated in the countryside, it could hardly claim expertise in cooking homade rustic dishes. The three chefs in the establishnt—Hua Xiaomai was formally trained, Wang Zhanrui a descendant of a renowned chef, and even Master Tan, who was accustod to running city establishnts, prepared dishes that were ant to be presentable, sowhat at odds with the robust and simple taste of the countryside.
However, the village had its unique advantages.
Ingredients hard to find in the city were abundant here, lending a natural wildness to the dishes that far surpassed what the big city restaurants could offer. While grandeur was prized for banquets, for a small group warming a pot of wine, nothing could replace these small rustic dishes, each offering a unique flavor.
Business at Daoxiang Garden began to pick up; recently, many food enthusiasts had traveled from the city specifically to savor the flavors on offer. Leisurely sitting in the garden, they didn’t necessarily indulge in lavish als; a few simple dishes were enough for them to drink to their hearts’ content. Many among them weren’t overly discerning about food and had no particular agenda. As soon as they walked in, they would clamor for the restaurant’s specialty dishes, and Hua Xiaomai wisely pushed Wang Zhanrui and his "Ji Xiang" out at just the right ti.
Fortuitously that day, a small group of custors arrived at the bamboo grove in the garden. There were only a handful of them and they had heard that Daoxiang Garden was known for its beautiful scenery and delicious als, so they made a point to co and see for themselves. They were very excited, enthusiastically discussing which specialty dishes had earned such acclaim, but they did not place an order and instead left the selection to the restaurant’s discretion before wandering off into the garden on their own.
The small kitchen in the bamboo grove was usually managed by Wang Zhanrui. After so thought, Hua Xiaomai discussed with him that perhaps they should serve the "Ji Xiang" that day for the custors to try.
Although it was a prized item in Lingquan Prefecture during the autumn and winter months, being a staple in nearly every household, it was virtually unknown in Fuzhe County. After pondering for a while, Wang Zhanrui nodded and imdiately set about making arrangents at the stove.
Xu Ershun brought fresh large prawns that were shelled and stuffed with "Ji Xiang" in their bellies, along with coriander and strips of autumn bamboo shoots, wrapped in tofu skin, and then pan-fried and finally drizzled with a thick sauce.
The fresh taste of the prawn matched perfectly with the "Ji Xiang," one light and fresh, the other rich and savory, creating a layered flavor. The tofu skin sealed the tastes together; upon biting into it, the "Ji Xiang" would imdiately overflow. Although not in great quantity, the burst of fresh flavor would rush from the tip of the tongue down the throat, scalding hot and delicious, making one reluctant to let go even if it ant burning their mouth.
In this season, another ingredient should be taken full advantage of—that was the grapefruit skin.
The sweet-sour grapefruit skin, of little value, needed to be soaked in water for an entire day to maintain its tender texture and refreshing fragrance. After that, it could be added to a broth made of ham, old chicken, and dried scallops along with the "Ji Xiang"—even a simple stir-fry in the wok could easily transform the mundane into the miraculous.
What was originally bland grapefruit peel suddenly beca rich in flavor. Saturated with the rich broth, it would release juices with just a light bite, mixing with the crunchy "Ji Xiang" in the mouth, offering a tender texture and an endless aftertaste.
The crisp autumn eggplant, the smooth tofu—these were the best pairings for "Ji Xiang," accompanied by glutinous rice stuffed into fat lotus root, refreshing pumpkin soup, all served in rustic earthenware dishes, filling the table with a sense of holiness that exuded a pastoral charm.
Strictly speaking, this wasn’t the most authentic rural cuisine. It demanded ticulous attention to the heat and seasoning during cooking, and the presentation was particularly refined. One only had to glance at it, and before even tasting, the eyes would already relish the indulgence.
Perhaps it was this very contradiction with traditional rural flavor that heightened the stimulus for the diners. Those few custors in the bamboo grove were so delighted that they lost themselves in the experience. They were too eager to eat, too impatient for conversation, simply beckoning more dishes into their plates with their chopsticks. Ji Xiang frequently checked on them, only to find the area eerily quiet, almost unsettling, barely standing still for a mont before hurriedly walking away. She ran to the kitchen to pull Wang Zhanrui aside and animatedly described the scene to him; afterward, she went around to the front of the restaurant to recount the tale to Hua Xiaomai with equal vividness.
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