His final answer reassured them . Suddenly, they fixed their eyes on the spicy cold dish on the center of the table .
One could buy it at any supermarket or fair . People could even mix and match according to their individual taste . The food's plain taste and reasonable price was the reason it occupied every family dining room .
Huang had bought it from Grandpa Zhang at a fair not far from the 798 Warehouse . Its typical taste had captivated the neighboring market fast .
The dish included pig ears, pork joints and bean curd skin .
It was its trademark sauce that made all the difference though . The sauce was a mixture of vinegar, garlic juice, sesame oil, chilli oil, cooking wine and sesame paste . Grandpa Zhang had chosen small pig ears, which were extra crisp and soft, so even old men could enjoy their special taste with a cheap drink .
His spiced pork shoulder was moderately sweet and salty, unlike the typical over-salted ones, so it tasted spicy in one's mouth .
The special sauce complimented all the raw ingredients like the finishing brush of a painter on a Chinese dragon . When the plain pork shoulder was soaked in the rich sauce, it turned into a delicious dish .
As a result, Grandpa Zhang's dish was very popular among the residents that visited the fair . People lined up before his stand every day . Some people might have looked down upon a street snack, but Qin Guan disagreed .
Loving what one did was a must . Food ingredients were not classified, so even the most common vegetable could become a delicacy on an emperor's table .
Some famous cooks used unfamiliar expensive ingredients and ignored the essence of cooking . One could only find homemade food in their mother or grandma's kitchen . After all those years, one would cry out if they encountered the same taste at a small restaurant .
It was not just the taste, but also the emotion that contributed to the food .
All the meat and vegetables were mounted on the plate, which had only cost Huang 20 yuan .
The erguotou and spicy food were not enough for Qin Guan though, who started looking around the shabby warehouse .
"Are you looking for this?"
Ning pulled a bun slice out of the oven with his chopsticks .
Bingo! A baked bun that smelled like dirt! That simple addition was a wise move on North China's part . The oven was not just a heating system, but also a cooker that one could boil water and tea or bake food in .
The roasted and dried sweet potatoes were the best work of the short stove .
Qin Guan spread the vegetables and pork onto the bun and took a large bite . It certainly was worthy of Grandpa Zhang's reputation .
The fragrance of wheat, spicy pork and soft vegetables aroused his taste buds, and the rich taste made him salivate . His brain had gotten the message that he was happy .
The cold North wind was driven away by the stove and the radiator, and the dim lamplight added warmth to the small room .
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