Chapter Fifteen: The Plan Unfolds

Wei Renshi did not ask how Village Head Zheng had taken credit with the county magistrate; he merely observed that Zheng’s attitude toward him had improved, which was proof enough that the outcome had been favorable.

Back home, the next matter at hand was the upcoming competition in half a month.

Truth be told, Wei Renshi had no real need to take the matter so seriously with that narrow-minded old man. Yet, considering that he would be selling seasonings in the future, he began to plot more shrewdly.

During the day, he had inspected the flatbread shop’s wares. Indeed, the flatbreads were well-made, but the meat scattered atop was merely boiled in a cauldron, seasoned with nothing but salt. Furthermore, the old man’s thinking was limited: though he simmered lamb in the pot, it never occurred to him to sell a bowl of lamb broth alongside the flatbreads.

As luck would have it, Wei Renshi had purchased some medicinal herbs suitable as spices from the Hall of Health that day, a few of which were perfect for simmering meat broth.

He had also been careful not to clarify, during the challenge, that the competition was solely about the flatbreads themselves; he’d simply stated it was to see who could craft the better flavor.

This meant that, even if his flatbreads couldn’t surpass Old Wang’s, there were countless ways to serve them.

Stuffed flatbreads, rolled flatbreads, meat-filled buns—weren’t these all but variations on a theme? Old Wang’s flatbreads somewhat resembled naan; tearing them up and soaking them in lamb broth was a delectable way to enjoy them as well.

If he could best Old Wang and credit the victory to his seasonings, word of his products would spread immediately.

That was precisely why Wei Renshi decided to take seriously what otherwise need not be a matter of pride.

Indeed, he mused, what a master of schemes he was!

The only regret was that cumin had yet to make its way into the Central Plains, still confined to the Western Regions. If he wanted it, he would have to rely on traders traversing the Silk Road to bring it back. But those traders only frequented great cities like Chang’an and Luoyang, so securing a supply would take time.

Lamb without cumin simply lacked a certain savor.

Though the blacksmiths of Changgu were not as skilled as those in Fuchang, their abilities sufficed to forge a wok.

Lamb cooked for rolled flatbreads was less appealing when merely boiled; while iron pots were available, proper woks for stir-frying were not. Though stir-frying existed, it had yet to become widespread. A simple iron griddle would suffice, but since he would need one in the future, he decided to have a wok made.

If he was to stir-fry lamb, he would need oil. Fortunately, by the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties, sesame oil was already in use for cooking, so he could simply go and purchase some.

Before the Han dynasty, all cooking oils were derived from animal fat; the extraction of vegetable oil began in the Eastern Han period. By the era of the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties, people were already using sesame oil, perilla oil, and hempseed oil in their cuisine, as recorded in Jia Sixie’s "Essential Techniques for the Common People" from the Northern Wei.

By the Song dynasty, the variety and quality of vegetable oils increased, and soybean and rapeseed oils, both ideal for stir-frying, became common. This led to the rapid popularization of stir-frying as a cooking method.

As for pork—rendering lard for savory pastries and blending the cracklings into the dough would make for a treat beyond compare. However, considering the prevailing attitudes toward pork, producing white flatbreads might draw scorn.

Then again, if he could make even the much-maligned, gamey pork mouthwateringly delicious, and attribute the result to his seasonings, would that not be the best advertisement of all?

Yet, the pigs of this era were not castrated, so their meat was indeed quite pungent.

He wasn’t sure if his homemade cooking wine would be enough to mask the odor.

Cooking wine was a wonderful thing. Since mutton was the most popular meat, if his cooking wine could suppress the odor of pork, it would certainly handle the smell of mutton, making it an easy sell.

Ah, if he had capital in the future, he could make soy sauce, dark soy, sesame oil, chicken bouillon... All these could be homemade. Even if the taste wouldn’t match commercial products, in this era they would be excellent.

The more Wei Renshi thought, the brighter the future appeared.

Perhaps one day he might even live the life of a carefree nobleman!

After purchasing all necessities except the meat, he spent the remainder of his copper coins and even borrowed another string from Zheng. By then, the sun was already setting.

Returning to Changgu, he left his purchases at Village Head Zheng’s house, soaked some soybeans in a wooden basin, and then went home.

The next morning, Wei Renshi hurried again to Zheng’s house, intending to use it as his experimental workshop—were he to bring everything home, the Grand Madam would surely scold him for neglecting proper duties and certainly would not permit such endeavors.

Upon seeing the soybeans were evenly soaked, he bored a hole in the bottom of the basin, spread the beans, sprinkled them with water, and covered them with several layers of hemp cloth.

Then, shielding the basin from light with its lid, all that remained was to wait.

“What are you up to, Young Master Wei?” asked Village Head Zheng, who lived alone and was curious about Wei Renshi’s early-morning activity.

“I’m making a kind of vegetable,” Wei replied. Since the eating of bean sprouts only became popular in the Northern Song, it was no surprise to him that Zheng found it novel.

Once finished, he took out some of the herbs he’d bought the previous day, ground them into powder, and prepared various other seasonings. The rest he kept whole, to be used later when making cooking wine.

“Master Wei, I must step out for a bit. Make yourself at home,” Zheng said after watching him for a while. “Today, I should be able to visit three or five villages and sell a few plows.”

“Talk is cheap, Uncle Zheng. You’d best take the donkey cart and demonstrate the plow in person—it’s far more convincing than words,” Wei advised.

“I know,” Zheng nodded.

Wei then handed him a few drawings. “Uncle Zheng, please take these blueprints to the blacksmith and have him forge these items in cast iron, exactly as shown.”

“Very well!” Zheng took them, but asked, “Neither I nor the blacksmith can read. Will the drawings alone suffice?”

“No worries, they’re simple. The blacksmith will understand from the diagrams,” Wei assured him.

After Zheng left, Wei Renshi worked alone in the house, experimenting.

He had made seasonings before, but only as a hobby to pass the time, never with the seriousness required for selling them.

He had just been testing his recipes for a while when he heard someone knocking at the door. When he opened it, he found Xi’er standing outside.

“Xi’er? What brings you here? Did Mother find out?” Wei Renshi asked, somewhat anxious.

Xi’er shook her head. “Some people came to the house, looking for you. One of them, a rather plump man, called you his benefactor. The Grand Madam sent me to find you.”

Hearing this, Wei Renshi sighed in relief. He had said he was going out, emulating Li He in search of inspiration. Li He’s reputation as a poet was already established, so the Grand Madam had permitted it.

Jiao Haiqing had said yesterday he would come to express his gratitude, but Wei hadn’t expected him to arrive so soon.

Wei Renshi was sure he hadn’t left his address; he wondered how they had found his home.

“All right, let me tidy up and I’ll go back with you,” Wei told Xi’er. “Just say you found me at Li He’s house. Don’t let anything slip!”