Song Tan’s Chronicle - Chapter 148.2

The three of them wandered around half the mountain, and Seventh Granduncle felt light and strong, eager to display his culinary skills wherever he looked.

As they were about to head back, they spotted a cluster of newly sprouted wolfberry buds near the forest edge.

Without hesitation, he directed:

“Yanping, go pick some of those wolfberry buds.”

Then he pulled out his phone and called Song Tan:

“Song Tan, are you in the city yet? When you come back, remember to bring a pound of water chestnuts! I’ll pick some wolfberry buds, and I’ll make a wolfberry bud and egg ball with pork hind leg meat for lunch.”

Seventh Granduncle referred to the water chestnuts using their local name, “di li.” When he was a child, his family grew rice, and they often dug up many of them while plowing the fields.

Song Tan also liked to eat them, but they were round like glutinous rice balls, and peeling them was troublesome. When she worked in Ning City, she would buy a bag of pre-peeled water chestnuts from a fruit stall for five yuan to satisfy her cravings.

So, she readily agreed.

No need to ask; Zhang Yanping had never tried this dish either.

As he carefully picked the wolfberry buds, avoiding the thorns, his mouth watered even more.

How could he describe it?

He suddenly felt like he was the head of the imperial kitchen.

…

Meanwhile, Eldest Song was at home, losing his temper:

“If you don’t want to cook, just say so, and I’ll buy food from the restaurant down the street. No need to starve.”

“Exactly!” His daughter-in-law, Sun Yanyan, seeing her mother-in-law sitting by the kitchen door peeling lettuce again, felt her head throbbing.

“Mom, we can’t eat lettuce every meal, no matter how much there is! Ziyi was crying after eating it last night.”

When they had returned home a few days ago, they had brought back three whole rows of lettuce.

They thought it would be as delicious as the astragalus, and even hoped to sell it at a high price…

Who would have guessed that when they stir-fried it that night, it tasted no different from the lettuce at their old home or the market?

Mao Li’s face darkened immediately:

“Selling this stuff for twenty yuan per pound? Even a dog wouldn’t be fooled!”

Eldest Song’s face instantly fell, and he slammed his chopsticks on the table: “If even a dog wouldn’t be fooled, why did you two bring back such a big basket?”

Mao Li: …

She thought to herself, “I wasn’t calling myself a fool; you brought that on yourself!”

But she only dared to mutter under her breath, “Well, you didn’t stop us when we were digging it up, either.”

Looking again at the dozens of strong lettuce plants in the kitchen, oh dear! How was their family of five supposed to eat all this?

Throwing them away wasn’t an option, and giving them away… why should they let others have it for free?

So, after they returned home, they ate stir-fried shredded lettuce the first night, and the next morning, Ziyi’s porridge was filled with diced lettuce.

Mao Li’s cooking skills were average. The lettuce hadn’t even been blanched before being added to the porridge, and the child pushed the bowl away, declaring, “Worse than grass.”

At noon, they made pork rib stew with lettuce, which was decent—the ribs were fragrant.

Everyone ate their fill.

But by evening, in addition to the leftover lettuce and rib stew, there was also an extra plate of stir-fried lettuce with shredded pork.

The whole family’s faces turned green, matching the color of the lettuce, but they forced themselves to finish.

Who would have thought that early this morning, Mao Li would make egg pancakes for Ziyi—kids love pretty food, usually with a slice of lettuce, a tomato, and a slice of bacon.

It didn’t matter if it tasted good; it had to look bright and have a sense of ceremony.

Today, it was not any easier. Finely shredded lettuce, blanched, rolled into the pancake.

After eating lettuce for several meals, Ziyi went to kindergarten crying.

After barely getting through the morning, they saw her sitting by the kitchen door again, watching TV and peeling lettuce, and the family had had enough.

Mao Li was angry too: “If Tan Tan hadn’t tricked us into bringing back this bad lettuce, we wouldn’t have so much in the kitchen now!”

If they didn’t hurry up and eat it, would they throw it away? This stuff still cost two yuan per pound in the market!

Being a farmer himself, Eldest Song didn’t mention throwing it away, but his face darkened: “Then give it to someone! Send more to Hongmei, share with the neighbors, and if that’s not enough, I’ll take it to the shop and distribute some to the workers.”

“That won’t do.”

Mao Li pondered: “Why give it away for no reason?”

The lettuce was robust, with each stalk weighing several pounds, and two of them cost more than ten yuan. Was it so easy to waste money?