Chapter 9: Crucian Carp Stew with Tofu Receives Praise

Returning home carrying the basin filled with fish, the triumphant children naturally clamored to boast about their achievements. Yet at that hour, all the adult men, Du Yun’s mother, and Second Aunt had gone to work in the fields; only Grandma Du Yun and Third Aunt remained at home.

“Oh my, so many fish! That’s wonderful!” Grandma Du Yun exclaimed with delight when she saw the children had brought back fish, her eyes crinkling into a smile.

“This one’s big—clean it up, rub it with salt, and hang it to dry. Then we won’t have to add extra dishes for the Mid-Autumn Festival!” Her eyes gleamed as she spotted a large carp among the catch. Swiftly, she snatched it up, pleased with herself as she spoke.

“What?!” At her words, the children’s faces fell immediately. It was only August according to the Gregorian calendar—nearly two months still until Mid-Autumn. To see such a big fish but not be allowed to eat it was unbearable; little food-lovers Du Tong and Du Yin were on the verge of tears.

“Grandma… We have so many people in the family. How about cooking all the fish so everyone can have a treat?” Du Yun, seeing her younger siblings’ pitiful expressions, hurried to plead with her grandmother. Based on past experience, Du Yun was the most educated in the family and enjoyed the old lady’s favoritism; such requests were often granted by Grandma.

“No! We don’t need to improve our meals for no reason—unless you’re marrying a rich man. I’ve made up my mind about this fish. We’ll salt it and save it for the festival!” Grandma Du Yun’s mood soured as she recalled how Du Yun had rejected the Dong family’s proposal the day before. She was too annoyed to relent this time, even on something she might have otherwise agreed to.

“Grandma…” Du Yun recognized the tone immediately, knowing her grandmother’s anger stemmed from the failed match. She understood the carp would not be cooked today, and could only call out with a wry smile.

“Calling won’t help!” Grandma Du Yun, though only venting her frustrations, truly cared for her grandchildren. If the family’s circumstances weren’t so dire, she wouldn’t be so stingy about letting the children eat. She glanced at the basin, where four palm-sized crucian carp and several small miscellaneous fish remained. Smacking her lips, she realized this wouldn’t be enough for the family of over a dozen.

“Grandma, do we still have soybeans? Maybe we could trade a pound for two blocks of tofu to stew with the fish?” Du Yun, unable to bear her siblings’ disappointment, shamelessly bargained with her grandmother. All the precious goods at home—eggs, sugar, soybeans, peanuts—were under Grandma’s lock and key. Without her approval, nothing could be taken.

“What pound of soybeans! I’ll give you half a bowl—trade it for three blocks of tofu and be glad!” Grandma Du Yun glared at Du Yun, but couldn’t bear to let the children down. Muttering, she produced a key from her bosom, unlocked the cupboard in the east room, and scooped out more than half a bowl of soybeans.

“Grandma, you’re the best!” Du Yun grinned, sidling up to her grandmother and flattering her. Hearing there would be tofu, the younger children cheered up immediately. Though tofu wasn’t as delicious as carp, it was a rare addition to their meal; their smiles stretched all the way to their ears.

“What’s so good about that? Just a broken-down house and a bunch of little gluttons!” Grandma Du Yun, despite the children’s joy, kept her stern facade. The famine in the household had eased somewhat, but there were several sons’ marriages to arrange, and the house was too small—money was needed everywhere, so thrift was essential.

“Grandma, don’t worry. When I earn money in the future, I’ll take good care of you!” Du Yun didn’t call out her grandmother’s act, but leaned in with a smile, basking in the warmth. Having a loving family was truly wonderful.

At last, noon crept slowly upon the waiting children. Du Yun exchanged the half bowl of soybeans for three blocks of tofu, and together with the four palm-sized crucian carp, the meal became a feast the whole family eagerly anticipated.

Du Yun’s mother deftly cleaned the fish, ready to stew them as usual, but Du Yun stopped her. “Mother, let me cook the fish today.”

“Alright!” Her mother, uncertain and easily swayed, admired her daughter’s education and abilities. Without a word, she handed over the stove.

Du Yun moved quickly, cutting the scallions into sections and ginger into slices, then diced the tofu into inch-sized cubes. She rubbed the ginger across the slightly heated bottom of the pot, poured in a little oil, and laid the washed, dried crucian carp in the pan to fry slowly.

The scent of fresh fish sizzling in oil wafted through the kitchen on the rising steam, enticing the children who had awaited this meal all morning. They crowded the doorway, greedily inhaling the aroma.

“It smells amazing!” Du Yun exclaimed as she carefully fried the fish, marveling at the flavor of wild carp. Perhaps because there was so little fat in her own body, she felt ravenous, so hungry she could have eaten all four fish herself.

Once both sides of the fish were golden brown, Du Yun took them out, sautéed scallions and ginger in the pot, then added the fish and water while the pot was still hot. When the water boiled, she put the diced tofu into the broth.

Since there were only a few fish and tofu pieces, and many mouths to feed, Du Yun added plenty of water, reasoning that even a thin fish soup would be fragrant and perfect with rice.

Tofu can boil endlessly, and fish can stew for ages—the flavors only deepen. Du Yun’s greatest passion in life was eating, and her culinary skills were exceptional.

Golden crucian carp, snowy tofu, and creamy white soup—the crucian carp stewed with tofu had crispy skin, tender bones, and an enticing aroma, rivaling the dishes of any five-star hotel chef.

“Come, taste it.” Seeing the dish was nearly ready, Du Yun couldn’t resist the hopeful gazes of the children and ladled out a spoonful of fish soup and a piece of tofu, carefully dividing it with chopsticks and inviting the children at the door to try it.

The tasting was limited—a few sips of soup, a small piece of tofu for each. Yet even this small bite made the children smack their lips in delight, declaring they’d never had anything so delicious and eagerly wishing for more.

“How fragrant!” With such a good dish for lunch, the adults returning from the fields came home sooner than usual. As soon as they entered the yard, the aroma of stewed fish greeted them; even they, like the children, wanted to crowd around the pot and start eating.

Grandpa Du Yun waved his hand grandly—dinnertime. Everyone took their places and dug in, and for a time, the whole courtyard echoed only with the sounds of eating; not a single person could bear to waste words.

When all the fish and tofu were gone, the family still wasn’t satisfied, ladling up the last of the fish soup until every bowl was empty. Only then did they all let out a deep breath, unanimously praising today’s fish stew.

“Today’s fish was stewed by Du Yun. Who would’ve thought she’s not only good at studying, but has superb culinary skills? She’ll definitely marry someone from the city someday!” Even the usually sharp-tongued Third Aunt praised Du Yun—marrying into the city was the highest compliment for a rural girl.

Her words met with unanimous approval from the family, and the smiles on Grandma Du Yun and Du Yun’s mother’s faces were brighter than ever.