Chapter 87: Steamed Snow Pear, White Fish with Scallion Oil

Today the sunlight was splendid—so bright and warm that one could truly feel how vast the world was, and be glad to have ventured out to see it.

Lin Shenlu’s destination today was Yunhe in Lishui—another small county town that required a bus ride to reach. She wasn’t sure if she’d make it back to Dagangtou Town by nightfall; if not, she would simply spend the night in Yunhe. Meanwhile, Hailanjing also had no idea whether she could return home on time, with so many things to take care of today. The two of them, in silent accord, left each other undisturbed, each tending to their own affairs.

Heading to Yunhe, Lin Shenlu’s greatest anticipation was for the food. This little county, though modest and home to only a handful of famed snacks, was renowned for the way its delicacies had been passed down through generations. Lin Shenlu had once read a blog post by a local student, who wrote that after leaving for university elsewhere, the first thing to do upon returning home for the holidays was to rush out and satisfy the longing for Yunhe’s snacks. Such, indeed, was the allure of Yunhe’s street food.

Drawn by this very charm, Lin Shenlu was determined to make today’s journey a tale of culinary discovery. There were a few celebrated snacks she’d kept in mind: oil drum cakes, fried sparrows, sesame leaf dumplings, among others. The organic fish from Yunhe Lake was also prized as a fine ingredient for medicinal cuisine. And, of course, Yunhe’s snow pears and black fungus were iconic local specialties.

Old rice noodle shops, humble bun stalls, and pancake vendors lined the roads—battered by years of wind and rain, yet still thronged with patrons as ever. Perhaps this was the magic of Yunhe’s cuisine—a pure taste of home, unvarnished and enduring.

…

It wasn’t long before Su Bao’er could be seen, oil drum cake in one hand and fried sparrow in the other, devouring them with gusto. When it came to good food, Su Bao’er never hesitated. Both snacks were as good-looking as they were delicious, sold from colorful roadside stalls. The oil drum cake resembled a small egg tart, its pastry filled with shreds of radish and pumpkin.

Lin Shenlu also held an oil drum cake, inhaling its aroma. As expected, it was wonderfully fragrant, crisp, and pleasing to the palate—its flavor mellow, slightly spicy, and delightful beyond words.

“Master, how do you make these?” Lin Shenlu asked the vendor, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Oh, these?” The vendor smiled.

Lin Shenlu nodded.

“They’re quite simple. Usually, when pumpkin and radish are in season, we start making oil drum cakes. See this little skillet? You need tea seed oil for frying, and rice flour for the dough. The filling is a mix of pumpkin and radish shreds, often blended with scallions or chili—each gives a different taste. Then you top it with a thin layer of water-mixed flour and fry it in tea oil. When it turns golden yellow, it’s ready. You must eat these hot!” the vendor explained, all the while tending to the frying cakes.

Looking around, Lin Shenlu noticed that stalls selling oil drum cakes were everywhere—in the bustling market, at street corners, near bus stations, and outside school gates. Crowds gathered at each one, making it a true local favorite.

In another pan, the old vendor was frying thirty or forty fried sparrows. Despite the name, these were not birds but a delicacy made primarily from glutinous rice flour. The vendor also had cooked taro and sweet potatoes on display, so Lin Shenlu could guess the preparation method: steamed taro and sweet potatoes, mashed with sugar while hot, then kneaded into rice flour. The dough was shaped into long strips and deep-fried, turned constantly until evenly golden and crisp. The result was a shiny, golden treat with a soft, chewy texture—looking much like a large sausage.

Su Bao’er wolfed down two oil drum cakes and three fried sparrows, her hands greasy and lips glistening with oil. Lin Shenlu sampled one, then moved on, thinking she could probably taste every delicacy on this street.

There was another snack, sesame leaf dumplings, but Lin Shenlu decided to give them a pass; their deep green color was hardly appetizing, resembling mugwort rice balls and likely made in a similar fashion. That shade of green simply didn’t appeal to her. Su Bao’er wanted to try them, but Lin Shenlu stopped her—it wouldn’t do to fill up on snacks before sampling the main dishes.

They found a restaurant, and Lin Shenlu began to order. Su Bao’er blinked in surprise.

“Lu, why didn’t you say you still wanted meat? I’m so full from all those snacks…” Su Bao’er rubbed her belly.

Lin Shenlu merely smiled, ordering a plate of cold-dressed Yunhe black fungus and the highly anticipated organic fish—steamed white fish with scallion oil. Every city had its own fish, and Lin Shenlu made a habit of tasting the local variety wherever she went. She had high hopes for the steamed white fish, expecting it to offer a unique experience. Yunhe’s snow pears were also famous, so she ordered a bowl of stewed snow pear. After a moment’s thought, she added braised yam in soy sauce and salt-and-pepper river snails.

Had Su Bao’er not already reached her limit, Lin Shenlu would have ordered a plate of braised farmhouse pork trotter too—after all, only Su Bao’er could devour such a hearty dish with relish.

Soon, the table was graced with dish after exquisite dish. As Lin Shenlu had anticipated, the steamed white fish with scallion oil was a feast for the senses. The fish was butterflied and arranged on the plate, topped with julienned scallions and carrots. Beneath lay a pool of steamed fish soy sauce, while the flesh, sliced into segments, exuded a special freshness and fragrance.

The stewed snow pear was equally refined—eight covered bowls set on a wooden tray, each containing a piece of pale pink pear, garnished with a sliver of young rapeseed heart and a goji berry. It looked irresistibly appetizing.

The braised yam in soy sauce was beautifully plated too—petals of yellow kiwi fruit circled the dish, with diced yam and pork in the center, sprinkled with chopped scallions. It looked utterly delicious.

Lin Shenlu swallowed, unable to resist the allure.

…

She took a delicate spoonful of snow pear, closing her eyes in contentment—a pure sense of happiness. Autumn was near; tasting snow pear now was like savoring the flavor of the coming season in advance. After several late nights and too many cigarettes, the snow pear soothed her lungs, cleared heat, and refreshed her palate. Its taste was sweet, refreshing, and nourishing.

Yunhe’s snow pears were indeed superb, and stewed, they were a true delicacy.

She tried the steamed white fish next and her eyes lit up. No wonder it was called organic fish—the texture was remarkably tender. Steaming preserved the fish’s nutrients, and the flesh was delicate and especially flavorful. Lin Shenlu couldn’t help but reach for a second piece.

Su Bao’er, still too full, could only nibble on a few morsels beside her. Fortunately, the plate of salt-and-pepper river snails was just right—meaty, not too filling, and delicious. Su Bao’er had found her perfect dish.