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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.