When She Stops Being Dramatic novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Chaff Wife of the 1950s (10)

Zhu Yun cooked a flatbread on the side of the pot and simmered a jar of rice porridge. After her meal, she crunched on an apple. It was a well-rounded meal, complete with a staple food, fruit, and porridge. Life was good.

After eating, she pan-fried some potherb mustard pancakes. The filling was enhanced with chicken bouillon, the surface was covered in crispy sesame seeds, and the back was smeared with a layer of mildly spicy bean paste. Even though she’d just finished her meal, she couldn’t resist eating one.

Just as smoke began to rise from the neighbors’ chimneys, Zhu Yun leaned over the wall and smilingly passed a small basket of pancakes to Sister Tan. There were about twelve of them, large but very thin, much like griddle cakes.

"Sister Tan, I just traded some apples for a whole basket of these dried vegetables. I only added a little chicken broth, and it wasn’t much flour. You really can’t refuse."

Sister Tan didn’t stand on ceremony. She took the basket, emptied the pancakes into one of her own containers, then filled the basket with half a basin of pickled radishes and passed it back. "We pickled these ourselves. My husband and the kids love them with their morning and evening porridge."

Zhu Yun took it and mentioned her plan to give things to the other neighbors.

Sister Tan had already eaten. She left the pots and bowls for her daughter to wash and enthusiastically took Zhu Yun on a tour of the neighborhood.

The potherb mustard pancakes had an excellent flavor and texture, good enough to be sold in a shop. They were a hit with adults and children alike. When they heard she was going to work at the cafeteria, everyone said they hoped she would be one of the head chefs.

Although Zhu Yun had just moved in, most of the residents in this area were factory workers’ families. They often interacted with the family courtyard compound when getting meals, working, or picking up their kids, so some people recognized her or had at least heard her name.

So, in just one day, all sorts of stories about her had already spread: the arranged marriage, the divorce without moving out, her penchant for drama, her sticky fingers, her exorbitant demands, and so on.

Some sympathized, some were envious, and some took pleasure in her misfortune. But since this was their first formal meeting, everyone still accepted the pancakes with a smile and gave a small gift in return.

Zhu Yun had her own way of sizing things up. After making her rounds, she had a general understanding of her new environment.

Anyway, she was thick-skinned. As long as she was happy and at ease, she never cared what others thought of her. She lived with such brazen openness that it was almost chilling.

Carrying her water bottle and shouldering her bag, Zhu Yun went to the cafeteria again.

Today, all the applicants for the head chef position had arrived. There were fifteen of them competing for eight spots, a ratio of almost two-to-one. This was the highest competition ratio of all the available positions.

Compared to unskilled positions like warehouse manager or kitchen helper, where a dozen or more people competed for a single spot, this was much better!

In those days, head chefs had either started as young apprentices, learning step-by-step from a master, or they came from families with deep culinary traditions. Furthermore, due to the scarcity of resources, they couldn’t practice freely, so not many could become masters in their own right.

Cafeteria Number One, in particular, had even higher standards for its chefs. Not only did they need to be skilled, but they also had to have several signature dishes that could impress foreign guests and leaders.

With so many restrictive conditions, very few people dared to confidently sign up for the culinary competition and aim directly for a head chef position.

Among the fifteen candidates, there was only one other woman besides Zhu Yun. However, everyone else was plump and prosperous-looking, with the very appearance of a master chef.

She was the only one who was passably tall, but she was also dark and skinny. She was like a scrawny cornbread bun mixed in with a batch of fluffy, white steamed buns...

Director Wang took this selection competition very seriously. Whether the cafeteria succeeded or not depended on the head chefs; they were the helmsmen. Skill was the top priority, and there was no room for carelessness.

He had invited several leaders of various ranks from the office building to serve as judges.

The first floor had six stations, each equipped with a full set of cookware and a stove, meaning six contestants could compete at the same time.

With animated gestures, she practically reenacted all the highlights Zhu Yun had missed.

But underneath it all, the woman sounded quite certain. She clearly believed that, aside from Zhu Yun, it was impossible for three of the other four contestants to have skills superior to her own.

Zhu Yun smiled and patted her shoulder. "Ma’am, I’m definitely going to take one of those spots. So, your chances of becoming a head chef are looking a little shaky."

The woman’s eyes widened. She couldn’t understand where this young lady got her confidence. She shifted away and didn’t say another word.

Once the previous contestant had cleaned up, Zhu Yun took off her coat, pulled a pair of sleeve protectors, a mask, and a hat from her bag, and put them on. Only after getting properly geared up and washing her hands did she approach the station.

She glanced out nonchalantly and saw Wang Xianbing, his expression as grim as if he were facing a great enemy. Beside him was the young heartthrob she had just met that morning.

With the tall, sturdy male lead present, the young heartthrob still appeared pale and coolly handsome, his posture impeccable. He was completely stealing the show!

Drawing back her gaze, Zhu Yun got to work.

She didn’t have the showy flair that others deliberately flaunted. Instead, she made a very plain and ordinary-looking table of food.

Toon sprout salad with tofu, dry-pot cabbage, sweet and sour pork tenderloin, and poached sliced pork in chili oil. The staple foods were shepherd’s purse and pork dumplings and fennel and pork dumplings, and the porridge was just a simple millet porridge.

The judges had all been taking small bites and then stopping. They would eat one thing, smack their lips a bit, and then lower their heads to write down a score.

When they got to Zhu Yun’s dishes, the colors were vibrant. There were no radish flowers or elaborate plating, but it gave off the comfortable feeling of a home-cooked meal. It was also possible that, because this was the last table of food, the taut strings of tension in the judges suddenly snapped.