Perhaps winter and hot pot are a perfect match, or perhaps it's the consistency of people's tastes over centuries—the hot pot's popularity exceeded all expectations. Latecomers often missed out because there were no pots left, prompting Shen Shaoguang to quickly order another batch.
When placing the order for more pots, the craftsman told her, "These past couple days, others have come with similar designs to place orders too."
Competitors? Shen Shaoguang smiled and asked, "How many did they order?"
"Five," the craftsman replied. "From the looks of it, they seemed like servants from a wealthy household."
Shen Shaoguang understood—likely customers who had tried it at her shop and wanted to recreate it at home. The rich truly were different, buying five of these expensive pots at once.
This era had no concept of copyright, and hot pot wasn't her invention anyway. She had no intention of monopolizing it. Shen Shaoguang laughed, "Go ahead and make theirs too."
The craftsman hadn't refused the order in the first place but felt obliged to inform her, knowing she was the tavern owner who'd created this unique eating utensil. Now that it was being copied, he worried it might affect her business. Hearing her permission, he smiled, "The young lady is magnanimous indeed."
Receiving this "good person card," Shen Shaoguang accepted it graciously.
In truth, it wasn't just this metalworker who received hot pot orders—other workshops in the West Market also had customers bringing designs for similar cauldron pots. However, the size, height, and stove chamber dimensions of the hot pot had been refined through trial and error over time. While seemingly simple, getting it wrong meant either struggling to maintain the fire or smothering it entirely.
Even those fortunate enough to acquire suitable pots soon discovered their homemade versions didn't taste as good as Shen Ji Tavern's.
Of course! The pot was just the first step. There was still the hot pot base, seasonings, ingredients...
Ours was an innovative tavern! Shen Shaoguang continuously introduced new ideas, striving to remain "often imitated, never surpassed."
Hearing this later-era catchphrase from Shen Shaoguang, A Yuan nodded vigorously, convinced her young mistress was flawless—beautiful, kind-hearted, skilled in writing and calculations, an excellent cook, a talented artist, and even her words carried profound wisdom.
A Chang wore a similar expression, nodding with a smile. Watching them, Shen Shaoguang was suddenly reminded of meerkats lining up for treats...
Embarrassed, she explained, "That phrase isn't mine—I read it somewhere."
A Yuan, whose eloquence had improved, declared, "Then it shows the young lady's erudition."
Now it was A Chang's turn to nod emphatically.
Yu San looked utterly exasperated and turned to walk back to the kitchen.
What could Shen Shaoguang say? She could only take comfort in A Yuan's expanding vocabulary. Erudition... well, erudition it was.
A Chang was a servant Shen Shaoguang had purchased two days prior—seventeen years old, short, with a round face. If not for his thinness, he might have resembled A Yuan as a sibling. Previously a merchant's servant, he'd been sold off when the merchant took a new wife who disposed of all the old staff, including A Chang, who had been a gatekeeper and courtyard sweeper.
Shen Shaoguang assigned him kitchen duties—tending the fire, chopping vegetables, washing dishes.
Thrilled with his new role, A Chang exclaimed, "The kitchen is a coveted position!" Aside from serving the master or young masters directly or being a mistress's trusted errand-runner, kitchen or accounting work were considered top-tier assignments for servants.For A Chang, the kitchen seemed much better than following the young masters or serving in the accounting office—no exposure to rain or sun, and no one would go hungry in the kitchen. On days like this, huddling by the stove, maybe even burying a taro in the ashes—ah, even being a god wouldn’t be as good!
Listening to this made Shen Shaoguang’s mouth water, so she actually bought some taros. Besides making candied taro, she roasted them on the stove. Once they were fragrant and soft, Shen Shaoguang led A Yuan and A Chang to gather around the stove and dig in.
Breaking open the taros, steam rose in wisps, but the first bite scalded their tongues. Yet the hotter it was, the more they wanted to eat, leaving their mouths and hands covered in black soot.
Yu San watched the three of them looking like little beggars and curled her lips, her expression indescribable.
After eating, Shen Shaoguang felt a bit regretful—what a pity there were no sweet potatoes at this time of year. Those would’ve been truly sweet.
Though Princess Yu San refused to "join in the fun," she did have a natural talent for cooking.
Shen Shaoguang was teaching Yu San how to make double clear broth.
Clear broth was a magical thing—clear as water, yet fragrant and savory, completely different from the rich, milky white of milk soup. It was like comparing a heavily adorned beauty to a fresh lotus on water. In truth, dressing up the lotus was no less effort than full makeup, since it had to deceive the eye.
When Yu San first saw milk soup, she was a little surprised—who knew meat broth could be boiled until it was as thick and white as cow’s milk? And when she saw the clear broth, she was even more amazed—how could it be so transparent!
Shen Shaoguang told her a story she’d heard in her past life.
"There was a chef at a tavern who was especially skilled at cooking tofu. He was once invited to a noble’s house to prepare a vegetarian feast. Fearing he might bring unclean or meat-contaminated ingredients, the host provided all the materials themselves, even forbidding him from bringing his own knives or cutting boards. True to his word, the chef arrived with just two apprentices, a white cloth draped over his shoulder, empty-handed."
"The vegetarian dishes of radish and tofu turned out incredibly fragrant and delicious. The host praised him lavishly and gave him a generous reward."
Yu San looked at her.
"The secret was in that white cloth. It had been soaked in clear broth. Once in the kitchen, he wrung the broth out and used it to stew the tofu—naturally, it was wonderfully savory."
Yu San frowned. "How big would that cloth have to be to soak up enough clear broth for a whole banquet?"
"And if it were too wet, dripping all over, wouldn’t the host notice it draped over his shoulder?"
"..." Shen Shaoguang hadn’t expected Yu San to be a hidden logic fanatic!
After some thought, Shen Shaoguang said, "Actually, when I first heard this story, my only thought was—that cloth was draped over his shoulder, touching his clothes, probably even picking up sweat and dust... kinda gross."
"..." This time, it was Yu San’s turn to be speechless.
But Shen Shaoguang felt this was still a good story. When it came to storytelling and suspense, logic and morals didn’t matter!
Shen Shaoguang steered the topic back. "Our clear broth doesn’t have this problem—there’s plenty of it, and it’s clean enough to stew lots of greens and tofu or to cook many hot pots."
Making double clear broth was even more troublesome than milk soup because of the extra "clarifying" step.
Select pork bones and old hens, simmer over low heat—keep the broth barely bubbling. Too high a flame would turn it into milk soup; too low, and the umami wouldn’t fully extract from the bones and meat. Skim off the oil and foam carefully with a ladle. After enough time, you’d have ordinary clear broth.For everyday home use, such a broth would suffice. But to achieve the crystal-clear effect, one must wrap finely minced chicken breast paste in cheesecloth and immerse it in the broth to absorb the suspended particles. Repeating this process once more—known as "double clarification"—results in an exceptionally clear broth.
Under Shen Shaoguang's guidance, Yu San succeeded in clarifying the broth on his first attempt. Shen Shaoguang beamed with the proud, motherly smile of a mentor. Yu San turned his head and happened to catch sight of it. The young lady's culinary skills were truly impressive, but her personality... Then, thinking of the two round-faced simpletons outside, he shook his head resignedly. Ah, well.
The clear broth hot pot was perfect for refined diners who preferred vegetarian dishes. At first glance, it appeared unremarkable, but upon tasting, it burst with rich, savory flavors.
In addition to the original Milk Soup hot pot and the clear broth version, Shen Shaoguang gradually introduced more varieties: seafood hot pot, mushroom hot pot, fish head and bone hot pot, goji berry, red date, and longan hot pot... Whether one craved meat, vegetables, seafood, river delicacies, or medicinal ingredients—whether they preferred a hearty mix or, like the fastidious Lord Lin, only a single type of hot pot ingredient—there were nearly ten options available. As long as you came, you were sure to find the perfect one for you!
The hot pot ingredients also developed their own signature—various meatballs. While sliced meats were easy to imitate, meatballs were another story.
How could the fish balls be even more tender than tofu? Every customer who ordered them was warned, "Take them out as soon as they hit the pot, or they'll toughen and fall apart." The beef balls, on the other hand, were filled with piping-hot, flavorful broth. Unlike the fish balls, the chicken balls had a delightfully springy texture...
And then there were the endless dipping sauces...
Those who had custom-made copper pots at home soon realized that hot pot was best enjoyed at Shen Ji—they simply couldn't replicate the flavors at home.
Some turned their attention to Cloud Arriving Tavern instead.
"Why doesn't Cloud Arriving serve hot pot? This tavern is bigger than that Shen Ji place."
The waiter looked troubled—was this really about the size of the establishment?
He reported the matter to Deputy Manager Wei San, who, this time, didn't dare make a decision on his own and cautiously brought it up to Manager Feng.
"Should we have someone take a look at their pots and have a few made for ourselves?"
Manager Feng glared at him. "Have you learned nothing?" The other day, word on the street was that Lord Lin had dined at Shen Ji with an elderly gentleman, treating the latter with great respect—likely a high-ranking court official.
As the twelfth month approached, Manager Lu of Zhao Wang's estate accompanied Cao Changshi to the capital to deliver the annual tribute to the emperor and seasonal gifts to the nobility, while also meeting with those stationed in the capital.
Manager Feng omitted the earlier context and only reported Shen Ji's rudeness and the incident involving Lord Lin dining with what appeared to be a high-ranking official.
Manager Lu warned, "Do not provoke Shen Ji under any circumstances. From your description, the distinguished guest sounds like Lord Li."
Manager Feng, guilt-ridden, hastily agreed.
Now, hearing Wei San's suggestion, he immediately scolded him and repeatedly emphasized that such improper thoughts must not be entertained.
Even without Manager Lu's warning, Manager Feng wouldn't have copied Shen Ji's so-called hot pot—following others' footsteps like a blind imitator was beneath his dignity.
Yet, more and more customers kept asking if they served hot pot. Manager Feng smiled bitterly, feeling surrounded by this strange phenomenon called hot pot.
Lord Lin, too, felt besieged by hot pot.
As the year drew to a close, the Jingzhao Prefecture had to hand over some criminal case records to the Ministry of Justice. After completing the transfer, Lin Yan and Song Shilang of the Ministry left the office together, heading home in the same direction.
Song Shilang mentioned he had acquired something special and insisted on inviting Lin Yan to try it.Song Shilang was a direct descendant of the Taiyuan Song clan. His father and grandfather had both held the rank of the Three Excellencies, and he himself was exceptionally talented. As a result, he usually carried an air of aloofness, though he and Lin Yan were slightly closer than ordinary colleagues.
The Song family was truly one of those ancient aristocratic households where "bells chimed and tripods feasted"—what could possibly earn such high praise from him as "a fine thing"? Lin Yan's curiosity was piqued, so he went to take a look—it was a hot pot, and Song Shilang was enthusiastically tossing all sorts of ingredients into it.
"Far more convenient than a small cauldron! I heard it originated from a tavern—someone gifted me two of them. Excellent, truly excellent!"
Lin Yan: "..."
Later, when he returned home for the evening meal at his grandmother’s, a hot pot was already set on the dining table. His grandmother looked excited. "A-Yan, take a look at this new cauldron pot—Pei Shierlang sent it over today."
Next to the pot, another small table was arranged, filled with all kinds of hot pot ingredients. Lin Yan: "...Excellent, truly excellent."
Author's Note: The clear broth story was indeed told to me by a chef, set roughly in the Republican era, with some modifications.
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