Beef offal

Beef offal

　　A while ago, I wrote on this forum, “The best food is often found where the lights are dim.” My friend took it as a famous quote. Whether it’s truly memorable or not is up to the readers, but I’ve always believed in its deeper meaning. It has remained my personal philosophy when writing about food, and I’ve never tired of it.

After eating donkey meat in Huizhou, I’d always pass through Boluo. Though this place doesn’t have any particularly famous dishes, if you’re willing to wander the streets and alleys of the county town, you’re bound to find something good. We wouldn’t step into any high-end hotels. Instead, we got the head of a local bureau to guide us, determined to find some truly rustic, down-to-earth eateries.

The bureau head completely understood what we were looking for. Turns out, he was also a connoisseur of hidden culinary gems. In a very ordinary, unremarkable eatery along the commercial street in the county town, the dim lighting obscured the restaurant’s sign. There were cement floors, wooden tables and chairs, and the most luxurious thing was the disposable plastic table cover. We followed the head upstairs, where all the customers were regulars — they could find the place even without a sign.

With some difficulty, we finally made out the name of the place: Yihui Restaurant. There was no menu to look at — the regulars already knew what to order, because they used only offal freshly delivered from the cattle farm that morning. There were just a few simple home-style beef dishes, but because they were exceptionally fresh, they excited even the visitors from Guangzhou. As they ate, they kept saying, “You can’t get this in Guangzhou!” That made Chief Zhu from the local bureau burst with pride.

The restaurant served each person a small dish of shallot soy sauce, with a few rings of chili added for those who wanted it — all meant to complement the freshly prepared beef offal. First came the tender white beef tendons, incredibly fresh and juicy. They were just lightly blanched in boiling water before being dipped in soy sauce and served. Then there was the fresh beef tripe, also blanched in boiling water, which had to be eaten with the soy sauce — crispy yet tender. Sliced beef stir-fried with garlic was extraordinarily smooth and tender, and the garlic, saturated with meat juices, was just as delicious as the beef itself. The freshly made beef balls were so good they were beyond words. Though not big and still showing bits of meat, their compact texture gave them a unique mouthfeel. Each of us ate a dozen or more. What is true food love? Freshness is the ultimate love.

The beef congee was incredibly sweet and savory. Words couldn’t describe it — I could only bury my head and wolf down bowl after bowl. The rice porridge actually tasted sweeter than the beef. It was insanely satisfying. I just wanted to lock that sweet, savory flavor into my memory forever. I couldn’t help but marvel — this extremely modest eatery, relying solely on the freshest beef offal, gave us an extraordinary culinary journey. You have to taste it to understand why customers are so loyal to this place.

Before leaving, I asked the server for the restaurant’s phone number, hoping to recommend it to friends back in Guangzhou. But after waiting a long time, I didn’t get it. It turned out the few servers were too busy with their own tasks and forgot about my request. Maybe she thought the place was too ordinary and that customers wouldn’t call to make reservations. But to people from Guangzhou, this is a little shop whose flavors are unforgettable.

The next morning for breakfast, I went to another eatery for pork offal congee. Everyone said it wasn’t as good, and the reason was obvious — how could anything compare to the gem I’d just had? After returning from Boluo, I can’t eat beef offal again — not even if the stock market crashes. I’d have to wait at least a month before I’d even have the appetite for it.