Chapter 126: The Family Banquet

Zhen Qian did not know whether the Princess possessed any "fortune," but he knew that everything depended on the extent of the radiation she had been exposed to. He was not confident he could save her; even if his dietary therapy proved effective, it would likely be nothing more than a stay of execution.

"What is green tea?"

Almonds, carrots, and purple amaranth were all available in the Tang Dynasty, but green tea was something new. It sounded different from the tea soup usually consumed, so Li Cui naturally asked for clarification.

Li Cui and Zhen Qian stepped out of the Princess's chambers into the front courtyard. Zhen Qian had someone bring a bag of tea leaves, brewed a cup, and handed it to Li Cui. "Your Highness, this is green tea. It differs from the usual tea soup, though the raw materials are the same; the production process, however, is distinct..."

Li Cui lifted the tea cup and took a sip. A hint of bitterness was followed by a fresh fragrance, leaving a lingering, mellow sensation on the tip of his tongue.

To treat the Princess's radiation, fresh green tea was best. High-quality fresh green tea appears vibrant and glossy, with a rich, fragrant aroma. The brewed tea is emerald green, carrying notes of fresh vegetation, orchid, or roasted chestnut, with a sweet, refreshing taste and bright green leaves at the bottom. Stale green tea, by contrast, appears dull and yellowish with a muted scent; if one blows warm air onto the leaves, the damp areas turn yellow and dry, emitting a cold, stale odor. The resulting brew is a deep, murky yellow, tasting mellow but lacking freshness, with dull, discolored leaves.

Zhen Qian had no intention of gifting the green tea production method to Li Cui for free. This was to be his golden goose for future wealth. Naturally, he spoke dismissively, "This tea is not easily obtained. I happen to have some at home, so I offer it to Your Highness. In the future, I shall have it delivered to the Prince’s mansion regularly!"

Regardless of the circumstances, Li Cui was a prince of the Great Tang. How could he let such a "big fish" slip away? Keeping him close was like holding a long-term meal ticket and an insurance policy; he had to squeeze every bit of value out of this connection.

Fujiwara no Suo, who had not followed them inside, was unaware of what had transpired. Seeing Zhen Qian produce a new way of drinking tea, he fawned over him like a dog. "This tea is truly excellent! Drinking black tea in winter and green tea in summer—Brother Zhen, you certainly know how to enjoy life."

Zhen Qian cast a sidelong glance at Fujiwara. This fellow seemed to appear at any time and in any place, always eager to get his hands on anything good. If it weren't for the pile of gifts he had diligently presented, Zhen Qian would have liked to kick him out the door.

Li Cui was in excellent spirits. Not only had his daughter's cold been treated, but he had also found a solution for the "evil spirits" that famous Tang physicians had failed to cure. When he looked at Zhen Qian, his gaze held a new sense of relief and approval.

Zhen Qian felt frustrated. Li Cui had clearly mentioned a "great reward" earlier, but after being distracted by the tea, he had stopped mentioning it entirely. He did not know if Li Cui had truly forgotten or was feigning ignorance, but the Prince simply dragged him along to sample the royal chef’s craft.

Tang court cuisine was incredibly elaborate, though in Zhen Qian's view, it was elaborate in the wrong ways, carrying a distinct air of the "nouveau riche."

To understand the constraints of Tang cuisine, one must look at the era. After the Tang Dynasty was founded, the rulers, sharing the surname Li, traced their ancestry back to Li Er—Laozi—and elevated Taoism to a status second only to Buddhism. Consequently, Taoist customs swept the nation and profoundly influenced the Tang diet.

Taoist tenets strictly regulated the daily diet, with the prohibition of meat being paramount. The Tang rulers enforced these taboos nationwide. A decree was issued: "From the thirteenth to the fifteenth day of the first, seventh, and tenth months, all slaughtering, fishing, and hunting are prohibited." Even if the common people were not religious, they had to adhere to these three-day vegetarian periods.

Taoist classics held that dragons were transformed carp, making them sacred and untouchable; eating them would invite disaster. Furthermore, since "carp" sounded like "Li" (the imperial surname), the rulers strictly forbade catching or eating them. Emperor Xuanzong decreed that caught carp must be released, and anyone caught selling them in the markets would receive sixty strokes of the rod. This was eventually extended to restrict the consumption of all fish and shrimp. Consequently, fish often became a rare delicacy, though the people always found ways around the rules. The common folk continued to feast on carp, and it was even used as a gift during weddings and funerals.

Taoist terminology began appearing frequently in food and dish names, turning into a fashion. Examples included "Jade Cinnamon Immortal," "Immortal Luan," "Eight Immortals Platter," and "Immortal Porridge." Dishes were also named with terms like "Longevity" and "Eternal Life," such as "Longevity Porridge" and "Longevity Noodles."

Taoism emphasized health, believing that through cultivation, one could ascend to immortality. Consuming pills was part of this, and daily diet was focused on nutrition. Influenced by this, the Tang people loved adding medicinal herbs to their rice, tea, and wine.

"Green Essence Rice," also known as "Black Rice," was invented by Taoists as a restorative food. It was made by soaking rice in the stems and leaves of the Southern Candle tree until it turned black, then steaming it. Because of its health benefits, the recipe spread to the public. "Immortal Porridge" was similarly popular for its ability to boost energy and nourish the body.

Brewing wine with medicinal herbs was another hallmark of the era. To mitigate the harm of excessive drinking, people added herbs to their wine, considering medicinal wine to be a superior vintage. Scholars loved hosting guests with such drinks. "Xinfeng Wine," a famous variety, was brewed with sesame oil, Sichuan peppercorns, and scallion whites, while wine starters were always mixed with smartweed and cocklebur juice. This innovation, intended to replace water, actually helped yeast grow—a significant discovery in brewing history that is still in use today, thanks to Taoist influence.

Vegetables were supplied by gardens, but wild herbs remained an important part of the diet, used both to stave off hunger and add fresh flavors. Varieties included water shield, bracken, vetch, shepherd's purse, smartweed, and purslane.

Interestingly, in the Tang Dynasty, poultry like chicken, duck, and goose were not considered "meat."

There is a story that during the early Tang, officials were forbidden from eating meat while on duty in the provinces. However, the famous chancellor Ma Zhou loved chicken. When he was reported for it, Emperor Taizong remarked, "I forbid officials from eating meat to prevent waste and extravagance. How can eating chicken be considered eating meat?"

However, the Tang nobility favored lamb above all else. They prepared it in many ways, including a dish that seemed almost barbaric: "Raw Lamb Hash." Reportedly passed down from the Sui Dynasty, it consisted of raw minced lamb mixed with seasonings. Regardless of the taste, the thought of eating raw meat made Zhen Qian nauseous; unfortunately, a bowl of it sat right before him.

"Is this even edible?" Seeing Li Cui and Fujiwara eating with great relish, Zhen Qian felt a wave of panic and the urge to vomit.

"The taste is excellent! Try some!"

Forget it. As long as it wasn't cooked, Zhen Qian refused to touch it. If the parasites in the lamb weren't dealt with—and without high-temperature sterilization—a stomachache would be the least of his worries. If the parasites took root inside him... his life was too precious to risk for a delicacy.

The raw lamb was just an appetizer. The next dish left Zhen Qian speechless—a dish still prepared in some places in later eras: "Whole Lamb Swallowing Goose." One takes a goose, plucks it, removes the organs, and stuffs it with seasoned glutinous rice and meat. Then, one takes a lamb, skins it, removes the organs, and places the stuffed goose inside the lamb's belly. The lamb is then sewn up and roasted. Once the lamb is cooked, it is discarded, and the goose is eaten.

The goose absorbs the flavor of the lamb, while the glutinous rice absorbs the flavor of the goose, and the goose's grease is soaked up by the rice. The complexity rivaled the legendary Manchu-Han Feast.

Such an elaborate process yielded mediocre results and wasted an entire lamb. What a waste!

However, charcoal-grilled lamb leg was Zhen Qian's favorite. The leg, marinated in spices, was reddish and fragrant. Sprinkled with cumin and sesame, it was truly mouthwatering. If only he had a glass of beer to go with it.