Yin Su busied herself with cleaning up the broken pots and displaced items from the shaking earth. The child inside her kicked and pushed against her sides. She comforted him by rubbing her belly and reminding him in soft tones how much he was desired. She hoped he would not remember yesterday’s shaking earth.

Her hand throbbed from the crushed, now immobile, little finger. A scab formed where the blood had oozed. She applied more yarrow and tied a fresh bandage around that finger. Using her hand for any length of time caused the blood to seep through the bandage.

And there was the evening meal to think of. This Traveler was important to her Husband. She must plan a meal that will not disappoint her Husband and would impress the Traveler. Tea had sufficed to start the day. Her husband hurried off to organize the work to free the now immobile gate. The Traveler had requested that the small writing desk where her husband wrote reports to the officials in the city be moved to the courtyard for better light. Yin Su filled the water bowl and arranged the writing brush and ink stone for easy retrieval.

Yin Su inspected her garden. Today the Traveler would have tasty vegetables and not just porridge. She dug root vegetables and took them to the stream to wash. She filled buckets with water and carried them on her shoulders back to the house.  She retraced her steps up the mountain to a place where fungi grew around an old rotting log. Fungi always adds flavor to soups and stews.

Upon returning to her kitchen, she lit a fire under the bronze cooker and filled it partially with water. As the water heated she assembled the remaining ingredients and spices. She cut the wild yams and the wild fungi into identically sized small squares. She was proud of her cutting skills and thought of her mother as her knife skillfully chopped.

While the water was heating, she cut off a small section of ginger, scraped the skin off, cut it again into smaller pieces. She smashed each piece using the flat blade of her knife releasing the potent aroma. She measured out an amount of millet and added it along with the crushed ginger and a few crystals of salt to the warming water.  As the water started to boil, the firewood under the pot began to die back. The mixture changed to a slow simmer.

She turned her attention to the wild onions, cut off the small roots that encircled a small white bulb and cut the white sections into tiny bits. They went into the pot. She attended to the simmering pot, stirring the liquid and watching the consistency of the millet. She added the chopped yams. A few minutes later she added the mushrooms.

The timing was important. Each ingredient needed a certain amount of time to cook to bring out the full flavor. Yin Su knew from experience what worked best for each of the ingredients she was putting in the pot. One final ingredient for the pot remained. She took down her ceramic jar of soy paste and added a small amount.

The meal would have a final topping. Yin Su cut the green parts of the onion into bits and put them in a small bowl. She chopped the scalloped leaves of parsley and put them in another small bowl. These bowls would be presented to her husband and the Traveler when she served the porridge. They could each add as much as they liked to further flavor the dish.

That evening her husband returned from the gate tired and hungry. The huge doors to the gate were badly damaged and not much progress was made that day.

The Traveler had spent the day sitting at the desk. The few times Yin Su looked in his direction he was staring up the mountain, a pleasant look of contentment on his face. The writing implements lay on the desk where she had placed them in early morning. The brush had not touched the water bowl or ink stone. The bamboo remained blank.  

That evening, Yin Su placed the bowls of steaming, fragrant millet in front of her Husband. He smiled in her direction as he offered a bowl to the Traveler. “Refresh yourself, Traveler. My wife has prepared a feast from our garden. You will not experience better prepared food anywhere in the countryside.”

“Thank you,” the Traveler said as he held his bowl under his nose. “The aroma is delightful. You do me great honor.”

Both men dove into their meal and ate well, with random grunts, slurps and noises of eating pleasure.

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