Chapter 220: Biting the Spring

Nan Zhi spoke eloquently, her words flowing smoothly and naturally without the slightest pause.

It wasn’t just the students. Even Teacher Zhang and the others, who were hearing about the theory of healthy eating according to the four seasons and the twenty-four solar terms for the first time, were completely captivated—perhaps even more so than the children!

And as for the audience in the live stream, they were completely stunned.

[This isn’t like any cooking class I ever had…]

[Wait, what? Are school cooking classes this sophisticated now? She went from cooking all the way to traditional Chinese medicine?]

[It just goes to show how all our ancestors’ wisdom is interconnected! I think this is fascinating!]

[My daughter’s school doesn’t teach any of this in her cooking class. If they did, I’d have to go crash a lesson!]

[Who knew I’d be this engrossed, listening to a celebrity lecture about wellness on a kids’ variety show!]

[Is everything Nan Zhi is saying true? I hope she’s not misleading the kids.]

[TCM major here. She’s spot on!]

[Nan Zhi’s breadth of knowledge is seriously impressive. What else would you expect from a top student from Yan University?]

[Shh, keep it down! You’re interrupting my lecture from Teacher Nan!]

…

Nan Zhi had introduced the concept of “eating with the seasons” for one primary reason: to set the stage for what came next.

“As I mentioned, in spring, we should eat spring chives—more pungent flavors and fewer sour ones. The ancients were aware of this long before us. During the pre-Qin period, grand ceremonies were held to welcome the season. The *Book of Rites: Monthly Ordinances* records that on the first day of spring, the Emperor would lead his court of high officials and feudal lords to worship Goumang, the god of spring, praying for timely rains and a bountiful harvest in the coming year. A particular dish appeared around this time, called the ‘Five-Pungent-Herb Platter.’ These five pungent herbs were five types of vegetables, which the *Compendium of Materia Medica* explains as a general term for pungent young vegetables like scallions, chives, smartweed, artemisia, and mustard greens. Much like Tusu wine, it became an essential festival food. However, as you can probably guess from the name, these five herbs weren’t very tasty. So, food lovers gradually replaced them with other vegetables. By the Tang and Song dynasties, the Five-Pungent-Herb Platter had evolved into the ‘spring platter,’ becoming more refined. People would wrap all sorts of vegetables in a thin pancake… Sound familiar? That’s right—this is the origin of the spring pancake. By the Ming dynasty, people simply called them spring pancakes, and the old name was forgotten.”

[So that’s the story! I get it now, Teacher Nan!]

[We still have the ‘Biting the Spring’ custom where I’m from! We eat radishes!]

[The ancients were so poetic and romantic. Who else could call munching on a raw radish ‘Biting the Spring’?]

[The *runbing* we eat in the Minnan region must have evolved from spring pancakes. There’s this old, time-honored shop near my house, and their technique is insane. They make a soft, loose dough, hold it in their hand, and just swirl it across a hot griddle. BAM, a perfect wrapper is made! Then, back home, you shred carrots, cabbage, cucumbers, dried tofu, and everything else, then add bean sprouts, minced celery, and cilantro. Sometimes we even add peanut powder and powdered sugar. It’s incredibly delicious!]

[That technique sounds familiar. Wasn’t that peanut-and-ice-cream-roll thing from the Taiwanese night markets super popular on social media recently? It seems like they use the same kind of wrapper as the Minnan *runbing*. They fill it with ice cream, peanut powder, and cilantro. The flavor combination is wild!]

[What? Ice cream and cilantro? That’s blasphemy!]

[We have spring pancakes in Sichuan, too! We fill them with shredded potatoes, carrots, and kelp, toss it all with chili oil, and then pour in a little sweet vinegar when we eat… Ahhh, I can’t take it, my mouth is watering. I’m going out to buy some right now!]

[Nan Zhi and the gang are in our Guisheng Province right now! Don’t we have *siwawa* here? They’re these tiny little wraps, and you stuff them with a dozen different side dishes, then dip them in a homemade spicy, sour, and savory sauce. Just one word for it: heavenly!]

[Alright, alright, we get it, everyone’s just here to flex their local cuisine, huh? Careful you don’t make me mad. I’ll… buy a plane ticket to your hometown right now and eat it all! But seriously, which ticket should I buy first?]

[Haha, our country is huge and full of treasures. Every region’s Food is legendary in its own way. You can’t just pick a number one!]

[Forget all that. The spring pancakes I want to eat most are the ones Nan Zhi is making!]

…

The audience’s discussion in the bullet comments was buzzing with excitement, reaching an unprecedented fever pitch.

On all the major search engines, searches for keywords like “spring pancake,” “Biting the Spring,” and “ancient spring customs” were skyrocketing, increasing a hundred, even a thousandfold.

Who could have predicted that Nan Zhi wouldn’t just be teaching a class to the village children, but would also end up schooling countless viewers through their screens?

This directly sparked a nationwide exchange about cuisine, inspiring netizens to discuss Food with newfound passion.

Eventually, even major official tourism and media accounts joined the friendly fray, each championing their own hometown’s spring delicacies.

Of course, that all came later.

Back in the present, Nan Zhi, having finished her lesson on the historical origins, moved on to the hands-on portion of the class.

Teacher Zhang had given her a small budget for the class just yesterday. Nan Zhi had taken the money, caught a ride to the nearby town, and bought all the necessary ingredients and equipment. Now, it was time to use them.

Nan Zhi began with a demonstration.

Spring pancakes have a long and storied history, and as they spread across the country, different regional variations and ways of eating them emerged.

Some are as large as a tea tray; others are no bigger than your palm.

But the one universal standard is that the wrapper must be as thin as a cicada’s wing—delicate and soft.

There are also various methods for making the wrappers: steaming, griddling, pan-frying…

Nan Zhi focused on the first two methods. For steaming, she first kneaded flour and water into a dough. She pinched off small portions, rolled them into little discs, brushed them with oil, and stacked them. Then, she rolled the stack out again until it was thin enough to be translucent. After a short time in a bamboo steamer, the wrappers were cooked. When she gently peeled them apart, each one was a perfect spring pancake wrapper, as thin as rice paper.

Nan Zhi also demonstrated the griddling method. This involved making a batter with the perfect moisture content and spreading it thinly on a flat-bottomed pan. This technique required much more skill and patience. If you didn’t get it just right, the wrapper would be too thick, ruining the delicate texture.

Because the griddling method was more difficult, Nan Zhi only demonstrated it, leaving the students to choose between steaming and griddling when it was their turn.

Next, it was the students’ turn. ℯ

With over 50 students, it was impossible to give everyone their own pot and stove. Nan Zhi simply had them form groups and take turns.

The children were very well-behaved, and the class proceeded in an orderly fashion, completely avoiding the chaos some might have expected.

Nan Zhi weaved through the groups of students, offering hands-on guidance where needed.

She noticed that most students chose the steaming method, as it was simpler and produced softer wrappers.

Only a small minority chose to try griddling, eager for a challenge and unafraid of the difficulty.

Nan Zhi’s gaze swept across the room, and among the small figures attempting the griddling method, she spotted one tiny silhouette.

It was Nan Yi.

He was standing with his back to her.

Nan Zhi didn’t need to circle around to his front to know the look on his face. He would be gritting his teeth, his expression a mixture of fierce determination and childish stubbornness, refusing to give up.