Why Visit the Verdant Tavern?

Fair weather today, fit for a visit to the Verdant Tavern. No sooner had I taken my seat than I heard the table beside me arguing over a plate of river scallops set before them. One man was saying, "It's the twelfth month, and these scallop meats are so fresh—they ought to be steamed! Why grill them with just two pinches of salt? All that freshness is lost!" Another slapped the table in urgency: "What do you know? The truest, freshest way to eat river scallops is grilled over charcoal! The fishermen themselves just toss them shell and all into the coals, add a bit of salt, and that's the finest flavor there is!" I turned to look, and saw an elder smiling as he said, "Steaming is fine, but if you add too much shredded ginger, you can no longer tell whether this Jade Cinnamon Immortal Lord is truly fresh." I looked at the plate on their table, still steaming—the pearl-like flesh arranged neatly, round and translucent, wisps of heat still rising from it. In that hazy moment, I thought I heard a crisp little knock. They argued over the method of cooking, yet the Immortal Lord had only just ascended half an hour before—steamed or grilled, either way, it was giving its life all the same! Rain falls today, fit for a visit to the Verdant Tavern. In the last days of spring, when the reed shoots first sprout, is exactly when the pufferfish grows fattest and most delicious. To catch that first bite of freshness, I timed my arrival carefully, taking my seat the moment the Verdant Tavern opened its doors. I had just ordered a pufferfish dish and a pot of fine wine when the entrance grew lively. A few more young gentlemen arrived together, and from their laughing chatter, I gathered they too had come to taste this river delicacy. "When the reed shoots first sprout at spring's end, the pufferfish is at its most delicious—truly worthy of being called spring's little offering!" "Oh my! This pufferfish carries such strong poison, I dare not risk a taste..." "Brother, why fret so? By the custom of the table, before the pufferfish is served, the cook must taste it first—only then do we lift our chopsticks. The cook here at Verdant Tavern has a legendary hand with pufferfish; you simply must have this meal, or you cannot say you've truly tasted spring's freshness!" I had already had a few cups of wine, and in that haze, I thought I heard a low, drumming sound. But that plump, round belly, and the poison within it, were precisely the threshold it had set for itself. Cross it, and lose your soul to the freshness; fail to cross it, and lose your soul to the craving instead! The tide surges fiercely today, fit for a visit to the Verdant Tavern. I arrived somewhat late, and already one table had argued themselves red in the face. No need to guess—it must be over the yellow croaker. "In the fourth month, the yellow croaker's flesh beneath the scales runs golden with oil—sliced thin as paper, oh, what a taste!" The man seated by the window, wine cup raised, had already swallowed hard in anticipation. "Ah... eating it raw as sashimi has its own particular flavor, but if you're hosting guests, braising it in soy sauce is still the safer choice." I found myself agreeing in my heart, but then heard another say, "Best to wait by the river's edge for the fishermen's fresh catch, then grill it with a bit of salt!" Wasn't this the very same man who'd argued for charcoal-grilling before? Truly devoted to his one preference. Amid their debate, the waiter had already brought the braised yellow croaker to their table, its sauce thick and glistening. In that instant, I seemed to hear the Qianjiang tide rolling like distant thunder... Ah, well—since I came alone today, I shall simply order a plate of yellow croaker sashimi myself, as a mark of respect for this noble creature's thousand-mile migration home, and its golden-oiled sacrifice unto death.