The black pig, once its hair was removed, immediately became white and tender. The next scene was a bit unsuitable for children: the whole pig was hung up and gutted. If this were shown in later generations, it would definitely be considered inappropriate for kids, but at this time, there weren’t so many concerns. The happiest ones around were the children in the village; some even watched while swallowing their saliva. Seeing these kids with greedy looks on their faces, Henry Thompson couldn’t help but admire their strong stomachs—after all, being able to drool over a pile of colorful intestines was not something just anyone could do.

A fire was already burning in the threshing yard, with a large iron pot set over it. The water in the pot was already boiling. The heart, liver, kidneys, and other organs, after being cleaned, were thrown directly into the pot to cook. There were also some less desirable parts of the pig, as well as big bones and such, all tossed in to be boiled together.

Henry Thompson even saw with his own eyes Charles Foster flip a basin of intestines and rinse them twice briefly, then get ready to dump them into the pot. This scared him so much that he hurriedly stopped him. If they were washed like that, the resulting soup would probably have a strong pig manure smell. Others might not care, but he certainly did, so he decided to handle the intestines himself. He also asked Charles Foster to save the pig’s head and feet for him. If all of it was just thrown into the pot to boil together, it would be such a waste.

Some people like pig intestines, while others are disgusted by them. Henry Thompson belonged to the former group. He took the intestines to the well, ready to clean them himself, but at that moment, William Foster Sr.’s daughter Grace ran over and absolutely refused to let Henry Thompson do it. The people in the village all thought of Henry Thompson as a scholar, and wouldn’t let him do such dirty and tiring work. In the end, Henry Thompson couldn’t argue with Grace and had to stand by and instruct her on how to clean the intestines.

Although intestines are delicious, cleaning them is a hassle. First, you have to sprinkle flour to remove the membrane on the surface, then rub them with salt. These actions were watched by William Foster Sr. and the others, who all looked on with pained expressions. Even though the village now had some money, they were still very frugal and didn’t want to waste even a bit of grain. Fortunately, it was Henry Thompson doing this; if it had been their own sons, they would probably have beaten them half to death with a stick.

Once the intestines were clean, Henry Thompson took a section and made blood sausage with prepared pig’s blood. Another portion was stir-fried—of course, he directed Mrs. Foster to cook. The dishes were immediately praised by everyone and were snatched up in the blink of an eye.

This made Henry Thompson a bit proud, thinking his cooking had won everyone over. But later he realized that as long as there was meat, any dish would be snatched up, no matter what it was. For example, the organs and bones in the big iron pot were grabbed as soon as they were cooked, and in the end, not even a drop of soup was left.

Watching a three-year-old child gnawing on a pig bone thicker than his own thigh, his face covered in grease, Henry Thompson suddenly remembered his own childhood. Times were tough back then, and every time they had meat, it felt like a holiday. The feelings of the villagers now were probably much the same—so long as there was meat to eat, the taste didn’t matter.

As the host, Henry Thompson was personally served a bowl of cooked pork by William Foster Sr.. But when Henry Thompson took the bowl, he immediately lost his appetite, because it was filled with nothing but fatty meat—not a trace of lean meat in sight. It wasn’t that William Foster Sr. was shortchanging him; in this era, pigs were free-range, like sheep, eating grass, so they had more lean than fat. Fatty meat was considered a delicacy by the ancients, reserved for the elderly or honored guests.

After more than half a month without tasting meat, Henry Thompson was craving it, but not enough to eat a whole bowl of fat. Just then, Grace came over with a small basin filled with meaty bones—Henry Thompson’s favorite. He immediately snatched the basin from Grace and stuffed his fatty meat into her hands. At first, Grace refused, worried her parents would scold her, but Henry Thompson insisted it was to thank her for helping clean the intestines, so she had to accept. In the end, the little girl nodded reluctantly and ran off with the big bowl to wolf down the food with her two younger brothers.

After the lively pig-slaughter feast, Henry Thompson helped everyone divide up the pork. Since he was single, he only took two jin of pork, plus a pig’s head and four pig’s feet. The rest of the large cuts went to William Foster Sr. and the others.

In the afternoon, Henry Thompson was at home alone, chopping the meat into filling. The dough was already risen, ready for making dumplings. In his previous life, his hometown was a small village in the Central Plains, and his childhood was also tough. Dumplings were a rare treat for his family. Later, as life improved, they made dumplings for every festival, no matter the occasion—Winter Solstice and New Year’s, of course, but even Dragon Boat Festival and National Day.

Today was the start of winter. If he were still in his previous life, his family would probably be making dumplings right now. Unfortunately, he was now in the Tang Dynasty over a thousand years ago, and dumplings hadn’t become popular yet. But it didn’t matter—he didn’t have much family now anyway. Making dumplings for himself was a way to remember his past life.