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When the clay pot lid was lifted, steam rose.
The soup, tinged with a brown hue, contained lotus root slow-cooked to tender perfection, and the juices from the pork ribs infused in it, instantly filling the air with a rich meaty aroma.
Beihu people love their soups, and there's a saying, "No feast is complete without soup," with the most famous being this rib and lotus root soup.
For many Beihu people, this is the taste of home.
Meng Lang took a deep breath and, unable to wait any longer, scooped up a spoonful to taste.
The broth was thick and savory, leaving a delicious aftertaste on the lips and teeth...
He tasted the ribs and lotus root as well.
The ribs were fall-apart tender, and the lotus root was soft and glutinous; he had truly captured the essence of this dish, and it was just as good as what his own mother made.
"Uncle, how's the flavor?" Xiao Yu asked with a hint of anticipation in her voice.
Meng Lang put down his chopsticks with a serious expression.