NIP Chapter 134 Osmanthus Cake!
Chapter 134 Osmanthus Cake!
"wrong."
Zhang Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, instantly breaking the oppressive atmosphere in the shop.
The middle-aged man who was still berating his father, Su Ming, the young owner of Su's Pastry Shop, suddenly turned his head, his brows furrowed.
"What did you say was wrong?"
Zhang Yan ignored him and focused his gaze on the gray-haired boss, Uncle Su.
"Master, the osmanthus flowers you used are last year's harvest. The heat has completely subsided, and the fragrance is more subtle. They are top-quality materials."
A glint of light flashed in Su Bo's cloudy eyes, as if he had met a kindred spirit.
"The glutinous rice flour is also water-milled, so it's fine enough and has the right oily texture."
Zhang Yan continued.
"But this cake of yours has lost its soul."
Su Ming scoffed, crossed his arms, and looked disdainful.
"You talk a good game, but what do you know about pastries when you're just a pretty boy in a theatrical costume?"
"My dad has done this his whole life, who gives you the right to tell him what to do?"
Nie Qingcheng stood behind Zhang Yan, her eyes turning cold. Just as she was about to speak, Zhang Yan raised his hand and gently pressed her down.
He picked up a piece of osmanthus cake from the counter and broke it open.
"You used the wrong lard."
Su Bo's body trembled.
"The lard nowadays is all rendered by machine, which is too hot and can't control the nature of glutinous rice."
"And the water temperature."
Zhang Yan put a small piece of pastry into his mouth and savored it carefully.
"The water used for steaming the rice cake must be boiling water that has been cooled to 85 degrees Celsius. If the water temperature is too high, the rice flour will turn sour; if the water temperature is too low, the rice cake will not be soft enough."
"After you take that bite, your form remains, but your spirit is gone."
After he finished speaking, the shop fell into a deathly silence.
Su Ming's mouth was open, but he couldn't utter a single word. He had heard his father mention these things before, but he had never taken them to heart.
Su Bo stared intently at Zhang Yan, his lips trembling, as if he had witnessed something unbelievable.
"How...how did you know?"
"I not only know how, I can make it too." Zhang Yan put the remaining pastries back on the parchment paper. "Master chef, can I borrow the kitchen for a moment?"
"I'll make you a batch, and you can see if it tastes the same."
Before Su Bo could speak, Su Ming exploded.
"Why should I?! It's my kitchen, you can't just use it as you please!"
"Dad, don't listen to his nonsense, he's a liar!"
Nie Qingcheng gave Su Ming a cold look.
"Zhang Yan".
"Um?"
"Buy this street." Nie Qingcheng's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable command. "Make him get out."
Su Ming's face instantly turned a deep liver color.
He thought the two were actors filming a movie, but he didn't expect the woman to ask to buy the whole street.
"No." Zhang Yan smiled and squeezed Nie Qingcheng's hand. "Buying an entire street would cost too much money. I just want to make something for my boss."
He looked at Su Bo, his tone still calm.
"Master chef, just one batch."
"If this isn't the taste you wanted, I'll compensate you for all your losses."
Su Bo looked into Zhang Yan's clear eyes, then glanced at the powerful Nie Qingcheng beside him, and finally gritted his teeth.
"good!"
He abruptly shoved his still-chattering son away.
"Get out of here!"
"Sir, please come with me!"
Su Ji's kitchen is small, but it is kept very clean.
Zhang Yan took off his moon-white long robe, leaving only his white undergarment, and skillfully tied on an apron.
Instead of using the lard that Su Bo had prepared, he asked Su Bo to go to the butcher shop next door to cut a piece of the best lard and then slowly simmer it in a pot over a low flame.
Shila-
The aroma of oils began to fill the air.
Zhang Yan didn't even look at it; his other hand had already started processing the glutinous rice flour and osmanthus sugar.
His movements were not fast, but every step was so precise it was as if he had measured it with a ruler.
The water temperature, oil temperature, and the ratio of sugar to powder all depend on feel.
Su Bo stood aside, initially skeptical, then dumbfounded, and finally completely mesmerized.
That's not making pastries.
That was a perfect artistic creation.
Every movement is full of rhythm, as if it were not performed by an ordinary person, but by the God of Cookery.
Half an hour later.
The moment the lid of the steamer was lifted.
An indescribable sweet aroma suddenly wafted out from the kitchen, instantly engulfing the entire alley.
The fragrance was both powerful and gentle.
The sweet fragrance of osmanthus, the soft and chewy texture of glutinous rice, and the unique savory aroma of lard combine to create a rich and complex flavor that wafts into your nostrils.
"What's that smell? It smells so good!"
"It seems to be coming from... Su's Pastry Shop?"
"Let's go, let's go take a look!"
The once quiet shop entrance was suddenly surrounded by a crowd.
Su Ming stood at the door, smelling the fragrance he had only ever smelled in his childhood memories, and was completely dumbfounded.
back kitchen.
Zhang Yan presented a plate of freshly baked "Thousand-Layer Osmanthus Pastries" to Uncle Su.
The pastry was crystal clear, and you could vaguely see that it had more than a dozen layers inside, each as thin as a cicada's wing, and it was decorated with golden osmanthus flowers on top.
"Master chef, have a taste."
With trembling hands, Su Bo picked up a piece.
The pastries are warm to the touch and have a slight elasticity.
He carefully put it in his mouth.
It melts at the entrance.
That familiar, ingrained flavor exploded on his taste buds in an instant.
Sweet but not cloying, glutinous but not sticky, the fragrance of osmanthus and rice blends perfectly together, and finally there is a hint of salty and fresh, which is the layered taste that only top-quality lard can bring.
"Thump!"
Su Bo's legs went weak, and he knelt down on the ground, tears streaming down his face like a broken string of pearls.
"That's the taste...that's the taste!"
"Grandpa... I'm so sorry..."
The old man cried like a child.
Zhang Yan didn't help him up; he just watched quietly.
Some traditions need to be awakened in this way.
After Su Bo finished crying, Zhang Yan helped him up.
Without saying a word, Uncle Su turned around and rushed into the inner room, took out a yellowed house deed and a thick booklet, and insisted on giving them to Zhang Yan.
"Sir! You are the benefactor of our Su family! This shop, and this family heirloom cookbook, are all yours!"
"I don't want anything."
Zhang Yan pushed the things back, saying, "I just wanted to take a box of osmanthus cake with me."
He wrapped six pieces in oil paper and handed them to Nie Qingcheng, who had been waiting impatiently.
"Let's go, boss, try my cooking."
Under the shocked gazes of Su Bo and Su Ming, the two turned and left.
Back on the awning boat.
Nie Qingcheng picked up a warm osmanthus pastry and ate it in small bites, her beautiful peach blossom eyes narrowing into crescent moons.
"tasty."
"Even better than mine?" Zhang Yan joked.
"Hmm." Nie Qingcheng nodded, then shook her head. "Yours tastes better, but his tastes like home."
After she finished eating a piece, she suddenly leaned her head on Zhang Yan's shoulder, looking at the sunset in the distance, her voice very soft.
"Zhang Yan".
"Um?"
"I want to eat the New Year's Eve dinner you made."