Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 20

The last time Jiang Miao came to the Zhu Residence, he entered through the back door. This time, they still enter through the back door. Walking along the long gravel path and around the large back garden, they arrive outside the main kitchen of the Zhu Residence. There are several people working in the kitchen, handling the ingredients needed for the next day, washing and soaking them according to the arrangements made by the head chef.

Jiang Miao casually looks inside and sees that the table near the door is now full of ingredients. There are common vegetables like radishes and cabbages, poultry and fish, and expensive items like abalone, sea cucumbers, shark fins, and fish maw. For a food lover, this is a highly tempting scene. Jiang Miao can’t help but imagine what kind of dishes he could make with these ingredients if he were the chef.

A few steps away from the main kitchen, there is a smaller kitchen, specifically for making pastries. On the long table, there are tools like cutting boards and rolling pins, and several burlap bags with open mouths revealing white powder inside. Jiang Miao thinks it must be flour and glutinous rice flour.

“Brother Jiang, come take a look,” Zhao Xing says, waving his hand from in front of a large steamer by the wall.

Jiang Miao walks over and sees the white buns inside with a dab of bright red on top, which seems to be the longevity peach buns made by the Zhu Residence. Jiang Miao feels relieved. If the longevity peach buns made here are of this standard, he is confident that his own longevity peach buns would be even better.

“Brother Zhao, can I taste it?” Jiang Miao wants to see how the chefs here season their food.

“Go ahead,” Zhao Xing says, picking one out for him. He also gives one to Xiao Shitou behind him, who only takes it after seeing his brother nod.

Jiang Miao lifts the longevity peach bun. Honestly, except for the pointed tip, it doesn’t look much like a peach, and there are even wrinkles on it. He takes a bite and savors it carefully.

The dough made in the Zhu Residence is quite good; the outer skin is chewy, and the inside is fluffy and soft without being dense. The filling is meat, but the meat is chopped too finely, losing its texture. The flavor is quite savory, and Jiang Miao detects the taste of broth, but it seems the broth is added after the meat is prepared, not absorbed by the meat, making the steamed bun too juicy, resulting in thin broth and dry meat, like a soup dumpling that misses the essence of a true soup dumpling.

Jiang Miao’s eyebrows furrow. Is that… minced ginger? Ginger can indeed remove the fishy smell and enhance the freshness, but chopping it directly into the filling overpowers the taste of the ingredients, leaving a strong ginger flavor in every bite.

Zhao Xing watches Jiang Miao’s eyebrows sometimes relax and sometimes knit together, and his heart keeps pounding, as if a small hand is pressing inside.

“Brother Zhao, can you find the person responsible for kneading the dough?” Jiang Miao suddenly asks.

Zhao Xing snaps out of his thoughts and quickly replies, “I’ll go right away. By the way, should I also call the one who seasons the filling?”

“No need,” Jiang Miao shakes his head, indicating he will handle the filling himself.

Not long after, Zhao Xing returns with someone. The person looks a bit nervous, unsure why he was summoned alone by the steward.

“This is the person who kneads the dough. His name is Yang Cong.”

“Master Yang, please knead some dough for me,” Jiang Miao requests. “Just make it the same consistency as you did yesterday.”

Yang Cong is not much of a talker. He just does whatever he’s told. He scoops the flour, adds water, and starts kneading. His movements are very practiced. In no time, he kneads the dough, covers it with a cloth, and puts it aside to wait for it to rise.

“Alright, Master Yang, you can go back to your work,” Jiang Miao says, noticing Yang Cong standing there looking uncomfortable, so he lets him leave.

When Yang Cong hears this, he quickly hurries out. When he returns to the main kitchen, people gather around him, asking why the steward called him. After Yang Cong explains, someone complains indignantly, “They actually called us to assist some young kid? What is Steward Zhao thinking?”

Yang Cong glances at him without speaking, thinking to himself: Even if you don’t want to help, the other person can mix his own filling. The person is still talking, but Yang Cong just acts as if he didn’t hear and continues with his own tasks.

“Brother Zhao, could you please go to the main kitchen to get some things? The pork should be pork shoulder, but if that’s not possible, tenderloin or shanks will do. Also, get some broth, made from chicken, not bones. And some ginger, green onions, and spinach. For seasonings, we need…” In the small kitchen, Jiang Miao speaks while thinking.

Zhao Xing is confused. Is making a bun really this complicated? And the parts of the pork, he knows shoulder, but where are the shanks and tenderloin? Why does the broth need to be chicken and not bone broth? What kind of vegetable is spinach? Although he is the steward of the kitchen, he doesn’t do the cooking. Usually, they buy the ingredients in bulk.

“Brother Jiang, please speak slowly. I’ll get a pen to write this down,” Zhao Xing says, starting to leave.

“Forget it, I’ll go get them myself,” Jiang Miao sighs. Talking to someone inexperienced is difficult; it’s better to go himself than to explain repeatedly.

He takes a basket from the wall and turns to walk toward the main kitchen. With Zhao Xing following him, the others dare not look at him openly, only sneaking glances out of the corner of their eyes.

Jiang Miao quickly gathers all the items, filling the basket to the brim. Zhao Xing peeks inside and asks, “Which one is the spinach you mentioned?” It seems that there is no unfamiliar vegetable inside.

Jiang Miao points to the green leafy vegetable with red stems and says, “Isn’t this it?”

“Do you folks in Jiangjiawan call this spinach? We call it Persian grass,” Zhao Xing says, puzzled.

Jiang Miao realizes his mistake and quickly corrects himself, “Us country folks just use random names. I’ve heard it’s also called red-stemmed greens in some places.”

“I see,” Zhao Xing nods in sudden understanding.

Suddenly, a man dressed as a servant hurries over and whispers a few words to Zhao Xing. Zhao Xing then tells Jiang Miao to go back first, while he follows the servant and leaves in a hurry.

Back in the small kitchen, Jiang Miao takes advantage of the dough still rising to start preparing the filling. He washes and chops the green onions and ginger, placing them in a clean bowl to soak. Then he takes a piece of pork shoulder meat, cut from the half pig in the main kitchen. This shoulder meat, often called “snowflake meat” because of its marbled fat and lean layers, is one of the finest cuts from a pig, renowned for its tender and delicious texture that remains juicy regardless of the cooking method.

In the past, Jiang Miao seldom buys this cut. Even when he occasionally sees it, he avoids buying it because modern pig farming sometimes involves injecting pigs with drugs to fatten them up, leading to unsightly pustules on the meat. However, in ancient times, pigs were not injected with anything, so this pork shoulder looks exceptionally attractive. Jiang Miao takes a moment to admire it before washing it.

“Xiao Shitou, can you help your brother crush this spinach?”

While washing the meat, Jiang Miao notices Xiao Shitou standing idly and finds him a task. Xiao Shitou happily agrees, immediately getting excited. He grabs a small mortar and a handful of washed spinach, sits at a corner, and starts working seriously.

A rhythmic “thud, thud, thud” sound echoes, making Jiang Miao smile as he begins processing the meat. He slices it, then cuts it into strips, and finally dices it. He sprinkles a bit of fine salt and mixes it well. Holding the knife in both hands, he chops the meat, the sound blending with the thudding from Xiao Shitou, creating a lively symphony.

For the bun filling, the meat doesn’t need to be minced into a paste; too soft, and it loses its texture. After chopping the meat, he takes the soaked green onion and ginger water, pours it into the cooled broth, and stirs it evenly. He then gradually adds this mixture to the meat filling, stirring it until the meat fully absorbs the broth. This way, the filling will lock in the juices while steaming, offering a burst of flavor with each bite.

After preparing the filling, the dough has finished rising. Jiang Miao sprinkles some flour on the cutting board, then takes out the dough, kneads it, and divides it into portions. For making shòutáo (longevity peaches), the dough portions need to be larger. He flattens them directly without rolling, places the filling inside, and then shapes them into round balls like making pancakes.

Next, Jiang Miao turns the round balls upside down, shaping them into an inverted pear shape with a pointed top and a round bottom. Using a scraper, he presses down from the pointed end towards the middle, forming a small peach. He works quickly, and soon the cutting board is filled with these little peaches.

To make the peaches look more realistic, they need to be colored. Red yeast rice powder, a natural coloring agent used since ancient times, is perfect for this. He scoops a little into a bowl and adds water, which immediately turns red. This step is crucial because directly applying the color would look unnatural. Jiang Miao finds a small bamboo sieve, dips a brush into the red yeast mixture, and sprinkles it through the sieve. The red droplets fall evenly on the peaches, giving the tops a natural blush.

“Brother, these are peaches!” Xiao Shitou exclaims, having finished mashing the spinach. The peaches look so pink and fresh, like they have just been picked from the tree after a sunny summer day, looking incredibly lifelike.

“Yes, do you want to try one when they’re done?” Jiang Miao asks, smiling at Xiao Shitou’s amazed expression.

Surprisingly, Xiao Shitou shakes his head. “These are for the master’s family. I can’t eat them; if I do, you’ll get scolded,” he says, his big dark eyes filled with worry for his brother.

“…Alright, we won’t eat these. I’ll make some for you when we get back!” Jiang Miao reassures him.

Taking the small mortar from Xiao Shitou’s hand, Jiang Miao uses a piece of gauze to strain out the spinach residue, then pours the juice into some flour nearby. Soon, he has kneaded a green dough. He rolls it into a long strip and cuts it into small portions. He presses each portion in his palm, shaping them into semi-ovals. Using a scraper, he presses lines into the dough, quickly forming tender green leaves. He repeats the process with the remaining portions, making a pile of leaves.

Jiang Miao moistens the sides of the peaches and places them on the leaves, making them look like they have just been picked from a tree. The sight is so realistic it seems to exude a sweet, fragrant aroma. Xiao Shitou watches intently, swallowing involuntarily, already looking forward to the treats his brother promises to make at home.

After letting the longevity peaches rise again on the cutting board, Jiang Miao places them into a steamer to cook.

…

“Da Hong, have you found the pastry chef? Is someone making the longevity peach buns?” Master Zhu asks about the longevity peach buns as soon as he returns. They are to be served at tomorrow’s noon banquet, and after preparing for the birthday feast for a month, it wouldn’t do to lose face because of the buns.

Butler Zhu inwardly thinks, “This is bad,” as he hasn’t inquired about this matter today. However, he remains calm on the surface and replies, “Master, the kitchen steward Zhao Xing assured us yesterday that he would definitely take care of this today, saying that I need not worry about it.”

“Zhao Xing?” Master Zhu mutters, “He talks big. Did he find anyone?”

Steward Zhu looks hesitant, as if he is reluctant to speak.

Master Zhu’s face darkens. “Just tell me!”

“I heard that last night, Zhao Xing went to several places to find a pastry chef, but he didn’t settle on one. Early this morning, he went out again, and I’m not sure if he’s back yet,” the butler says, seemingly attempting to cover for Zhao Xing but failing, his face showing guilt.

“Go fetch him for me. I’ll personally ask him!” Master Zhu is extremely angry. He detests people who are all talk and no action the most!

“Yes, sir!”

Zhao Xing is urgently summoned and hurries over with a servant. He immediately notices Master Zhu sitting with a stern expression.

“Greetings, Master. What do you need from me?” Zhao Xing bows deeply, his attitude extremely respectful.

“Have you found the pastry chef I asked for?” Master Zhu’s voice is low, with a sense of foreboding like an approaching storm.

Zhao Xing’s heart skips a beat. Despite Jiang Miao still being on probation, he quickly answers, “Yes, Master. He is currently making the longevity peaches in the small kitchen.”

Before Master Zhu can relax, Steward Zhu reveals the news he has just received from the servant.

“Master, I heard that Zhao Xing hired a seventeen or eighteen-year-old pastry chef.”

“What? A young lad?! Zhao Xing, do you know the consequences of deceiving me?” Master Zhu’s anger flares. The word “master” doesn’t align with a mere teenager.

In his heart, Zhao Xing silently curses Butler Zhu. Isn’t it because he feels like Zhao Xing has taken his nephew’s position? He’s really good at finding opportunities!

“Master, despite his young age, his longevity peaches are unlike those made in our household. You’ll see for yourself shortly!” Zhao Xing doesn’t hesitate to start fabricating stories before even seeing the finished product, thinking he’ll deal with it later. Anyway, he can remind Jiang later to make a different type of bun. Whether it turns out well or not is another matter.

He thinks he has it all figured out, but Butler Zhu won’t let him off the hook. He immediately suggests to Master Zhu, “Master, why don’t we send someone there now to wait? As soon as it’s done, they can bring it over. It’s also a good opportunity to see how different these longevity peach buns really are.”

“That’s a good idea. Send someone over, and bring that young chef here as well!” Master Zhu agrees.

Zhao Xing’s legs almost give way, nearly causing him to collapse on the spot.

This is it. He’s done for!