"Make a separate room for me." The elf carried the wheat and said to an elf in the kitchen.
"Okay." The elf was not surprised and immediately led the elf towards one of the bright, stoney but dry rooms.
This elf has the permission of the Elf King and can use the kitchen tools at any time. He comes here not only once but twice, and they all recognize him.
I rarely see him when I'm busy. He usually comes when the kitchen is free, which is probably in the afternoon or evening.
But since then, his visits have become less and less frequent.
After the elf in the kitchen led him to this place, he smiled slightly and backed out.
The elf's body flashed with green light, and a pair of forked bark antlers emerged from his forehead. He was clearly the Elf King Haoyue.
He used his authority and came to the kitchen to prepare some food when he was free, but wearing a pair of antlers was not that big of a deal, so he opened a small account and used this identity to wander around the Elf Kingdom when he had nothing to do.
.
It's just that he's getting busier and busier during this time, and he hasn't been here for several days.
I'm afraid the elves down there would never have imagined that their most respected elf king would open a trumpet to get food.
The elves don't understand the hobbies of the Chongqing people. Sometimes they work for a long time just to have a good bite. The pursuit of taste has penetrated into their souls.
Even though he came to another world, he still maintained this idea.
Haoyue poured out less than half of the bag of wheat and watched the round wheat grains rolling on the stone platform.
Whether these wheat will be like the wheat in memory depends on this move.
Although he could no longer remember how flour was made, at least he could distinguish the three structures of wheat with the naked eye.
Just like eggs are divided into three layers: shell, white, and yolk, wheat is also divided into three layers. He solemnly gave them names: outer shell, inner embryo, and germ.
The outer skin is rough, not very edible, and the proportion of endomorphs is large, at least 80%.
The germ contains oil and should be able to squeeze oil. As for whether the flour is pure endogerm or mixed with the germ and ground into powder, he is not sure.
So he wanted to try it first.
If you succeed, you can have a bite of soft bread, a bite of hot noodles, a meal of warm steamed buns, and a soft steamed bun.
If you fail, it doesn't matter, try again, maybe you will succeed next time.
He never thought that he was a genius, so he had this mentality. What is failure? Without failure, where would experience come from? Where would success come from?
For a real success, do you know why you succeeded? Do you know what the result would be if you changed the method?
Sometimes, failure is not considered a success. Many discoveries and inventions are discovered and invented by accident.
crackle
A slight explosion suddenly came from the wheat on the stone platform.
Then, in front of Haoyue who was holding her hands, crackling sounds continued one after another, like beans being fried in a frying pan.
Then, in front of him, grains of golden wheat exploded, and the golden skin flew up lightly, whirring into a line, and landed on the stone platform not far away, forming a neat pile.
Later, the endoderm separated from the germ, and the small pale germ flew to the other side and piled together not far from the epidermal pile.
Not long after, only a pair of pink and white wheat endomorphs were left in front of Haoyue.
"Next, is it polishing?"
Seeing that there was still about a pound of wheat embryo left, Haoyue touched his chin.
He quickly made a decision and tried to polish it a little first.
A person with a 21-point physique is simply overqualified for grinding flour. He just puts his hands together, then closes them, presses them, rubs them, and twists them.
When you let go, the pile of white endomorphs turned into a pile of flour as fine as dust.
His hands are like big stone mills, and the palm prints are like tooth marks. Between rubbing and rubbing, coupled with the vibration of the secret force in his body, the processing precision is almost as good as that of mechanically processed flour.
The simple processing was completed, but there were other problems waiting for him.
For example, what should be used for fermentation?
What can you do with pure flour? Steamed buns? Noodles? Or bread?
This requires him to try it before he knows it.
He kneaded some flour with his hands and found that the flour was slightly gray and did smell a bit like old flour.
When he was a child, his family's conditions were not good, and he lived in a remote mountainous area. The flour he ate was freshly ground from the wheat he grew himself, so the color was indeed not as good-looking as the flour he bought later.
He didn't know if he needed to add something else to create a chemical effect when making flour, so he could only start by adding nothing.
After gathering his thoughts, Haoyue tried his best to search for the memory of flour in his childhood, took out a heavy iron bowl from under the dark plate of the stone platform, which was larger than his head, and threw the flour into it.
Add water, knead the dough, and put it aside after kneading, quietly watching it communicate with the air, and slowly wake up.
"Haoyue?"
"You're here again."
The door was pushed open, and a tall elf walked in, it was Tina.
She opened her nose slightly and sniffed the air, "What is this?"
Haoyue turned around and shook the pair of antlers on her forehead, "Flour."
He looked calm and looked at several stoves at the same time.
One is holding a pot with a bamboo woven lid, which is steaming with smoke.
One is burning oil, and a few twisted twists are tumbling inside, turning over from time to time.
Another one is boiling hot water, and there is a pile of thin white strips twisted on the wooden cutting board next to it.
"flour?"
Tina looked at the pots in confusion and muttered this new word that she had never heard before.
"Come on, start a fire for me." Haoyue was not polite and ordered her as soon as he caught her.
"Oh." Tina squatted in front of the stove obediently and put the dry branches in.
"Higher heat, give it to the pot inside." Haoyue picked up the twisted twists that had changed color in the pot, and dropped the doughy twists into the oil pan. Bubbles started rolling in an instant.
Water vapor and oil fumes are constantly coming out of the kitchen exhaust vents, and are suddenly cooled by the cold air from the outside.
Although it was cold outside, it was hot inside the house. Tina watched with interest as Haoyue was busy on the stove, slicing green onion, ginger and minced meat. He said he was making sauteed pork.
Not long after, the noodles that had been removed from the pot were lifted from the pot, and the hot meat sauce was poured down all over the noodles.
The fried dough sticks and twists placed on the side have also cooled down from the high temperature, but they still look a bit dark, probably because of the animal oil.
The lid of the inner pot was also opened, revealing six fist-sized light gray steamed buns. A cut was made in the middle before they were put into the pot. Now they looked so swollen that they almost turned into a pair of abalones.
Haoyue wiped her hands, pressed the soft bun with the pad of her index finger, tore off a piece from the top, and stuffed it into her mouth while it was still hot.