Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Meanwhile, Zhu Mingli started teaching her kitchen maids the basics of baking, while testing and logging the best baking times—finished products couldn't be too dry or too wet.

She also had to send out purchase orders: ordering dairy from the Hu merchants and seaweed from the South merchants, and sending someone to talk to the butchers about castrating the boars. At that time, castration techniques weren't widespread; skilled workers were hard to find—it was all passed down through apprenticeships. So most pork came from uncastrated boars and was unbearably gamey. Plus, stir-frying hadn't been invented yet—a bowl of steamed pork, greasy, watery, and gamey, could hardly be expected to become popular.

Still, not everyone disliked pork; there were always those who craved it, so pork wasn't hard to buy. Su Dongpo once said, "Good pork in Huangzhou, cheap as mud. The rich won't eat it; the poor don't know how to cook it." Such a waste of good ingredients.

Since she couldn't find any castrated boars, she had to handle the pork carefully to avoid the gamey flavor.

Take meat floss—a childhood staple for many. Roasting it until fluffy greatly reduces the meaty odor, making it beloved even by young children with sensitive palates. Though it's super common nowadays, it was supposedly only invented in the late Qing Dynasty. In Zhu Mingli's time, it didn't even exist.

The Hu merchants already had all kinds of dairy products figured out. When Zhu Mingli described cream, butter, and cheese to them, they knew exactly what she wanted. If they couldn't provide it, it didn't matter—Zhu Mingli could make them herself. For instance, the thick milk that separates first after freezing—isn't that exactly the "thick milk" used in modern bubble tea shops?

She plunged into her little baking workshop. If the steward needed her, he just had to go to that courtyard—he'd always find her there.

Then he'd leave, reeking of that rich, sweet smell. The smell of desserts alone could brighten your mood—way better than those pricey incenses. Lately, even the maids' dreams turned sweet and soft.

Anyone who hangs out on snack streets knows: nothing beats the smell of sizzling stinky tofu and a bakery full of roasting pastries. Though the Shen estate was vast, with courtyards far apart, even so, Shen Lingyi, taking an afternoon stroll in the garden, couldn't resist following the scent.

Zhu Mingli was totally hooked; she'd been churning out new treats one after another, and she was stuffed just from tasting them all.

"Aunt?" Shen Lingyi poked her head in cautiously.

Behind her, the maids whispered and swallowed hard.

Zhu Mingli turned, spotted her, and without hesitation dragged her over: "Quick, quick, try it and tell me what you think."

Before Shen Lingyi could ask, a soft, warm egg tart was pressed to her lips.

Fragrant and inviting, the flaky crust crumbled at the slightest touch of her teeth. The filling wobbled—smooth and silky, melting into a pool of creamy milk flavor on her tongue.

Shen Lingyi was speechless. She stared at Zhu Mingli, her eyes sparkling with the joy of tasting something delicious.

No wonder—egg tarts are a classic dessert. One bite and the girl was won over.

"This is better than the Crystal Dragon-Phoenix Cake sold at the best pastry shop in the capital!" she gave her highest praise.

It wasn't that Shen Lingyi had never had good food, but the popular pastry shops always had long lines. By the time a servant bought the goods and brought them back to her, they were long cold, lacking the impact of a hot, fragrant treat.

Everyone had been wondering what was going on in this little kitchen. Today, they finally understood, and it far exceeded their expectations!

She wolfed down another half-mouthful quickly, then asked with sparkling eyes, "Is this a Jiangnan pastry recipe?"

Zhu Mingli: "You could say that." Going south all the way by water to Portugal—barely counts as Jiangnan, right?

Shen Lingyi took the remaining half of the egg tart from Zhu Mingli's hand, her craving roaring, too embarrassed to swallow it all in one gulp. To distract herself, she said, "It's so soft and tender—suitable for all ages. Do you have any left, Aunt? I'd like to bring some to Grandmother."

Zhu Mingli was about to say that too much sugar might not be good for an elderly person, but then she remembered how many older folks in modern times loved to drink yogurt drinks and eat sweets. At this age, let her eat what she pleases.

Zhu Mingli appreciated Shen Lingyi's thoughtfulness. She told the young cook to pack the freshly baked batch in a food box: "I'll have someone send it over, to see if it suits Mother's taste."

"I'll take it—I'm free anyway," Shen Lingyi quickly offered, finally showing the lively innocence of a young girl. "So many! Great!" If Grandmother doesn't want it, she could have a lot... ah, how could she think such a thing.

What a sweet, innocent girl. Zhu Mingli couldn't help patting her shoulder. It's okay—she wouldn't let her be idle for long.

There were so many things she wanted to do, and she needed all the help she could get.

Dessert culture at this time wasn't backward. An egg tart used simple ingredients; its flavor wasn't so unusual that it would fail in the market. But Zhu Mingli wasn't about to stop there. Since she'd already built a makeshift oven, she wouldn't rest until she'd made dozens or even hundreds of desserts.

Baking bread was a technical job—humidity, temperature, dough size all mattered. Zhu Mingli kept a little notebook, recording data after each bake.

Five bread ovens of varying sizes were fired up at once. The young cooks went from eager excitement to utter discouragement as they watched the counter pile up with failed breads—some dried out, some soggy. Their hearts ached at the waste.

At first they'd been in awe of Zhu Mingli's status, but after spending these days together immersed in this sweet little workshop, they gradually shed their caution, revealing their bold, cheerful nature.

"Madam, should we keep going?" Another batch of golden-brown bread came out, and the young cooks could barely hold back their drool.

But when Zhu Mingli cut open the bread, she saw that the outside was too crispy while the inside was still moist and undercooked—not acceptable!

Someone let out a "slurp," and Zhu Mingli realized how torturous this was for the maids.

She explained, "The inside is still raw; can't be eaten. When the first perfect batch comes out, I promise each of you can have one, alright?"

The young cooks were only thirteen or fourteen, small in stature but already with years of work experience. From the day Zhu Mingli selected them, their loyalty had soared to a hundred.

Now, hearing her promise, they were moved to tears—but Zhu Mingli had stressed that the workshop must be kept clean, so they forced the tears back.

The obsessive-compulsive cook paid even more attention to detail than Zhu Mingli did. As she wiped the ash from the bread oven and carefully restored the charcoal to its exact previous quantity and shape, she said, "Madam, it's getting better each time. At least it's almost fully baked now."

Zhu Mingli wasn't too discouraged. The oven temperature was controlled manually by the firewood. If not for the obsessive-compulsive cook's strict variable control, it would have taken a dozen days just to test the heat.

"Same fire, same temperature," Zhu Mingli muttered as she scribbled notes. "Just slightly off on humidity."

She said, "Add a bit more water to the water pan. This time it's all or nothing." Without the experience of later generations, the water-bath method wouldn't have been invented for another thousand years.

One more try. When they opened the oven, the young cooks closed their eyes and prayed.

The oven door lifted, and again the rich, sweet milky aroma burst out. The young cooks handed Zhu Mingli the special paddle, afraid to touch it themselves, as if their bad luck might ruin the whole batch.

Zhu Mingli caught their nervousness and carefully slid out the tray with the paddle.

Appearance—perfect. She cut it open with a knife: soft, fluffy, evenly moist from inside out. Also perfect.

The young cooks stared wide-eyed, waiting for Zhu Mingli's verdict.

Zhu Mingli smiled and announced loudly, "It's done."

The young cooks couldn't hold back; they jumped and cheered: "Great! We did it!"

They chattered excitedly, their voices loud, blending with a distant sound that echoed theirs: "It's done! We did it!"

Zhu Mingli laughed at first, then slowly realized—uh, that's strange. Everyone was in the courtyard; where did that voice behind her come from?

She looked as if she'd seen a ghost. The maids noticed and immediately fell silent.

Zhu Mingli gestured for caution, then followed the direction of the sound.

Zhu Mingli's courtyard was in the middle-right part of the Shen estate's rear area. Her workshop was close to her courtyard, but still a bit away. It happened to be adjacent to the inner courtyard of a neighboring estate. Decades ago, the owners of the two estates had clashed over illegal construction too close to the boundary, and argued for years.

That's why this courtyard had gradually been abandoned.

Beside the courtyard grew many bamboos, trimmed regularly by the servants—not too dense, just enough to screen the high wall, creating a shadowy, charming effect.

Zhu Mingli hurried to the foot of the high wall and heard a muttering voice from above.

"Enough, give me a hand and let me down."

"I told you, this is improper. At your age, how can you be so shameless? Didn't you hear those were all young girls' voices?"

"No way. When my grandfather was still alive, they quarreled over this courtyard, and it hasn't been lived in since. It can't be any of the household women. Ouch, my old bones."

"At least this matter is settled. From the sound of it, they succeeded. Hopefully, the smell won't drift in here anymore from now on. It's been too unbearable."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Mingli spoke politely, "Excuse me, has the strong aroma been disturbing you? I'm truly ashamed." It turned out to be a nuisance to the neighbors; they could have just knocked and mentioned it, since we're all neighbors.

"Bang!"

"Clatter!"

Hurried noises came from the other side, as if a long ladder had fallen.

An awkward silence.

Zhu Mingli: "May I ask?"

Murmurs of discussion drifted over from the other side. Zhu Mingli could only catch fragmented words.

They seemed to be debating who Zhu Mingli might be, going through possibilities but never thinking of Shen San Lang's recent marriage. Finally, they decided she must be a steward.

"Sorry to bother you, miss. I didn't mean to intrude. It's just that the smell keeps wafting over the wall every day, and curiosity got the better of me. I couldn't resist climbing to find its source."

Zhu Mingli asked curiously, "What do you two think of the aroma?" Given his focus on the aroma, he must be a kitchen steward obsessed with cooking.

The other side let out a sigh of relief, speaking in a gentle tone, "Extremely sweet, unique, and rich. I imagine it must be a pastry, but no pastry shop in Chang'an has a smell this strong. Hence, my curiosity drove me to investigate."

The wall was high, and an ordinary bamboo ladder couldn't get over it; it merely allowed their voices to carry further.

He and his old friend were tempted daily. At a certain hour, they would start debating what was being made and what ingredients were used. Unable to settle it, they climbed the ladder in a huff to listen in, and just happened to catch their cheer of success, so they joined in out of a strange sense of participation...

"I see." Zhu Mingli chuckled lightly. "If you were so curious, why not send someone over to ask?"

She had a point. In this ward, people either came from prominent families that had been around since the founding of the dynasty, or were powerful officials who had the emperor's favor in recent years. They all put on airs; it wasn't like common folk who casually visited neighbors.

Even if their curiosity reached its peak, they couldn't just send a note to the mansion, meet the master of the house, and ask, "What is your cook making?"

So the other side laughed and said, "We were just caught up in a heated discussion with an old friend and felt a moment of curiosity." Implying they weren't really that annoyed.

Zhu Mingli thought to herself, after the bread and cake came out of the oven, the young maids and Shen Lingyi all said it was good, but that was the palate of young ladies. She wondered how older folks in this era would grade it.

Since they volunteered to be taste testers, Zhu Mingli didn't stand on ceremony and said, "In that case, you two must be quite knowledgeable about food. How about I invite you to sample it and give your opinion?"

The two exchanged glances across the wall, thinking this cook was a promising talent, effortlessly connecting their two households.

The Shen family had been military officers since the dynasty's founding. At this time, civil and military officials held equal status, but there was still a separation between them. The mansion opposite belonged to Cui Jingzhao, from the Cui family, which had produced generations of civil officials. Barring any unexpected turns, he would surely enter the cabinet and become a chancellor in a few years. The two families were only acquainted to the extent of nodding greetings, with no close relations.

Cui Jingzhao wanted to decline, but his old friend kept nudging him, clearly urging him to accept.

Cui Jingzhao sighed inwardly and had no choice but to say, "Very well, if it's no trouble."