Connie was a hot-tempered, action-oriented person. Hearing Ning He say she had nothing to do today, she immediately dragged her home to test her culinary skills.
Connie’s home was not far from the market. The three of them walked for twenty minutes while pushing the noodle shop cart, buying some necessary ingredients along the way. Naturally, Ning He paid out of her own pocket.
They walked into a residential area with somewhat aged buildings, though the environment was reasonably neat.
The houses in the Fourth Ring were all uniform square concrete structures poured when Beiluo City was first built. Connie’s place was similar to Ning He’s, but consisted of two rooms with a doorway knocked through the dividing wall in the middle.
setup in the left room included a television, sofa, bathroom, and several writing desks, while the room on the right was likely a bedroom.
Judging by the slippers placed near the entrance, at least five people lived here.
They really had a lot of siblings.
The group moved the gas stove, pots, and other cooking utensils down from the cart, setting them up inside the room. Connie then brought out another table for Ning He.
“Do you need us to step aside?”
No chef would easily reveal their secret recipes or proprietary skills. Before at the shelter, it required the joint effort of all three, leaving no way to avoid each other. But now the situation was different. Connie knew the rules and took the initiative to ask.
Ning He waved her hand and answered candidly, “No need.”
Everything she was making consisted of simple breakfast snacks with little technical difficulty. Moreover, since she would have to teach them later during their collaboration anyway, there was no need for secrecy.
“Let’s begin.” She and Ah Huai sat down on nearby chairs, crossing their arms to watch Ning He’s performance.
“Alright, watch closely!”
Ning He did not waste time with words either. Opening the bags of rice and flour, she scooped several portions into separate bowls using a small bowl.
For the breakfast sold in the cafeteria, she decided to stick to her previous strategy with the lamp cakes: choosing categories with wide flavor acceptance, manageable preparation, and relatively low cost.
There were quite a few varieties, but luckily Connie had enough tools to operate simultaneously.
First, she kneaded the dough mixed with flour, baking powder, and baking soda, setting it aside to rest and rise.
Then, she washed the rice, put it into the pot, pressed the cook button, and could temporarily leave it unattended.
Next, she mixed rice flour with water, sugar, and baking powder, stirring it into a smooth batter before putting it straight into the steamer.
For the remaining rice flour mixed with soybean powder, Ning He added a bit of baking powder, medium-gluten flour, and salt, stirring thoroughly before letting it sit so the various powders could fully absorb moisture.
While waiting, the batter in the steamer finished first. White, soft, and trembling, the steamed rice cakes were fresh out of the steamer.
To save time, Ning He used an extremely simplified rice cake recipe, relying on baking powder instead of fermentation to create fluffiness. The flavor and texture were a notch lower, about on par with what street stalls sold outside.
Sure enough, after Ah Huai and Connie tasted it, although they had no objections to the taste, they were not particularly amazed either.
“If this is the only level you have, I think we’d better forget it,” Connie said mercilessly.
Ning He handed over another piece. “Try this one.”
Connie took the small bowl. Inside was also a rice cake, but with a brown layer running through the middle.
“Is this… red bean paste?”
“Mm, I don’t have enough ingredients on hand right now, so this is as far as I can take the rice cake itself. But the red bean filling should taste decent. Give it a try.”
Both Connie and Ah Huai took a bite.
The rice cake tasted slightly sweet with a subtle hint of sourness, possessing a fluffy and springy texture that made it a comfort food. With the addition of sweet, fragrant bean paste, it leaned even closer to a rich dessert, filled with a sense of happiness.
“This one isn’t bad. If you can really improve the flavor and texture of the rice cake, I think it can sell,” Connie said after a moment of thought.
Ning He bared her teeth in a smile. “Alright, let’s look at the next one.”
Just then, the electric rice cooker emitted a *beep* prompt—the rice was done.
Ning He laid a layer of plastic wrap over the cutting board and turned the cooked rice out onto it. She had intentionally added extra water, so the cooked rice turned out soft. She spread and flattened it on the board, shaping it into a neat square before slicing it into smaller square blocks.
Next, she set a pot over the heat, poured in red sugar, and briefly simmered a simple red sugar syrup to keep on standby.
Then she heated a pan of oil. Once the temperature reached the sweet spot, she dropped the small square blocks of rice into the oil, frying them until the surface turned golden brown. Scooping them out, she drizzled the red sugar syrup over them—a classic red sugar fried rice cake was complete.
Originally, Ning He had considered making red sugar glutinous rice cakes, but those required glutinous rice and the pounding process was too labor-intensive, so she swapped it for fried rice cakes, which shared a similar flavor profile but were far simpler to make.
Connie and Ah Huai took the offering, each picking up a piece and taking a bite.
The outer layer of the fried rice cake was already fried to a crispy crunch, yet the inside retained the soft, sticky, subtle sweetness of the rice. One soft, one crisp—as they chewed, it felt as though a duet was playing out between their teeth.
The gentle, lingering sweetness of the rice blended with its aroma and the rich, distinct scent of deep-frying, which was already enough to make one’s eyes light up. Paired with the rich taste of the red sugar syrup serving as the finishing touch, what had looked like plain rice was transformed into an irresistible delicacy.
Food like this was best suited to soothe a stomach crying out for sustenance in the morning.
Connie and Ah Huai exchanged a glance, both seeing the surprise in each other’s eyes.
“Mm, this one is pretty good too. It doesn’t look too troublesome to make either… guess it’ll work.”
“Alright, then look at the third one.”
Ning He checked the batter mixed earlier from rice flour and soybean powder; the powder and water had blended together well enough. Re-igniting the burner, she heated up the oil, carefully drizzling some batter into a slotted ladle before lowering it into the pot to fry.
What Ning He was making was a classic snack from carb-heavy breakfast cities in her past life: the Mianwo (fried donut-shaped rice-soybean cake).
However, like the rice cake, due to limited time and tools, the recipe had been adjusted. What should have used soaked rice and soybeans ground into a batter was completely replaced with dry powders by Ning He. Although baking powder was added to increase fluffiness, the fragrant depth of fresh raw soybeans was simplified, sacrificing a degree of crispiness and granular texture. Coupled with the lack of compound aromas from onion and ginger, Ning He was not entirely confident that this item would satisfy Connie.
Frying Mianwo shared many similarities with making lamp cakes. First, it was best to use a mold to shape them thin in the center and thick around the edges; second, the frying ladle had to be kept piping hot continuously, or the batter would not release cleanly.
However, Ning He was a seasoned hand. The operation went smoothly, and several golden-brown Mianwo were quickly fried and retrieved from the pot.
Connie and Ah Huai tasted them, and Ning He tried a slice as well.
*CRUNCH—*
The simplified version of the Mianwo fresh out of the pot could still be considered crisp.
Lacking the flavor enhancement of green onion and ginger, the entire Mianwo tasted more like a regular fried flour crisp. However, the soybeans endowed it with a golden crust and a special bean aroma, giving it a unique flavor in its own right.
“Although this looks ordinary, if sold cheaply, it’s not impossible,” Connie said upon reflection.
“Then let’s try the last one.”
Ning He pulled out the dough she had kneaded first.
After rising for over two hours, the dough’s condition was ready for use. After shaping, she cut it into long strips of dough sheets, pinched both ends to stretch them gently, and dropped them into the oil pot heated to proper temperature. Under the catalysis of the hot oil, the dough quickly expanded and enlarged, gradually staining a golden color.
Youtiao (fried dough sticks)—an item with simple ingredients and an uncomplicated process, yet almost nobody disliked it. It made Ning He’s shortlist without a shadow of a doubt.
Watching Ning He’s practiced movements and then looking at the three types of breakfast items placed before them, Connie and Ah Huai both felt a strange sensation rise in their hearts.
This person… really seemed to know how to make a lot of things.
“Alright, these are called Youtiao. You can eat them directly, or pair them with porridge, soy milk, or calcium drink.”
Ning He brought the freshly fried dough sticks over to the two of them.
Freshly out of the pot, the Youtiao were golden and shiny, savory, crispy, and fragrant upon entry. Compared to the Mianwo earlier, the texture of these fried dough sticks was even fluffier, entering the mouth soft yet chewy. As for the taste—one used rice and soybean as raw materials, while the other used flour and alkali; lacking other seasonings, the difference was not extraordinarily vast.
Without paying attention, Connie finished an entire stick by herself. Coughing lightly, she said, “Like the previous one, if the price isn’t expensive, it should sell well too.”
After saying that, her gaze swept across the four types of breakfast items set before her; she had approved of almost every single one just now.
Connie knew that her interest had been thoroughly piqued.
“In that case, let’s discuss the specifics of how to sell them.”
Ning He’s eyes lit up. “You agree?”
Unaccustomed to such fiery eyes, Connie turned her face away slightly.
“I mean we can talk about it.”
“Great, then let’s talk!”