That morning, Su Lele woke up early and suddenly craved dumplings.
In the Great Yun Kingdom, she hadn’t seen corn, and the only preserved vegetables available were salted ones—no pickled cabbage—so she couldn’t make corn-and-pork or pickled cabbage pork dumplings.
She headed to the kitchen and checked the ingredients. In the end, she decided to make three fillings: chive and egg, shrimp and pork, and mushroom and pork.
Madam Guan helped knead the dough while Su Lele prepared the fillings. By the time the fillings were ready, the dough had rested. They rolled out wrappers and started wrapping dumplings. With everyone working together, they finished quickly. Each dumpling looked like a crescent moon.
The three types of dumplings were cooked separately. Just as they were done, her grandfather, father, mother, elder brother, sister-in-law, and younger sister had all gathered in the kitchen, waiting to eat.
Looking at the plump, translucent breakfast being served, her grandfather swallowed and asked, “Granddaughter, what delicious thing have you made this time? Is there filling inside?”
It turned out dumplings didn’t exist yet in the Great Yun Kingdom. Looks like, aside from a snack shop, she could consider opening a restaurant in the future.
“These are dumplings,” Su Lele said, pointing at them. “Three flavors: chive and egg, mushroom and pork, and shrimp and pork. Everyone, eat while they’re hot.”
Her grandfather eagerly tried a chive-and-egg dumpling. “Fragrant and flavorful, tender and smooth—very good!”
“The mushroom and pork filling is excellent too—the aroma of mushrooms blends wonderfully with the pork.”
“The shrimp and pork one is fresh, sweet, and juicy—delicious!”
Everyone’s appetite soared. In no time, all three large plates of dumplings were gone.
“Since you all like them so much, I’ll make more varieties next time,” Su Lele said patiently. She especially enjoyed cooking when everyone appreciated her food.
“Daughter, next time make more. I’ll bring some to court. The palace food may be better than restaurants, but nothing compares to what you make—and I’m already tired of it.”
“Yes, Father is right,” her elder brother agreed.
Seeing how unsatisfied they still looked, Su Lele had no choice but to agree.
With pastries next on her agenda, she planned to make sponge cake, milk bread, and hawthorn pastries as a trial.
“Madam Guan, is milk sold in the capital?” she suddenly asked, realizing she hadn’t bought any.
“I haven’t heard of it in the city, but outside the western district there’s a large estate that raises cattle and sheep. They should have milk.”
Su Lele immediately told Uncle Chen to go purchase some. “If there’s no cow’s milk, goat’s milk will do.”
Since the milk hadn’t arrived yet, she couldn’t make sponge cake or bread, so she decided to start with hawthorn pastries.
The lard had already been rendered and solidified into white fat. She took some prepared hawthorn puree from where the fruit leather was made and cooked it into a filling. After about fifteen minutes, the filling was ready.
She began making the dough, mixing lard and sugar until creamy, then adding flour to form a dough. After resting it, she divided it into small portions, flattened them, added the filling, sealed them, and pressed them flat.
Several servants watched carefully to learn the process.
The prepared pastries were placed on large iron trays and into the oven. She instructed the maid tending the fire to use medium heat for about fifteen minutes.
The key to good hawthorn pastries: the right amount of lard, not too sweet filling, and careful control of heat.
Next time, she thought, she could add mung bean filling and flower filling to create more varieties.
Since it was her first time using this clay-and-brick oven, she monitored it closely.
As the pastries neared completion, the aroma spread everywhere. Her grandfather, who had been drinking tea, and her mother and sister-in-law chatting in the hall, were all drawn to the kitchen.
“Alright, extinguish the fire,” Su Lele said, putting on heat-resistant gloves.
“Miss, let me handle it,” Qiuyu said quickly. “My hands are tough.” She didn’t want her delicate mistress to get burned.
As soon as the pastries came out, the aroma intensified.
Her grandfather couldn’t resist and reached out—but immediately pulled back. “Ah! That’s hot!”
“Grandfather, haste makes waste. Let them cool first.”
“Can we eat now?” he asked impatiently.
“Go ahead.”
The moment she said it, several hands reached out at once.
“So crispy and fragrant—sweet but not greasy. Much better than Daoxiang Pastry Shop!”
“Yes, the crust is so flaky it crumbles. The ones we had before weren’t this good.”
“Delicious! But don’t eat too much yet. I’m still making sponge cake and bread—save some appetite!” Su Lele reminded them.
Everyone obediently agreed—except her gluttonous grandfather. Luckily, her younger sister was at school, or there’d be another food lover added to the mix.
After eating two hawthorn pastries and resting a bit, Uncle Chen returned.
“Miss, I bought the milk. Fresh today. Not many people drink it because of the smell, so it’s cheap—100 wen per bucket. I bought two buckets.”
“Good work. Have some hawthorn pastries—they’re fresh out of the oven.”
“Thank you, Miss. I’ll eat after unloading.”
She then began making milk bread. Flour, eggs, sugar, a little oil, and milk were mixed into dough. After kneading for a while, she got tired and let Qiuyu take over until the dough developed elasticity.
After letting it rise, she divided it into small portions, shaped them, and baked them for twenty minutes.
The soft bread, rich with milk aroma, once again won everyone over.
For sponge cake, she chose steaming instead of baking—less heaty and softer.
The ingredients were similar but with more eggs and less milk. The batter was poured into small bowls (not too full, as it would expand) and steamed for ten minutes.
The result: soft, fluffy cakes with a rich egg aroma. Watching everyone enjoy them, Su Lele also ate two—but she was already too full for dinner.
During the process, she noticed some issues. Always decisive, she immediately instructed Chen Dali to buy or custom-make smaller bowls—the household bowls were too big.
“Uncle Chen, can oil paper be customized?” she asked. She planned to stamp “Su Ji” on the packaging for branding.
“It should be possible. Daoxiang uses marked paper too. I’ll ask the shop owner.”
“And find a craftsman to make stamps engraved with ‘Su Ji.’”
“Yes, Miss.”