The Game of Life

Chapter 568: Chapter 566 Peach Crisp

Zheng Da had never expected that after years of staying out of other people’s business, the one time he decided to meddle would involve his own family.

Seeing Jiang Feng looking at him with a puzzled face, Zheng Da smiled at him to indicate that there was nothing to worry about, and only after Jiang Feng lowered his head and continued with his work, did Zheng Da turn to look at Ji Xia.

Ji Xia was glaring at Zheng Da with a face full of displeasure, her eyes, and expression fully demonstrating her dissatisfaction with him at the moment.

Ji Xia thought back carefully, she had been kneading dough just fine when Zheng Da suddenly popped up to find fault—implying not only that she wasn’t capable but also insinuating her master was incompetent, which certainly didn’t make Ji Xia happy.

Jiang Feng had even bought her salted crispy chicken yesterday, and although he only let her eat half a bag before he ate the rest himself, she did get to enjoy half a bag of salted crispy chicken.

Since Ji Xia had run out of money, she couldn’t even afford roasted sweet potatoes from the stall at the entrance of her neighborhood, let alone salted crispy chicken.

Ji Xia watched Zheng Da with a tiger-like vigilance, thinking that the person in front of her must be the “keyboard warrior” Jiang Yue often talked about. Although Ji Xia had never encountered a “keyboard warrior” and didn’t know exactly what they looked like, she was sure they must be something like this.

Ji Xia was still at the beginner stage with mobile phones, only playing single-player elimination games and watching TV through video apps. She was far from learning how to play online games, like the so-called Honor of Something, and having passionate arguments with netizens online.

Zheng Da was also feeling a bit awkward.

He could see that Ji Xia was very unsatisfied with him, and he could understand why, but he just wanted to speak up, even though it might not be very nice to do so.

As a former White Chef who had been in business for many years but still maintained a high level of white cooking skills, Zheng Da could tell that Ji Xia had learned her white cooking skills in an unorthodox way, figuring things out on her own without much guidance.

But it was precisely these rough self-taught skills and the level she had achieved that were remarkable and commendable. Logically, since Jiang Feng was Ji Xia’s master and Zheng Da had just acknowledged him as his own apprentice, he shouldn’t be nitpicking. But at this moment, he just wanted to nitpick.

He felt uncomfortable if he didn’t let the words he was holding back out.

“Young girl, what’s your name?” asked Zheng Da with a smile resembling that of a kidnapper.

Ji Xia: ?

“Don’t be nervous, I’m your master’s master-uncle. By seniority, you should call me grandmaster-uncle. If you don’t believe it, you can go ask your master right now. I didn’t have any ill intentions just now. It’s just that, as a White Chef who specializes in pastries, I couldn’t help but speak up when I saw a small flaw while you were making the water-oil dough,” Zheng Da explained with a smile.

Hearing Zheng Da say that he was her elder, even at the level of grandmaster-uncle, Ji Xia’s expression softened somewhat, and she dropped her guard.

“My name is Ji Xia, ‘Xia’ as in summer. Then… where did you say I went wrong?” Ji Xia was still unconvinced. She thought she had done quite well, at least better than what Jiang Feng had demonstrated to her the other day.

“There are quite a few problems,” Zheng Da said.

Ji Xia: ?

“Ji Xia, let your grandmaster-uncle quiz you, eh? Do you know what water-oil dough is used for?”

Ji Xia was stumped by the question, which touched on her knowledge gap.

“To boil and eat?” Up until now, the water-oil dough Ji Xia had made all ended up in Da Hua’s stomach.

Zheng Da: ???

What was going on with Jiang Feng, teaching his disciple white cooking skills was one thing, but to teach them so misguidedly?

That’s too much!

Zheng Da inwardly scolded Jiang Feng severely, but smiled warmly at Ji Xia as he explained: “Most flaky pastries are made with water-oil dough, like lotus root flaky pastries, apple pastries, yolk pastries, and peach pastries. Water-oil dough can be used for baking and deep-frying, making it very suitable for making pastries with thin skins and generous fillings.”

“But that doesn’t mean all water-oil doughs are made the same way. Depending on the type of pastry being made, the ingredient ratios needed for the water-oil dough in the making process are also different. You just mentioned you wanted to make fresh meat mooncakes, but you added too little water just now,” said Zheng Da.

Ji Xia nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

Although Zheng Da had never taught an apprentice—nor did he like doing so because it was unprofitable—he had taught his son. Seeing Ji Xia’s reaction, he knew she hadn’t really absorbed what he said. Zheng Da wasn’t upset because he knew that when teaching cooking, talking was useless. Unless the teacher personally demonstrates and the disciple practices themselves, they won’t learn, no matter how much the master talks.

“Do you want to eat fresh meat mooncakes?” asked Zheng Da.

Ji Xia shook her head; she didn’t want to eat fresh meat mooncakes, she wanted to eat fried chicken cutlets.

Zheng Da: …

“Your uncooperative behavior makes it very difficult for me to proceed with the plot.”

“What do you want to eat?” Zheng Da asked.

Ji Xia thought for a moment, “I want something sweet.”

“How about peach crisps?”

“What’s a peach crisp?” Ji Xia looked bewildered.

“You’ve never had peach crisps?” Zheng Da was astonished. In his memory, peach crisps were a very common pastry. How could Ji Xia, who was studying to become a White Chef, possibly never have eaten this common Chinese snack?

“My master doesn’t let me eat snacks,” said Ji Xia, thinking that peach crisps were something like puffed food similar to potato chips, only she hadn’t noticed them in the convenience store. “My sister also doesn’t let me eat snacks.”

Zheng Da could only look at Jiang Feng with even more disapproving eyes. How could a master not allow his disciple to eat traditional Chinese pastries while learning White Chef skills? White Chefs were already rare, and even fewer people were willing to study the craft. To have a promising apprentice and teach her this way, Zheng Da was simply heartbroken.

If his son ever taught a disciple this way, he’d thrash him to death!

Of course, right now, he also felt like thrashing his son if he kept refusing to get a girlfriend.

“How about I make you some peach crisps? I’ll teach you how to make the water-oil dough,” Zheng Da suggested.

Ji Xia naturally agreed. There were treats to eat, and she didn’t have to work—her dough kneading spot was taken over by Zheng Da, so she couldn’t practice even if she wanted to.

Ji Xia obediently stood by and watched Zheng Da knead the dough.

As a leading role in Su’s Pastries, peach crisps have been renowned nationwide for many years for their dry, crisp, crunchy, sweet qualities. Since it’s a sweet treat, a large amount of sugar is naturally required when kneading the dough.

Since Zheng Da was going to make peach crisps, he naturally intended to make a whole batch. Flour, shortening, and sugar were poured onto the cooking counter like they cost nothing.

“Ji Xia, watch closely. When adding the shortening, you have to stir as you add it; you can only start kneading after it’s well mixed,” said Zheng Da, explaining as he worked, while Ji Xia watched intently without blinking.

Although she was reluctant to admit it, this suddenly appearing Uncle Master seemed indeed to be slightly better than her master, and perhaps, even a bit better than the Grand Uncle Master.

The difficulty in making peach crisps was less than that of Su’s mooncakes, and the steps were much simpler. There was no need to fill a filling; just divide the kneaded dough into small pieces, press them into the shape of cakes, brush them with egg wash, sprinkle some sesame seeds, and finally put them in a baking tray to bake.

Simple, cheap, and delicious, and most importantly convenient to carry without needing to eat hot, peach crisps were the best-selling item when Siyuan was running his pastry shop in Gusu.

Because the steps were simple, Zheng Da was quick with making them, soon reaching the step of brushing on the egg wash. While brushing it on, he made sure Ji Xia could see how to apply it evenly, as that would make the peach crisps look better and smell fragrant when they came out of the oven.

“Actually, sprinkling the black sesame seeds changes nothing in terms of flavor; leaving them out would taste the same. It just makes the taste a bit more aromatic and looks prettier; it’s not so monotonous. It’s mainly for decoration,” explained Zheng Da.

“Uncle Master, I love black sesame seeds. Can you sprinkle a bit more?” Ji Xia asked with a look of anticipation.

In just a few short minutes, her attitude towards Zheng Da had shifted from distant and wary to accepting and amiable, seeing him as a respectable elder. Because even though the peach crisps weren’t baked yet, she could tell they were going to be delicious just by looking at them now.

“Alrighty, Uncle Master will add some more for you. Is that enough?” Zheng Da said with a smile.

“That’s enough. Thank you, Uncle Master!”

Jiang Feng, who had been preparing to check on how well Ji Xia was managing her water-oil dough: …

What had he just heard?

Why was it Zheng Da doing the work while Ji Xia was lazing around and buttering him up with flattery?