Apocalyptic Hoarding Diary

Chapter 166 Steamed Buns

After waiting for about twenty minutes, just as Xu Xiaoyan was starting to get impatient, the stall owner rode over with difficulty on a creaky old tricycle.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, girl! It was hard to get a car, and it took a lot of persuasion!" the stall owner explained, panting. Xu Xiaoyan didn't say much and helped the stall owner put the items on the car.

Upon arriving at room 12567, the stall owner kindly helped her carry the heavy rattan chair and the stack of steamers into her home. Wiping away his sweat, he waited for Xu Xiaoyan to complete the "confirm receipt" on the platform before riding away contentedly.

Xu Xiaoyan carefully locked the door from the inside, her gaze falling on the several brand-new steamers, and she immediately had a new plan in mind.

With only a dozen or so hours left before the official warning of a temperature drop, she must make the most of this relatively "safe" window to prepare as much easily accessible cooked food as possible. Once the extreme cold arrives, outdoor activities will be restricted, and while cooking over a fire will still be possible, efficiency and convenience will be greatly reduced.

She decided to use the newly acquired steamers and the existing stove in the kitchen to process some of the fresh ingredients stored in the space into cooked food on a large scale.

Xu Xiaoyan first took out the relevant materials for making steamed buns from her space. She put several large pieces of frozen pork in a stainless steel basin and placed it in a relatively warm corner of the kitchen to let it thaw naturally. Thawing takes time, and this time is perfect for doing other preparations.

She opened several bags of high-gluten flour and carefully poured them into another clean, large enamel basin. She made a small well in the center of the flour, then took out a small plastic packet containing yeast powder. She estimated the amount and added the appropriate amount. Then she took out a kettle and slowly poured warm water into the flour well, stirring quickly with chopsticks as she added water. The flour gradually absorbed the water, forming large and small clumps. Once the water was mostly absorbed and there was no dry flour at the bottom of the basin, she put down the chopsticks, washed her hands, and began kneading the flour by hand.

Her movements weren't particularly skilled, after all, she wasn't a professional, but she was patient enough. She repeatedly kneaded the dough until it was smooth. At first, the dough was a bit sticky, so she would sprinkle a little dry flour on it from time to time. Gradually, the dough became smooth, soft, and elastic under her kneading, and it was no longer sticky to her hands or the bowl.

She stopped when the dough became smooth, shaped it into a round shape, put it back in the bowl, gently patted a little water on the surface to prevent it from drying out and cracking, then covered it with a damp, clean gauze and placed the bowl in a relatively warm place near the stove to wait for it to ferment.

While the dough was fermenting and the pork was thawing, she went to the stove, added half a pot of water to the large iron pot, and then carefully stacked the six brand-new bamboo steamers, finally covering them with heavy lids.

She added a few pieces of dry wood of suitable thickness to the stove, and then grabbed a handful of flammable pine needles and wood chips that she had prepared beforehand as kindling, stuffing them under the firewood. She lit the pine needles with a lighter, and orange-red flames immediately leaped up. Soon, a steady flame ignited in the stove, and the water in the pot began to heat up, making a slight "sizzling" sound. Gradually, white steam rose from the edge of the pot lid and the gaps in the steamer.

While the water was boiling and waiting for it to boil, she began to process another batch of ingredients. She took out a large amount of sweet potatoes and potatoes from her spatial storage, moved a large basin, and carefully washed the dirt and grime off their surfaces with cold water from the tap. Then she took them out and drained them.

When the water in the pot was fully boiling and the steam was forcefully pushing up the lid, making a "popping" sound, she lifted the lid and spread the washed sweet potatoes and potatoes evenly in batches on each layer of the steamer. Because there were so many, she had to steam them in several batches.

For the rest of the day, she tirelessly stayed by the stove, constantly observing the fire and adding new firewood as needed to maintain the temperature; estimating the time, she would lift the lid and use chopsticks to poke the potatoes to check if they were cooked through; she would put the steamed sweet potatoes and potatoes, which were soft, sweet, and steaming hot, into her space; and then quickly put in a new batch of raw potato chunks to be steamed... and so on.

The kitchen gradually filled with warm steam and rich aromas of food. The unique sweetness of sweet potatoes and the rustic starchy scent of potatoes, mixed with the slightly smoky aroma of burning wood, created a long-lost "human touch" in this late night as the cold approached.

Only after all the sweet potatoes and potatoes she had taken out of the space had been cooked did she reduce the fire in the stove, leaving only some embers to maintain the temperature. She straightened up, rubbed her aching back and wrists, walked to the corner, and checked the pot of pork. The frozen, rock-hard pieces of meat had completely softened and regained their soft and elastic texture. She took the pieces of meat to the sink, carefully rinsed them with cold water, and then placed them on a thick wooden cutting board.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the cleaver and began chopping the meat. The blade struck the cutting board with a dull, rhythmic sound. She didn't aim for an extremely fine, paste-like consistency, but deliberately retained some of the meat's texture, believing it would make it chewier. The fat and lean meat gradually blended under her knife, turning into a pinkish-white, oily, and fragrant minced meat.

Next, she took out a large, plump cabbage, washed the tender leaves, drained them, and chopped them on a cutting board. The chopped cabbage was placed in a large bowl, sprinkled with an appropriate amount of salt, and mixed well by hand. After a while, she took out the softened cabbage pieces, squeezed out the water, and mixed them with the chopped minced meat in a larger bowl. She vigorously stirred and beat the filling in one direction until the meat filling became firm and fully mixed with the cabbage, becoming sticky and shiny. A large bowl of filling for steamed buns, exuding a simple and rustic aroma, was ready.

At this moment, a change had occurred in the basin covered with a damp cloth next to her. She lifted the damp cloth and saw that the dough had expanded to more than twice its original size, with a smooth and plump surface. When she gently poked it with her finger, the hole did not shrink back. The inside of the dough was filled with fine and even honeycomb-like air pockets, emitting the unique, slightly sour aroma of yeast fermentation. The fermentation had been very successful!

She took the fermented dough out of the bowl and placed it on a cutting board sprinkled with a thin layer of dry flour. She began to knead and press it vigorously to release the air from the dough. She repeatedly folded and kneaded it until the dough became smooth and elastic again and its volume shrank back to almost the size before fermentation. Then she rolled the large dough into a long strip and cut it into small dough pieces of relatively uniform size.

Take a piece of dough, flatten it slightly with your palm, and then keep kneading the skin with your hands. To be honest, her skills are very average. The skins she kneads are sometimes round and sometimes not, and the thickness is also slightly different.