Chapter 28

For the next few days, Chen Huihui conscientiously served as the taste tester.

The price was that the child ate so many buckwheat buns that her complexion was almost the same color as a wheat bun. It was better during final exams when she came to taste them after school, but it was miserable after the exams were over and she was on vacation; she would start eating before her lunch had even finished digesting.

It was fortunate that the child really loved eating buns.

"Delicious." Chen Huihui nodded in affirmation.

After these few days of tasting, Qin Huai was already able to control the size of the bun pieces and the quantity for tasting very precisely. After controlling the daily tasting amount to a reasonable range where she could eat a piece of pastry to sweeten her mouth after being seven-tenths full, he prevented Chen Huihui from having to force herself to stuff them in for the sake of tasting, which would hurt her stomach if she ate too much.

"Compared to No. 52, which one tastes better?" Qin Huai asked.

Chen Huihui thought seriously for a moment: "This one."

"This one... is fragrant."

Limited by her third-grade elementary school education, Chen Huihui's adjectives for food were very scarce; they were basically simple and clear words like delicious, fragrant, sweet, hard, soft, and hard to chew.

Qin Huai wouldn't expect Chen Huihui to say: "The fermented dough for the steamed cake cracks, the new sesame oil makes the fried dough fragrant."

After all, "Writing a Song with Joy at the Sight of the Two Wheats in the Repeated Snow" wasn't in the textbook and wasn't a required poem to memorize.

"Then let's eat the next one..."

Another day of buckwheat bun tasting ended. Chen Huihui held osmanthus jelly cake in her hand, happily took the unfinished No. 54 bun—which she had stamped as the best-tasting today—from Qin Luo's hand, and with a big bag of fried flour sweet treat slung over her elbow, she ran toward the neighborhood committee, skipping and jumping.

Qin Huai found an empty table and sat down, starting to analyze the day's tasting results in his little notebook, while Huang Xi and An Youyou quickly began to clean up the tableware on the tasting table.

Qin Luo gnawed on a No. 52 bun, taking a bite of the bun and a bite of fried flour sweet treat, and vaguely told Qin Congwen and Zhao Rong, who had just woken up from a nap to see how the tasting was going today, about the day's progress.

In summary, today's progress was: 0.

After all, the task wasn't completed.

Although Chen Huihui said this one was delicious and that one was delicious, her heart was very honest; none of these buns were her dream buns.

Of course, it was impossible for Qin Huai to say directly that the reason the buckwheat buns weren't a success was that the side quest hadn't been completed; he could only vaguely explain that they were still a little off.

As for exactly where they were off?

Don't ask; if you ask, it's a breakfast shop chef's pursuit of steamed buns.

Regarding this, Qin Luo, Qin Congwen, and Zhao Rong all expressed their lack of understanding and took a bite of a bun.

"There's nothing wrong with these buns." Zhao Rong, who was middle-aged and loved health preservation, and who usually mixed buckwheat, oats, millet, purple rice, pearl barley, and sweet potatoes into a pot of multi-grain rice even when cooking white rice, accepted the buckwheat buns well. She gnawed on two small buns that were missing a piece in a row and still felt unsatisfied, asking Qin Luo to go back to the kitchen to find one that was a darker color.

"Chewy, has a bite, the fluffiness is also okay, and it has buckwheat flour without being bitter; it's much better than the buckwheat buns your dad made."

Qin Luo felt a bit choked from eating too many buns and took the opportunity to steal a drink of coconut juice, asking: "Dad also made buckwheat buns? How come I've never eaten them?"

"You weren't born yet at that time." Zhao Rong began to recall the past. "There were two years when the economy was bad and we couldn't make any money. Buckwheat buns and cornmeal buns were cheaper than white flour buns and sold well, so your dad followed the trend and sold buckwheat buns."

"As a result, the buckwheat buns your dad made—every time he kneaded the dough, he couldn't control the amount of water, and he was stingy and wouldn't put sugar in when making the buns. The buns he made were hard—hard and bitter—and they wouldn't sell at all."

Qin Congwen lowered his head to eat his bun, not daring to make a sound.

The more Zhao Rong talked, the angrier she got: "And there's more. The buns wouldn't sell, and he couldn't bear to throw them away, so he entrusted someone to take them to the countryside to feed the chickens at home for your grandparents. How large was the amount of buns we steamed? Could those few chickens your grandparents raised in a year finish them? In the end, it wasn't us who ate them! Your grandparents, your aunt and uncle, and I, gnawed on those ghost buns every day, gnawed until we were all a circle thinner from hunger."

"I told your dad not to make those lousy buckwheat buns; he didn't have the skill, but he insisted on not believing in evil. He sold them for more than two months and almost sold our family's breakfast shop into closing down."

"President Qin was also pitiful. Later, when our family and the chickens really couldn't finish the buns, we packed them all up and sent them to the welfare institute opposite. Life conditions weren't as good as they are now; if an ordinary family could eat meat once or twice a week, it was considered a good condition. It was enough for the children in the welfare institute to be full."

"Originally, the children in the welfare institute could at least drink some multi-grain porridge, but with your dad sending them over every day, they gnawed on buckwheat buns every day, gnawing your brother until his little face was sallow." As Zhao Rong spoke, she suddenly stopped, looking at Qin Congwen with sharp eyes.

"Could it be... that your lousy buckwheat buns gave Huaihuai a psychological shadow?"

Qin Congwen:???

He was wronged! His skill was just a little poor, he was a little stingy because he had no money at the time, the raw materials used were a little inferior, he was reluctant to add sugar and put in a little less, and the buns made were a little hard and unpalatable—it shouldn't be enough to give the child...

Qin Congwen opened his mouth but didn't dare to say it.

Oh no, did he really give the child a psychological shadow?

Qin Congwen began to seriously recall the three meals a day at the welfare institute in his memory.

Breakfast, multi-grain porridge with sweet potatoes.

Lunch, two seasonal vegetables with white rice.

Dinner, vegetables with multi-grain porridge, occasionally stir-frying some meat to break the fast.

It's broken; the son could have eaten white rice, but with him sending them over like this, it was buckwheat flour every meal.

Qin Congwen lowered his head again with a guilty conscience.

Qin Luo, who was listening to the gossip with great interest, didn't think about it in detail at all and asked: "Then what happened? Did Dad's skill improve?"

"Improve my foot! Later, after the batch of cheap flour and buckwheat flour your dad bought was used up, he didn't make buns anymore. Haven't you noticed that our family hasn't really sold buns for all these years? If you ask me, that wasn't him wanting to sell buns at all; he just wanted to buy a batch of cheap flour because it was cheap, and when he found that steaming white flour buns didn't taste good, he was afraid of being seen by customers, so he bought another batch of buckwheat flour to mix in and make buckwheat buns, wanting to pass off the inferior as the superior, fish in troubled waters, and muddle through."

Zhao Rong used three idioms in a row to summarize; it was clear that the buckwheat buns from those two months had indeed given her a psychological shadow.

Qin Huai didn't hear Zhao Rong's nagging at all. If he had heard it, he would only have said one sentence: Mom, you're overthinking it.

Although the buckwheat buns back then didn't taste good, they were large in quantity and filling. The welfare institute had limited funds, and many children were disabled children. President Qin was stingy every day, robbing Peter to pay Paul, crying poor here and begging for favors there. Growing boys eat their parents out of house and home; it was a victory if the children in the welfare institute could be full.

Back then, Qin Congwen's buckwheat buns wouldn't sell, so he sent them to the welfare institute all at once. The children ate buns every day until they were full enough to hiccup, happy as gods.

There were even unlucky children who whispered the devil's wish that Uncle Qin's buns would never sell so that they could have buns to eat every day, which earned them a good beating once President Qin found out.

Qin Huai was analyzing Chen Huihui's taste.

After several days of tasting, Chen Huihui's preference direction was already very clear.

With sugar, buckwheat content between 30% and 50%; in general, the better the overall quality of the bun, the higher Chen Huihui's evaluation.

She didn't just like eating coarse grains. Once, when Qin Huai was kneading the dough, he didn't control the water amount well and put in a little less, which made the buns look a bit dry, and Chen Huihui's evaluation plummeted.

It could be seen that when there was room for choice, Chen Huihui's mouth was still relatively picky.

Because Chen Huihong said that Chen Huihui would hold a bun and gnaw on it from morning till night when she went home for the New Year...

It might be because this child is relatively filial.

Qin Huai drew a circle on the 39% buckwheat flour content.

His intuition told him that he had actually tested the ratio of buckwheat flour to flour that Chen Huihui liked.

It was just that his buckwheat buns were still missing something, which caused Chen Huihui to keep nodding and praising, but the task was delayed and not completed.

But what was missing?

Buckwheat buns are just buns; they can't bloom into flowers, and it's impossible to add extra ingredients.

"Huaihuai, you must be thirsty, drink some water." Qin Congwen thoughtfully brought over a cup of warm boiled water and asked tentatively, "Did you encounter any problems while making the buns? Do you want Dad to help you think about it together?"

Since Qin Congwen had said so, Qin Huai didn't stand on ceremony, put down his pen, and asked: "Dad, now my buns are already controlled at a buckwheat flour ratio of 39~43%, kneaded with boiling water, with a fixed amount of white sugar, but the buns made are still unsatisfactory. What other places do you think can be changed?"

Qin Congwen:?

What the heck? Does making a bun need to think about so many things?

Qin Congwen scratched his head: "... Um..."

"Not making buns, making something else?"

Qin Huai:?

(End of chapter)