Putting a point into Cooking improved Mo Fei far more than he had imagined.
The flour in the basin now felt familiar in his hands.
He even felt that he could use this flour to make all sorts of interesting things.
Still, this was different from his time in the twenty-first century. In different eras, the properties of their crops were different, after all.
To ensure the final quality of the product, he first pinched up some rye flour and gently rubbed it between his fingers. Watching the flour trickle down, he felt out its properties.
It was much as he had expected. In this era, grain was ground at mills, so the grinding was not actually all that thorough.
In particular, there were still small amounts of bran mixed into the flour.
Moreover, the flour was not very uniform in texture. He felt that it would do if he were simply making some black bread, but the uneven particles would make the bread's quality inconsistent, and its texture would be mediocre. Bread like this was only fit for home cooking and would not fetch much money.
Still, he did not insist on too much today. This was only his first attempt, after all.
To ensure the best possible final quality, he sifted the flour in the basin three more times, obtaining much finer flour.
Only then did he begin today's preparations.
He did not choose to make bread, for a simple reason: controlling the heat when baking bread was difficult, especially for someone who had never been particularly good at it.
There was also the matter of that bread oven covered in grime-he would have to clean it thoroughly before using it.
Then he would take a different approach. Making something was making something, whatever the method. He planned to steam mantou.
Yes, the traditional mantou from China.
There were no extra ingredients, just water, flour, and fermentation...
Wait, speaking of fermentation, I don't have any baking yeast on hand. Where am I supposed to get yeast? Without yeast, the steamed mantou will turn into bricks.
Making bread required yeast too, but they had no money, did they?
Fortunately, there was another way.
Although Mo Fei had never cooked for himself in his previous life, as a northerner, he still knew of one method-something called old dough.
It involved mixing flour with warm water, keeping the dough protected from unwanted microbes and moist, and leaving it somewhere warm and clean. After forty-eight hours, it would develop a loose, porous structure. At that point, this old dough would become a powerful tool for fermentation.
This method had another advantage as well. Mantou made with old dough would have a relatively firmer structure, but their wheat aroma would also be richer.
And so, his first task became making old dough.
With the addition of warm water, the flour in the basin soon formed shaggy clumps. Mo Fei's kneading movements were a little awkward at first, but after a few kneads, they became practiced.
Once he had kneaded the surface of the dough smooth enough, he covered it with a clean cloth.
He would knead it again in a little while, until all the flour had come together.
Only after finishing this preliminary work did he suddenly realize how much help an increase of just one Belief Point had brought him.
Now it seemed that Cooking (beginner) was far from as simple as he had thought.
Thinking about it, that made sense. After studying for so long, with both school and work contributing, his computer proficiency was only at the beginner level. Even so, he had already been a seasoned corporate workhorse.
And beginner-level Cooking, in his view, had even fully reached the standard of an experienced worker at the breakfast shop downstairs.
This leap in ability filled him with confidence in the future.
When he looked up toward the doorway, several children were already there, watching what he was doing.
That made sense too. Apart from those first few years, he had rarely entered the kitchen afterward, so it was perfectly normal for the children to find this unfamiliar.
Other than Aiwen, everyone was exceptionally surprised by this skill of his.
Actually, Aiwen was the same. He had not seen Mo Fei cook in a long time either, but as he recalled, Mo Fei should not have been this good. Still, busy looking after Tom, he did not notice for the moment.
Just as Mo Fei was worrying about how to explain himself, Lina stepped forward. "So, Director, all this time you've been... been..."
A little child beside her prompted, "Hiding your skills! Boss..."
"Right, hiding your skills?! You've been hiding your real cooking skills all this time!"
Her astonished expression left Mo Fei even less certain how to explain.
"I... I'm just giving it a try. It's been years since I last cooked, after all. Haven't we got new children now? I was thinking about whether I could make something to help cover our expenses. Otherwise, we might end up living on air..."
For the children, life here was already wonderful. They had a house and beds, as well as meals that kept them from going hungry. They could not ask for anything more.
And now that the director was planning to improve their lives, what could she possibly criticize?
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Lina's face, but she soon came in of her own accord and asked, "Then, Director, is there anything I can help with?"
She was not the only one. The other children watching from the doorway asked as well.
"Yes, I can help too..."
"So can I..."
The children before him looked eager to try. Mo Fei accepted their kindness, but he still felt uneasy about leaving things to them, so he gave them direct instructions.
"What's in this basin won't be ready today. You can wait a while before making the meal. I need to go to the study. If you have time, clean the kitchen and get rid of all the grime here properly. If things go smoothly, we might be baking bread to sell in the future..."
After arranging the children's work, Mo Fei brought the basin of unfinished old dough to the warmest room in the orphanage-his bedroom. Once he had set the basin down, he carefully looked around.
He moved some odds and ends outside, clearing a space specifically for the old dough to prevent contamination by unwanted microbes.
He kept the surroundings as neat and clean as possible.
After settling the old dough, he went to the study on the ground floor.
The room had not been opened in a long time, and merely opening the door stirred up a layer of dust.
"Cough, cough..."
Unable to hold back a few light coughs, he covered his nose with his hand and carefully walked inside.
The layout was no different from back then, but many of the shelves were now completely empty.
Over the years, unwilling though he had been, he had sold many of the books here to pay for everyone's food.
He moved the chair behind the desk aside, then gently pulled open a trapdoor in the floor, revealing a wooden ladder.
He had thought the ladder would have rotted long ago, but unexpectedly, despite the dark surroundings, it had hardly changed.
He stamped on it a few times. Once he felt there was no problem, he descended the wooden ladder amid a chorus of creaks.
It was not far down, only a few steps, but as a child, he had always thought this was a very deep cavern that held his parents' most precious treasures.
Once his feet were firmly on the ground, he saw the two chests his mother had left behind.
He carefully brushed over the dust on the chests, then decided to open them after all.
The chest was not locked, nor was it very heavy. With a heave, he opened it.
The sight of what lay inside surprised him a little.
One chest actually contained a suit of armor, iron armor at that. Finding equipment like this in a merchant's home could only remind Mo Fei of the rumors from back then. Could his father really have been descended from nobility?
The other chest contained a set of women's jewelry, clearly his mother's dowry from back then.
However, the pearls had grown dull and lusterless, and the silver chain had blackened and lost its shine. The most eye-catching things among them were actually a few fairly small gemstones.