AGN -Chapter 168 Dough Fermentation Upgrade

After winning the argument, Huang Shengli took over the teaching responsibility and smoothly began a theory lesson.

Su Yuan Shi Dan emphasizes the importance of ingredient quality in its introductory notes. To prepare a table of delicious dishes, the chef accounts for 60% of the credit, while the person responsible for sourcing ingredients accounts for 40%. This shows that to become an excellent chef, one must first know how to select good ingredients.

Qin Huai had read parts of Su Yuan Shi Dan before—Qin Luo bought a copy in the fifth grade of primary school.

She bought it from a secondhand bookstall behind the school for three yuan, two yuan cheaper than the pastry compendium. Qin Luo thought Su Yuan Shi Dan was like The Complete Guide to Pastries, where opening the book would reveal various recipes to try at home.

However, upon opening it, she discovered it was actually a classical Chinese text with annotations. Although Qin Luo felt heartbroken over wasting three yuan, she still read through it because she had already spent the money. Qin Huai also flipped through a few pages.

He read the introductory notes at the beginning.

One particular principle left a deep impression on him.

In essence, it stated that Manchu cuisine and Han cuisine differ in their main cooking methods. Since chefs from both backgrounds grow up accustomed to their own styles, they excel in their respective approaches. Thus, when they host each other and cook using their own methods, guests find the food delicious, and the chefs retain their unique characteristics.

However, many chefs today forget to preserve their own identity. They deliberately try to please guests, but not only fail to capture the essence of the other cuisine, they also lose their own foundation.

This is like scholars entering an exam hall—if they only imitate others, copying masters when encountering masters and copying examiners when encountering examiners, they will only ever learn superficial skills and never pass the exam.

The reason Qin Huai remembered this principle so clearly was not because he agreed with it, but because he thought it was nonsense.

What’s wrong with imitation? From childhood to now, he had learned pastries by following recipes and imitating others. When he encountered the “Pastry Compendium,” he followed that; when he met pastry shop owners, he learned from them. He rarely failed and often received praise.

It was only now, at a higher level, that he struggled to imitate Zheng Da.

After his first complete imitation of Zheng Da’s method ended in a major failure, that principle came to mind.

Could it be that he was now like that scholar who could only learn superficial skills and would never succeed?

Qin Huai continued learning from Huang Shengli how to select crabs.

He could select shrimp, but selecting crabs was something he truly wasn’t good at. Yet crab is the most important component of crab roe shumai. The rich flavor of crab roe and the supporting role of crab meat are the two star ingredients in this dish.

How to choose crabs, how much meat to extract, and how to judge the condition of crab roe and meat are all crucial steps in the preparation phase.

Of course, if Qin Huai were a master chef in a restaurant, this step could be delegated. No master chef would personally handle such preliminary prep work. Even Huang Shengli wouldn’t do it unless necessary.

But not doing it doesn’t mean not knowing how to do it. Qin Huai needed to master it first before he was qualified to delegate it.

He quietly glanced toward Zheng Da, who had wandered over to the steamers.

Zheng Da was crouched beside a steamer, watching videos with intense focus. Qin Huai could vaguely hear keywords like “lecture,” “method,” “expression,” and “description.”

It was clear Zheng Da was very eager to win the argument.

Nearby, Zheng Siyuan was practicing on his own. He usually didn’t come to the kitchen in the afternoon, but after hearing about Qin Huai’s major failure yesterday and the rare occasion of both Zheng Da and Huang Shengli being present, he came to watch and see if he needed to mediate.

Gong Liang was no longer sitting at the kitchen entrance, though he hadn’t left—he had gone outside to handle work calls.

Qin Huai felt that Gong Liang probably wouldn’t get to eat Zheng Da’s crab roe shumai today. With Zheng Da temporarily “stripped of his teaching license,” Gong Liang had made a wasted trip.

Qin Huai planned to give Gong Liang a small treat the next day—make a couple of pastries to boost goodwill so it wouldn’t drop.

While Qin Huai was selecting crabs according to Huang Shengli’s method, he picked one up and looked at Huang Shengli, only relaxing after receiving a nod of approval.

“Master Huang, I have a question,” Qin Huai said softly.

“Oh? Go ahead,” Huang Shengli replied, immediately attentive.

“I understand that, theoretically, one shouldn’t rely solely on imitation when learning,” Qin Huai said as he placed the selected crab into a plastic basket and reached for another. “But I find it hard not to imitate.”

“Previously, I never thought imitation was a problem. Even when making apple pastries, I was completely imitating Zheng Siyuan.”

“But now I’m still imitating, and even though I consider my filling skills to be decent, the result is like this.”

“Is my approach wrong from the beginning? Should pastries not be made this way?”

Huang Shengli didn’t answer immediately, instead smiling as he picked another crab for Qin Huai.

“If Huang Jia asked me this, I would tell him yes—pastries shouldn’t be made that way.”

“Huang Jia faces a similar issue. His skills were taught by me personally, step by step from childhood. You could say he’s a younger version of me. When you taste his food, you can clearly recognize my style—at a bite, you know he’s my disciple.”

“This made him famous, but also trapped him. While I was around, he assisted me at Huang Ji. Regular customers came for my cooking, but were also willing to try his dishes. However, without me as the ‘main figure,’ a practitioner who hasn’t fully mastered his craft cannot attract enough customers on his own, and business declined.”

“That is Huang Jia’s dilemma. He has been thinking about how to escape my shadow and stop imitating to create his own dishes.”

“This is the predicament most disciples of famous chefs face. If it were an ordinary disciple, I would definitely tell them that blind imitation is wrong.”

Qin Huai sensed a “but” coming.

“But you are different,” Huang Shengli continued. “Do you think Zheng Siyuan’s pastries resemble Zheng Da’s?”

“They do,” Qin Huai replied without hesitation.

“Then do you think Zheng Siyuan is merely imitating Zheng Da?”

Qin Huai paused.

Although Zheng Da was more skilled than Zheng Siyuan, and their styles, methods, and lineage were the same, it couldn’t really be called imitation.

Zheng Siyuan had a very distinct personal style.

His strengths and weaknesses were clearly defined. If you taste his specialty dishes a few times, you can recognize his work immediately.

“For ordinary chefs, imitation is a constraint. But for chefs like you and Zheng Siyuan, imitation is a way to quickly master fundamentals.”

“Such typical bottlenecks won’t limit you. I assume the reason you’re asking is because your crab roe shumai didn’t turn out well,” Huang Shengli said with a smile.

Qin Huai lowered his head slightly in embarrassment. Huang Shengli had put it rather mildly—it wasn’t just “not well,” it was disastrous.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t your problem. It’s purely because Zheng Da doesn’t know how to teach,” Huang Shengli said, glancing at Zheng Da, who was still watching videos. “He has the desire to be a teacher, but not the ability. He’s trying to make you fly before you can even walk—how can that work?”

“Follow me for a couple of days. Get familiar with tasting and build a connection with the ingredients. Don’t make crab roe shumai these two days—just work as a prep hand handling ingredients.”

Qin Huai didn’t mind at all.

“What should we do with the prepared ingredients?” he asked.

“Let Zheng Da make the shumai. He’s idle anyway. You can watch while working—it’s still learning. Since he wants to be a teacher, he should do his homework in advance,” Huang Shengli said.

“Perfect timing—I haven’t had crab roe shumai regularly in years. If he keeps making it, I can enjoy it too.”

Qin Huai: …

The relationship between these senior brothers is truly unpredictable.

Thus, Qin Huai began a routine: in the morning, a directing pastry chef; in the afternoon, a prep worker being directed.

Every day, he diligently selected shrimp and crabs, peeled shrimp, extracted crab meat, chopped shrimp, and processed crab meat. Before long, he became a “crab man”—wherever he went, he carried the smell of crab. The kitchen staff could recognize him just by scent.

This prep training method proved effective.

Listening to a thousand explanations about shrimp and crab cannot compare to actually peeling shrimp and crabs for several days.

Practice reveals the truth.

For the kitchen staff at Huang Ji, these days were also quite surreal.

In the mornings and afternoons, neither Zheng Da nor Huang Shengli were around.

Zheng Da disliked waking early and usually didn’t come to the kitchen before noon.

Huang Shengli could wake up early but preferred not to come in the morning either—he would either drink tea or do therapy.

The two of them would usually meet in the kitchen around 2 p.m.

And when they met, they would argue.

Whoever won the argument would teach.

Although Huang Shengli usually appeared gentle and rarely lost his temper, once he argued, his skills were formidable—he had never been defeated. Every time, he emerged victorious, leaving Zheng Da thoroughly defeated.

Zheng Da could only reluctantly watch teaching-related videos for an hour each day to learn how to be a proper teacher, then reluctantly make crab roe shumai.

Outside the kitchen, things were just as lively.

Gong Liang had bought a comfortable chair and no longer sat on a small stool. Every day he brought his chair to the kitchen entrance to wait for crab roe shumai. Occasionally he would take calls to handle work, prompting passersby to wonder if wealthy capitalists really had so much free time.

Not only do fictional CEOs in dramas spend their days without working, only pursuing romance—real-life middle-aged tycoons also seem to do nothing but wait around for pastries.

Is crab roe shumai really that good?

Well… yes.

If you’re not working, it’s definitely worth waiting for.

Gong Liang had an apartment nearby and had been staying there recently.

This unusual lifestyle—students working as prep hands, masters arguing, and spectators bringing their own stools—continued for six days.

On the seventh day, Qin Huai was still working as a prep hand.

However, something very important happened that day.

Something not directly related to crab roe shumai, but highly significant for many other pastries.

Qin Huai’s dough fermentation leveled up.

Advanced dough fermentation!

After traveling to Suzhou, practicing heat control diligently, and then practicing seasoning just as diligently, his hard work finally paid off—his dough fermentation skill advanced from intermediate to advanced.

What a progression this was.

Qin Huai realized this upgrade while kneading the final batch of fermented rice bun dough.

The feeling was subtle yet distinct.

Compared to advancing from beginner to intermediate, the jump from intermediate to advanced felt more noticeable. It wasn’t like suddenly unlocking a divine technique, but kneading dough became more intuitive and controlled.

The dough felt more obedient, more responsive.

With this breakthrough, Qin Huai felt he should celebrate.

But how?

He was currently focused on crab roe shumai, which didn’t rely heavily on dough fermentation.

Using advanced dough to make shumai wrappers felt like overkill.

Maybe he should make something else.

But what? For whom?

Today’s employee meal seemed to be handled by Huang Jia.

The chicken broth he prepared smelled excellent. Qin Huai couldn’t resist tasting a small bowl when passing by. Huang Jia even thought he was hungry and offered to cook him a couple of dishes.

Qin Huai felt the cafeteria meals were a bit monotonous.

Come to think of it, the front-of-house staff and servers hadn’t tasted his breakfast before.

He had been making breakfast daily based on the number of kitchen staff, and only occasionally did someone pass by early enough to try it.

That wasn’t right—they’d been colleagues for so long and hadn’t even tasted his food.

Even though Qin Huai couldn’t remember their names or faces clearly…

He wanted to showcase his upgraded dough.

Not showing it would be like wearing fine clothes in the dark.

If they didn’t eat it, how could he subtly show off his improved skills?

Quickly finishing the last batch of fermented rice buns, Qin Huai walked over to Huang Jia, who had just finished stir-frying a dish, and asked:

“Brother Jia, who’s in charge of lunch today?”

“Dong Li. Why? Are you hungry? If you want something, tell me—I can cook you a couple of dishes later.”

“No, no,” Qin Huai waved his hands. “I want to take over.”

Huang Jia paused.

“You?”

“Yes!” Qin Huai said earnestly. “To be honest, I’ve been handling shrimp and crabs so much lately that I really miss making pastries. The fixed pastry quota each day isn’t enough for me.”

“And I really want to make noodles. The morning portion wasn’t enough—I want to keep kneading more at noon.”

“Would everyone mind having chicken noodle soup for lunch?”

Huang Jia: …

Do pastry chefs all have a bit of… something unusual about them?

He had thought Zheng Siyuan going back to make pastries after a blind date was already odd—Qin Huai was no less strange.

What could Huang Jia say? He also wanted to eat chicken noodle soup.

Who could refuse a steaming bowl of handmade chicken noodle soup—springy noodles, rich aroma, with mushrooms and greens as toppings?

If only he didn’t have to cook it himself.

“I’ll talk to Dong Shi,” Huang Jia said.

Seeing Qin Huai happily leave, he couldn’t help but call him back.

“Also…” Huang Jia hesitated, “don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Those two failed attempts at crab roe shumai don’t mean anything. Everyone recognizes your skills.”

Qin Huai didn’t understand why Huang Jia suddenly started comforting him, but since it was well-intentioned, he accepted it.

“I’m not under any pressure,” Qin Huai said. “I just suddenly feel like making dough.”

“Dough-heavy dishes, the kind where flour plays a big role.”