Chapter 27 Buckwheat Steamed Buns

After confirming that Chen Huihui’s sense of taste was normal, Qin Huai began his buckwheat bun experiment.

Since Chen Huihui—and the side quest—had both certified that buckwheat buns were the flavor she liked, Qin Huai naturally decided to focus his efforts in this direction.

Making ordinary steamed buns wasn’t difficult.

For someone quick with their hands and with little cooking experience, simply following a tutorial and controlling the water temperature and amount during dough preparation could already produce buns—not necessarily tasty ones, but still buns.

However, when broken down in detail, buckwheat buns did have their particularities.

Because buckwheat flour itself doesn’t taste good.

Unlike cornmeal, which has a natural aroma and a slight sweetness, pure buckwheat flour is genuinely hard to eat.

Not only are the flour particles coarse, making the texture unpleasant, and difficult to knead into a smooth dough, but buckwheat itself has no sweetness—in fact, it even carries a faint bitterness. This is why sugar is usually added when making buckwheat buns.

Because without sugar, they really don’t taste good.

Most of the time, buckwheat buns aren’t made with pure buckwheat flour. Typically, they are a 50-50 mix of buckwheat flour and medium-gluten wheat flour. Depending on the ratio of wheat flour, the color of the buns varies—the more wheat flour, the lighter the color.

Qin Huai messaged Chen Huihong to ask what color the buckwheat buns they ate during New Year were. Chen Huihong replied that they were gray, meaning they contained quite a lot of wheat flour. Strictly speaking, they couldn’t really be considered coarse-grain buns.

After gathering all the information, Qin Huai proceeded with a controlled variable experiment.

He decided to make 18 variations, adjusting the ratios of sugar and buckwheat flour to wheat flour, then steam a batch for tasting.

The next afternoon, the kitchen of Yunzhong Cafeteria was filled with the rich aroma of buckwheat buns.

Steamed buns are one of the simplest types of flour-based food.

They are easy to make—both kneading and steaming are straightforward—so much so that Qin Huai could even watch a variety show while keeping an eye on the cooking.

“Brother, what are you making? It smells like buns. Brother Yang said you made some especially delicious buns yesterday. Is it the same kind? When will they be ready? I want to try them!” Qin Luo, full of energy after her nap, rushed into the cafeteria and peeked into the kitchen.

“Your Brother Yang has a very unique palate. Don’t believe his nonsense. These are all buckwheat buns—you won’t like them. There are still mung bean jelly cakes in the freezer. Go get them yourself. I saved them for you. At noon today, Ou Yang even begged me to give him half, and I didn’t,” Qin Huai said.

Qin Luo laughed. “Thanks, bro! You could’ve given Brother Yang a couple pieces. He even brought me lychees yesterday—they were so… expensive!”

Of course, Qin Huai didn’t tell her that the reason he didn’t share with Ou Yang at noon was because Ou Yang had already secretly bought half a jin. Finishing half a jin of mung bean jelly in a day—Qin Huai was afraid Ou Yang might end up in the emergency room. Giving him more was out of the question.

With his mom covering his meal expenses, Ou Yang spent generously, buying snacks in half-jin portions each time.

After changing clothes, Qin Luo came into the kitchen, took out some mung bean jelly from the freezer, sat next to Qin Huai, and ate while watching the variety show.

The previous night, Zhao Rong had discovered that Qin Luo had been using her phone until 3 a.m. and was furious. She immediately imposed a strict phone usage schedule: no more than three hours per day, or the phone would be confiscated.

Qin Luo had already used up her three hours in the morning, so in the afternoon she could only “borrow” Qin Huai’s variety show.

“Brother, why did you think of making buckwheat buns?” Qin Luo asked while taking small bites of mung bean jelly.

The jelly Qin Huai made consisted only of mung bean paste and honey, with a strong bean flavor and a smooth, refreshing texture. According to Qin Luo, freshly taken out of the freezer, it tasted like a chilled mousse cake—an excellent summer cooling dessert.

“Your Aunt Chen said Huihui likes buckwheat buns but has never had any particularly good ones. Since they’re not hard to make, I figured I’d try. Maybe I can make something she really likes.”

Qin Luo still didn’t understand how anyone could like buckwheat buns. Were red sugar buns not sweet enough? Were plain buns not soft enough? Or maybe fermented rice buns…?

She dismissed fermented rice buns, though—those made by her brother were average, not as good as red sugar buns.

“Then bro, will we be selling buckwheat buns in the mornings in the future?” Qin Luo asked.

“No,” Qin Huai said firmly.

The task was the task, but life was life. He would strictly adhere to his 12 p.m. clock-out rule and would never add items like buns to breakfast if they required second fermentation, couldn’t be priced high, and might affect his leaving time.

After an episode of the show ended, the buns were also ready.

The buckwheat buns, varying in shades from dark to light, were lined up in a row. At first glance, they looked like an artwork created by someone with OCD trying to prove that buns could have color variation.

Chen Huihui would arrive at the cafeteria in three minutes.

Final exam period was great—no classes extended, no meetings—once exams were over, students were dismissed, making it easy for Qin Huai to precisely time the buns.

After finishing a small plate of mung bean jelly, Qin Luo looked at the steaming row of buckwheat buns and suddenly felt they might not be as bad as she remembered.

If Huihui liked them, that meant buckwheat buns must have their merits!

Qin Luo blinked at Qin Huai, her eyes full of meaning: Brother, how could you forget your most important tester? I’m your number one taste tester!

Qin Huai said nothing and silently began cutting the buns into smaller pieces.

After all, Chen Huihui would be tasting 18 types. Cutting them smaller would prevent her from getting full too quickly.

Three minutes later, Chen Huihong arrived with Chen Huihui. Upon seeing the row of buns in varying shades, both mother and daughter were stunned.

“A… bun banquet?”

Such a niche feast.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you like, so I made 18 types for you to try and see if there’s anything you prefer,” Qin Huai said.

Chen Huihui sat down in a daze.

After a brief moment of surprise, Chen Huihong spoke somewhat awkwardly, “Xiao Qin, Huihui probably just mentioned it casually yesterday. There’s no need…”

“I don’t usually make buns anyway. Since Huihui wants them, I figured I’d experiment. If I can create a popular buckwheat bun, it could become a new item for the cafeteria,” Qin Huai said with a smile.

Chen Huihong didn’t say anything further, but inwardly she was impressed. She already considered herself a very warm-hearted person, and now realized Qin Huai was no less so—no wonder she felt such a sense of familiarity with him.

Her impression of Qin Huai increased slightly.

“Huihui, let me introduce this one. This is Buckwheat Bun No. 1: no sugar, 90% buckwheat flour, 10% medium-gluten flour. After tasting, just shake your head if you don’t like it. If you do like it, let me know. Any suggestions are welcome. We’ll evaluate one by one, okay?”

Chen Huihui had never been a taste tester before. Hearing this, she suddenly felt her task today was very important and nodded firmly, determined to take it seriously.

She picked up Bun No. 1 and decisively put it into her mouth, chewing carefully.

0.1 seconds later, she shook her head firmly.

Too bad!

She felt it was rough, scratchy on the tongue, slightly bitter, and although the buckwheat flavor was strong, it simply wasn’t good—worse than the strange bun from yesterday.

Qin Huai moved on: “This is Bun No. 2: with sugar, 90% buckwheat flour, 10% medium-gluten flour.”

Chen Huihui chewed again.

0.1 seconds later, she shook her head even more firmly.

Slightly sweeter than the previous one—but still not good.

“This is Bun No. 3: no sugar, 85% buckwheat flour, 15% medium-gluten flour.”

……

By the time Chen Huihui reached Bun No. 8, Ou Yang—having heard about the tasting event—showed up after skipping work to watch.

Chen Huihong, unaware he had skipped work, even kindly explained the results so far.

None of them were very satisfactory.

Chen Huihui followed the order from darkest to lightest, meaning higher buckwheat content first. Although she liked the taste of buckwheat, that didn’t mean she enjoyed pure coarse grains.

Her “liking” was more like a child who is usually restricted from eating roasted sweet potatoes, and only occasionally gets to eat one—cherishing that moment. If she had to eat them every day like farmers in the past until she felt sick, she likely wouldn’t like them at all.

It wasn’t until the buns reached a 50-50 buckwheat-to-wheat ratio that she nodded for the first time.

Honestly, the child had remarkable patience.

By the time she reached Bun No. 15, she was visibly getting full, her swallowing slowing down.

Qin Huai noted in his notebook: Huihui’s appetite is limited; optimal tasting capacity is 14 types per session.

Still, a miscalculation—at Huihui’s age, Qin Luo could have handled at least 26 types.

Out of the corner of his eye, Qin Huai noticed Qin Luo had already snuck into the kitchen, grabbed Bun No. 10 (the one Huihui rated highest), split it in half, and was sharing it with Ou Yang.

The two were already eating.

“Luo Luo, your brother’s buns aren’t bad. Not as good as yesterday’s, but still pretty decent,” Ou Yang said.

“What did he make yesterday?” Qin Luo asked eagerly. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Tsk tsk,” Ou Yang chuckled. “He probably just didn’t feel like it. No worries—I’ll ask him next time. When he makes it, I’ll save you half.”

“Thanks, Brother Yang!”