HLM – Chapter 1051 Chive Bud Sauce with Hotpot, Winter Can Still Be Joyful

Amid the little beasts’ roughhousing, the wind and snow finally arrived.

First came the howling north wind. For New Zealand to have such strong winds was still related to an equatorial cyclone — the warm air from the equator charged southward, but after crossing the Tropic of Capricorn, the temperature dropped, sunlight weakened, and the warm airflow transformed into a cold one.

The pet lodge had only been built for two days when the cold current swept in. Temperatures suddenly fell below zero. The little beasts immediately became obedient—those with nests hid inside them, and those without ran into the wooden cabin or the villa, all seeking shelter from the cold.

Wang Bo wanted to take advantage of the time before the heavy snow to harvest some vegetables for winter. Over the weekend, he brought a group of trusted men to the vegetable garden and began the work.

The “Heart of the Vegetable Garden” had also leveled up to Level 3, allowing it to produce off-season vegetables without the use of greenhouses.

Atulu picked a lemon, peeled it, sniffed it, and exclaimed, “It’s still fresh—amazing.”

Uncle Bing lazily replied, “What’s so amazing? Look, there’s a whole patch of green chives and green peppers over there.”

“It’s normal to have chives in winter. They’re tastiest this season,” Atulu said.

Uncle Bing pointed at the chive field. “But have you ever seen chives blooming chive buds in winter?”

Wang Bo walked over to look—and sure enough, each chive stalk had a single slender flower bud, the kind that back home they called jiǔ tái (chive scapes).

He reached out and snapped one off. It was green and tender, and broke cleanly with a crisp “crack.”

Looking up at the heavy clouds, he said, “Let’s harvest the chive scapes first. After it snows, I’ll make something delicious for you.”

Hearing of something tasty, Atulu immediately stuffed a few lemons into his pockets and became energetic. He kicked off his shoes and stepped barefoot into the chive field, bending down to collect scapes.

Wang Bo winced at the sight. “Forget it, buddy, maybe you should do something else.”

With Atulu’s size, bending over to pick tiny chive scapes was a very inhumane task.

The Māori man was displeased and demonstrated by bending down fluidly. “You don’t know how flexible I am. I’ve got excellent flexibility!”

Juan asked in shock, “How did you train that?”

Atulu proudly said, “By working hard every day, of course.”

“You actually work out?” Kidd was astonished.

“Of course. When you make mistakes, you have to bow to your wife. When you treat your wife to dinner, help her bathe, wash her feet—doesn’t that all require bending over? It’s the best way to strengthen your waist.”

Elizabeth thought for a moment and said thoughtfully, “Atulu, I want to visit your house tonight. I’d like to bow to your wife as well—see if I can learn something from her.”

Cold sweat instantly ran down Kidd’s back.

With everyone working, they quickly collected over twenty catties of chive scapes. Wang Bo repeatedly said it was enough, but Atulu was still busy. “How is this enough? This is just for you to cook and eat. Make more—we want some to take home.”

Wang Bo was going to make chive bud sauce. It’s great as a side dish and even better as a dipping sauce for hotpot.

Everyone had great faith in his cooking and all wanted some to take home. In the end, they gathered more than fifty catties of chive scapes.

Wang Bo was speechless, but fortunately the preparation wasn’t troublesome.

The castle had an electric meat grinder. After washing the chive scapes, he ground them into a pulp and put them into a big basin.

Then he ground scallions, ginger, and garlic—especially ginger. They needed tender ginger, and lots of it, to mix with the chive scapes to create a unique flavor.

After mixing them, he added salt and chicken essence, then poured in some vinegar and stirred. A big basin of chive bud sauce was ready.

The castle had plenty of glass jars, and he filled them with the sauce.

Atulu helped pack one jar so full that the lid wouldn’t even go on. He still tried to force more in.

Seeing this, Wang Bo shook his head. “That’s not right, buddy. The sauce will release water because of the salt, so you need to leave some space. Also, chive bud sauce is quite spicy—it needs room to let the spice disperse.”

Atulu grinned. “No worries, boss. I’ll just divide it into two jars when I get home.”

“Good idea.” Uncle Bing nodded, opened his own bottle, and also stuffed more sauce inside.

Everyone agreed enthusiastically, leaving Wang Bo standing in the cold wind, feeling utterly defeated.

The fierce wind continued. After the cold current reached New Zealand and met the accumulated autumn clouds, it resulted in a hearty snowfall.

At the end of July, Sunset Town’s first snow of the year arrived.

Overnight, everything was covered in white. The towering castle had also turned snowy white. Wang Bo stood halfway down the mountain, holding an umbrella, looking out—the sky was dark and heavy while the land was pure white, giving the illusion that heaven and earth had switched places.

At that moment, the black sky felt like the heavy earth, while the white earth felt as light as the sky.

Snow rustled down. This was the perfect weather for sleeping—or hotpot.

Wang Bo gave everyone a break. Except for those on duty, everyone else could stay home and “hibernate.”

Snow fell outside, but the castle hall was lively. Office staff like Atulu, cowboys like Cousins, farm workers like Motak, and others like Anderson and Li Bo—more than fifty people—gathered together.

Wang Bo hosted a hotpot feast. Na Qingyang had brought back a traditional Chinese hotpot stove powered by charcoal. Such copper stoves were rare in New Zealand.

A glowing piece of charcoal was placed inside, and soon the broth around the pot began bubbling vigorously.

Beekeeper Tata was mixing honey with two of his fellow villagers. Wang Bo said, “You’re planning to dip vegetables in honey? That’s not good. You should dip them in chive bud sauce—that’s the real flavor.”

Tata shook his head stubbornly. “No. Honey tastes good with anything.”

Wang Bo shrugged. He still had some truffle honey Lancaster had made earlier.

Atulu, shaking his belly fat, was slicing venison. Wang Bo took a slice, swished it in the boiling broth, and dipped it in truffle honey.

The fragrant venison combined with sweetness and nutty aromas—definitely a unique flavor.

But two pieces were enough—fragrant and sweet, but too rich. He dipped a piece into the chive bud sauce instead. The refreshing, spicy, sour flavor of the sauce was still the best match for venison.

Li Xing swung his knife quickly, slicing neat pieces of venison. Uncle Bing nodded. “Nice knife work.”

Embarrassed by the praise, Li Xing said, “I’m nothing compared to you father and son. I only learned this for show. If we were on the battlefield, it’d be useless.”

Gerald nodded. “Yes, flashy but impractical.”

Uncle Bing glared. “Do you have to be so honest?!”

Li Xing: “…”