HLM -Chapter 1125 The Cake is Out of the Oven

Hearing this, Wang Bo felt a bit frustrated and said, “Then why did you make me shake it by hand?”

Eva winked at him and smiled brightly. “Because I’m teaching you how to manually extract butter.”

In the end, they used a kitchen centrifuge. After putting in the cream and running it for two minutes, they opened the machine and took out the container. The top layer was delicate butter.

Beneath it was a layer of snowy white, creamy liquid. Wang Bo was about to pour it away, but Eva stopped him. “Why throw it away? This is skimmed milk—you can use it to dip your bread.”

She collected the liquid and then took a piece of butter cloth to wrap the butter.

After wrapping it, she took some ice from the fridge and made a large bowl of ice water, then immersed the butter in it.

“This process purifies the butter,” she explained. “It separates the remaining cream from the solid butter, so the final butter will be richer.”

Wang Bo smiled wryly. “Why is this so complicated? I saw there’s already butter in the fridge—why not just use that?”

Eva kissed him lightly and chuckled seductively. “A little patience. You weren’t this impatient in bed, were you? Come on, you have to learn how to extract butter yourself, right?”

He pretended to be shy. “No, no, don’t talk so suggestively—I have to blush and hide my face when I hear things like that.”

They joked lightly as the ice water turned milky. Then it was poured out, replaced with clean ice water, and the process repeated.

“You keep doing this until the ice water stays clear. Only then will the butter be truly delicate,” Eva explained.

After rinsing several times, the ice water finally stayed clear. Wang Bo opened the cloth and poured out the smooth, thick butter, then discarded the cloth.

Eva shook her head. “You really waste a lot. This cloth can be reused.”

The butter they had extracted was now pure enough. Eva took out a spice container filled with salt, vanilla, rosemary, and other seasonings.

“If you want salted butter, you can add some salt. You know, unsalted butter is quite sweet.” She divided the butter into portions for him to season.

Wang Bo asked, “What else can we add? I remember you make butter in many flavors.”

Eva smiled faintly. “Of course, anything you like—chives, orange, lemon or lime zest, rosemary or thyme, even garlic or ginger.”

The final step was to press the butter into molds, shaping it as desired.

The kitchen had several molds: small animals, birds, stars, and spheres.

These molds not only shaped the butter beautifully but also divided it into small portions, making it easier to eat.

After finishing the butter, Eva kept two cups for immediate use and put the rest into the fridge.

The butter they had made was soft and warm, but New Zealanders preferred their butter firmer and slightly chilled, so it needed refrigeration.

Wang Bo scratched his head and sighed in relief. “Finally done. My god, extracting butter is even more troublesome than cooking boiled meat.”

Eva laughed. “Don’t be so unspirited, my master chef. Come on, let’s bake some pastries. It’s easier than extracting butter and more fun—because you can eat it.”

She prepared flour, eggs, and cornstarch while Wang Bo took out a round eight-inch solid-bottom mold.

Before baking, the mold needed to be greased with butter. Wang Bo noticed beads of water on the surface.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Eva glanced at it. “No big deal. Butter tends to release water because oil doesn’t mix with water. It happens if the ice-water soaking wasn’t done properly, or if the salt isn’t evenly mixed. Just stir it a bit more.”

Wang Bo patiently stirred, and more water appeared. After discarding it and waiting a while, the butter no longer released water.

Now they could start. He brushed a thin layer of butter on the mold bottom. Eva cut a long strip of aluminum foil and laid it horizontally on the mold bottom.

“Actually, to be safe, you should cut two strips and cross them,” she said.

“Then why only one?”

Eva giggled. “Because I’m lazy.”

The foil made it easier to remove the cake later. Then they cut parchment paper into an eight-inch circle and a strip slightly higher than the mold’s edge, and laid them inside the mold—same purpose.

Eva had separated the egg whites from the yolks.

Next, she prepared the batter: sugar, milk, melted butter, and beaten egg whites. Wang Bo squeezed fresh lemon juice and mashed the yolks.

Baking a cake wasn’t simple—it wasn’t just mixing these ingredients with flour.

First, they whipped the egg whites with an electric mixer into foam, then added lemon juice and fine sugar, whipping until smooth.

Then, more sugar was added and whipped until the meringue formed soft peaks. Only then could it be folded with the egg yolks and flour.

A small portion of the meringue was folded into the yolk-flour mixture. Eva tapped the tool. “There are air bubbles. If we don’t release them now, the oven will make them explode like firecrackers.”

With everything ready, they put the pan into the oven and baked at 140°C.

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sweet aroma of baked pastries.

Dale and Little Bartier yawned and came out. “So hungry, sis. Why is breakfast so late today?”

Eva laughed. “It’s still a while until lunch, isn’t it?”

Dale said, “No, I mean breakfast.”

Eva spread her hands. “Oh, sorry dear, breakfast is over—don’t give me that look. Who made you get up so late?”

Dale protested, “It’s the weekend! I can sleep in, remember?”

Eva giggled. “I said you could sleep in when I sleep in too. Sorry, this weekend I’m not sleeping in.”

The strong-willed female dog queen and the little princess wagged their tails and ran over, staring at the oven and drooling at the smell.

Little Meng flew in, dropped a rabbit on Wang Bo’s shoulder, cooing softly.

Even Zhuang Ding hadn’t eaten breakfast. Wang Bo scooped a bowl of dog food, but it pushed it aside, eyes fixed on the oven, tongue flicking rapidly, waiting for the cake.