Sky-cracking Rider

"'Polish, Polish, Polish Kind,' I actually forgot to prepare it, damn it! It was always Pu Aihua who did it before. I thought I had done it, but... it still wasn't done!"

Chef Abel, frustrated by his own negligence, ripped off his tall chef's hat and clenched it tightly in his hand.

The time required for the "Polish Kind" is too long; starting from scratch now would be completely too late.

"Chef Abel, how about this, let's change the kind? Or just add yeast directly, to make do on the fly."

Chen Fei had heard Teacher Shen Fei ramble about the little tricks of bread making more than a few times.

Even if he hadn't eaten pork, he had at least seen a pig run—he knew a bit, including what the so-called "Polish Kind" was all about.

The "Polish Kind" was nothing more than a refrigerated fermentation starter. This small pre-fermented dough under low temperatures could, to a certain extent, enhance the overall taste of the bread.

Chef Abel rejected the idea without question, "Change kind? How to change? Which kind to change to? No no no, my 'Baguettes' must use the 'Polish Kind.' Adding yeast directly is even worse; that would ruin my reputation!"

Then he paced anxiously in place.

As time ticked away by the second, Chen Fei was not ready to give up and tentatively said, "How about 'water roux'?"

"Ah? What the hell is 'water roux'?"

Abel was momentarily stunned, searching through his mind and realizing he had never heard of such a "kind".

"I have a friend who is a teacher; she is great at baking. She taught me that bread made with 'water roux' is fluffy and tasty, really fragrant and delicious."

Chen Fei spoke from experience, with utter sincerity, guaranteeing the truth of his words.

Teacher Shen Fei's little bread had a simple mix of ingredients—flour, eggs, butter, milk powder, and yeast—but the bread she made was fluffy and soft, with a rich wheat aroma accompanied by the fragrant smell of milk that made people crave for more, so much so that he once accidentally ate a whole metal wing nut.

"Fluffy, no no no, my 'Baguettes' are firm!"

Abel was a stubborn chef, sticking to his recipe, unwilling to make any changes.

Chen Fei once again brought two "sticks" and clanked them against each other in his hands.

Clang! Clang!

A clear clashing sound was unmistakable; this was truly crazy.

Didn't he have any idea?

To even dare call this thing bread?

Are you serious?

"..."

Chef Abel's gaze grew distant, his face flushed shyly, and he modestly said, "Paired with my Gaulish thick soup, it will be absolutely delicious."

These two "sticks" were along the same lines as the lamb soup buns—without the lamb soup, the bun is also a weapon.

"Then let's change the way we eat it, my 'Baguettes,' not yours."

Chen Fei gradually took the upper hand.

His racial talent was coming into play.

"Cheese fondue?"

Chef Abel's eyes lit up. All he had been stubbornly defending was his own "Baguettes"—now Chen Fei's words had led him to leap out, as if unlocking the door to a whole new world, silly pig!~

"Uh! You could add some stuff!"

Chen Fei thought, don't keep running down the lamb soup buns' path to oblivion, hurry up and come over to the donkey meat sandwich side.

"That's doable, how about truffle? Add some caviar too, yes yes yes, white truffle and caviar is a perfect match."

Abel began to daydream, letting his imagination run wild.

"How about stinky tofu? It can supplement vitamin B12, and prevent dementia in old age."

Chen Fei felt that Chef Abel was drifting off, forgetting his station and daring to even think about truffle and caviar—so he couldn't help but retort.

Poisoning the well late at night was only fair.

"... Ugh!"

Abel was indeed grossed out, rushing over to the sink and retching several times before he recovered, turning back with a grimace, frustratedly saying, "Chen Fei, you did that on purpose!"

Chen Fei said with a smile, "If you don't like stinky tofu, then let's do sausages, beef, and vegetables. As for the white truffle and caviar, perhaps you should ask Manager Morris first."

"Then forget it, let's go with your idea—sausages, beef, vegetables, and we still have some pickles in the kitchen."

Chef Abel seemed to have sobered up, realizing that if he truly went to look for the executive manager as foolishly as he imagined, he'd likely be fired on the spot.

But that stinky tofu hurdle was just insurmountable!

"All done, let's start by boiling the water, it needs to be rolling boil!"

Chen Fei got busy, setting up a pot, and cranked the heat to boil the water. Then he scooped several shovelfuls of flour, pouring in corn oil, butter, and sugar, and began vigorously stirring the mixture in a stainless steel bowl.

It didn't take long for the water to boil, burbling and bubbling as it was poured into the mixed oily flour paste, followed by another round of stirring, turning it into an even thinner batter.

"Boiling water kind" done!

Chef Abel watched Chen Fei's series of actions dumbfounded, ending with a product somewhat similar to "Polish Kind" but thinner.

"Next, we'll start the dough-making process. How much flour do we need?"

Chen Fei put the stainless steel bowl with the "boiling water kind" aside and looked at Chef Abel.

"Twenty kilograms should be enough."

Chef Abel led Chen Fei to a dough mixer machine.

Pouring "boiling water kind," water, milk powder, butter, a dozen eggs crackling away, two ten-kilogram bags of whole wheat bread flour, sprinkling yeast dissolved in water, dough conditioners, and setting the timer for 1 hour.

"Alright, it's time for the potatoes!"

Chef Abel clapped his hands and walked over to a big crate of potatoes that had been moved out from the cold storage.

Chen Fei glanced at the dough mixer clanking away, then back at Chef Abel, and finally looked at his own hands.

What happened to the promised kneading technique, and you end up showing me this?

The legend of high-class cuisine instantly shattered the illusion.

Chen Fei didn't even need to peel the potatoes himself; his job was to roughly brush them under the tap with a brush and then dump them into a potato-peeling machine, waiting for each soft, pink potato to be peeled and dispatched.

Slicing, cutting into strips, or shredding—there were specialized machines for all that.

Full manual processing wasn't even an option; machines were more cost-effective.

The peeled potatoes were steamed vigorously in a steaming cabinet, then mashed, shaped into potato cakes using a molding press, sprinkled with dry flour, and left to be fried as dawn approached. Dipped in a bit of salt and pepper, they were an excessively fragrant first-class treat.

After assigning Chen Fei his tasks, Chef Abel busied himself with his own work. The kitchen was filled with the noises of banging and clanging for a full hour before finally taking a brief respite.

By then, the dough in the mixer had successfully formed a gluten film and was kneaded into long strips by Chef Abel and Chen Fei together. They lined up the strips on large baking trays, stacking them in the big oven, and started the automatic proofing and baking program, which lasted two hours in total.

The bakery's large oven could bake a hundred "Baguettes" at once, and after cooling off by morning, they'd be ready to serve at breakfast.

An entire "Baguette" required several people to share, and twenty kilograms of whole wheat flour could produce eighty "Baguettes." Considering that not everyone would opt for bread, this quantity was just right to serve over two hundred people across the base.

They kept busy until midnight, and by 12 a.m., all the ingredients necessary for breakfast were finally prepared.

After placing the last freshly baked new-style "Baguette" on the stainless steel cooling rack, Chen Fei dusted off his hands, ready to bid Chef Abel farewell.

Chef Abel handed him a "Baguette" and a large chunk of stewed beef, winked, and said, "Come early tomorrow, help me out for two hours each day, and I'll pay you... I'll pay you... two hundred, not a penny more."

It might not have been enough money, but there were always perks in the kitchen. With the chef's authority, it didn't really break any rules.

Without Pu Aihua to assist him, he had no choice but to ask Chen Fei for help. It was a necessary compromise, and he probably still needed to confirm this expense with Morris Morgan, the executive manager at the Aircrew Base.

Looking at the still-warm bread and beef in his hand, Chen Fei didn't hesitate and said, "Deal!"

A whole "Baguette" along with the beef was enough for two meals, and with a bit of saving, even three was not out of question.

After finishing the small bread that Teacher Shen Fei gave him, his next meals were secured, and he had a little extra income from the kitchen. Only a fool would refuse.

As dawn broke, people started to arrive at the base's mess hall.

The brightest star of the 911 Aircrew Base, the flamboyant Major Chekhov, arrived at the cafeteria surrounded by a crowd. The pilots didn't need to pay for their own meals; it was buffet style, and they could take whatever they wanted.

The raunchy Big Bear, as usual, casually took a "stick" in hand, waving it around while boasting brashly and obscenely.

"Think of it, Chekhov has roamed the Jianghu for over forty years, seen countless women, and no girl could resist when they saw my big treasure sword, they were always ready to throw themselves into my arms..."

As he spoke, the "big treasure sword" in his hand suddenly began to wobble and inexplicably went limp, flopping down dispiritedly.

The room fell suddenly silent, then erupted into a roar of laughter, his bragging instantly deflated.

Chekhov Leonidovich Ivanov's face turned ashen.

For over forty years I've roamed the Jianghu, and never have I been so embarrassed...

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