OFTLHFRO C49

Chapter 49: Bubble Milk Tea

It had to be said: apart from cooking, where he lacked talent, Huo Yan’s skills were excellent in most other things. After making just two cups, he grasped the trick—the pressure and angle were perfect.

This mutated plant couldn’t be cleanly cut with an ordinary knife; a hard scrape only left a shallow mark. It was difficult to slice.

Luo Mingchen could use his ability. What Huo Yan used was unclear—likely inner strength—but the cups he made turned out great.

By noon, the couple had sold a bit over twenty pieces of tofu, but had made dozens of cups in various sizes.

Luo deliberately made three sizes—large, medium, and small—and the straws could be bamboo tubes.

So, how to price the labor?

They couldn’t outsource this work; it had to be done by themselves.

A bit torn, Luo asked, “If we sell milk tea, how much per cup?”

Huo thought for a moment. “These cups are for the milk tea you mentioned?”

Luo nodded. “Mm.”

“Two copper coins per cup regardless of size, and cups can’t be purchased alone. If someone brings a personal cup, or refills a second cup, deduct two coins.”

Hearing that, Luo said, “That’s good, but it makes each milk tea quite a bit pricier.”

“People willing to buy milk tea with the cup included won’t mind. Those who think it’s not worth it can either bring their own cup or simply not buy.”

Luo nodded—made sense. “Let’s do that.”

“Mm.”

After finishing tofu in the afternoon, Luo began experimenting with milk tea.

There were no cows here, and buffalo milk was more expensive than goat milk, so he bought a barrel of goat milk.

Goat milk had a heavy tang; simmering it with almonds helped. After cooking, he fished the almonds out. Jasmine tea was another option to blend in.

Both methods worked, though with slightly different flavors—so two kinds of milk tea.

Of course, without milk powder or additives, it wouldn’t match modern milk tea shops exactly.

Still, people here had never tasted those versions. Without stabilized emulsifiers and sweeteners, smoothness and sweetness would be reduced—but without comparison, there was no loss.

Milk tea was simple: mix milk and tea.

Tea determined whether it tasted good; milk determined the mouthfeel.

To keep this milk tea from being easily replaced, Luo bought some tea trees to plant in his space.

Black tea worked best for milk tea, but if growing his own tea, he’d have to pick, pan-roast, dry, and sort the leaves—work he’d need to learn.

Troublesome, yes. But using common black tea would be easy to copy, and high-grade black tea wouldn’t be cost-effective; better to do it himself.

Grass jelly for the milk tea was made from dried mesona.

The dried herb was soaked and scrubbed clean, then simmered in fresh water with an appropriate amount of plant-ash lye until it became black liquid, then strained.

Brown rice slurry was poured in, whisked evenly, and simmered again. Once boiling, it was set aside, ladled out to cool, then chilled on ice; once set, it became grass jelly.

With a refrigerator and edible alkali, this would be simpler.

Unfortunately, the only alkali available was plant-ash lye—and he wasn’t sure how much to use.

It took two or three tries before Luo made grass jelly he liked.

The first failure was due to the lye; the second, because he stirred too slowly and lumps formed; the third succeeded after learning from experience.

Thanks to the space, making a large batch wasn’t a problem; the texture wouldn’t change over time.

When Luo thought of milk tea, he thought of bubble milk tea.

The pearls were made from tapioca starch.

Cassava was dug up, washed, peeled, and ground.

Then it was settled, the water changed and stirred to cloudiness, then settled again—repeating until the starch turned a clean white. Finally, it was dried in the sun for three to five days.

Thankfully Mid-Autumn hadn’t passed yet; the midday sun was still strong—good for drying.

Luo made plenty of tapioca starch.

Though pearls could be made with glutinous rice flour, sweet potato starch, or potato starch, tapioca had the best chew.

If he was going to do this, he would do it right.

He wanted people to think of something irreplaceable the moment they heard “milk tea.” That was success.

With tapioca starch, he could also make taro balls. Taro, sweet potato, pumpkin, purple yam, potato—different ingredients would give different colors.

Note: for taro balls, hot water made better texture, and it had to be added slowly; otherwise, it would turn into a… slurry.

After tinkering for a few days, all the ingredients were ready just before Mid-Autumn.

Drinking milk tea, Huo Xiang asked, “Little Daddy, can you make mooncakes?”

What he meant was, if Luo couldn’t, then they’d buy some.

But while stir-frying, Luo said, “Sure. What flavors? Lotus with salted yolk, five-nut, or something else?”

The chef who’d taught him to cook had actually preferred pastry-making. But since people liked cakes more than traditional pastries, being a pastry chef hadn’t paid well, so he cooked for a living—still hoping to pass on the country’s pastry craft. He’d taught Luo quite a few methods, and mooncakes were the first he learned.

“Mm… everything.”

He smiled sheepishly.

Luo glanced at him and smiled. “Alright.”

Happy to hear that, Huo Xiang remembered something. “Little Daddy, I want to bring a cup of milk tea to Yuanjing. He brought us pastries from his home last time.”

“Then bring a whole pot and share some with the other friends.”

“Okay!”

Thinking of something, Luo added, “If anyone’s interested, tell them after Mid-Autumn they can buy it at the shop.”

“Mm!”

Luo figured that counted as some early advertising.

When Huo heard Luo was going to make mooncakes too: “…”

Faced with his spouse’s enthusiasms, Huo could only be the fire-stoker.

One day of meat, then forced to eat vegetarian the next. At night, Huo held Luo—who was still muttering about where to source spices for braised snacks. Seeing he was energetic and not instantly asleep like before, Huo pinned him down.

Being suddenly kissed, Luo pushed him away, flipped, and straddled him. “You still owe me for tricking me last time.”

Huo took his hand and kissed it lightly. “How could that be called a trick?”

“I don’t care. Either I sleep with you—or you keep your distance.”

After a brief pause, Huo said, “If you can, then do.”

Suspicious, Luo asked, “So agreeable?”

Warm hands stroked his waist, and Huo said calmly, “You’re a man too. I’ll respect your wishes.”

With it put that way, Luo certainly couldn’t back down.

But he overlooked one problem—his technique wasn’t as good as Huo’s.

Kissed until his waist and legs went limp, Luo ended up agreeing to whatever Huo said through tears—just to get it over with quickly…