diymy Chapter 114 Osmanthus Honey
Chapter 114 Osmanthus Honey
Chapter 114 Osmanthus Honey
The next task was even more meticulous.
The collected osmanthus flowers were poured into a bamboo winnowing basket, and the thin branches, withered leaves, and insects had to be picked out.
The three people sat around the stone table in the courtyard.
Su Mu moved extremely fast, his fingers flying, picking out the impurities as if they had eyes.
Little Sizi was just causing trouble. He grabbed a handful of flower petals and threw them into the sky, shouting that it was snowing, before being suppressed by Su Mu.
Only Fang Qingjun's fingers, which were holding the flower petals, seemed a little stiff.
She had never done this kind of work before.
The tiny, withered stems were mixed in with the petals, their colors similar, making them extremely difficult to distinguish. She carefully picked one out, but it brought out several whole petals along with it.
"Tsk."
Su Mu couldn't stand it anymore.
"Are you nitpicking, or are you embroidering?"
Su Mu pushed his winnowing basket aside, leaned over, and said, "By the time you finish picking them, the flowers will all be wilted."
Fang Qingjun withdrew her hand somewhat awkwardly, her face flushed red: "I—I didn't do any of these things—"
"Watch."
Su Mu didn't care about the proper separation between men and women and directly reached into her winnowing basket and rummaged around in it.
"Relax your fingers, don't squeeze so tightly. Use your fingertips to feel the hardness of the withered branch and the softness of the petals. Keep your eyes open, don't fixate on one spot."
His hand was right beside hers, and occasionally, when he pointed, his fingertips would inadvertently brush against the back of her hand. Rough, warm, with calluses from years of holding a knife.
Fang Qingjun felt that patch of skin was burning hot, and her heartbeat became a little erratic.
She lowered her head, not daring to look at Su Mu's face, and felt that the fragrance of osmanthus flowers filling the courtyard seemed to have become somewhat intoxicating.
"Did you learn it?" Su Mu withdrew his hand.
"Hmm—probably."
Fang Qingjun nodded haphazardly and tried to pick again. This time, although her movements were still slow, she was at least doing a decent job.
The selected osmanthus flowers should first be soaked in salt water to remove their astringency, and then drained.
Su Mu found several clean earthenware jars.
"A layer of osmanthus flowers, a layer of sugar."
Su Mu spread a thick layer of white sugar on the bottom of the jar, then grabbed a handful of golden osmanthus flowers, sprinkled them on top, and pressed them down firmly.
Add more sugar, then add more flowers.
The movements were very rhythmic and pleasing to the eye.
"This is called pickled osmanthus honey."
Su Mu sealed the jar tightly with mud, and said, "Place it in a cool, shady place and wait for ten days to half a month, so that the sugar can draw out all the juice from the flowers and let it mix together. Then, whether you use it to make tea or desserts, it will be absolutely delicious."
Fang Qingjun looked at the sealed jars and pondered how to ask for them.
Before she could think of a word, Su Mu casually picked up a small jar and tossed it around.
"This jar is on you."
Fang Qingjun looked up in surprise: "For me?"
"Um.
""
Su Mu shoved the jar into her arms. "Take it back and put it away properly. Don't let your greedy dad open it prematurely. This stuff isn't ready yet; it'll just taste like grass if you eat it now."
Fang Qingjun held the heavy jar of osmanthus honey, a sweet feeling rising in her heart.
Was this something he specially saved for me?
She recalled the scenes in storybooks where talented men and beautiful women exchanged tokens of love, and her face flushed slightly.
This osmanthus honey symbolizes sweetness, yet it must be sealed away and awaited... isn't that...?
"Mr. Su————"
Fang Qingjun's voice trembled slightly, and her hand gripping the hem of her clothes tightened. "This gift is too much, I—"
"What's so heavy about it?"
Su Mu interrupted her, turning to clean up the mess on the table. "This settles the debt you owed for washing the dishes last time, plus the wages for helping out earlier. We're even now."
Fang Qingjun's unspoken declaration of love remained stuck in her throat.
Debt settlement?
Both sides cleared up?
Looking at Su Mu's nonchalant back and then at the jar in his arms, she was both amused and exasperated, and the little bubble of romance in her heart was instantly burst.
This guy—he really is such an unromantic blockhead!
"What? You think it's not enough?"
Su Mu turned around and saw that she was still standing there without moving. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Why don't you sweep this floor again? I'll give you another can."
Fang Qingjun bit her lower lip and, as if in a fit of pique, put the jar into the food box.
"No need! This jar is enough!"
After several autumn rains, the large water vat in the backyard of the imperial kitchen was filled with withered yellow leaves.
The bluestone slabs beside the well were damp. Su Mu squatted there, with a large bamboo basket about half a person's height next to him, filled with lotus roots that had just been dug out from the Taiye Pond during dredging.
The lotus roots are at their most starchy at this time of year, and they are as thick as a child's arm. Their skin has a rusty color and looks unremarkable, but when you cut them open, they are full of starch.
Su Mu picked up the loofah seeds and used the well water to scrub the mud off the lotus root, revealing its fair and tender flesh.
With a gentle scrape of the back of the knife, the thin layer of skin peeled off, revealing a honeycomb-like network of holes inside.
He cut a lid off one end of the lotus root and kept it for later use.
Fang Qingjun was familiar with the place this time and didn't treat herself as an outsider. She hung the light blue shawl on the rack, rolled up her sleeves, and was ready to help.
"Hey, this is delicate work; your hand is for holding a pen."
While saying this, Su Mu handed over a pair of chopsticks and a bowl of glutinous rice that had been soaking overnight. "Pour the rice in, but don't fill it too full. The rice will expand when it's cooked. If you stuff it too tightly, the lotus root will burst."
Fang Qingjun held the slippery lotus root, unsure of where to begin.
Glutinous rice grains are small and wet; if you're not careful, they'll stick to your hands and run around everywhere.
She carefully poked the chopsticks into the hole, her movements as slow as carving a flower on a grain of rice.
Su Mu couldn't stand it, so he put down the knife in his hand, grabbed a handful of rice and smeared it directly on the cut of the lotus root, then slapped his palm down and flicked his wrist.
Two thuds.
As if they understood what was being said, the rice grains obediently slid into the holes following the vibration, filling them completely.
"This is called a shakeout."
, 7
Su Mu poked it again with his chopsticks, "We need to leave some space for it to breathe, otherwise it won't cook through."
Their hands inevitably touched on the wet cutting board.
The lotus root juice is slippery, and feels slightly cool to the touch, yet also like it's electrified.
Fang Qingjun's hand trembled, and she almost dropped the lotus root on the ground. She lowered her head and stared at the holes, her ears turning red. She didn't dare to breathe loudly.
Su Mu didn't seem to care. He deftly put the cut-off lotus root lid back on and used a few toothpicks to secure it at an angle.
The water in the large iron pot has already boiled.
A dozen or so sealed lotus roots were thrown in, splashing up a few water droplets.
Su Mu didn't rush to put the lid on the pot. Instead, he poured in most of a bowl of red yeast rice powder, which was used for coloring.
Next came two large chunks of brown sugar, a handful of rock sugar, and then a handful of red dates and a few preserved plums.
This dish doesn't require any fancy techniques; it all depends on the cooking time and temperature.
Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a simmer and cook slowly.
At first, there was only a faint mist, but after half an hour, the sweet fragrance began to become more overpowering.
The caramelized aroma of brown sugar mingled with the unique fragrance of lotus root and the warmth of red dates, wafting into one's nose and lingering in the quiet courtyard, impossible to shake off.
1