I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 270: Exhausting Work

The weather had been a bit cold the past few days, so the dough proved somewhat slowly. Eric wasn’t in a rush. After making the oil paste, he went to pick all the ripe chilies in the pots.

After a winter, and with Eric occasionally casting natural magic to water them, the chilies planted in the pots had begun to ripen one after another. Each chili was as large as a sharp horn, crowding together, bright red and incredibly beautiful.

The chilies grew too tall and big. Seeing the weather had improved, Eric moved them outside to plant along with the garlic.

This type of chili was both big and spicy, and its unique fragrance was also very strong. As Eric picked the ripe chilies, there were still many small fruits behind them; it was clear another batch would ripen before long.

As someone who had recently joined the spicy food team, Eric’s eyes lit up seeing so many bright red chilies.

Besides drying them to make dried chilies, fresh chilies also had many ways to be eaten. The tribe had started going to the river to catch fish again these days. Every time Eric ate a big fish head, he couldn’t help but remember the Hunan-style steamed fish head with fresh chopped chilies, spicy and delicious, featured on the Chinese Cuisine 888 channel.

He used to drool over it but couldn’t eat it due to his constitution. Now that he had the chance, he definitely had to make it.

There were two types of chopped chili sauce: one was more refreshing, and the other had added oil, looking red and glossy. Eric preferred the red chopped chili sauce now; it tasted great mixed with noodles or added to cooking.

After removing the stems from the fresh chilies, Eric brought out the grinder and put these chilies along with washed and peeled garlic into it to grind.

When grinding chilies and garlic with a machine, one had to be careful not to grind them too finely; if the particles were too small, the flavor wouldn’t be rich enough.

Coming to this world, everything was done in large quantities, and chopped chili sauce was no exception.

Eric brought out a pottery jar as big as a water vat, put the chopped chilies and garlic in, then added salt and sugar. Finally, he had to add white liquor and stir well so the chili sauce wouldn’t spoil.

The mouth of the jar also had to be sealed tight. After waiting about twenty days, it would be ready to eat.

After finishing the chopped chili sauce - although Eric didn’t chop it by hand - handling so many chilies made the air feel filled with spiciness.

This was only the first batch of picked chilies. The later batches would get spicier and spicier, probably because they were subjected to too much natural magic, resulting in excessive nutrition for the chilies.

The chilies he planted were from seeds taken from dried chilies exchanged with the human merchant caravan. Those chilies were only the size of bird’s eye chilies in his past life; who knew he would grow them to be the size of horn peppers?

Moreover, being so big yet still so spicy, Eric liked them immensely. Only chilies like this were good chilies, grown with heart.

Eric hugged the heavy, full jar of chopped chili sauce and placed it in the cellar. He accidentally glanced at the pottery jars of salted eggs and remembered there were still many salted eggs left uneaten. He had been so busy recently that he forgot about them after putting them in the cellar.

Originally, salted eggs were ready to eat in thirty-something days. These had been there for nearly two months. Fortunately, the temperature in the cellar was low; otherwise, they would have turned into rotten eggs.

Eric opened a jar to smell; luckily, there was no strange odor. It was also fortunate that when he first salted the eggs, fearing they would freeze outside at night, he put them in the cellar. Otherwise, with the temperature rising now, leaving them outside for two months would really have spoiled them.

He fished out a basin full of salted eggs (actually assorted eggs) from inside and hurriedly carried them up.

He boiled water in a pot. When the water boiled, Eric poured these eggs in and covered the lid to boil. Salted eggs needed to be boiled longer than fresh eggs.

Just remembering it now, Eric went down to the cellar to fish out two more jars of salted eggs and put them all into the pot to boil.

Once cooked, the salted eggs could also serve as dry food for the journey. Eaten with flatbreads, the taste wouldn’t be bad.

When they were cooked, Eric personally picked a green salted duck egg to taste. He peeled the slightly hot salted duck egg, and the yolk oozed oil. He couldn’t withstand the temptation and took a bite; the salty, fragrant yolk had a sandy texture and was full of oil. It was truly very successful.

Of course, this was also due to the excellent quality of the ingredients. In his past life, Eric used store-bought duck eggs to make salted eggs, and the taste was far inferior to the salted duck egg in his hand.

Eating the salted duck egg alone wasn’t bad, just a bit salty. Eric couldn’t handle it after eating half and grimaced while drinking a mouthful of water.

His drinking water now was all summoned by water magic.

Previously, he followed the tribesmen to drink river water, then well water after digging a well in the yard. But once, Eric curiously tasted the water summoned by magic and found this type of water tasted fresher and sweeter than well water, incredibly delicious.

It was just that he hadn’t found green tea yet. This water quality was comparable to cold spring water on high mountains; not using it to brew tea was too wasteful.

At this time, the lumps of dough bathing in the warm sunlight also began to finish proving one after another. Eric started with the earliest kneaded dough, found a chopping board and rolling pin, and rolled out a large piece of dough until it became a big round cake.

After wrestling with it all day, Eric grimaced while rolling the dough. Why was this work even more tiring than clearing land? He looked around; nearly twenty basins of dough were all kneaded by him in this one day, amounting to several thousand catties of flour. No wonder his arms felt like they couldn’t be lifted.

He was only now starting to bake the first batch, and rolling the cakes also required arm strength. Eric couldn’t help but feel a bit worried.

He just wanted Max and the others to eat better on the road, but he was a bit too hasty. Had he known it would be this tiring, he should have done it slowly or found someone to help. Now look, he almost worked himself to death.

Thinking of this, Eric couldn’t help but start admiring the Snow Wolves and Dwarves working in the cafeteria. The rice they needed to cook every day was several times more than what he was making this time; this was all exhausting work.