I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 100: Meat Pies

"When this pot of stewed bones is ready later, you all can eat as much as you want." Eric was teased by the group until he burst out laughing.

Under his command, everyone worked together to make a stone mortar, then helped him grind all the wheat into flour.

Looking at the amount of flour ground, Eric mentally calculated the amount needed to make the meat-filled pies, estimated setting aside half, and took the rest to store in the kitchen.

With the appetites of these people, the number of pie crusts needed would also consume quite a bit of flour.

Afraid he would get tired, everyone enthusiastically wanted to knead the dough for him. This was a task that required technique; don’t be fooled by its simple appearance, an ordinary person needed skill to knead a good dough.

Eric was a bit hesitant to entrust it to these clumsy-handed Snow Wolf people, thought for a moment, then chose the person he found the most meticulous, Michael, to help.

Attracted by the delicacy and curiosity, the group of Snow Wolf people in the Red Grass clan’s territory also relaxed their guard, ignoring the other beastmen who were gathering around to watch.

They crowded around Michael, watching Eric teach him how to knead the dough. The Snow Wolf people who weren’t chosen felt a bit unconvinced.

In their eyes, every time Eric kneaded the dough, it looked very simple. Wasn’t it just adding water to the flour and kneading it into a lump?

After washing his hands, Michael began to knead the dough under Eric’s instruction.

When Michael started, the others finally saw its difficulty. Kneading dough for the first time, Michael’s hands were covered in flour, both sticky and hard to wash off. The dough in the bowl was very difficult to knead together.

Fortunately, the amount of water was controlled by Eric; otherwise, it really would have been like the first time he ruined dough as a child: too much water, add more flour; too much flour, add more water, finally ending up with a giant lump of dough.

Max let out a cold, contemptuous snort. Michael was furious, and while Max wasn’t paying attention, he smeared the dough stuck on his hands onto Max’s face, then burst out laughing.

Max’s face darkened, and he was about to give him a beating when he saw that crafty fellow already pretending to be serious, slipping over to Eric’s side, forcefully kneading the slightly-formed dough back together.

Although the shape was odd, it was finished nonetheless. Eric found a lid to cover the dough bowl.

Fortunately, the appetites of the Ox-Head clan were also not small, and their eating utensils were large; this bowl was just right for kneading dough. If it were the bowls from his previous life, the number of bowls needed to feed this group of Snow Wolf people would probably have to be lined up in a long row.

Eric saw that Max was in a bad mood, guessing if it was because not being asked to knead the dough had hurt his pride, so he smiled brightly and pulled him over to learn how to wrap the pies with him.

Max, who was just looking for a chance to thrash Michael, felt his ears suddenly turn red, letting Eric pull him to the wooden board.

He saw Eric’s deft fingers pinch off a piece of dough, stuff the meat filling in; the five fingers flipped back and forth, sealing the meat filling within the dough wrapper, looking like an artistic performance.

"Max?" Eric waved the finished pie in front of Max’s eyes: "Why are you zoning out? Do you think it’s too hard?"

"I know how, I know, let me!" A Snow Wolf warrior eagerly ran to the side of the cutting board.

"I can do it too!"

This task looked much simpler than kneading dough. Several Snow Wolf people surrounded them, looking at Eric with expectant eyes.

He shooed them all away to wash their hands, but didn’t refuse. In any case, it was best if the pies were wrapped nicely, but if they broke and some filling leaked out, they would still taste good when fried.

The number of people asking for a beating increased by several more. Max stared at this group with an unfriendly gaze.

Yet they were all immersed in the joy of wrapping the pies themselves, not a single one noticing his fierce gaze. Only Michael was squatting nearby, gloating at their misfortune.

A soft lump of dough was suddenly stuffed into his hand. Max looked down and saw the little guy’s smiling, crescent-shaped eyes.

"I’ll wrap another one, Max, watch." Eric also pinched off another lump of dough and wrapped one.

His irritated mood was as if swept away by a gentle breeze. Max’s heart calmed down, and he learned how to stuff the meat filling into the dough with the little guy.

The hands that were usually powerful when dealing with demonic beasts now became clumsy when facing the soft dough and meat filling.

After managing to barely seal the meat filling, what lay in his hand was an ugly lump of dough. Max sheepishly placed it on the cutting board.

It was rare to see this side of Max, and Eric also found it very novel.

The weather outside was cold; afraid these dough balls would freeze solid, Eric quickly found a wooden stick and rolled the wrapped dough balls into flat, round pie shapes.

Michael had already experienced the difficulty of kneading dough, so he didn’t eagerly demand to wrap pies.

The other Snow Wolf people, after drying their hands, also followed suit and wrapped a few; not a single one wasn’t bizarrely shaped, ugly in a myriad of ways. Max’s mood was immediately balanced again.

After the sauce in the pot of soy-braised bones had reduced, it was poured into a large ceramic jar. The cast-iron pan was washed clean, beast oil was added, and Eric began to fry the pies.

Even though the ones the others wrapped were a bit ugly, they tasted just as delicious when cooked. When he was little, he loved picking the broken pies, always feeling that the meat filling inside such pies also got seared and crispy, tasting even better.

The surface area of the cast-iron pan was large; Eric basically couldn’t reach the center. Too lazy to use the large iron spatula to place the pie, he tossed the pie into the center of the pan as if he were making Indian Roti.

The aroma of the frying pies wasn’t as strong as the soy-braised bones, but the crust frying in the hot oil released the characteristic fragrance of wheat, blending with the taste of the meat to create a rich and special flavor that wafted into every nook and cranny.

Under Eric’s command, Max flipped each pie. The other side was fried to a golden brown, looking so delicious it made everyone drool.

The other beastmen also couldn’t help but move closer. Every one of them used their height to crane their necks and look into the pan.

Although they didn’t know what this food was, it looked too appetizing. In an instant, the sound of swallowing saliva came from all directions.

Attracted by this sound, Eric moved his gaze from carefully watching the fire, looking around to find the source of the noise.

He shouldn’t have looked; the moment he did, the crowd that had gathered at some unknown point startled him, making him subconsciously shrink behind Max.

These tall, sturdy beastmen wore beast-skin clothing of various colors. The beastman standing at the very front had a physique in no way inferior to the Ox-Head clan people.

Among this crowd, the most eye-catching ones were not the more muscular individuals, but a group of black-haired beastmen.

They also wore beast skins, but unlike the others, their clothes had clearly been sewn by a highly skilled tailor.

Jet-black cotton fabric was adorned with beast fur and pearls, gemstones; the tailoring was well-fitted, and they even wore jewel-encrusted leather belts at their waists.

Amidst a crowd of plainly dressed beastmen, it was not an exaggeration to say they were a strikingly different group.