I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 138: Michael’s Achievement

The piping hot, thinly fried oyster pancake came out of the pan, its edges a crispy, golden brown. The fresh, soft, and juicy oyster meat became the perfect centerpiece within the pancake’s crust.

The batter, made from breadfruit, had a golden hue and a fragrance even richer than regular flour, making the pancake look all the more appealing.

The fried oyster pancake was cut into small pieces and placed on a separate plate. The remaining thin pancakes made from clam and shrimp meat were arranged on another plate.

Eric shook the large wok until his arm was sore. For the subsequent pancakes, Max took over shaking the wok with one arm, while Eric was only responsible for watching the fire.

This dish was very quick to make. Before long, the thin pancakes already filled a large plate.

The iron wok was heated again with animal fat. Eric added the shrimp balls one by one to fry. After a pleasant sizzling sound, the blue-gray shrimp balls quickly turned a beautiful pinkish-white.

There were many shrimp balls. Eric added them to the wok in small piles and flattened them. When cooked, they looked like exquisite little cakes.

Half of the shrimp cakes were sprinkled directly with seasoning powder; for the other half, Eric planned to make a sauce to drizzle on top.

He used cooking oil to sauté various spices, added a little sugar, onion and garlic powder, a bit of homemade oyster sauce, and finally added water, simmering it until it thickened.

The glistening sauce was drizzled over the top of the shrimp cake plate, letting it slowly drip down, seeping into every piece.

Over on the other side, Michael, smelling the enticing aroma, also quickened his pace. The mountain-like pile of abalones was shucked, their innards cleaned out one by one, and then placed in a basin.

The basin they brought wasn’t big enough. Michael immediately improvised, finding a suitably sized reef rock and using his sharp claws to carve it into a stone basin.

The reef rock by the seashore, having been eroded by the sea all year round, was very hard. The stone basin made from it was even sturdier than the one they had brought, and it looked much better.

Eric finished cooking the meal. Seeing the basins of clean abalones next to the reef rock, he contentedly approved the work, rewarding Michael with a large plate of clam and shrimp pancakes.

"I didn’t expect breadfruit could be made into flour! These pancakes are delicious!" Michael praised Eric with a thumbs-up as he devoured them.

He was eating delicious food, but his eyes inadvertently swept over the pile of oyster shells nearby, and his chewing motion immediately stopped. He hesitantly pointed at the pile of oyster shells and asked:

"This... was it made with that again? No, no, I don’t want to swim in the sea all night again!"

Clam meat and oyster meat were both very fresh. After being minced and seasoned by Eric, it was understandable that he couldn’t tell the difference.

Now he finally understood why Max had patiently waited for Michael to come over before eating with him today; this was the reason. Eric almost burst out laughing.

But in this matter, Eric was the main culprit, so he didn’t dare to laugh:

"No, no, your portion was made from clam and shrimp meat. I made the oysters on a separate plate for myself."

As he spoke, he held up the fried oyster pancake in his hand for Michael to see. Only then did Michael breathe a sigh of relief.

It seemed the oysters had caused him considerable psychological trauma. Eric bowed his head to hide a secret laugh, stuffing a piece of fried oyster pancake into his mouth.

Actually, eating a little was fine. Last time it was because those two ate too much. Eric couldn’t even remember how many steamers he had cooked for them before they finally stopped.

The shrimp cakes were fried to a golden crisp; biting into one, it was both chewy and tender. The version with seasoning powder and the one with sauce each had its own distinct flavor.

Fresh ingredients would taste good no matter how they were prepared.

The fried shrimp cakes and the thin pancakes with shrimp and clam meat filled them up. Although seafood isn’t filling for long, they couldn’t withstand the sheer amount of food here. There was still a large, tied-up crab waiting for Eric to deal with.

Eating a lot of seafood, though very fresh tasting, always felt like something was missing.

...

In the afternoon, the pot was still boiling salt. Michael felt he had nothing to do, so he ran off into the distance to hunt.

Max stayed at the seashore to protect Eric. In case some ignorant magic beast ran past, or if the seashore had another tsunami, they wouldn’t feel at ease leaving Eric alone.

The iron wok worked nonstop for twenty-four hours. At this moment, the seawater inside was boiling vigorously again.

This salt-boiling job, the busiest one was the large iron wok...

Eric had nothing to do, so he took a hemp rope, strung up the abalones, and hung them on the drying rack along with the previously collected seaweed. They couldn’t eat this much.

Eric also dried some clam meat, cleaned the sea cucumbers thoroughly, and hung them up to dry as well.

With so much to dry, Max found two sturdy branches, stuck them deep into the sand to fix them, and tied another branch horizontally between them, creating a temporary drying rack. Then he hung all the strung-up seafood on it.

Although the winter sun wasn’t strong, the sea breeze howled relentlessly. It would probably dry quickly.

This season, even if the seaweed and other things weren’t completely dry by the time they returned, they wouldn’t worry about them spoiling. In other seasons, they really wouldn’t be able to take so much.

...

The corn drying on the reef rock wasn’t completely dry yet, but because it had been stored in the cellar for several months, and after this long journey, the kernels themselves had begun to harden.

Eric wasn’t in a hurry, but now there was a patient in the tent. He took some and ground it with the stone mill.

To be able to cook corn porridge, Eric didn’t grind the corn kernels into fine powder, but stopped when they became tiny granules.

Water and ground corn were added to the pottery pot, and it was left to simmer slowly over a low fire.

Sleeping Beauty in the forest didn’t need to eat, but this wasn’t a fairy tale world.

The human Eric had picked up was still in a coma. He couldn’t last without eating or drinking. Porridge made from ground corn was nutritious and easy to digest, very suitable for a patient.

Since he had picked the person up, he couldn’t just ignore him. Eric added a little sugar to the corn porridge pot.

Although the green corn kernels produced a pot of green porridge, the corn aroma was very strong, and adding a little sugar made it even more fragrant and sweet.

The familiar smell made Eric take a deep breath. When he was little, he would never drink this stuff, yet now that he was grown, he started to miss that rustic taste.

Corn porridge had to be cooked for a long time until it thickened to be at its best. Eric stirred the porridge in the pot, then bent down to remove some of A the firewood.

"Next year, we’ll plant more corn." Perhaps seeing Eric’s wistful expression, Max, who was beside him, suddenly spoke up.

Eric nodded, saying wistfully: "Yes, that way we’ll have lots of cornmeal, and we can also roast corn, boil corn, and make corn cakes to eat."

Max had never heard of these dishes, but that didn’t stop his almost blind faith in Eric’s cooking skills.

"Anything you make will definitely be delicious."

Eric squinted his eyes smugly, thinking to himself: Of course, you have to see where I come from, the "foodie nation" isn’t just an empty name.

"I heard corn can also be used to brew wine. We’ll try it next year."

Max looked at him indulgently, his usually sharp features becoming gentler than ever.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled as if there was an earthquake, and the sound of giant footsteps reached Eric’s ears.

He looked in the direction of the sound. A large Snow Wolf was running happily this way, its mouth holding a large gray bird no smaller than itself.

Sensing Eric’s gaze, Michael raised his front paw and waved at him.

When he got closer, he transformed into his human form, calmly put on his clothes, and then dragged the large bird over with one hand.

...

Author: Let me tell you, while writing this Chapter at 1 AM, I suddenly craved corn cakes terribly, so I took a day off to make corn cakes. After making them, the craving was gone, so I gave them all to my nieces and nephews. See how free I am, haha~