The tribe now had a large demand for bricks. Tribesn with nothing to do gathered at the brick kiln, squatting there with the cubs to make mud bricks.
The adults worked very fast, and the wooden warehouse near the kiln used for drying bricks soon beca full.
Finally, the Dwarves ca up with an idea to build a six-tier rack using wood. This way, the vertical space was utilized, and the sa warehouse could hold five or six tis more bricks without needing to build an extension.
Eric hadn’t gone to the brick kiln for the past few days; he was at ho making dry provisions for Max and the others.
With plenty of food now, tribesn traveling far didn’t need to bring only dried at. Eric planned to make so flatbreads for Max and the team to carry on the road.
This ti, taking Mat ho would take at least over a month, so naturally, the more dry provisions prepared, the better.
Eric carried bags of wheat flour up from the cellar one by one and took out all the basins in the house.
Previously, the tribe was busy clearing land, so the warriors didn’t train much. This ti, Michael and Grass were also going with Max, so the warriors would be temporarily led by Thomas again.
Over the next few days, Max would arrange these matters before preparing to depart.
It was a good ti for Eric to make flatbreads. In just half a day, the yard was filled with basins of dough waiting to prove.
Arthur peeked through the courtyard gate for a long ti. Discovering that the annoying guy really wasn’t there, he ran happily into the yard and squatted beside Eric, who was struggling to knead dough.
He asked curiously, "Are you planning to make mantou or stead buns? I like eating both!"
Eric looked at him blankly and poked his forehead with a flour-covered hand, leaving a white fingerprint.
"Who said I’m making this for you? This is dry food for Max to take on the road."
"Dry food..." Arthur stared greedily at the basin, dragging his voice in disappointnt.
Eric ignored him. If he really pitied Arthur and gave him food, the pitiful one would be Eric himself!
For so reason, Arthur’s appetite was increasing day by day. Initially, it was equal to an adult Snow Wolf’s intake, then gradually it started approaching that of the Ox-Head tribe.
Yet every ti he finished eating, his stomach remained flat. Eric wondered if it was connected to a dinsional space.
Seeing Eric ignoring him, Arthur squird aggrievedly in place a few tis, then suddenly had an idea and said, "I’ll help you! Look, there’s still so much flour left to do!"
Kneading so much dough made Eric’s arms sore and achy. If soone helped, it would be great, only...
He looked Arthur up and down suspiciously: "Do you know how?"
"Probably... I often see Sam and the others kneading dough. You can teach too." Arthur hesitated a bit, but for the sake of food, he spoke with determination.
Eric pulled over an empty basin for him and directed him to pour flour in.
A Snow Wolf’s basin could hold one or two hundred catties of flour, showing how massive its volu was.
Every ti he kneaded dough, it was truly exhausting. Fortunately, Eric had turned into a Snow Wolf now, and his stamina was better. If he were a normal human, kneading one basin of dough would probably leave him dead tired.
As for Arthur, Eric wasn’t worried about his stamina.
During land clearing, the scene of him pulling a plow a dozen tis larger than himself and zooming across the fields was still vivid. Eric was only slightly worried about whether he knew how to do it.
"Alright, alright, use this to practice your hand first. I’ll adjust the water amount for you."
After pouring so flour into the basin, Eric hurriedly stopped Arthur as he intended to pour more.
While Eric kneaded dough, a large water ball always hovered above the basin. Using it was like opening a tap; it flowed in small streams, controlled at will, incredibly convenient.
At this mont, he let the water ball float over to Arthur, washed his hands for him, and slowly poured water into the flour:
"Use chopsticks to stir the flour into flakes first, then knead it into a lump."
Arthur held the long chopsticks Eric placed beside the basin, slowly following his instructions to stir the flour into snowflakes.
"Not bad, not bad. Try kneading the dough." Eric was happy inside, seeing his movents looked decent.
Maybe Arthur was like Sam - people who liked to eat also liked to cook!
If Arthur could also beco a good cook, that would be even better. With such good stamina, he could work in the cafeteria perfectly. He could make whatever he wanted to eat, saving him from following Eric around all the ti.
Encouraged, Arthur’s eyes sparkled. Imitating Eric’s posture, he extended both hands and pressed into the pile of dough in the basin...
With a crash, the pottery basin shattered from the bottom. Flour mixed with pottery shards fell all over the ground with a rush.
Arthur maintained the posture of pressing both hands on the dough, standing there blankly. It took a long ti for him to react. He raised his flour-covered hands and looked at Eric with a face like he was about to cry.
"Sigh, I knew it! Can’t you learn a bit from Sam? How can he control his strength when cooking? And look at you; both are gluttons, but the highest realm of a glutton is making delicious food yourself. You’re still far from it!"
Eric sighed, pointing at Arthur and scolding him for failing to et expectations.
"I want to try again! Sam can do it; I definitely can too!" The more Arthur listened, the more unconvinced he beca.
If Sam could control his strength well enough to make so many delicious dishes, there was no reason Arthur couldn’t.
Seeing his goading tactic succeeded, Eric tilted his head and snickered a few tis, then turned back with a serious face:
"Wasting food is not good. Pottery basins aren’t easy to fire either; the clay bodies haven’t dried yet, so new ones can’t be made up imdiately. Breaking one ans one less to use. Go find a stone and make a few stone basins. Just make less dough each ti; try a few tis, and you’ll definitely get it!"
Arthur looked like he had been injected with chicken blood. His handso face tightened as he nodded solemnly, then he got up and went out to find stones of suitable size.
Seeing him act so decisively, Eric thought for a mont and handed him the cleaver.
Arthur wasn’t a Snow Wolf and didn’t have sharp claws; digging stone to make a basin wasn’t easy. Although Eric’s cleaver wasn’t a specialized tool, it had been forged by Luban to be very sharp and sturdy; as a high-grade weapon, shaving stone wouldn’t be a problem.
Arthur took the cleaver, but for so reason, he felt in his heart that he wouldn’t need to use this thing.
Having chased away this troublemaker, Eric stretched and rested for a while before standing up. Overusing his arms made him feel a bit weak now. Better to rest a mont, as he still had to bake the bread later.
He didn’t know when Halun’s rchant caravan would arrive. Eric wanted to ask if the human world had sesa seeds; flatbreads without sesa really lacked a soul.
He calculated silently; the human rchant caravan should arrive before long, bringing his cows and cotton. It would be even better if he could get cotton seeds.
To make delicious flatbreads, oil paste was naturally indispensable. Eric also knew a small trick told to him by his grandmother: the oil used for oil paste should preferably be boiled. That way, the resulting oil paste wouldn’t be sticky, and the flatbreads would be crispier.
He heated oil in a small iron pan, with flour prepared on the side. When the oil boiled, he poured it in and stirred well to make oil paste.
The best ratio of oil to flour was 1.5:1. If there was too much oil, it would be too thin and ineffective; if there was too little oil, it would be too thick and hard to spread evenly.
If there was sesa paste to spread a layer on the bread, the baked bread would taste incredibly fragrant.
As Eric stirred the oil paste, he rembered the sesa paste flatbreads he used to eat, and his mouth started to water.
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