Chapter 186: Honey

The suggestion to make sweet potato starch quickly reached the ears of the old village secretary and the brigade leader.

The two of them made a plan and realized that turning half of the stored sweet potatoes into starch would be enough to last until the wheat harvest. After all, there were only a few days left before it could be harvested.

So, they mobilized the village canteen staff to begin producing sweet potato starch.

The old secretary and brigade leader also hoped to let the villagers eat a little better before the busy farming season. Constantly eating sweet potatoes really wasn’t ideal—not only did they leave you hungry again quickly, but they also caused relentless flatulence.

Once everyone heard that the sweet potatoes could be made into starch and then further processed into vermicelli, who wouldn’t start drooling?

In just one day, Zhoujiazhuang had produced shimmering white sweet potato starch.

In essence, this was just the starch extracted from sweet potatoes.

To make vermicelli, further processing was needed.

The next step was making the paste.

This involved cooking the starch in hot water and stirring continuously. While stirring, more sweet potato starch needed to be gradually added to ensure the paste had the right consistency—neither too runny nor too thick.

“Put your back into it! Didn’t you eat?”

“Why don’t you do it then? Easy to talk when you’re not doing the work. Did I eat? When was the last time our village had rice?” the person retorted immediately, not in the mood to put up with backseat directing.

And truly, this task was exhausting.

It was like mixing cement on a construction site before mixers existed—stirring cement was one of the hardest jobs because of its stickiness, and the same applied here. Mixing the paste required serious strength.

“You three, go help too.”

Another three people joined the mixing crew. In the large vat, half was already filled with the starch paste.

Zhou Yimin, who had been watching, initially planned to take some starch home to eat once it was done. But when he saw how the people mixing the paste were dripping sweat into it, he instantly lost his appetite.

People of this era simply weren’t that particular.

Having food to eat was already a blessing—who cared about hygiene?

Even the gutter oil condemned by future generations would’ve been snatched up in minutes in this time. Hygiene? That was a luxury. Only those who weren’t starving could afford to worry about health.

Besides, a bit of sweat was nothing compared to the additives in future food products.

Still, Zhou Yimin couldn’t help but feel slightly put off seeing the sweat fall. If he hadn’t seen it, he probably would’ve just eaten it without thinking.

“Boil the water,” the person who knew how to make sweet potato vermicelli instructed.

Next to them, a large pot of water was put on to boil.

Someone began scooping the starch paste with a ladle—a ladle made from a hollowed-out gourd with a few holes poked in it—and held it over the boiling water. The paste would drip through the holes and form strands of vermicelli.

This step was called silk dripping.

At this stage, it became obvious whether the paste had the right consistency.

If the strands weren’t too thick, too thin, or breaking apart, the paste was just right. If they dripped too fast and broke apart, the paste was too runny and needed more dry starch to restore elasticity. If they came out slowly, unevenly, or too thick, the paste was too dry and needed more wet starch.

“Scoop them out and put them in the cold water vat,” the person instructed calmly.

Once the strands sank to the bottom and floated back up, they were ready to be removed and transferred to a cold-water vat for cooling.

“Quick, hang the vermicelli on those wooden sticks, rinse them in that other vat, then take them out to dry.”

The cooled vermicelli needed to be gathered into bundles, threaded onto wooden sticks, dipped again in another cold water vat, and gently agitated until the strands separated.

Finally, they would be taken outside to dry in the sun and become the sweet potato vermicelli we see in daily life.

“How do you eat these vermicelli noodles best?” someone was already dreaming of the next meal.

“Pork stew with vermicelli?”

“In broad daylight? What kind of dream are you having?” someone quickly crushed that hope.

Where was the pork supposed to come from?

“In another ten days or so, isn’t the village going to slaughter a pig?” This wasn’t just wishful thinking—according to tradition, the village usually slaughtered a pig before the wheat harvest so everyone could enjoy a couple of good meals.

The moment that was said, everyone started salivating.

Pork stew with vermicelli usually used sweet potato or potato vermicelli.

“Yes, we’re definitely making pork stew with vermicelli.”

…

That afternoon, a group of children, faces swollen and bruised, came to Zhou Yimin’s house.

“Sixteenth Grandpa, here’s the honey we found.” As they spoke, they placed a large bucket filled with honeycomb and honey in front of him.

They wanted to eat the honey too, of course, but their families had told them to bring it to Sixteenth Grandpa.

They had food to eat, books to read, and clothes to wear all thanks to him—they had to show their gratitude.

Zhou Yimin looked at their bruised and swollen faces and, though moved, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Their kindness was hard to refuse.

He set the honey aside and had each child come over one by one so he could remove the bee stingers.

Once a bee stings someone, it usually dies.

That’s because the stinger has barbs that get stuck in the skin, and as the bee tries to pull away, its internal organs are damaged or torn out, leading to death.

The stinger is a modified ovipositor made of a dorsal and two ventral parts, all connected to the bee’s venom gland and internal organs.

As long as the stinger is removed, the swelling goes down fairly quickly.

Then, Zhou Yimin took out some soap, made a bit of soapy water, and applied it to the children’s stings. Bee venom is acidic, so soap or baking soda can help neutralize it.

“Wait, don’t go yet,” Zhou Yimin called out.

He brought the honey into the house, then came back out with snacks—he couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of kids.

There were the beloved White Rabbit milk candies, some fried dough twists, preserved fruit, and beef jerky.

Each child got five White Rabbit candies, three finger-sized dough twists, a handful of dried fruit, and a piece of beef jerky. They left with full hands and joyful hearts.

Sixteenth Grandpa never let them down.

Five White Rabbit candies! They had just tasted some recently—also thanks to Sixteenth Grandpa—and they were delicious.

The dough twists, dried fruit, and jerky were all favorites.

Sixteenth Grandpa truly understood them.

Trading the honey for these treats? Absolutely worth it.

They quickly added, “Sixteenth Grandpa, next time we see honey, we’ll—”

Before they could finish, Zhou Yimin interrupted, “Next time you see a hive, come get me. Don’t be silly and get stung again.”

They had no idea how to properly harvest honey.

First, you had to smoke the hive to make the bees flee. Professionals didn’t need much protective gear and could collect honey with ease and without being stung.

“Okay!” the group of children shouted in unison.

After sending them off, Zhou Yimin began processing the honey, separating it from the honeycomb.

(End of Chapter)