Traveling through time, I'm making pancakes in Warhammer

It seemed like an eternity had passed before Howard groggily opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

He shook his head and then held his forehead with his hand.

Because now his head was not only a little dizzy, he couldn't remember what happened yesterday, and he couldn't remember how he lay down in bed.

Howard began to recall, but no matter how hard he tried, his memory could only go back to the moment he drank. In the end, he could only helplessly come to a conclusion: he had blacked out due to drinking.

So Howard had no choice but to get out of bed, open the bedroom door, walk down the stairs and come to the first floor.

In the first-floor living room, where miscellaneous items were randomly piled up, Arabelle, wearing a vest and shorts, was cooking something on a stove.

"Good morning." Howard, who was still a little confused, greeted Arabelle very naturally and sat on the sofa.

Then he suddenly jumped up from the sofa, and his mind instantly became about 70% clear.

Because he found that he had just... come down from upstairs?

The room where I woke up...if I'm not mistaken, it should be Lyanna's room? !

"You'd better not drink anymore." Arabelle scooped out two bowls of cooked porridge, placed a spoon on the side of the bowl, and placed one of the bowls on the table in front of Howard. "Are you feeling better?"

Then Arabelle sat down across from Howard and began to eat her portion of breakfast.

Arabelle cooked oatmeal porridge for breakfast. The best partner for oatmeal is milk, but in the middle layer of the hive, fresh milk is a rare commodity. In order to replace milk, people usually choose to use corn flour and a little sugar to simulate the taste of milk.

In the past, Howard tried to melt cheese in hot water instead of milk, but the fermented dairy product tasted like soy milk after being diluted, which almost made him vomit.

But now Howard looked at the bowl of breakfast that Arabelle cooked for him, but he was a little afraid to eat it, because Arabelle's behavior seemed a little abnormal to him.

It's like when you were a kid and went out with your friends for the night and sneaked home, it was normal for your parents and elders to be angry with you the next day. But if you suddenly came back from your fooling around and found that your parents not only didn't blame you, but also cooked a table full of your favorite food and treated you with every bit of care, that would be a real shock.

Because if nothing unexpected happens, this meal will probably be the last meal before the reckoning.

Howard picked up the spoon hesitantly, then put it down again, and then asked tentatively: "I...what happened yesterday?"

"You were discussing a partnership with Anderson, the owner of the Anchor Tavern, yesterday. After the deal was reached, you had a drink and passed out." Arabelle answered without looking up from her oatmeal.

"Then... why would I sleep in the room... and if I'm not mistaken, that should be your sister Lyanna's room." Howard asked again.

"Because apart from my room, there's only one bed left here. Do you still want to sleep in my bed?" Arabelle raised her head and glared at him.

"Wouldn't Lyanna be angry if she found out someone else had entered her room?" Howard asked.

Arabelle didn't answer the question. She ate her oatmeal spoonfully and then washed it. Before leaving, she glanced at Howard and said, "Wash the dishes yourself. Wash the pot as well."

Three days passed quickly, and Howard arrived at the Anchor Tavern as scheduled.

The pub was still deserted, but the owner, Anderson, looked like he had been waiting for a long time.

"Mr. Howard, I have prepared everything you requested." Anderson said, and then led Howard into the kitchen.

The kitchen at the Anchor Tavern was cleaner than most kitchens Howard had ever seen, but that might be because Anderson had cleaned it up in advance in preparation for Howard's work.

There were many ingredients piled up in the corner of the kitchen. Anderson said to Howard, "Mr. Howard, these are the ingredients you requested."

Howard didn't say anything. He squatted down, opened the largest bag, checked it, and then frowned slightly.

This is a bag of flour, but the quality of the flour is not very good. The flour is gray overall, mixed with a lot of unpicked wheat husks, and slightly damp and clumpy.

"Ahem..." Anderson noticed Howard's dissatisfaction. He touched his nose and coughed lightly to ease the embarrassment. Then he explained, "Mr. Howard, this is the flour I stored away. You know, in Zhongchao, even expired and spoiled food is valuable, so I kept it. But don't worry, when this bag of flour is used up, I will definitely send you the best raw materials."

Since Anderson said so, Howard didn't say anything else. He checked the remaining ingredients one by one, which were corn flour, soybean flour, eggs of unknown poultry, bundles of unknown vegetables and starch sausages.

Every ingredient has more or less flaws, but they are all barely within the acceptable range.

Then Howard found that there were many bottles and jars next to these ingredients. He opened one of the jars and smelled it. It smelled like cinnamon powder.

"What's this for?" Howard asked Anderson.

"This...this is the raw material for making the mythical formula you requested before!" Hearing Howard's question, Anderson looked more confused than him.

Howard stared at the bottles and jars with wide eyes, and was also surprised. He thought to himself, I never remembered that I wanted these things.

But he changed his mind and immediately realized that these spices might have been made up by him after he got drunk.

After all, the name "Mythical Recipe" is too childish and does not fit my style and habits.

However, Howard chose to play along. He pretended to take out a little of each of the spices, then mixed and crushed them into powder. While he was making the "mythical recipe", Anderson was responsible for helping him prepare the batter and wash the vegetables.

Finally, everything was ready. Howard put on his chef's hat, an apron, and stood upright beside the stove.

The frying pan was preheated. Howard hung his hand two centimeters above the bottom of the pan and felt that the temperature was about right. He used a brush to neatly apply a thin layer of oil to the bottom of the pan, then scooped up a bowl of batter and poured it into the center of the frying pan.

"Stab!"

The moisture in the batter made a cheerful and lively sound when it came into contact with the hot oil. Soon, the aroma of slightly burnt starch and sugar wafted into the air. Howard took out a soaked wooden pusher from a bucket beside him and spread the clumping batter into a thin layer.

Howard then cracked a poultry egg into the batter and used a spatula to beat the egg yolk and spread it evenly.

The next step is to flip it over. There was a small problem in this step because the cooking tool used by the Anchor Tavern is a frying pan, not a kitchen utensil specifically for frying dough.

But this did not pose a problem for Howard. He grasped the handle of the frying pan and flipped it upwards. The dough in the pan flipped 720 degrees in the air and landed steadily in the frying pan. Then Howard quickly brushed the pan with sauce, put in fresh vegetables and starch sausage cut in half, and served it on a plate.

Finally, he picked up a pinch of powder from the small jar containing the "mythical formula" and sprinkled it on the finished pancake, then handed the finished product to Anderson.

"It's ready," Howard bowed gracefully to Anderson. "Please enjoy it."

"This... this is... this is the magical pancake..." Anderson lay on the table, swallowed his saliva, and put his face close to look at the pancake that was still steaming, his posture and expression like a child looking at a candy jar through the glass window.

"This isn't a magic pancake," Howard corrected him, wiping his hands with a towel. "Where we are, we call this a Jianbing Guozi."