After putting the oil pan on the stove, Su Qingluan closed the vents as much as possible to control the heat from being too strong.

Su Qingluan took out a stack of oil paper from the corner - that was the "piping bag" she had made from the oil paper used to wrap food.

The bonding part is made of a paste made from flour.

There was no vacuum packaging in that era. Su Qingluan was afraid that if she made too much paste or the oil paper itself would become moldy and deteriorate, she only made five at a time. She used two and now only had three left.

Su Qingluan used a large spoon to put the mixture of fish paste and meringue into a piping bag, and then used scissors to cut a small half-inch opening.

She held the piping bag in her left hand and held a small spoon at the opening at the bottom with her right hand. With a little force, a small ball of fish paste the size of a lychee came out of the opening and gently fell into the small spoon.

Su Qingluan placed the small spoon in the slightly heated oil pan, and immediately fine bubbles of oil appeared around the fish paste balls and slid off the spoon.

Su Qingluan squeezed the meatballs very quickly, and in the blink of an eye, more than ten meatballs were floating in the pot.

Looking at the amount of remaining fish paste, Su Qingluan estimated that it would not be enough to fry in this pot, so when there were about twenty pieces of fish paste in the pot, she squatted down and slightly increased the vent. Slowly, the pot of fish paste expanded to five or six times its original size, and then shrank slightly as the oil temperature rose.

By this time, the surface of the originally white fish balls had already turned a slightly darker brown. Su Qingluan constantly flipped the fish balls, which had swelled up and down in the frying pan, to ensure they were heated more evenly. Once each side had formed a crispy crust, she scooped the balls out with a strainer and placed them in a nearby straw winnowing basket.

A large bowl is placed under the winnowing basket to allow excess oil to seep into the gaps between the surface of the winnowing basket to avoid a bag of oil being collected with every bite.

Su Qingluan picked one up with chopsticks and carefully tore a hole in it. The hot steam mixed with the aroma of fish rushed out. Although the fish ball was bulging and round, it only had a thin shell and was hollow inside.

Putting it in the mouth and chewing it, the thin shell was very crispy, and the fish meat inside was very delicious, without any fishy smell. Su Qingluan nodded slightly: Although the tools are a bit backward, fortunately the finished product is still acceptable.

In this way, three pots of fish paste meatballs were made. The first pot had already cooled down, and the outer shell of the meatballs was slightly wrinkled, but if you poke it with the tip of a chopstick, you will find that there is still a small amount of gas inside. It has not completely collapsed and is very elastic.

This was already the second time she'd fried something in this pot of soybean oil, so she couldn't use it any more. Su Qingluan poured out the remaining oil, using most of it as lamp oil. She only had a little left at the bottom of the pot, so she threw in the black fish bones she'd previously removed and soaked in scallion and ginger water, along with some leftover ingredients, to fry.

This time, Su Qingluan did not control the heat particularly well. She fried the fish bones over medium heat until they were golden brown. When she saw that the heat was almost right, Su Qingluan added two large bowls of water. Suddenly, there was a "hissing" sound from the pot, and at the same time, the soup in the pot turned milky white.

However, in order to stew out all the delicious flavor in the fish bones, Su Qingluan turned down the heat and covered the pot, waiting for the delicious flavor of the fish soup to slowly seep out.

At this time, Yang had already made some crispy and soft sesame oil cakes. She took over the frying pan nicknamed "Iron Sheet" that Su Qingluan had made earlier and planned to fry two more dishes.

On her side, Su Qingluan washed a handful of green and crispy wild vegetables, intending to throw them into the fish soup to embellish the fish soup which was as white as milk.

Soon, the fish soup changed from a somewhat transparent white to thick and heavy. Su Qingluan used a colander to scoop out the fish bones, scraps, and seasoning packets that were added later. She also threw in the fish tortillas that had been fried and placed aside and drained of oil, and then added the green wild vegetables that had been chopped into small pieces.

After a while, the fish soup began to boil again, bubbling with snow-white bubbles. Su Qingluan carefully scooped a little broth with a spoon and tasted it, then adjusted the flavor with salt and white pepper. Since her two little ones at home were no fans of spicy food, she didn't dare add too much white pepper.

When the fish tofu and wild vegetable soup was served on the table, Yang also came over with stir-fried dishes and fried cakes.

Su Xuanhe looked at the five bowls of soup that his elder sister brought over and curled his lips in displeasure: "We're eating fried tofu again today?"

Although tofu is delicious, the beany flavor is not something that everyone can tolerate. Furthermore, children's taste buds are more sensitive, so Su Qingluan was not surprised at all by her brother's pout.

Not to mention Su Xuanhe, even Su Xueyan, who was relatively less averse to tofu, wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Seeing the disgusted expressions of her second son and youngest daughter, Yang found it amusing and hurriedly comforted them, "You still don't trust your sister's cooking? This is definitely delicious today."

"Is what Mom said true? Is it really delicious?" The two little guys looked at the "bean bubbles" floating in the bowl and were very suspicious.

"It's really delicious!" Yang, who had already tasted a piece of fish tofu beforehand, nodded confidently. "What's more, today's matter is——"

Yang was about to tell the raw materials of the fish tofu, but Su Qingluan touched her foot under the table, so she smiled and stopped talking.

Su Qingluan stopped A Niang, but kept it a secret: "You'll know if it tastes good after you try it."

These little ones must not be allowed to develop this habit of being picky about food based on their feelings. Otherwise, it will only get worse. Food sources in ancient times were much more limited than they are today, and achieving "nutritionally balanced" food is extremely difficult in this era.

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading!