With the pastry prepared, the next step was making the filling for the Thousand-Layer Pancake.
Zane placed minced pork into a clean ceramic bowl, adding finely chopped ginger, scallions, ground Sichuan pepper, sugar, cooking wine, salt, and other seasonings. He mixed everything thoroughly, ensuring the flavors were evenly distributed.
The beauty of the Thousand-Layer Pancake lies in its simplicity. It doesn't require high-end ingredients—just basic staples like flour, pork, and scallions are enough to create something extraordinary.
Finally, he prepared a special crispy oil.
This crispy oil would be drizzled over the pancake and its filling after cooking, enhancing its crunchiness while also helping to separate the layers.
Zane took a small bowl and added 10 grams of flour, a pinch of salt for seasoning, and a generous spoonful of lard.
The choice of lard over vegetable oil wasn't random—lard creates a superior crispness, making it the best option for this dish. He mixed everything well with chopsticks, setting the mixture aside once it reached the right consistency.
While some chefs mix crispy oil directly into the filling, Zane chose a different approach.
"Alright, now for the magic to happen," he murmured, closing his eyes briefly to steady his breathing.
After regaining his focus, he carefully layered the three-meter-wide pastry.
There are generally two methods for making a Thousand-Layer Pancake.
The first method involves folding the dough layer by layer, similar to folding a quilt. The more folds, the more layers, resulting in different possible shapes—round, square, or rectangular. This method allows for more customization in appearance.
The second method involves rolling the pastry into a circular shape. Instead of folding, the filling is spread evenly across the dough, which is then rolled up from one end to the other, sealed at both ends, and finally flattened into a pancake shape with a rolling pin.
Zane opted for the first method.
Once the pancake was assembled, it was time for pan-frying.
He heated a pan, added a generous amount of cooking oil, and waited until it reached about 60% of its smoking point. Then, he carefully placed the pancake in the pan, frying it over medium heat until both sides turned a golden brown.
At last, the deceptively simple yet highly intricate Thousand-Layer Pancake was complete.
Fresh from the pan, the pancake exuded a rich, mouthwatering aroma. Despite the scallions inside, the surface was speckled with blackened spots, resembling black sesame seeds. At first glance, it might not look particularly striking, but Rindō Kobayashi, familiar with Zane's skills, was filled with anticipation.
"Can I eat now?" she asked, swallowing eagerly.
"Of course," Zane nodded.
Wasting no time, she picked up a piece.
The moment her fingers touched the pancake, her eyes widened in astonishment.
"Whoa! This texture… Am I imagining things, or is the pastry really this thin?"
Zane smirked slightly. "Take a guess—how many layers do you think I used to make this Thousand-Layer Pancake?"
"One hundred layers?" she guessed hesitantly. Then, reconsidering, she shook her head. "No, no… The dough is so thin that even stacking five hundred layers would barely reach the thickness of my hands. It must be at least five hundred layers!"
Zane chuckled. "Wrong again. I made a true Thousand-Layer Pancake."
"Huh?" Rindō Kobayashi froze.
"A thousand layers? You actually stacked a thousand layers of pastry to make this!?"
Shock. Doubt. Disbelief.
Her emotions whirled in turmoil as she stared at the pancake.
Outside, most so-called Thousand-Layer Pancakes were named for effect—they didn't actually contain a thousand layers. The real thing would be almost impossible to make.
To put it in perspective, a standard A4 sheet of paper is about 0.104 millimeters thick. If you were to stack a thousand sheets, the height would reach 10.4 centimeters. But Zane had managed to create a Thousand-Layer Pancake that fit in the palm of her hand!
This meant the pastry had to be thinner than paper—no, thinner than even a fraction of a sheet of paper—while still containing layers of filling.
There wasn't a single chef in the world crazy enough to attempt something like this.
Yet, standing before her, Zane had not only imagined it—he had actually pulled it off.
"In principle, I used the layered pastry technique," Zane explained. "Each ultra-thin sheet of pastry is coated with a tiny amount of butter. As the pancake cooks, the butter melts, releasing steam. That steam forces each layer to expand, creating a distinct layered structure."
He continued, "And if you're decent at math, you'd realize I used an exponential folding method. After each fold, I rolled out the dough again, then folded it once more, repeating the process to multiply the number of layers exponentially."
"For example, after the first fold, I had 3 layers. After the second, I had 9. By the third fold, I had 21. After six folds, the final count wasn't just 1000—it was precisely 1462 layers."
Rindō Kobayashi was speechless.
Her mind struggled to process the math, but one thing was clear—Zane had gone beyond the impossible.
This wasn't just a Thousand-Layer Pancake.
It was a true masterpiece.