Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Ivory Miracle
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Following that, the distribution of mayonnaise began.
A product said to have invoked the Saintess's miracle, also known as the Ivory Miracle.
Perhaps because the relationship between the Imperial Family and the Church had become quite amicable after the incident in the capital, with each acknowledging the other's role.
Mayonnaise was now spreading purely toward the people, free from any more political tug-of-war.
If the previous two red sauces had introduced the new concepts of flavor and excitement to the Empire's tables, this ivory miracle brought abundance and change itself.
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*Noon at the Golden Wheat Sheaf bakery in the capital's central square.*
"Leo! You left the carrots and cabbage again! I told you, eating only bread won't make you grow tall!"
At baker Hannah's nagging, her son Leo pouted and chewed on a hard piece of bread.
Once the warmth of freshly baked bread faded, all that remained was its toughness.
And the boiled vegetables sandwiched in between were nothing more than tasteless clumps of grass to a child's tongue.
"Sigh, really..."
Hannah let out a deep sigh. The daily lunch battle with her son repeated endlessly.
But today, in her hand was a small glass jar she'd splurged on from the Imperial caravan not long ago.
The creamy ivory substance rumored to be the Saintess's salvation.
'Might as well give it a shot...'
She finely shredded last night's leftover chicken breast, and minced the carrots and cabbage her son despised so much.
Then, she generously dolloped several spoonfuls of the ivory cream on top and carefully mixed it together.
And then, a miracle occurred.
The tough chicken breast and crumbly vegetables fused into a glossy, unified mass as if by magic.
A nutty yet tangy aroma filled the kitchen. Half in doubt, she stuffed it generously between slices of bread.
"Leo, just try this once. One bite, okay?"
Leo reluctantly took the sandwich his mother offered.
And the moment he bit into it with his small mouth.
"……!"
The boy's round eyes filled with awe at a taste he'd never experienced before.
'Is this... really those tasteless grass bits and tough meat?'
What spread through his mouth was overwhelming creaminess and nuttiness.
The hard bread was gone, replaced by something fluffy like clouds enveloping his tongue.
The crispness of the finely chewed vegetables added playful fun to this soft world, and the chicken breast melted away, leaving only savory flavor—no more toughness.
"Mom! What is this?! It's so good!"
As if he'd never been picky, Leo hurriedly shoved the sandwich into his small mouth.
Hannah stared blankly at her son stuffing his cheeks to bursting—a sight she'd never seen before.
Her eyes quietly welled up. This was no ordinary sauce.
Whether it was truly the Saintess's miracle, she didn't know, but it was an envoy of peace that ended the tiresome daily war with her son.
That afternoon, a line longer than ever formed in front of Hannah's bakery.
"Ma'am! One more of those magic sandwiches, please!"
"My kid's finally eating veggies too! What's the secret?!"
Stunned by the sudden long queue, Hannah looked at them in surprise.
Her son, Leo, proudly puffed out his chest and shouted.
"This is my mom's magic sandwich! Real magic that makes veggies taste good!"
The child's cry was the best advertisement.
The abundant filling visible in the half-eaten sandwich in his hand was a temptation more powerful than any flashy signboard.
The magic quietly, yet irresistibly, spread to tables throughout the capital.
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Noble household, Lady Eleanor's salon.
"-That's why they say these days, you can't even show your face in high society without that ivory cream."
At the young countess's words, Lady Eleanor covered her mouth with an ivory fan and snorted.
She was trying hard to forget how her culinary philosophy had crumbled during the recent arrabbiata fiasco.
Separate from all the talk of the Saintess's miracle or the miracle at the capital's relief center—cheap ingredients, really.
The ingrained notion of noble dignity in her mind wouldn't fade easily.
"Even so, mixing it with potatoes or eggs and eating like commoners? How could we put such undignified food on a noble's table."
But despite her cold reaction, the noble ladies in the salon were already immersed in the new trend.
"Oh, madam, you still don't grasp its true value. It's not just about taste. It's about creativity."
Isabella, the Marchioness leading the trends, smiled gracefully and clapped her hands.
Moments later, maids placed small crystal bowls in front of each lady.
Inside were finely chopped smoked trout, boiled egg whites, and fragrant dill delicately mixed with the ivory cream. A single caper perched on top like a jewel for garnish.
"This is... smoked trout...?"
Lady Eleanor furrowed her brow.
Fresh trout was a rare ingredient, but it was still just a common appetizer on noble tables.
She eyed the bowl suspiciously, trying to discern Marchioness Isabella's intent.
"Just one spoonful, madam. The truth on the tip of your tongue is more honest than a hundred words."
At Isabella's confident smile, Eleanor reluctantly picked up a small silver spoon.
Concealing her contempt, she scooped a tiny bit of the salad and brought it to her mouth.
And in that instant, her world crumbled once more.
'Th-this is...!'
This wasn't harmony. It was fusion.
Not each ingredient asserting its own flavor, but everything melting together in the ivory cream to create an entirely new dimension of taste.
The salty smokiness of the trout was softly enveloped by the cream's nuttiness, deepening further. The mildness of the boiled egg provided a rich backdrop.
The fresh dill aroma and caper's sharp tang delivered the perfect kick, ensuring the flavors never grew heavy.
The cuisine she'd pursued her whole life—suppressing ingredients' tastes with expensive spices—felt so crude and barbaric before this perfect fusion.
"Good heavens... how can it taste like this...."
"No fishiness from the trout at all—just pure savory flavor!"
Exclamations erupted here and there. Lady Eleanor's hand trembled as she took another bite.
And suddenly, a wave of realization crashed over her.
This was a conductor that drew out every ingredient's potential to the limit, turning even flaws into strengths.
"...Butler."
"Yes, madam."
"Send a messenger to the Argentis caravan immediately. Buy up every jar of that ivory cream with the Imperial Safe Mark—as much as we can get. Cost be damned."
Her voice held no contempt now, but the urgency of one falling behind and the passion of discovering a new world.
"And summon head chef Antoine. Right now."
Moments later, head chef Antoine stood before Lady Eleanor, his face pale.
He trembled in fear that his cooking—his convictions—would be denied once again.
But Lady Eleanor's voice was surprisingly calm.
"Antoine. You've seen it."
"...Yes, madam."
"I give you a new challenge. Revive our table once more with this ivory cream."
At the unexpected words from Lady Eleanor's lips, Antoine stammered.
"But madam... isn't this commoners' food? What of the noble dignity..."
"Dignity? Antoine."
Lady Eleanor's gaze sharpened.
"You know what we've lost. Why our vaunted cuisine crumbled before a single spoonful of this cream."
"It was you who first brought in that tomato sauce, and urged us to use this mayonnaise."
She met Antoine's trembling eyes squarely, speaking in a voice far firmer and colder than before.
"The age of barbarism is over."
Antoine's shoulders flinched.
"The barbaric era of crushing ingredients' flavors under the weight of spices, numbing the tongue to flaunt wealth."
She pointed to the empty crystal bowl, declaring like a general admitting defeat—yet like a queen proclaiming a new kingdom's birth.
"Did you see? This ivory cream doesn't dominate ingredients. It humbles itself, becoming a stage that makes every other ingredient the star."
"We've built castles atop ingredients, but this cream takes every ingredient's hand and dances together. Isn't this true noble cuisine? Piercing an ingredient's value and drawing out its potential to the utmost."
Her voice held no defeat now. Instead, it burned with the conviction and passion of one who discovered new truth.
"So, Antoine. Hide no more behind expensive spices. Make this cream your new brush. Redraw every ingredient in the world—potatoes, trout, anything—on your canvas."
She rose from her seat, proclaiming to Antoine in earshot of all the salon ladies.
"Turn this salon into the Empire's foremost hall of artistic cuisine, where the most creative and wondrous flavors are born. That is my new command to you."
From that day, a new competition began in noble salons.
Not who used the priciest ingredients, but who could most creatively wield the ivory cream to invent new flavors.
Some presented pâté of finely chopped sautéed mushrooms spread on bread; others proved its worth with butter, roasted shrimp, and garlic.
Mayonnaise became, for nobles, a tool transcending taste—a new art to flaunt their creativity and refinement.
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And so, the mayonnaise called the Saintess's miracle spread across the Empire—even to its frontlines, no exception.
In the midst of it all, it reached the hands of someone utterly unexpected.
"Hm, so this is that mayonnaise?"
"Something humans made, huh. Looks kinda like goat milk cheese."