Is a Calzone a Pizza? (2)
Catherine had lived a long life.
Of course she had. She was a genius archmage who had reached the rank of Sage and attained immortality through nothing but her own power, without anyone's help.
As such, the places in Europa she had never visited could be counted on one hand, and it was only natural that she had tasted an extraordinary variety of foods along the way.
Her favorite cuisine was Servianus food.
She was still deliberating on the matter, of course, but—
A climate mild in every season. The closest position to the Adobis New Kingdom. And the distinctive geography of a peninsula bordered by sea on three sides. Even after being reduced to scorched earth by the Demon King's main army during the age of the ancient Palatino Empire and cut off for a time, that was more than enough for a culinary culture to rise again from bare ground.
Granted, their fondness for a certain seafood that the rest of Europa found distasteful could make things uncomfortable for onlookers now and then—but nothing was ever entirely free of flaws.
Servianus already offered such an abundance of dishes that, even setting that "certain seafood" aside, there was more than enough for any ordinary European palate.
Pizza was a prime example.
Catherine, who had almost certainly eaten more pizza than anyone else in Iceland, cast a glance at the mound of calzone sitting on the plate on her office table.
"Just looking at it, this is a pie, not a pizza."
"See? Junior? That's what she says."
Mary, who had been waiting for the verdict, turned her head as if to say, There, you see?
Karem, however, refused to accept the ruling.
"That's only two people. Everyone else—"
"In Iceland, where most people don't even know what pizza is? People who've only ever seen pies their whole lives, looking at a stuffed bread you eat with your hands?"
Karem's counterargument sank without a trace.
While Mary savored her victory behind a perfectly blank expression, Catherine nudged the limp figure of Karem with her foot where he slumped in his chair.
"So what's with the bread out of nowhere? From what I hear, you baked it yourself."
"I had dough left over, and some tomato paste, so I just used everything I had and baked a pizza. Tomato and cheese go well together, after all."
"Which is why I keep saying it looks like a pie."
"Let's compromise and call it a calzone."
"Calzone? Like a pants pocket?"
Catherine turned her head back toward the calzone on the plate.
The vague crescent shape, with the dough folded over so the filling wouldn't leak, did look rather similar.
"Well, kid. That's a surprisingly thoughtful name, for you."
"Do you have some kind of complaint about my naming sense?"
"Oh, if I started listing them, there wouldn't be just one or two."
Having silenced Karem once more with ease, Catherine stretched lightly and jerked her chin toward the calzone.
Mary transferred it to a smaller plate as ordered and picked up a fork and knife.
"Ah-ah. You don't cut that with a knife."
"Junior Karem. What is that supposed to mean?"
"You eat it with your hands."
"Hmm?"
"Just tear it in half first."
Mary's eyebrows twisted into a bizarre shape.
What was the big deal? The person who had cooked it said that was how you ate it, so Mary set the utensils down without further thought and picked up the calzone.
Crunch—
And then Catherine and Mary both understood why Karem had said that.
The crescent-shaped bread cracked open with a crisp sound, splitting into two halves, and when the gap was pulled wider, the sauce and oil that had been trapped inside came seeping out.
A sharp, tangy scent and a rich, savory one pricked at their noses.
Catherine recognized both aromas at once.
Vivid red tomato sauce clung to the hot, melted cheese and stretched out in long, spiderweb strands, unable to support its own weight.
That alluring smell and appearance brought moisture flooding back into a mouth left desert-dry by a long night of work.
Mary was no less captivated by the seductive sight.
But this was Catherine's breakfast.
And Mary's own portion was waiting separately.
Remembering that, Mary slipped free of the temptation with ease.
She quickly maneuvered her half of the calzone to catch the cheese that was stretching so far it threatened to drop onto the plate, piled it back up, and carefully offered it toward Catherine.
Watching her free herself from the curse as if by sheer will, Catherine looked at Mary with mild surprise.
"Hmm. Unexpected. I wouldn't have thought you'd escape that temptation, Mary."
"I am a brownie, after all. It would be hurtful if you assumed I would always give in to temptation."
"Actually, the cal— that Mary is going to eat later—"
"Ahem, hem! Hem! Hem!!!"
The hidden truth came out.
Of course you would.
Catherine snorted a soft laugh at Mary, brushed her loose hair back, and leaned forward to bite into the calzone.
Crunch.
The first thing she registered was the savory smell of freshly baked bread.
The calzone's exterior was crisp, its interior chewy, and the texture of the bread filled her mouth completely.
But after that, she could no longer taste the bread itself.
What came first was the sweet-and-sour flavor that had made her mouth water moments ago, joined by the deep umami of finely minced beef— a tomato sauce with a distinctive character all its own.
The bold aroma of the sauce, its raw edge stripped away by a variety of spices, flooded Catherine's mouth in an instant, and right on its heels came the smooth, soft, springy feel of the cheese.
The more she chewed, the richer the cheese's flavor became.
The aroma rising from the heated cheese met the tangy tomato sauce and unfurled into an entirely new feast of flavors.
The wheat variety was different, so it was not quite the pizza she remembered—but it was a completely new face of a food she already knew.
She had felt something similar with the Caprese salad, but who would have thought a second mutation of the Red Witch's Finger would pair this well with cheese?
Leaving the various spices aside, the ingredients of the calzone were simple.
Just three things: the dough that formed the outside, a tomato sauce loaded with ground beef, and cheese.
Yet they harmonized with the same surprising perfection as steak and red wine, or sausage and beer.
And above all else—
Streeeeetch—
From the cut surface of the calzone all the way to Catherine's mouth, the white cheese stretched in a long thread.
So thin that the far side showed faintly through it.
"Shall I tidy that up for you for a moment—"
"Mm-mm."
Catherine shook her head to stop Mary, caught the stretched cheese between her lips like a spinning machine drawing in thread, pulled it silently with her tongue, and snapped it free.
Cheese drawn out thin and translucent in pure white. Yet the moist, chewy texture was unmistakably the same feeling she had known in Servianus.
"I may need to revise my earlier judgment."
"Contractor. What do you—"
"It looks like a pie, but this is definitely closer to pizza."
The verdict flipped in an instant, and Karem's and Mary's fortunes reversed just as fast.
"Mary. Her Honor says so."
"Kh. Even including that side, that's still only two people. Everyone else— ah!"
"You understand without me having to say it, don't you?"
"To think this Mary would be tripped up by her own words...!"
In the middle of that silly, childish bickering, Catherine—who had been craning her neck for the next bite—called out to Mary.
"I have no interest in your little argument, so just bring that piece of calzone over here already."
"Understood, Contractor. But if you could revise what you said a moment ago—"
"Whatever it is, after the meal is finished."
Mary, still muttering a small protest, had no choice but to hold out the calzone.
Watching her, Karem cast off the last of his earlier defeat and smacked his lips.
As expected, our Lady Atanitas has a real gift for mukbang.
The most important thing in a food show was the visuals.
Looks mattered, of course, but what he meant was how appetizingly someone ate—and in that sense, Catherine had outstanding talent.
The undisputed number one of Winterhome.
Even if she wasn't quite at Alicia's level.
Grrrrowl—
It was more than enough to stir a boy in his prime who had already eaten breakfast.
Having somehow grown hungry just from watching, Karem turned his gaze away from the scene in front of him.
And only then did the state of the office come into view.
Even on ordinary days the room would be strewn with materials, parchment, and books after a single day had passed. After a night spent buried in research, Catherine's complete lack of domestic competence was on full display.
In other words: it was even dirtier than usual.
Books and parchment stacked haphazardly on the table.
Assorted materials and tools left exactly where they had been used, with no cleanup.
Glass bottles of variously colored liquids and pouches arranged on the shelves.
At least there was no dust rolling around—that was something, if nothing else.
"Hm? Hmm. What's this smell?"
Between the scent of old books and various magical reagents, Karem caught a faint, spicy aroma teasing his nose.
The source was the research table. On it sat a small pot whose fire had gone completely out, and a deep-red glass bottle.
"What are you staring at like that? Ah, that one."
"Is that the potion you spent all night working on?"
"It is."
Catherine took a sip of the wine Mary offered her and nodded.
"Yes. Thanks to that Giant's Rose soup of yours at the last banquet, I was finally able to finish it."
"...A cold-resistance potion? You've finally completed it?"
"The completion itself was finished early last summer."
When Catherine glanced at the cold-resistance potion, Mary briefly set the calzone down, fetched it in a flash, and pressed it into Catherine's hand.
"The rest of the time was spent lowering the price for mass production and a broader customer base. That took longer than expected."
"Ah, you mentioned before that if you altered the ingredients even a little it would become nobles-only, right? What was the original price—"
"An average of one crown."
"Oh, a full gold coin."
"The price would fluctuate depending on circumstances, of course."
"That's a bit steep."
Well, it was a potion, after all.
It was nowhere near the dozens of gold coins of a top-grade potion, but anything in gold-coin territory was effectively beyond an ordinary person's reach.
"Anyway, I managed to bring the market price down to an average of ten shillings. Ten silver coins. Hah. As expected of this body's skill."
"Isn't that price difference a little too big?"
"Honestly, if I hadn't put it in a glass bottle, I could have lowered the price even further."
Catherine handed the cold-resistance potion to Karem as if telling him to examine it for himself.
The moment it touched his hand, a gentle warmth radiated from it.
Even without drinking it, the bottle itself was a little less warm than a hand warmer.
"Ah, right. I almost forgot to say that."
"Did you forget something?"
"No. It's nothing major."
Karem set the potion bottle back in its place.
"It's just... thank you, Lady Atanitas."
"Hm. What was that?"
Even with the calzone's cheese still stretching in a long strand, Catherine's eyes went round as she stared at Karem.
"Mary told me. That you ordered a stamina potion delivered. That—"
"No need for thanks. I simply had a stamina potion on hand, and it was obvious you were about to collapse from exhaustion, so I handed it over. It was nothing to me."
Catherine waved it off as if it were nothing at all—then, realizing, hurriedly pulled the stretched cheese into her mouth and ate it.
"For 'nothing,' you fretted that Junior Karem was behaving in a way that didn't suit his age, abandoned your research on the spot, and personally concocted a stamina potion right then and the—"
"Enough!" Catherine barked.
Her face had gone bright red, and her pupils were trembling.
"Why do you have to blab every single unnecessary detail?!"
"Blab? I simply could not let a superior's concern for her subordinate pass unremarked. You seemed to mind it so much."
"Who said I minded it?!"
"Ah— aah! C-Contractor. Junior Karem is watching. M-my heaaad—!"
"You and your useless mouth— ahem."
Catherine had been grinding Mary's head with an inexplicable grip that made it creak—until she finally noticed Karem watching her with a peculiar look.
As if nothing had happened, she settled back into her chair.
"Anyway, kid. At your age, take it easy with the hard work. You won't grow any taller."
"Um... thank you."
"Mm, right. Once you two finish your breakfast, I'll look around for some defensive magic tools."
"Oh, finally."
The attempt to change the subject was blatant, but if his mistress was embarrassed, Karem was more than willing to play along.
He was, after all, a considerate retainer.
With that, Mary—pressed from every direction—absently rubbed her sore head, and until Catherine finished the calzone, the only sound that filled the office was the crisp crunch of pastry.