Garlic Cheese Toast with Sausage and Vegetable Stir-Fry
Karem checked every corner again, hoping something else might be hidden the way the butter had been tucked inside that small box. Aside from a pouch of salt shoved to the back of the shelf, though, nothing more turned up.
Resigned to making do with what he had, he emptied one of the crates and packed it with ingredients, cooking tools, and dishes.
Given enough time he could have put together something far more ambitious, but his body—wrung out by hard labor—was already screaming for nourishment.
So he would make whatever he could throw together right now. The moment he had surveyed the ingredients, the menu had already taken shape in his head.
"Kid. You really gonna haul all that by yourself?"
"Of course."
If there was any upside to the years of serfdom that had followed his reincarnation, it was the forced growth of stamina and muscle.
Karem hoisted the crate as if it weighed nothing and stepped off the cart. Catherine followed with a dubious look.
Gordon, who had already tossed out the trash and was sorting through the dead men's belongings, heard Catherine and turned the same skeptical stare on the boy.
A serf who had to ration every bite just to survive would only ever have known the same handful of ingredients. What on earth was he planning to cook?
Karem himself did not take offense. To the two of them he was nothing more than a ten-year-old serf brat; of course they would doubt him the second he announced he was about to cook.
Using the great bonfire where the piled corpses still burned felt too grim, so he kindled a smaller fire of his own.
"At least there's a nice big coal right next to us for the tinder. Still feels a little weird, though."
"Hey, you really think you can make something worth eating?"
"Gordon, I bet I cook better than you."
"Ha! This serf brat?"
"Anyway, just watch—like Lady Atanitas is doing."
Lunchtime had long passed and two grown people were worn out from hard work, so he needed something fast, greasy, and high in calories.
It was simple man's cooking; Karem wasted no time. He sliced the long sausages into bite-sized pieces and tossed them into a pan slick with butter.
Once the surfaces browned, he added diced carrot, bias-cut cabbage, celery, and onion in that order, pinching in a generous sprinkle of salt as he stirred.
The moment the vegetables hit the pan it became a race against time.
Before they could go limp he flung in another knob of butter, shook the pan hard, and the instant the carrots turned golden he scooped the sausage-and-vegetable stir-fry onto a plate.
Fat rendered from the cut faces of the sausage mingled with the rich scent of melting butter and the bright freshness of the cabbage.
When Karem immediately dropped more butter into the empty pan, Catherine tilted her head.
"Kid. You making something else?"
"That alone didn't feel like enough."
Next came an even simpler cheese toast. As Karem put his whole weight into sawing through the rock-hard barley bread, Gordon—who had already snitched a few bites of the stir-fry—sauntered over, chewing.
"Ah, Gordon! I'm not finished yet!"
"Just tasting. Just tasting. You want the bread cut this thick?"
"Oh, you're helping?"
"Don't get the wrong idea. At the rate you're going the sun'll be down before you finish that loaf."
True enough—age, profession, and the earlier work all showed. Where Karem had been wrestling the bread, Gordon sliced through it with ease.
Help was help; no reason to refuse.
Leaving the bread to Gordon, Karem finely chopped the three kinds of cheese and snuck a taste. Familiar flavors bloomed on his tongue and he blinked in surprise.
"These taste… weirdly familiar."
"Ho. Somerset cheese I get, but this one's Palla, and this is Dane cheese."
"Imports?"
"Yeah. Palla's famous in the southern kingdom; Dane cheese comes from the Dane region of Iceland."
"Anyway, with these I can make it."
Karem had never heard of the southern kingdom, but he remembered Iceland—the northern reaches of the Seophon Kingdom.
What mattered right now was that the Somerset, Palla, and Dane cheeses tasted unmistakably like cheddar, provolone, and havarti.
All three were perfect for grilled cheese, for cheese toast.
He minced a heap of garlic and began smearing it across the bread slices. Catherine recoiled in horror.
"G-garlic? That much!?"
"Whoa, kid, why so much garlic?"
"I guarantee it'll taste way better this way. You can keep piling it on forever."
While Catherine and Gordon grimaced, Karem remained unruffled. The garlic here was far milder than the stuff he remembered; if he wanted real flavor he had to smear it on exactly as thickly as they feared.
He laid the garlic-smeared faces of the barley bread down into the buttered pan until the pan was full, then piled all three cheeses on top in generous heaps.
For a moment the explosive garlic aroma the two adults had dreaded rose up—then vanished into the high heat, the butter, and the melting cheese, leaving only a sweet, savory perfume.
Gordon and Catherine shuddered.
"Good lord, Mage. Both of these smell incredible."
"We're starving and there's butter and cheese in there—how could it not taste good?"
"Almost done. Just a little longer."
He stacked the cheese-laden slices together. Butter-fried golden garlic clung to the crisp brown surfaces, and cheese that had oozed from the seams sizzled and bubbled where it hit the pan.
One last swipe of butter on both sides, one final fry, and Karem slid every piece of garlic cheese toast onto a large platter.
"All right, done. Dig in."
As if he had been waiting for those exact words, Gordon—who had been steadily pilfering the stir-fry—snatched up a golden piece of toast.
Crunch-crunch-crunch!
Honestly, Gordon had expected little from a child. Yet the unexpected competence and the mouth-watering smell had gradually tilted his expectations the other way.
Toast itself was familiar enough; the standard way to make rock-hard bread edible was to toast it.
Skewering bread over a fire and melting cheese on top was second only to grilling jerky as the shared field ration of every mercenary across Europa—not just the Seophon Kingdom.
But to take that familiar dish, slather it in butter, bury it under a mountain of cheese, and fry it until it was shatteringly crisp and golden?
The mountain of garlic had almost scared him off, but the worry proved baseless.
The smell was divine, the taste was divine, and every bite filled the air with a crisp crackle that shook the soul.
And the new flavor—wait, garlic could taste like this?
The minced garlic, fried almost into flakes, was a taste Gordon had never known.
Each chew of sausage released a deep savor, while the quick, high-heat vegetable stir-fry stayed bright and crunchy, washing away any greasiness.
In all his years as a mercenary, Gordon had never eaten a field meal so rich in texture, sound, and flavor.
And Karem watched the whole spectacle with open pride.
"Gordon, how is it? Bad?"
"Karem."
"Yes?"
"I swear on my life—of every field ration I've ever eaten, yours is the best."
"I've always had a bit of talent for cooking."
"Looking at the outside you'd think he was a serf down to the roots, and yet…"
Karem watched Gordon devour his late lunch with constant murmurs of appreciation, then turned to the oddly silent other person.
"Lady Atanitas, it's late, but you should eat as well."
"Hah. Fine. After the griffon attack I figured it would come to this."
"Pardon?"
"Here. Take this."
"Huh? Ah."
Catherine held out a wooden plate and utensils. She did not need to explain what she meant.
Considerate, yet fundamentally arrogant.
A mage—a profession equal or nearly equal to nobility.
Gordon's tone stayed light, but he always spoke to her with honorifics and titles.
Karem caught on at once, quickly portioned sausage-and-vegetable stir-fry and garlic cheese toast onto the wooden plate, and offered it with both hands.
Her face stayed blank, yet he noticed immediately: her brow was twitching as if something displeased her.
Oh no. Did I mess up somehow?
Reading the panic on his face, Catherine sighed and waved a hand.
"Don't look so nervous. The problem is mine."
"Pardon?"
"That… haaah—"
She flinched like a startled cat, so obviously uncomfortable that even Karem could tell something was wrong.
As if she truly hated having to say it, she let out a long, deep sigh and covered her face with both hands.
Decision made.
Still wearing her cloak, she smoothed the hem, sat down, and gestured for him to come closer. Karem hurried to her side.
"I grant you permission to serve me those dishes."
"…Pardon?"
"Ugh, if it weren't for this damned curse…"
Muttering in pure disgust, Catherine pushed back the hood of her cloak. Long golden hair that had been hidden spilled out like a curtain of silk.
Karem suddenly understood why she had kept the hood up all this time.
Hair like spun gold falling all the way to her waist, features that promised even greater beauty in the years to come, porcelain skin that looked as if it had never known sunlight.
One glance was enough to know she possessed the kind of looks that started wars.
She exhaled a tiny sigh and spoke with her small mouth—
"Feed them to me."
"Pardon?"
—uttering the most absurd demand.
Just to be certain, Karem asked again.
"Lady Atanitas."
"Yes."
"I have to feed this to you?"
"Yes."
"Like a parent bird feeding a baby bird?"
Me? Doesn't that look ridiculous? The thought must have shown clearly on his face, because the mage chewed her lip in agitation.
Her expression twisted and her cheeks flushed, but Karem understood: that was not anger. That was pure embarrassment.
"Damn it! I will not say it a third time!"
She looked exactly like a golden wren flaring its wings in threat after spotting an enemy.
The tone made it clear that one more mention would truly set her off.
Gordon could no longer hold back his laughter.
"Pwahahahahahaha!!! Kgh—w-wait, so the reason you've been starving this whole time is because there was no little kid to—"
"Silence!"
Crash!
"Dangerous!?"
An enraged mage does not forgive a rude mercenary.
A fist-sized chunk of ice came flying. Gordon barely twisted aside, hit the ground, and somehow managed not to spill his plate.
Attached Material
— Grilled Cheese (or Cheese Toast) —
A picture drawn by ChatGPT.