Crepe Cake, Roll, and Suzette of the Small Banquet (2)
Three different desserts, all made from crepes.
That said, none of them were particularly complicated, so there wasn’t all that much to explain. Still, with his superior’s approval and the guest’s request on the table, he might as well play along.
Karem took a moment to order his thoughts.
“They look and feel different, but they’re all forms of cream. I call it whipped cream.”
“What kind of name is that…”
“Hm?”
“Never mind that—cream, you say? The texture is completely different.”
The true identity of the thing before her, so unlike anything she had imagined, left Nepaneck speaking in a faintly flustered tone.
Yes—that reaction. Karem felt a fresh wave of nostalgia at how different it was from the first time he had shown fresh cream—no, whipped cream—to Catherine and Mary.
Nepaneck prodded the cream on the cake and the roll with her fork. As the sharp tip pressed and carved little hollows, the fork transmitted almost no sensation at all—or rather, only the faintest whisper of one if she paid close attention.
Psssshhhhh—
“It has texture, I suppose, but it feels rather like the sound of bubbles bursting.”
“You have keen senses. I made it by whipping cream with sugar until it filled with foam.”
“I’ve never seen cream set like this from mere stirring. Are you certain?”
Nepaneck asked the boy with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Karem had fully expected that response.
After all, the idea that applying nothing more than physical force could turn a liquid into something soft yet unmistakably solid was extraordinary enough that even half-doubting it was impressive. The detailed principle, however, escaped even Karem. Something about molecular bonds under physical stress… or whatever. He couldn’t very well offer such crude knowledge even as a metaphor, so he decided to play the fool for a moment.
“Of course. I made it myself, and there were plenty of people watching. Originally I meant to put cream into bread dough, but I forgot the flour and just kept whipping sugar into the cream. I kept stirring and wondering why it wouldn’t come together, and then all of a sudden it thickened into this texture.”
“Hmm. So a foolish mistake became the source of a new discovery.”
“After several experiments I found that cream turns into whipped cream more easily when it’s cold.”
It was a rather absurd excuse, but Karem saw no reason it wouldn’t hold. Even geniuses sometimes committed transcendent acts of stupidity, and roughly a third of culinary history was built on mistakes and foolishness.
Pretzels were born when someone forgot them and baked them twice by accident. The famous idiot candy (Betise) that starred a fat man and a dwarf goblin tribe. Brownies created when a housewife left out an ingredient. Even the crepe suzette right in front of them had been born when a cook accidentally spilled liquor on a dish and set it ablaze.
“…It’s true that even the geniuses of the royal palace sometimes make new discoveries through foolish mistakes.”
Nepaneck had naturally committed a few profitable blunders of her own, so she let it pass.
“I recommend saving the cake, the roll, and the suzette for last. Stronger flavors are best left for the end, don’t you think?”
“Very well. Then…”
Syrup-brushed crepes and cream. As Nepaneck moved her fork, the crepe cake parted without resistance, revealing its layered strata of crepe and cream.
The mere motion of her tongue crushed the syrup-soaked crepe as softly as desert sand damp with dawn moisture; it dissolved without leaving a shape. The cream nestled between the layers burst in bubbles too fine to see, circulating a faint lemon fragrance gently through her mouth before vanishing down her throat.
Desert desserts that exploded with sweetness and maximized fragrance by steeping in syrup and honey. This was of a different grain from the explosively sweet desserts she had known until now. The sensation of something that did not assault the tongue but softly enfolded it was so unfamiliar that Nepaneck found it almost awkward.
Gulab jamun steeped to its core in flower-water syrup. Gaz, made by mixing sugar and honey with egg whites and nuts and setting them firm. Marzipan formed from nut flour and sugar. If the lavish Adobis desserts that lavished honey, sugar, and dates were dazzling dancers offering their art to the gods, then the crepe cake—of which she had already finished an entire slice without noticing—felt like a musician in simple attire whose lingering notes still resonated.
When Nepaneck immediately brought her fork to the piece beside it, the boy quickly explained.
“The crepe roll next to it wraps stewed peach in cream and encloses the whole in a single thin crepe.”
Nepaneck could hear the hard labor mixed into Karem’s confident words. If the sensation on her tongue was any guide, wrapping the filling so it wouldn’t tear with only a single sheet was certainly no small effort.
Where the crepe cake had been a ensemble of crepe, cream, and lemon syrup, the roll was a cream solo. A single paper-thin yellow crepe wrapped around a thick cushion of cream that cradled generous stewed peach; it was not flashy, yet the contrast itself drew the eye.
A new sensation compared to the stacked layers. The cream, encased in its thin crepe membrane, crumbled in her mouth with the texture of frozen cloud, and the dense, soft peach flavor spread through it.
While others tasting the boy’s desserts wore expressions of shock, dreamy bliss, or serious concentration, what on earth was their employer doing…?
Damn it all. There are too many competitors!
…Kitty. Even so, saying that in a place like this—
That’s why I’m whispering, old man! Every last one of them is coveting the things I should be eating…!
No, the main character is Kitty. Not you—ah, this is hopeless.
Every time a dessert (specifically, one of Karem’s) disappeared from the table, Catherine’s gaze grew more dangerous, and Olivier—who usually spent his time teasing her—was visibly panicking and trying to rein her in. Their mouths formed the words so clearly that anyone could read them. Come on, Master, don’t give up yet.
House elf. Does even you think your master is in the right?
At least she hasn’t crossed the final line yet.
Fortunately, as Mary’s lips indicated, Catherine had not yet crossed the final line. Those coveting the three-crepe set were mostly Adobis people—including Nepaneck—which meant they were the guests of honor and the protagonists of this gathering.
If only the guests weren’t all from Adobis!
Because she had not crossed Mary’s unspoken final line, her silent fury was observable only by Karem, who responded by simply turning his head. Fine. He had seen nothing.
When Karem focused on the guest again, her fork was already moving toward the final piece he had recommended. The surface of the crepes, thoroughly soaked in a butter-syrup sauce rich with orange zest and juice, had caramelized to a soft brown where the sugar met the flame.
Before Karem could even begin explaining, Nepaneck had already folded a crepe suzette with her fork and taken a bite, savoring it. As if the earlier modest yet refined sweetness had been nothing but coyness, a deep orange fragrance exploded and danced through her mouth.
Unlike the purely soft textures before, the zest that crunched between the crepes with each bite exploded with citrus, giving the texture a variation that delighted the ear. A taste and aroma completely opposite to the two desserts Karem had shown so far. Or rather, precisely because her tongue had grown accustomed to those gentle flavors, the final explosion of taste and scent felt all the more special.
“I see. That’s why you recommended the suzette last.”
“If you had eaten this first, the cake and roll beforehand would have tasted bland and flat by comparison. Please.”
“Of course. Ah—over there. A few more slices of that cake, please.”
While a servant added cake to Nepaneck’s plate, she rinsed her mouth with water and glanced sidelong at the boy. The three desserts made from thin crepes were excellent enough to be called the stars of the latter half of this banquet, if one divided it into beginning, middle, and end. Presenting something new in a familiar form to invite curiosity rather than rejection. Something familiar elevated by the performance of fire to capture attention.
She cut into the fresh slice of crepe cake the servant had served and asked Karem,
“So you didn’t make all of these by yourself, did you?”
“Of course not. Even if it had been possible, there simply wouldn’t have been enough time alone.”
The number of people at lunch was not huge, but it easily exceeded ten. In other words, one cake, one roll, and a few suzettes would never have been enough. So Karem had unhesitatingly accepted help from those whose hands were free early. No—rather, they had been the ones to ask first if there was anything they could do. He had cheerfully accepted on the condition of deferred payment.
Deferred payment for help? Well, it was obvious they wanted to steal the recipes, and since they weren’t family, of course he would take compensation. The chefs from Adobis and Obsidianberry seemed to understand that as well and accepted readily.
Reading the point from Karem’s attitude, Nepaneck made her proposal.
“Young chef. Would you consider working in Adobis? I can meet any conditions you desire.”
Nepaneck offered a blank check. She wanted the boy. Very much. Ideas and drive of this caliber, backed by real skill. Even accounting for his young age, he was more than worth it. Above all, new and delicious food possessed value in itself. The synergy when important contracts were sealed over good food. For someone who, at the new king’s request, held all manner of meetings and sealed contracts, it ranked right after negotiation skill and practical ability. And more than anything, she had money. A great deal of it. If he wanted land, she could buy him a well-situated oasis in his name. If he wanted people, she could purchase loyal retainers for him. If he wanted gold—
“I’m grateful for the generous offer you made with me in mind. But it’s far too heavy a proposal for me to accept.”
—It’s a good offer, but I must decline. I’m sorry.—
“Eh… what?”
An answer wrapped in completely unexpected circumlocution. Nepaneck was taken aback, but Karem was serious. He had heard that Adobis, aside from a brief rainy season and the wet period, was a desert where the sun blazed and sand glittered. Karem had no desire whatsoever to walk of his own free will into that blazing hell. He definitely hated humidity more than heat. But putting up with clamminess for one season versus being melted into a puddle by heat all four seasons—even simple addition and subtraction made it obvious which was better. There were plenty of other reasons involving his tangible and intangible position and value at the count’s estate, and he had grown attached besides, but more than anything—
“I cannot break my contract, if only out of gratitude for the grace my employer has shown me. I’m sorry.”
He bowed deeply.
The sight of him speaking so earnestly in his small body and then bowing looked ridiculous even to Karem himself, yet he was entirely serious. Nepaneck, however, was not.
“…Pbbbt—”
She puffed out her cheeks. Nepaneck was sulking.
— Gulab Jamun —
— Gaz —
— Marzipan —
Pictures drawn by ChatGPT.