Chapter 93 - Charge! Dinner on the Road 4: The Cream Yellow Melancholy <2>
Ritz sat on a chair in the kitchen, clutching a book, tormented.
It was still morning. Annie was with Joe, making other decorations, so Ritz was the only one here.
Today, swallowing his pride, he had rushed to the bookstore at a time when there were few people, just after it opened. There, under the painful gazes of the housewives in the store, he had shrunk his large frame more than necessary and purchased a book titled 'Easy for Beginners! A Cake Making Book'.
He had bought the ingredients based on that, but after returning and opening the book, a sigh escaped him.
Baking was unnecessarily meticulous.
"Why do I have to measure even a pinch of flavoring in grams? A pinch is a pinch."
Ritz grumbled at the book as he scanned the section on 'How to Make a Marron Cream Cake'.
Sift the flour? Wouldn't it be unnoticeable if you just mixed it in? Why did he have to sift it to make it finer when he was just going to mix it anyway?
And what's more, separating the eggs into yolk and white and whisking them… aren't they just going to end up together in the end?! Why mix them separately?
And for that matter, why did he have to add the sugar in several batches?
"Is this some kind of harassment… is it?"
He thought this, fed up with the sheer meticulousness of it all, but it seemed that the young ladies of the world faithfully followed these instructions to make their cakes. What a troublesome thing.
As he thought this with a sigh, something in his heart whispered to him.
—It's fine, isn't it? To be approximate. All the ingredients will go in anyway.
That whisper was extremely appealing. Unable to resist the sweet temptation, Ritz picked up several eggs from the crate where they were neatly arranged.
"Don't take it personally."
Thinking of the eggs that were about to be subjected to an unknown fate, he said a word of apology before cracking them into a large bowl without separating the yolks and whites.
He threw in a dash of sugar by eye and a pinch of vanilla bean powder.
"So I just have to whip this until it gets all thick and creamy, right?"
He was confident in his strength and perseverance. He figured if he just whipped it enough, it would work out somehow. With a whisk in hand, Ritz launched a furious assault on the large bowl.
…It wasn't whipping up very well. He ended up mixing for about ten minutes, but it didn't really feel like it had been whipped.
It had certainly turned whitish, and the resistance had gotten heavier, but….
And what in the world did 'until it flows down in a thick, creamy ribbon' mean? Was it okay if it fell from the spatula in a ribbon-like stream? What did that even mean?
He had no idea.
Why did baking books have to be written so abstractly?!
Couldn't they have used an easy-to-understand comparison, like the consistency of soft clay used for masonry, or a potage that had been simmered down and thickened?
In any case, his hand was getting tired. How long did he have to mix for? He happened to see a note that said, 'Warming it to skin temperature in a double boiler will make it whip up faster.'
"You should have said so sooner…"
He complained, conveniently ignoring the fact that he hadn't read it carefully, and started boiling water in a pot while still mixing.
But before the water boiled, the mixture of eggs, sugar, and vanilla beans had become thick, four or five times its original volume.
"What do you know, I can do it."
Pleased with himself, he turned his eyes to the book to proceed to the next step of the recipe. It said to measure the flour according to the recipe, sift it, and add it in three batches….
"This should be about right."
Once again, Ritz added the flour by eye, all at once, without sifting. He was feeling confident since he had just succeeded.
The recipe said, 'Fold in gently, as if cutting.'
"Fold in gently?"
He didn't understand. What did he have to do 'gently'? He wasn't stabbing it, and he was kneading it with a spatula, so how could it be 'gently'?
"I just have to mix it, right? Just mix it."
Ritz mixed the lumpy flour with all his might. It just wouldn't mix.
The lumpy flour repelled the egg mixture and wouldn't combine. He desperately mixed all the flour in.
"See, it's mixed."
He poured it into a buttered tray and baked it at 170 degrees for twenty minutes.
Ritz closed the oven and let out a long sigh. He felt like he had finished a major task, but it wasn't over yet.
"Alright, next is the cream."
He opened the jar of chestnuts preserved in syrup that he had bought, took out the chestnuts, and chopped them finely with a knife. He placed them on a sieve and carefully mashed them with a spatula.
He transferred the fluffy, creamed chestnuts to a bowl, then added butter, heavy cream, and brandy, and kneaded until smooth.
This beautifully shining, cream-yellow paste. It was perfect. This was no different from what you'd buy in a store. In terms of appearance, at least. He took a small taste, and it wasn't bad either.
Next, he whipped the heavy cream. This was as far as he could go for now. The rest of the work would have to wait until the sponge cake was ready.
Once the sponge was done, he would cut it into rounds with a cutter and place a piece of the preserved chestnut on top.
Then he would put whipped cream on top and decorate it by piping on this golden marron cream.
On top of that, he would drizzle melted chocolate in a fine thread to finish it.
…In his imagination, it wasn't bad.
"Heh, as expected of me."
This part was almost the same as the cooking he usually did. The measurements could be approximate, and it was going smoothly.
He really thought that cooking needed to be flexible like this. If this turned out to be a great success, wouldn't he be pretty amazing?
As he was taking a self-satisfied break, it was time for the sponge cake to be done baking.
"Alright, now all that's left is to decorate it."
He cheerfully opened the oven, and an unexpected sight greeted him.
"…Huh?"
In the tray was a mysterious object that smelled good but hadn't risen at all. When he poked it with a spatula, it was incredibly hard.
"Less of a sponge cake… and more of a shoe sole?"
He placed the tray on the worktop and stared at it in a daze for a while.
This was definitely not right… He didn't think so.
When he poked it with his finger, it was quite resilient. He had never eaten a cake like this before.
He cut off a corner with a knife and popped it into his mouth. The aroma that filled his nose was that of a cake. But this texture… it felt similar to a food called 'mochi' that he had eaten in the eastern countries a long time ago.
"For now, I'll have to make it again."
Ritz picked up the eggs again. This time, he properly separated the whites and yolks as written, and added the sugar in batches while whipping.
…It was easier than using brute force. As expected of something written in a book, it was correct.
Next, he sifted the flour and added it. He properly divided it into three batches. This, too, was easy to mix. But he still didn't understand 'gently'.
He once again thoroughly kneaded the flour and the whipped egg mixture, and it was complete. He put it in the oven.
The result… Ritz was sitting on a chair in a daze.
"This is strange…"
Before him were two 'mochi'-like sponge cakes. He had made the second one exactly as written, but he had no idea what was wrong.
Time was ticking away. He only had an hour left before he had to hand over the kitchen to Anna.
The only option left was to try making it one more time. He started whipping the eggs from the beginning again. This was the last of the ingredients. This was really his last chance.
If this didn't work, he would have no choice but to go buy one. But since he had promised Anna he would make it, he didn't want to break that promise.
Just as he was about to add the sifted flour and mix, a small hand gently reached out from behind Ritz.
That hand was firmly gripping the whisk he was about to use to knead the batter. He lowered his gaze and saw a head of red hair.
"…Anna."
"Eheheh, I couldn't just watch anymore."
She said with a shy smile as she looked up at Ritz, then quickly pulled the whisk out of the batter and put it in the kitchen sink. She picked up a wooden spatula instead.
"Try adding the flour."
"Oh, right."
As prompted, Ritz added one batch of flour. Without kneading or mixing it in, Anna used the spatula vertically, repeatedly cutting through the batter as she mixed in the flour.
Ritz understood. So this was what 'fold in gently, as if cutting' meant. There was no way he would have understood that without them writing it in more detail.
When the last of the flour had been added, he looked at the state of the batter and saw that it wasn't as sticky as before.
"Now, pour this into the tray and…"
With practiced hands, Anna poured it into the tray and closed the oven door.
"It'll be fine now. You see, I used to make cakes every month at the orphanage, so I'm good at it."
Anna, who had turned around with a happy expression, saw Ritz standing there speechless, and her face instantly changed to one of apology.
"…Sorry, was I being a bother?"
There was no way she was a bother. If Anna hadn't come, all of the last of the ingredients would have been wasted. Ritz patted Anna's shoulder with his clean hand.
"No, you were a great help. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Anna's expression instantly brightened. She really was easy to read. In any case, she had come to help at just the right time.
"By the way, how long have you been here?"
When he asked, Anna looked up at Ritz with a troubled expression and upturned eyes.
"…You won't get mad?"
"There's no way I'd get mad."
…Because you're cute.
If you make a face like that, I'll be in trouble. It makes me want to hug you. He thought this in his head, without letting it show on his face or in his words.
"Then I'll tell you. Actually… I've been here the whole time."
"…What?"
The whole time? He hadn't noticed at all….
"Because Joe and Annie told me to go back to my room since they were making decorations. But it's so boring in my room. So I was standing behind you the whole time so you wouldn't find me."
"B-Behind me?"
"Yeah. My heart was pounding a little, thinking I might get yelled at if you found me."
She was that close…? Was he disqualified as a mercenary for not noticing her presence?
No, no, more importantly, had he said anything strange out loud? He was worried.
Various thoughts swirled around in his head. But Anna was acting as usual, so it was probably fine. He decided to think that.
Even if he had blurted something out, the dense Anna would never have suspected anything.
In any case… if she had been here from the beginning, he wished she had said something when he made the first mistake.
"You could have at least stopped me when I was kneading it the second time. I wasted the ingredients."
"But… it was so interesting, seeing you so serious about making a cake, Ritz. It's a rare sight, you know?"
"…You know."
He slumped into a chair, his strength drained. In the end, he had ended up having Anna help him. This was completely meaningless, wasn't it?
And after he had tried so hard to make it perfectly and surprise her. And what was he supposed to do with this failed sponge cake-like thing?
"What should I do with this?"
"The failed one?"
Anna poked the resilient object with a serious expression.
"Yeah, that."
"Hmm…"
Ignoring the pondering Anna, Ritz hunched over and rested his cheeks in his hands on the table.
"We only have forty minutes left…"
He muttered with a sigh. He might be able to make something with the failed cake, but he couldn't think of anything. It was too much of a waste to throw it away.
"Ritz, can I have this?"
Anna asked, pointing at the failed creation.
"Sure, but what are you going to do with it?"
He asked dismissively, still in the same position. Anna smiled brightly and looked back at Ritz's face.
"I'm going to make a no-bake cheesecake. I'll use this instead of a tart crust."
"…Huh."
He had never imagined that this shoe sole… no, no, this failed creation had such a use. The world of baking was deep… perhaps.
As for Ritz himself, he would rather not get involved with it ever again.
"While you're decorating the marron cream cake, I'll make it next to you."
With that, Anna disappeared from Ritz's sight. She must have gone to get some ingredients.
He couldn't just sit at the worktable forever either. For now, he had to melt the chocolate before the sponge cake was done baking.
Just as he sighed and was about to stand up, his back suddenly felt warm. Along with a soft weight on his back, Anna's arms wrapped around his neck. He was so surprised that he couldn't speak.
"…!"
"Eheheh, thank you, Ritz. For listening to my selfish request."
He was so happy from the warmth of her body and her happy voice that he couldn't say anything. But Anna's next words made him hang his head in dejection.
"You're always so kind, Ritz, just like my adoptive father."
"Your adoptive father, huh…"
He knew, but the moment of hope he had felt made him lose all his energy. It was foolish and empty to hope, knowing it was futile.
"Hey, Ritz's birthday isn't for a while yet, right?"
"Yeah. It's in the summer."
He hadn't celebrated his birthday in nearly forty years. It was the kind of thing that passed before he even noticed. When you have a lifespan of a thousand years, you start to lose sight of the meaning of celebrating it every year.
"What do you want for your birthday? I want to thank you, so tell me anything."
Anna said innocently. He touched Anna's soft, slender arms that were wrapped around his neck and gently stroked them. Anything….
"…I want you."
He muttered so softly she couldn't hear. Even a man like him would be overjoyed if he could be loved by Anna.
"What? I can't hear you."
So that the complaining Anna couldn't see, Ritz let out a self-deprecating smile.
I'm an idiot. And after he had decided to hide it, he was so easily on the verge of breaking that vow. This was meaningless.
Looking up at Anna's eyes, Ritz put on an especially bright smile.
"As long as it's not something outrageous, anything is fine."
"Geez, 'anything is fine' is the most difficult answer."
Gently releasing the pouting Anna's arms from his neck, Ritz stood up.
"Come on, we don't have time."
When he pointed at the clock, Anna's eyes went wide.
"You're right! Oh no!"
"I've never decorated before, so don't talk to me. If you talk to me, I won't be responsible for what happens."
"Okay~."
At the party, which was held with only the members of the Clayton household, a large feast was laid out, and alongside it were marron cream cakes for everyone and a beautiful, pure-white no-bake cheesecake.
Although the marron cream cakes were clumsy, they received praise for their undeniable taste. But it goes without saying that everyone who ate them had to hold back their laughter as they imagined a flustered Ritz making the cakes.
A super sweet extra chapter (^^;)
Next up is Volume 8, 'A Sea Voyage Laden with Bewilderment'.
A Ritz still in turmoil over Anna, and an Anna who is her usual self. A Franz at the end of his rope with paperwork, and a former king who nonchalantly goes his own way.
The usual four set off on a journey from Sears, the Royal Capital of the Yuresla Kingdom.
Please look forward to this light intermission before the story moves from the Royal Capital arc to the Eneonea Continent arc.