Thumping sounds echoed from beside the row house, like someone hammering away at something. Drawn by the noise, a curious little gremlin came wandering over.
"Whatcha doing there, freckles! You finally make it back?"
It was Zhao Yu.
His cheeks were smeared with paint. She'd heard he was studying painting under an artist, and it seemed he was still at it.
Maomao
was holding a hammer, striking away at tree roots. The roots,
kudzu root,
had been washed in water. Beside her,
Left Cook
was also wielding a hammer, pounding away at the kudzu root.
Keyou
had also been asked to help, but a customer had come to buy medicine and she'd had him mind the shop instead. Leaving it unattended too long would earn a scolding from the madam.
(There was nothing valuable in there anyway, and the madam was keeping a watchful eye.)
For now, teaching Left Cook how to make kuzu starch took priority.
"What's your problem? Taking it out on tree roots and all."
"I'm not. I'm making medicine."
"Huh. Sounds like a pain."
"If you're just going to stand there watching, make yourself useful. Go fetch some water from the well."
"Aw, c'mon."
Zhao Yu had absolutely no get-up-and-go. Bratty kids like him wouldn't lift a finger without a bribe.
"Help me out, and I'll make you a sweet you've never had before."
"I'm in!"
Zhao Yu's eyes lit up and he darted off toward the well.
"It sure is nice having a little gremlin with so much energy around."
Left San, who'd ended up having to swing a hammer after all that digging, was completely spent. There was no life left in his eyes.
"What are you going to do with this? It's all shredded to bits."
He held up the kudzu root he'd crushed with the hammer.
"Wash it and strain it through the colander. Repeat."
Maomao set out a bucket and a colander.
"I brought the water!"
Zhao Yu came stumbling back.
"Right."
Maomao carefully washed the kudzu root in the bucket of water, then strained it through the colander. She repeated the process, enduring the skin-cutting cold of the water.
"Nailed it."
Brown, murky water dripped through the colander. Tree roots remained inside.
"That's still not enough water. Now go fetch more."
"Freckles! You know how hard it is to go get water, right?"
"When I was your age, they made me do about fifty round trips a day."
"...!"
Perhaps her competitive streak got the better of her, because she went to fetch water again.
"Fifty round trips? That's brutal for a kid."
Left San said, crushing the next kudzu root.
"But I did it."
"What'd you do?"
"..."
(
Rokuseikan —
that was the punishment for soaking snakes in every last bottle of sake there.)
The old madam had glared at her with furious eyes and denied her meals until she finished. Incidentally, the snake-infused sake was later brilliantly sold out to customers by the old madam, who'd claimed it boosted vitality.
Sazen crushed the kudzu root, Choū fetched water, and Maomao carefully rinsed it and strained it through a colander.
Choū was competitive by nature, but also a spoiled brat at heart. Before anyone knew it, he'd roped in any man who looked idle and put them to work hauling water.
(That little punk.)
If he had the men helping, there was no telling what the old madam would say. They'd end up having to prepare something as payment in lieu of wages.
"Hey, Maomao. Could you get your… kindred spirit off my back?"
Sazen's voice sounded pained. At some point, the cat—
Moumou—
had parked herself on top of Sazen while he worked.
"Kindred spirit, my foot."
Maomao slid her hands under Moumou's front legs and hoisted her up. The cat let out a mew and her body went limp, stretching out to an absurd length.
"See? Stop getting in the way."
Moumou, too, was pampered by the residents of the Verdigris House, and had a tendency to look down on humans a bit. Especially lowly servants like Sazen.
Moumou gave Maomao an irritable little swat.
"Do it again, and I'll turn you into a brush."
Moumou flinched for an instant, then scratched behind her own neck with a hind paw and sauntered off somewhere.
"Bully the cat all you want, but I've finished mashing all of them—"
Sazen rolled his shoulders.
"How is this supposed to become powder?"
What Sazen was pinching was the shredded kudzu root—already soaked in water.
"That's not the part we're using."
"Huh?"
Maomao pointed at the murky water.
"We're using this."
"This? That's dirty water. Aren't we supposed to throw it out?"
"Whoa, idiot! Don't you dare throw that out!"
She had inadvertently raised her voice.
In making kuzu powder, the most important thing was the water filtered through the colander.
"If you're wondering why I crushed the kudzu root to pieces, it's because the nutrients are concentrated in the roots."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh."
"You dissolve those nutrients into the water. In other words, once the crushed roots have been soaked, they've served their purpose."
Maomao thought she was being as clear as she could, but Sazen still didn't seem to have caught on.
"Anyway, this filtered water needs to sit overnight inside the house. Try not to shake it as much as possible."
"No, I still really don't get it."
"You'll understand tomorrow."
"Hmm..."
It was a vague response, but once she showed him the real thing tomorrow, he'd understand.
Maomao filtered the last of the kudzu root through the colander and let out a deep breath.
Even after finishing one task, Maomao had no time to rest. She was borrowing the kitchen at Rokusyokan. Sure enough, the shrewd old woman had demanded payment in the form of the men's wages.
"Hey. So what's this fancy dessert you're making?"
"Ugh, be quiet. I'm about to start making it, so shut up."
Maomao took out the remaining kuzu powder and put it into a large pot. She dissolved it in water and added molasses as well.
(Sugar or honey would give a better color, but...)
They were expensive, so it would be a waste. Even the molasses was a luxury.
"That's a pretty ugly color, you know."
"Shut up."
She set it on the stove and stirred ceaselessly with a rice paddle.
"It's getting all gooey."
"Same as kuzu soup."
Kuzu powder thickened when heated. If she boiled off the water, it should become something like mochi.
"If I only make this much, that old woman's going to say it's not enough."
Walnuts.
Add them to the mix. Walnuts were also used as a nutritive tonic, making them just the thing for the courtesans.
"How's this?"
Maomao spread the yellow powder across a large plate, then poured in the cooked kuzu. It was no longer powder but a proper mochi now — kuzu mochi, to be more precise.
"What's this yellow powder?"
"Soybeans. In other words,
kinako —
that's what it is."
In Chinese herbal medicine,
it was often called "xianggu."
The traditional method used boiled and fermented sticky beans. This, however, was simply roasted soybeans ground in a mortar. She had also added a pinch of sugar and salt to the flour — a small amount of salt actually enhanced the sweetness.
She coated the poured kuzu mochi evenly with the roasted soybean flour.
"My, that looks delicious!"
Drawn by the aroma,
Lady Hakurei
had come wandering over.
(The young lady really shouldn't be consuming any more energy-boosting foods...)
But now that she'd been spotted, there was no getting out of it.
"My lady, I'm about to pour it, so no sneaking a taste."
"I know, I know."
That was what she said, but she was already sticking her tongue out.
"Chou U, get the plates ready. One for each person."
"Got it."
Even as leftovers, kuzu powder wasn't cheap. Between the walnuts, sugar, molasses, and roasted soybean flour...
And since she was distributing it to every last courtesan and staff member in the Ryokuseikan, even the old procuress wouldn't have grounds to complain.
"Well now, is this in lieu of the male servants' wages?"
The old woman ambled over and eyed the kuzu mochi appraisingly.
"Looks rather skimpy, doesn't it?"
"What are you saying, old woman? Don't you trust the confectionery skills honed in the rear palace?"
"Ha ha, you were trained in a brothel first, so your skills are nothing to brag about."
Saying that, she took the plate, pinched up a piece with chopsticks, and popped it into her mouth.
"...There are walnuts in here? It's softer than regular mochi. Wouldn't it be better with a bit more chew to it?"
"Normally you're supposed to eat it chilled."
"Who eats cold things in the dead of winter?"
(I wish she'd just choke on it already.)
The old woman never stopped talking — she'd probably live to a hundred.
Maomao cooled the bottom of the plate with cold well water while thinning the molasses to make
sauce.
And that was that.
Drawn by the sweetness, the courtesans who had been rehearsing or napping in their rooms gradually shuffled over.
Since not everyone could fit in the dining hall, the lower-ranked courtesans ate out in the
entrance hall.
It was just as well — there were no afternoon customers today.
Zhao Yu happily took his plate, and with his close friend
Baldy,
ate together in the entrance hall.
"Mmm, delicious."
Lady Bailing's face lit up. Adding a drizzle of the thinned molasses brought out the flavor even more.
"Not bad," she remarked.
The one who delivered that slightly condescending opinion was
Jo-ka
She was a young lady. For someone as curt as her, that was practically a compliment.
"So it's made from kudzu starch. I wish it could be made from something cheaper."
Mei-mei
The young lady pinched a piece with her chopsticks and examined it while speaking.
"Could you make it with wheat flour instead? Or maybe crush up rice?"
The one making suggestions was Joka. Byakuren had already finished eating and wasn't listening anymore.
"With wheat you'd just end up with steamed buns, and with rice it'd be plain mochi."
"We've got plenty of wheat and rice, too."
The Rokushoukan had stores of wheat and rice that Maomao had received. They were the bounty from the sake-tasting competition a while back.
"Kudzu starch comes from kudzu root, right? Since they look so similar, couldn't it be made from tree roots?"
At Joka's question, Maomao crossed both hands in an X.
"The kudzu root stores up nutrients. Kudzu starch is extracted from those nutrients…"
Maomao tilted her head.
(A root that stores nutrients.)
In other words, something like a tuber.
And when it came to tubers, Maomao had an idea.
"
Sweet potato
might be worth a try."
"Sweet potato, huh. Wouldn't it be better to just roast them as-is?"
Byakuren, who had emptied her plate, chimed in.
"You're right. They taste better eaten normally. Besides, it's far too much work."
Mei-mei nodded in agreement.
"But turning them into powder would make them easier to store."
Joka, quick-witted as she was, looked at it from a slightly different angle.
"Storage, true. And it wouldn't take up as much space either."
(Right. It keeps well once processed.)
Potatoes weren't suited for long-term storage the way rice was. They sprouted quickly and could rot. But if they were ground into powder, their shelf life improved dramatically. They wouldn't sprout, rotting became far less likely, and above all, they wouldn't take up nearly as much space.
(Well, I might as well suggest it.)
In the growing regions, potatoes might sometimes be left to rot from oversupply, and processing them could create employment.
As for those finer points, Maomao was no expert—someone else would have to handle that.
"Both Joka and Maomao are so clever. I, Pairin, don't really understand much about potatoes beyond eating them."
"Young miss doesn't much care for studying anything besides dancing."
Meimei looked a bit exasperated.
"That's right. Lately, the customers who come by often bring up some really complicated topics, and I haven't the faintest idea what they're on about."
"You young miss are awfully sly, though. You just smile sweetly, and the customers walk away satisfied. I actually answer every question, and I still end up boring them."
There were probably customers who deliberately posed difficult questions to Joka, whose knowledge could put even civil-service exam candidates to shame. The officials kept coming back, hoping to one day trip her up.
"Oh? What kind of topics? Come to think of it, there have been a lot of customers from the west lately."
"Yes, exactly. Customers from the Western Capital. Talking about censorship, or taxes going up. They've apparently been told not to speak of it, but they go ahead and blab anyway. It's fine by me since I forget everything right away."
(Censorship? Taxes?)
The Western Capital— that was
Gyokuyou
's home region. Her father had since come to the capital, but—
(Jinshi must have raised taxes to prepare for a famine, so could that be what they're talking about?)
No, if that was it, what about the censorship? "Don't speak of it"— could that be referring to a
gag order
?
(Something smells fishy.)
Maomao popped the kuzu mochi into her mouth, her eyebrows twitching.