Spring had officially arrived on the calendar, but outside the blizzards had only just started to die down, and the cold was still severe enough that it didn't feel particularly spring-like.
However, with the blizzards subsiding, Turi had been able to come over more often. That meant the days when she could go home were drawing nearer, and I couldn't have been happier about it.
One day, Turi showed up clutching a small jar.
"Hey, Mine. This was supposed to be eaten over the winter, right? What are we going to do? You weren't here, so it just sat there the whole time. My mom told me to come ask you how to use it."
Turi set the jar on the table and opened the lid. At the same moment, a sharp alcoholic smell hit my nose. Inside were fruits steeped until they turned brown and syrupy in plenty of alcohol. It was the rumtopf we'd been pickling at home, divided into small jars.
I had completely forgotten about all the fruit we'd spent the summer pickling, and I gasped.
"Eek! We had honey and sugar here, and I made jam too, so I totally forgot!"
"...I figured."
The rumtopf—various kinds of fruit steeped in alcohol—was fully ready. The sharp edges of the fruit had softened and rounded out, and the alcohol had taken on a thick, syrupy consistency. It looked like it could be eaten right away, but how should we eat it to make it taste the best?
"What should we do? I was thinking we'd eat it on 'ice cream' or 'pudding' at first, but the easiest sweet we can make at home is Paru cake, right?"
When I'd started making it in the summer, I had no plans to be cooped up in the
But since I couldn't go to Lutz's house anymore, that plan had gone up in smoke. I had to think of something the family could easily eat at home.
"So we make Paru cake and pour this over the top?"
"You cut the rumtopf into small pieces and sprinkle them on. Turi and my mom eat just the fruit, and they give the leftover alcohol to Dad—he'd love that. We've made other things with it a few times too, right? French toast! That's great with it on top. And then, and then..."
The classic sweet made with rumtopf is stollen, but since we don't have an oven at home, we can't bake it.
"Mine, calm down. So what are we actually making here? Paru cake is out, right?"
"...Right."
I basically wanted to avoid the Paru cake recipe spreading to
"What would be good? Stollen is the classic, but asking them to make it from scratch today would take too long. Hmm, how about I have Ella make crepes?"
"...Is it okay to make that recipe public?"
Turi knew that my cooking recipes were used in Italian restaurants or sold to Ilse and Frieda, bringing in money, and she looked slightly wary.
"Probably. There are similar dishes to crepes already... I think it's fine?"
What I'd seen in this city wasn't crepes exactly, but a galette-like dish made with buckwheat flour, with eggs and ham or mushrooms and cheese baked in. It was served as a light meal at food stalls.
Surprisingly, though, I had never seen a galette served as a dessert. Maybe it was made somewhere, but I didn't know about it. In the lower city, filling your stomach was the priority, and the diet didn't really leave room for fancy sweets, so I supposed it made sense.
"
"It's the cold season, so it can be prepared easily. How much do you need?"
When I turned around, Fran was already waiting in position, writing board in hand, ready to take notes.
If you leave unpasteurized milk sitting in a cold place, the fat will separate out, so as long as you had plenty of milk, getting fresh cream wasn't that difficult. You did have to be careful not to remove too much moisture, or it would end up closer to clotted cream.
"Then, please bring me about a cup of cream and about a cup of milk."
"Very well."
Buckwheat flour was also in the pantry, so we could make galettes, but for personal preference, I wanted to go with crepes made from wheat flour this time.
Sweets that used sugar were generally for the nobility. If we were making them in this kitchen, it would be better to lean a bit more toward something that felt elegant rather than the food the lower city ate. We'd have crepes made and eat them with whipped cream and finely chopped rumtopf.
Fran headed to the large cold-storage room in the noble quarters to get the cream, so I immediately started writing out the crepe recipe. I'd need to hand this to Ella and have her make them.
"Hey, Turi. Um, you know that dish where you mix buckwheat flour with water and salt to make a dough, then put ham and cheese on top and bake it? Do you remember what it's called?"
"Oh, galette."
"Right, that."
Now that I knew what galettes were called in this city, I added to the recipe instructions: "bake thin, like a galette."
By the time I finished writing the recipe, Fran had returned with a milk pot—a pitcher with a handle—filled with milk and cream.
After setting the milk pot down in the kitchen, Fran came back upstairs.
"Fran, please ask Ella to make this for me. Tell her I'd like it baked thin like a galette, with nothing added—just the plain batter. She should be able to figure it out from there. Once they're done, I'd like them plated and brought up. Could you ask her to do that?"
"Very well."
When I handed the recipe to Fran, Turi stood up, clutching the jar of rumtopf.
"Um, Fran? I'll help out, so would it be all right if I watched while they're being made?"
I'd learned that Turi was interested in professional cooking, so I asked Fran on her behalf too.
"Fran, Turi is familiar with my recipes and I don't think she'd be in the way, so could you ask Ella? I'd really like to go myself, but if I do, everyone will tense up and I'd just be in the way, wouldn't I? I'll wait here, so please let Turi go."
Making sweets together was such a nice, girly thing to do. During the winter lockdown, it was just Ella and the two female assistants in the kitchen, so the chatter that drifted up during break times always sounded so lively and fun.
If Turi was joining in, I wanted to go too, but as a blue Shrine Maiden Apprentice, I had no choice but to hold back.
"Being a lady is tougher than you'd expect, huh?"
Turi looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Here, lower-city common sense didn't apply—I was the weird one. I was grateful that Turi shared my feelings on this, and I nodded firmly.
"Yeah. I'm always worrying about appearances."
"...Always worrying about appearances? Like... stockings?"
"Exactly!"
Our eyes both dropped to my feet. Then we looked at each other, shrugged, and shared a bitter smile. Being a proper lady really wasn't easy.
"Mine, what are you talking about with stockings?"
After Turi had gone downstairs to the kitchen with Fran, Deria came up, eyes sparkling with interest. Whenever the topic turned to clothes or hair ornaments, she'd come scurrying over. I couldn't help but smile a little.
"I'm saying these stockings are cold."
My stockings were thin cloth ones, long enough to reach halfway up my thigh. In this city, where there was no elastic, the stockings had long ties attached.
Every morning when I dressed at the Temple, I was first fastened with a cloth belt. Then I'd put on the stockings and tie the long ribbons attached to them to the belt. It was like a simple garter belt.
After that, I'd put on something like very loose, thin culottes that were longer than my knees. There were ties threaded through near the knees that you had to knot up. They were incredibly flimsy undergarments. Compared to my previous life, my backside felt drafty. After this, I'd put a shirt on over the top.
But with all of this, my bare legs would absolutely not be visible.
Among the wealthy and the nobility, showing one's bare legs was considered shameful, so both men and women always wore stockings. It was a matter of propriety and etiquette—going without stockings was considered terribly improper.
I'd started wearing stockings when I had my apprentice uniform tailored at the
"...Mine, what do you mean by your stockings being cold?"
"In the Temple, stockings are designed for fashion, but in the lower city, they're purely practical."
For the people of the lower city, stockings were cold-weather gear. They didn't wear them in summer. When winter came, they'd stuff their feet into bag-like things knitted from yarn, like drawstring pouches, and tie the strings. These only went up to the ankle, so above them they'd put on leg warmers also knitted from yarn, reaching up to around the knee. Since they were for warmth, they were quite toasty when layered over several pairs of trousers.
"But Turi's stockings don't look very elegant."
"No, they don't. But sometimes warmth matters more than looks."
"...If warmth is what you need, then why didn't you have tall boots prepared, Mine?"
Nobility who cared about appearances didn't use knitted yarn leg warmers. They wore boots that came up to about the knee, with a brushed lining inside. Those would certainly be warm.
However, I hadn't known that leg warmers weren't allowed at the Temple, so I hadn't bothered to have lined boots made during a time when I had no money. The boots I used were the short leather ones from the Gilberta Company that apprentices wore, designed for ease of movement.
"If only I'd already had my coming-of-age ceremony, I could have hidden them with a long skirt..."
Even just moving around the Temple, thin cloth stockings weren't warm enough, so when I tried to use leg warmers,
My skirt was only knee-length, so wearing leg warmers would leave them completely exposed. I let out a disappointed sigh, and Deria's eyes sharpened.
"Goodness! Mine! Just because no one can see it doesn't mean you should slack off on your appearance!"
...Deria's feminine sensibilities were seriously on another level.
I wanted to prioritize warmth over fashion, but as long as I was at the Temple, those around me wouldn't allow it.
"I'll make sure to have tall boots made before next winter. It really is cold."
"You should."
"Mine, you really ought to have several pairs of short boots made soon. You don't have a single pair of shoes with decorations befitting a lady. You should ask
Rosina, who seemed to have finished a round of paperwork, interjected. She advised that having only one pair of shoes might be a problem when heading to the Spring Dedication Ceremony.
"If you order now, they should be ready in time for the ceremony, so please place your order soon."
"Rosina, please tell me about these important things that take time sooner rather than later."
"Yes, I'll be more careful. I still haven't fully grasped everything that Mine needs."
Rosina apparently hadn't expected that I owned only one pair of shoes. She'd assumed I had several similar pairs, and was shocked to discover the truth once the winter lockdown began.
There were two types of shoes used in the lower city. The poor wore wooden clogs like geta. If they couldn't even afford wooden clogs, they'd wrap rags around their feet, or go barefoot, which wasn't uncommon. I had used wooden clogs all the way up until the time I had my apprentice uniform made.
Furthermore, the idea of making a new pair of shoes simply because you'd worn the old ones out had never once occurred to me. In my previous life, it was taken for granted that you'd own several pairs suited to different occasions, but your environment really does shape the way you think.
I opened my writing board and wrote a note to ask Benno about having boots made.
"Hey, Mine, what kind of leather will you have them made from? Horse? Or pig? And shouldn't you have at least one pair of cloth shoes made too?"
Deria's eyes lit up as she rattled on. She really was eager when it came to anything fashion-related.
I felt bad for the excited Deria, but I genuinely had no knowledge about any of this. I didn't know what designs were currently in fashion in this city, or what kind of shoes were worn where, so I couldn't determine what would be appropriate. I planned to learn by watching Rosina's choices this time.
"I'll be leaving the choice of what kind of boots to have made entirely up to Rosina. Please order the ones I need most right now. If I order them myself, they'll probably end up being the same kind I already have."
"Very well. Leave it to me."
While Rosina began explaining what kind of shoes were needed for what occasions, Fran and Turi came upstairs carrying plates. One held freshly whipped cream, pure white, and the other held rumtopf, finely chopped. They were set on the table.
"Deria, I'll need some tea."
"Yes."
At Fran's voice, Deria headed for the kitchen. Turi and Fran laid out the cutlery, then returned to the kitchen again.
This time they came back with plates holding round, golden-brown crepes. One for me and one for Turi.
"Mine, thank you for waiting."
The plates were set down in front of me. Before me were crepes just like the ones I remembered. A gentle, sweet scent tickled my nostrils, and my eyes softened.
"I cut those," Turi said proudly, pointing at the plate of rumtopf. Then she told me how skilled Ella was and how hard the female assistants had worked.
"Fran, I'm sorry, but could you bring the honey as well? And if possible, could you ask Ella to come up here?"
"But why would that be?"
"I want to show her the finished version of this sweet. From next time on, I'd like everything done in the kitchen."
I knew that bringing a cook upstairs wasn't something Fran would approve of. But if people thought crepes were just about cooking the batter, that would be a problem.
"I can teach Ella myself, so I believe it would be sufficient for you to simply instruct me, Mine."
"...Fine. Then Fran, you'll learn it."
I scooped up fresh cream with a spoon and spread it in a triangular wedge, about one-sixth of the circle, just in front of the center line of the crepe. Then I spooned the finely chopped rumtopf over the cream and scattered it on.
"Spread the cream in front of the halfway line, like this, in a triangle. Less cream is actually better here. Then scatter the rumtopf on top. Be generous with it. If the season were different, you'd use whatever fruit was in season, so you can make crepes without rumtopf too."
As I explained, I drizzled a little honey over the rumtopf. Then I folded the crepe in half and rolled it into a neat cylinder.
"Like this, you can eat it by hand. If you want to eat it the noble way with cutlery, don't roll it like this—just fold it over. Then arrange the cream, fruit, and honey beside it as a garnish, and it's complete."
I unfolded the crepe I'd just rolled, refolded it flat on the plate, and set a line of cream alongside it. Then I decorated the plate prettily with rumtopf and honey.
Fran looked at the completed crepe and blinked several times.
"...This is certainly something you wouldn't be ashamed to serve to nobility."
"Wow, that's so cute! It looks really delicious, Mine!"
Turi was thrilled and started decorating the crepe on her own plate.
Deria was watching with eager eyes, but she wouldn't get to eat until I was done. I missed being able to eat alongside my Attendant, but the rules were the rules.
"Done!"
Turi let out a satisfied voice and gazed at her plate. For someone who wasn't used to plating food, hers looked quite good.
"O highest god who rules the vast and lofty heavens, granting us sustenance from the lives of thousands upon thousands—O five great gods who rule the broad and expansive earth—I offer my thanks and prayers to the will of the gods, and receive this meal."
I cut away just enough for one bite and brought it to my mouth. The soft crepe batter was only slightly crispy at the very edge, with a faint sweetness. Next, I cut a piece that included the cream and popped it into my mouth. The smooth fresh cream, wrapped in the slightly springy batter, had almost no sweetness of its own. But the honey layered in with the cream added an indescribable sweetness.
And as I chewed, I hit a piece of rumtopf. The instant I bit into it, the fruit—soft and melting on the tongue—released a rush of alcohol and an intense sweetness.
"How is it, Turi?"
"Delicious, Mine!"
Turi turned to me with a beaming smile, but her mouth was smeared with cream.
"Turi, you've got cream all over your mouth."
"Well, this is hard to eat!"
Eating crepes with cutlery took some technique. Laughing at Turi as she battled her crepe and got cream all around her mouth, I savored the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with someone.
"Ah, this is bliss. Next time I want to eat 'pudding.' Should I have some made the next time Turi comes over?"
"A new sweet? Wow, I can't wait!"
I wanted so badly for my family to taste this too, and I found myself longing to go home.