The kitchen where ingredients would be handled had been thoroughly cleaned over the course of several days. In parallel with that, cooking utensils and tableware were brought into the kitchen, and firewood and ingredients were carried one after another into the underground storage. Through
From the day we found the kitchen, I started making natural yeast at home. If a professional chef would be baking for us, I wanted to eat fluffy bread.
Following Benno's advice, I bought a glass container with a lid for preservation from a shop that handled glass. This time, I wanted to make natural yeast using Rotbete, which was currently in season.
I boiled the glass bottles to sterilize them, washed them, then added Rotbete with the stems cut off, water, and sugar, and sealed the lids. After that, I waited for the yeast liquid to form while shaking the jar several times a day and opening the lid to let it interact with air.
It took about five days, but once it was fully fermented and finally strained, the yeast liquid was complete. I added whole wheat flour and water to the finished yeast liquid, mixed it, let it rest, and continued feeding it to make bread starter.
Even in noble households, fluffy bread was rare. I had eaten white bread made from only wheat at the Guild Master's house, but even that white bread wasn't as fluffy as what I desired.
If I could properly ferment it with natural yeast and make fluffy bread, it would be a strong selling point. And if I was the one making and managing the natural yeast and bread starter, bread alone would be our untouchable advantage—one that couldn't be easily copied.
Whether things would go according to that plan, however, was anyone's guess.
When I informed Benno that the bread starter was ready, he immediately brought a chef to the
"
Benno introduced the chef, and I wanted to at least exchange greetings, but I simply nodded silently while
"Hugo and Ella, understood. Then, allow me to show you to the kitchen right away."
I had been instructed to always have Fran relay my directions to the chefs, so the cooking methods would be presented by Fran reading aloud the recipes I had written on wooden tablets. Since
"The first thing I want you to learn is hygiene management. Keep the cooking utensils and tableware clean and sanitary. Maintain the kitchen in its current condition and keep it polished. Before coming here, you must always clean your body, your clothes must always be laundered, and you must never enter or leave the kitchen with dirty clothes or a dirty body. Is that clear?"
"Yes, yes!"
If I drilled hygiene practices into them here, they would readily accept the same requirements when told to do the same at the Italian restaurant.
I had no intention of making the Italian restaurant I was about to create into the kind of place where hard, rock-like bread was used as a plate and unwanted food was dropped on the floor for dogs to eat. You could say it was simply the local culture, but I didn't think such customs were necessary for an upscale dining establishment serving noble cuisine.
Ideally, I would have started with consommé, but Benno wanted to eat the finished lunch, so the time-consuming consommé would have to wait until tomorrow. Since today would also be our first time using an oven, I wanted to start with pizza. Or rather, I wanted to eat it myself.
"Well then, let's have you make pizza today. First, light the oven."
"Yes."
Following Fran's instructions, the two brought firewood from below and lit the oven. A wood-fired oven took time to heat up, so lighting the fire was the first task. It was no different from lighting a stove, so it was done quickly.
"Please wash your hands before touching any ingredients."
While Benno and I sat at the servants' table watching, the pizza dough preparation began. The ingredients I and Fran had prepared were already lined up on the counter beforehand, making it feel like a cooking show.
I added the natural yeast I had brought, along with salt, sugar, and lukewarm water, into the bowl of flour in sequence, and kneaded it with a squishing motion to let it ferment. Hugo looked up and let out a light breath.
"This requires quite a bit of strength, like making bread."
"You may consider it about the same. Once you've kneaded it well, leave it as is for a while to ferment. In the meantime, make sauce with pome, and chop the vegetables that will be toppings for the pizza and soup ingredients."
I had them roughly chop the yellow tomato-like pomes that had been peeled with hot water and simmer them over low heat, while having them continuously chop the vegetables for toppings.
"Hugo, I'll handle the liga preparation."
"Go ahead."
Ella deftly wielded a large kitchen knife that I still couldn't lift, and quickly prepped the liga—a white radish with a garlic-like flavor. Hugo proceeded to chop the bacon-like laniese, carrot-like maeren, and mushrooms one after another as instructed. The speed and skill with which he cut the vegetables was truly worthy of a professional, and I let out a breath of admiration.
"Benno, he's a far better chef than I expected."
The moment I spoke, Hugo and Ella flinched and turned toward me. I had meant to compliment them, but the air froze and their faces stiffened, making me realize my remark had been a mistake.
"You flatter us greatly, Mine. ...Both of you, you've received a compliment."
Benno's smooth recovery melted the frozen atmosphere. Hugo and Ella relaxed their expressions with visible relief, said "You fluster us," and then returned to chopping vegetables with serious focus.
After catching a sharp glare from Benno and a subtle hand gesture telling me to "shut my mouth," I nodded deeply.
I'm sorry. I just didn't expect a compliment to make them freeze up like that.
After the vegetables were cut, Hugo prepared the chicken, seasoning the thinly sliced breast meat with salt and wine. I had Ella prepare herbs that would pair well with the meat.
"Next, I'll have you make the soup."
The recipe I had written was a savory vegetable soup made by slicing sausages and simmering them to draw out the flavor. I wanted them to understand that if properly simmered, vegetables would release their own umami.
"Please just let the soup simmer as is. Don't discard the cooking liquid."
"You just simmer it like this?"
At Fran's instructions, the two chefs looked skeptical. Still, unable to defy a noble, they continued cooking with troubled, somewhat disgusted expressions—the same look my former mother used to give when watching me make soup from the sidelines.
"Ella, please skim the scum from the soup. Hugo, the pome sauce has reduced, so add the liga and the oil over there, and mix well. That completes the sauce. Ah, the dough should be about ready now."
Responding to the rapid-fire instructions, Hugo deflated the risen pizza dough, divided it in half, and moved on to stretching it out.
"On top of the flattened round dough, spread the finished pome sauce and place the toppings on it."
Just as Fran instructed, Hugo spread the pome sauce and topped one with bacon, onions, and mushrooms. On the other dough, he spread pome sauce and added breast meat, onions, and herbs. Then, he covered both generously with cheese and placed them in the oven.
I noticed Ella watching the process with an unblinking, intense stare. With the same eager, ambitious eyes that Turi had when discussing sewing with Corina, and that Ilse had when faced with a new recipe, I silently cheered her on in my heart.
If I had the time, I would have loved to make mayonnaise and create a karfe salad instead of potato salad, but in this first kitchen, with an unfamiliar recipe, being watched by a noble while cooking—such a nerve-wracking situation meant things weren't going to go as planned, and there was nothing to be done about it. When I quietly signaled Fran to reduce the number of dishes, Fran gave a small nod.
"The soup seems to have simmered well, so please taste it a little and adjust the salt."
At Fran's words, Hugo scooped a small amount of soup onto a small dish and cautiously brought it to his lips. The moment it entered his mouth, his eyes went wide and he froze. Whether he was slowly rolling it across his tongue to savor it, it took a little time before he swallowed.
"...What is this?"
With that quiet murmur, he scooped another taste.
And then another.
Just as I thought he'd taste away the entire soup at that rate, Ella slapped Hugo on the back with a smack.
"Hugo, that's enough! How's the salt level?"
"Huh!? ...Ah, ah."
Comparing the small dish to the soup pot, Hugo furrowed his brows tightly. It was probably the first time he'd tasted anything like this. And seasoning something to match was difficult.
"A little more. Just a tiny bit more."
With trembling fingers from nervousness, Hugo added a pinch of salt, stirred it around thoroughly, and tasted it once more.
"Good."
"Let me taste it too."
Seeing Ella holding out her small dish with the face of a dog waiting for a treat, I pressed my hand over my mouth to hold back laughter. If I laughed here, the air would surely freeze again.
After receiving a small amount of soup in her dish, Ella took one sip and her face lit up.
"Wow! What is this!? It's amazing! It's the taste of the vegetables, isn't it? There's a sweetness, and the flavor of the sausage has melded into the soup too... To think it could taste this good with just a little salt—it's unbelievable!"
"Calm down, Ella."
Hugo pressed down on the shoulders of Ella, who was excitedly rattling off how delicious it was in a rapid-fire stream. He briefly glanced my way, seemingly trying to signal Ella to rein it in with his eyes, but Ella, ecstatic over her new discovery, didn't pick up on it.
"I can't calm down! Isn't this a huge discovery!?"
"Please, just calm yourself. We're in front of a noble."
"...Ah..."
Ella blanched and looked at me. I hadn't said anything, yet the air had frozen once again.
Having a hardworking chef was a good thing, wasn't it? I wanted to say "Keep up the good work," but what was the correct thing for a noble to do in this situation?
Fran approached, so I whispered, "Could you tell them that I was impressed by their dedication as chefs and that I look forward to future meals?"
"Understood. Mine, Benno, the meal preparations will be ready shortly. Please wait in your room."
As Fran said this, she indicated the door. Gil, who had been standing there, swiftly opened it for us.
Being half-forcibly ushered out, I climbed down from my chair with a small sense of dejection, and Benno offered his hand to escort me.
Fran, who was giving cooking instructions, couldn't leave the kitchen, so it was Gil's role to accompany us to the room. He closed the kitchen door and followed behind me. His expression was one of unmistakable pride—as if to say "See, I'm working!"—and I nearly laughed.
On the room's table, exactly as I had specified, there were flowers in a vase, placemats, and cutlery arranged neatly, along with juice to quench our thirst. All of this had been prepared by Gil while we were in the kitchen observing the cooking.
"Thank you, Gil."
With a broad grin, Gil knelt on one knee. Over the past few days, this had become the unspoken standard—this was the pose for when he wanted praise. When I said "Well done. Good job," and patted his head, Gil smiled with satisfaction.
Since a chef was coming from outside, Gil's hair—which he had washed with Rinshan yesterday—was silky smooth. It felt wonderful to the touch.
I sat at the table, drank some of the juice, and let out a relieved sigh. Surrounded by people who knew my true identity, people who were essentially family, my shoulders dropped and I let a complaint escape.
"Being a lady is tiring. I want to chat. I want to cook too."
"Give it up. For them, the noble kitchen, the noble food, and the noble environment are all study and training just the same—and this is also a training ground for you to master noble manners. Don't let your guard down inside the Temple, dummy."
"Ugh... I'll do my best."
I took a slow, deep breath and straightened my back. Just as I was recommitting to my role as a lady, I heard the door to the lower kitchen open. It seemed Fran was bringing the meal, and Gil quickly moved to stand at the edge of the room.
"Fran, for dessert, I'd like some Rotbete."
"Understood."
The sugar in this kitchen was what I had brought from home—Benno still hadn't obtained any. Until Benno secured a source for sugar, sweets would remain off the table.
Unlike winter, it was currently the season when fruit was delicious, so that was fine for now, but I hoped he could procure sugar before the restaurant was finished.
Fran arranged two types of pizza and soup on the table.
They looked perhaps a little overdone? But the pizza was ready. There were charred spots on the dough here and there, and as the steam wafted gently, the smell of baked cheese spread through the air. The bacon was still making little sizzling sounds, and oil glistened on the surface of the chicken.
Both pizzas looked delicious. As I was savoring the aroma of the baked cheese, Benno sat beside me with eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"We offer our gratitude and prayers to the highest god who governs the lofty, towering heavens and blesses us with the lives of countless beings as our sustenance, and to the five great gods who govern the vast, expansive earth. With reverence for the will of the gods, we receive this meal."
I recited the prayer before meals that I had learned over several days, and only Benno and I ate the freshly made food.
The others had to set aside their portions as an offering to the gods. I would have preferred to eat together, and having to set aside portions wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling for me, but that was the position of a Blue Priestess, and there was nothing to be done about it.
Fran stood at my side and served me. I drank the soup. The umami of the meat and the sweetness of the vegetables were bound together by the salt in a gentle flavor—it was just like the soup I had at home. I would have preferred it a bit saltier, but I'd leave that for next time.
"...This is good."
"The flavor of the vegetables really comes through, doesn't it? Ilse showed interest in it too."
"Oh? That's rather unusual, isn't it?"
When I indirectly conveyed that this wasn't a recipe found in noble cuisine, Benno picked up on it clearly and stared intently at the soup.
"This is pizza. Think of it as something like bread."
I picked up a slice of the cut pizza, gently cut through the melting cheese with a fork, and took a bite to demonstrate. Benno did the same, putting a slice of the bacon pizza in his mouth.
"Does it suit your taste?"
"...I'm surprised by a flavor beyond my expectations."
I had one slice placed on my plate and two on Benno's, then looked up at Fran.
"Fran, I shall grant you a portion of God's blessing. Also, please clear everyone out until dessert is served."
"I am most grateful."
By saying this, the chefs and attendants could eat while the food was still warm.
Fran and Gil took the remaining food and headed downstairs to the first floor, and I heard the door close. In the next moment, Ella's exuberant voice rang out—it seemed the tasting session had already begun. I could faintly hear the noisy, cheerful chatter.
While they were absorbed in the food, it was the perfect time for a private conversation.
"Benno, do you think this pizza and soup could become menu items?"
I asked between bites, and Benno nodded while gnawing on his pizza.
"They could. It was a first-time taste for me, but it was good. ...The pizza seems softer than the bread I've had at noble banquets."
"That's thanks to our natural yeast."
"What do you mean?"
"A secret to keep us ahead of other shops—even if a chef who's been taught the recipe is poached, we'll still have the advantage."
I was investing money in the Italian restaurant too. If it didn't turn a profit, I'd be in trouble.
"The soup simply brings out the umami of the vegetables, so if someone wanted to copy it, others could probably replicate it quickly. Once copying begins, we compete through variety—offering many different flavors of soup."
"Hmm... But with so few chefs, will that work?"
"If we structure it as a seasonal course menu, I think we could manage even with fewer chefs."
When I answered, Benno let out a groan and scratched his head vigorously.
"...It's starting to feel foolish that I've been worrying about this alone. Using you to solve this mountain of problems seems like the easy way out."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"This isn't the place to talk about it. Come to the shop again."
Both of us having finished our meals, we rang the bell that had been set on the table. Then Fran and Gil came up with dessert. They cleared the plates and set down new ones with dessert arranged on them.
"Fran, was the flavor satisfactory?"
Among all of us, Fran was the most knowledgeable about noble cuisine. I was just having her make what I wanted to eat, which was quite different from actual noble cuisine.
"...It was absolutely delicious. While it isn't traditional noble cuisine, I believe it's a flavor that nobles who favor new things would find intriguing."
"I see."
"The chef was eating with great interest as well, and expressed eagerness to make the dishes again as practice starting tomorrow. I believe he'll continue to work hard."
Everything was going smoothly, which made me happy, but I also had the nagging feeling that I had forgotten something.
"Is something the matter, Mine?"
"...I feel as though I've forgotten something, but is there anything that comes to mind, Fran?"
"Forgotten something, you say?"
"Yes, something related to the Temple... I feel like I'm forgetting something..."
While Fran and I were thinking hard next to Benno as he ate his dessert, the entrance door burst open with a loud bang.
"This is all your fault!"
Ah, I remembered. I had forgotten about Deria.
The chef was thrilled by the new cooking methods but delivered results.
And then, Deria burst through the door.
Next time: Deria's assignment.