Fruit freshly bought from the supermarket was, as you’d expect, scrumptious. It seemed that the freshly made shiratama dango also came out with a good texture, judging by the joy on his face as he chewed. The ratio of syrup to sparkling water must be just right as well, because Kon took turns scooping up fruit and soda separately into his mouth, moving his jaw fervently all the while. His chipmunk ears twitched adorably, and his tail leisurely flicked back and forth. He moved his spoon tirelessly, and his glass bowl was empty in the blink of an eye.
Seeing that, I held up my ladle again, and a radiant smile lit up his face. After I served him his second portion, I made my way to the kitchen fridge while he was busy tackling his dessert. I fetched the sherbet and scooped some into a separate bowl before putting the rest of the sherbet back into the freezer. With a small bowl of sherbet in hand, I walked back to Kon and offered it to him. He started on his new dessert almost immediately, looking utterly captivated by the texture and taste.
The private plum syrup party between Kon and I proceeded smoothly. Until finally, Techi came into the living room with eyes drooping with drowsiness, and Rei arrived with the whirring of his delivery van. The two of them opened their eyes wide at the same time, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
Both of them raised their voices and exclaimed in unison, “Hey, you could have waited for us!”
Kon and I gave them a look, as if to say, “We did wait. We gave you more than plenty of time.”
Almost like the interruption never happened, I resumed moving my ladle while Kon wielded his spoon.
Seeing that, Techi and Rei frantically dived into action. They rushed over to the bathroom—Techi had to wash her face while Rei had to wash his hands. Then, they zoomed over to the kitchen, grabbed their own spoons and bowls, and returned to the living room with great vigor, though it wasn’t to the point of sprinting.
I proceeded to serve fruit punch to Techi and Rei, then onto my own bowl that Kon had prepared for me. In no time at all, the fruit punch—which I should have made a generous amount of—was sold out. After my job as the chef was done, I took my time to savor the fruit punch left in my own bowl.
Shiratama dango fruit punch is perfection as it is—you don’t have to pair it with anything or arrange the recipe at all. Fruit and soda may sound like a rustic combination, but these two have excellent chemistry with each other, and the soda elevates the elegant taste of fruit by many levels. As if that isn’t enough, you even have the smooth and chewy shiratama dango thrown in, giving it an addictive texture and a faint hint of sweetness. It is a sinful dessert indeed.
Furthermore, there’s even the stimuli and spice of sparkling water in the paradise of flavors and textures, so it never gets dull. Before you know it, you’d be scooping up every last drop in your bowl.
And no, I’m not finished, because we mustn’t forget the main star of the show: plum syrup. It adds a touch of sourness that’s just right, enticing your appetite, and you simply can’t put down your spoon.
The next thing I knew, I’d finished everything in my bowl. Unhurriedly, I stood up to prepare the second item on the menu for my three ravenous companions, who’d polished off their food many times faster than I had.
Next up was plum syrup sherbet. I fetched the bowl of sherbet from the freezer and carried it into the living room. This one was simple to serve—I only had to scoop it. After I arranged the sherbet onto everyone else’s waiting bowls, I neatly scraped up the last of the dessert clinging to the bowl and transferred it to my own bowl.
I enjoyed the sherbet at my own pace. It tasted like the embodiment of refreshment and invigoration, and the intense coolness against my tongue was a wonderful spice. Sherbet had a unique texture where it practically melted on your tongue, which was also extremely satisfying.
In the middle of my tasting session, Rei grinned impishly and called out to me. “Heh, I knew it. We’ve got two cold dishes in a row. I figured that might be the case because of how most desserts tend to be, but if this trend’s gonna continue, our stomachs will freeze over.” He stood up dramatically. “Which is why I’ve prepared just the thing to have after sherbet for all of you.”
Rei proceeded to walk over to his delivery van and carried a multitiered food box back with him. He put it down in the living room—was what I thought would happen, but he went past the living room and into the kitchen before baking the contents in our toaster oven. Not a moment later, the distinct aroma of grilling mochi wafted over.
Huh. He’s a pâtissier, but he made mochi? I blinked in surprise. Soon, Rei returned to the living room with plates of freshly roasted mochi and four pairs of chopsticks.
As he came closer, I realized that there must be some kind of mystery filling inside the mochi. The mochi were round and substantially thick, and judging by the earthy sweet smell I was picking up, they had sweet bean paste within. Furthermore, within the aroma was the faint hint of plums.
Intrigued, the moment I accepted my plate and chopsticks, I split open my mochi. Melted white bean paste oozed out delectably. But this was no ordinary white bean paste—it had a tint of buttery yellow, signaling that Rei had mixed in plum syrup. The aroma was heavenly.
Our resident pâtissier explained his dish. “A long time ago, I somehow got the wrong idea about a mochi variation in a certain region and made it the wrong way, and I decided to recreate my results. So there is this mochi out there called umegae mochi, which is like, literally ‘plums and twig mochi,’ right? I was completely convinced it had plums and was thinking, ‘Huh, what in the world are plum mochi like? How would you make such a combination tasty?’ So I got curious and did all kinds of experiments.”