My name is Jaysohlbrother. But Miss Haru says, “Sumo is better,” so I go by Sumo most of the time now.
I’m Sumo. I’d like to cook something today. No, I mean, I cook everyday, but Miss Haru says, “You can’t be a celebrity chef unless you can talk at the same time,” so I’m going to practice cooking and talking. I don’t know what “cele” or “britychef” means, but I’m making it my goal to be one. Miss Haru says, “If anyone can do it, you can, Sumo.”
So then about that cooking. I guess anything is fine, but let’s grill some meat.
This is mangameat. At Jay’s Cafe, we call this thick cut with a bone through the middle “mangameat.” It’s our specialty.
The name is said to have come about when, decades ago, one of my predecessors was in pursuit of a new shape of meat. A famous boy adventurer at the time strolled by and said, “It looks like meat from a manga!” That’s where they got the name. But apparently no one knows what a manga is. Actually, Miss Haru made a strange comment too. She said, “Looks like something Luffy would like.”
Now then, the way to cook this meat is just to grill it well. After searing the outside on high heat, we just keep it turning it until it cooks through. Once it’s cooked to some extent, it’s time to season it.
Jay’s Cafe’s special blend consists of forest salt mixed with erb powder and peppe seeds. At Miss Haru’s suggestion, we started selling it. To us, the idea of selling just the spices was pretty shocking, but contrary to our expectations, there are lots of people who buy it on their way out. Miss Haru Is amazing.
So we sprinkle this seasoning on the meat. Miss Haru said that sprinkling it from up as high up as possible will help make sure the meat gets coated evenly. We hug our bent elbows into our sides and drop the spices pinched between our fingers.
Apparently Miss Haru likes this. She often requests that I “do it sexier.” I worry the flavor will be too strong, but since it makes her happy, I sprinkle quite a bit.
So that’s how the meat goes. We mainly do meat here, so we have a lot of grills, and there are cooks manning each of them so we don’t keep customers waiting. But Miss Haru says, “The way you plate the food is too rough. It’s all meat—no balance at all,” so we don’t score very high. And she says, “This isn’t the sort of thing girls want to eat,” as she’s chomping into a mangameat.
The idea of serving things girls want to eat is quite a challenge. For one thing, girls don’t come to the cafe. Well, not besides Miss Haru and her friends.
I want to prepare things for Miss Haru when I can, but in terms of business, it might be tough. My old man lets me do as I like on the condition that I’m personally in the kitchen, but he also doesn’t want me making anything too strange.
Lately I’ve been making sweets, but I’ve also come up with some new dishes. We set up some open-air seating in front of the cafe (Miss Haru’s idea), and Miss Haru and her friends advertise what a good time they’re having drinking their tea, but if you ask me whether we’ll really be able to build up a business aimed at women I’d have to say that honestly, uh...yeah.
But we’ve only just started. The stuff Miss Haru comes up with is so amazing that sometimes it’s beyond my understanding, but I believe in her and want to see her ideas through. My old man and the regulars laugh at me, saying, “That lady really perked you up,” but...I think Miss Haru needs a place she can be that isn’t the brothel. Yeah.
While the meat grills, let’s make a cake. The batter is made with vloua powder, sugar, eggs, and ream grass juice. What you do is simmer the ream grass. The water will turn white. Once it’s cooled, you scoop out the top layer. If you beat it, it thickens up and becomes more solid, but Miss Haru seems to like it better as a liquid. Still, ream keeps better as a solid, so this time we’ll do that. Both gimli and ream are grown with wind alphytemagic which helps the cake rise well and come out fluffy.
After adding some sugar to the ream juice and whipping it into clouds, you spread it between the baked cake layers and on top. Besides ream grass, you can brush it with melted sugar, mix in roasted cao nuts, and use different fruit jams and whatnot as variations when you decorate it.
I find this decorating part the most fun, or rather, I’m confident in my skills, and when I do a good job, it makes Miss Haru super happy. Miss Haru puts a lot of emphasis on the appearance of her food. She says that “pretty,” “cool,” or “instaworthy” foods will attract customers. Even if I don’t understand what it means, if it makes Miss Haru happy, I want to make things instaworthy.
This time we’re making a normal round cake. Pour the batter into a palm-sized pan of heetrezist leaves and bake. When it’s done, you just pile the ream juice on top. You can add fruit, too.
One of the basics of cake-baking is to make more than you think you’ll need in case an order comes in, but since the only ones who buy them are Miss Haru and her friends, we generally have leftovers. Although sometimes Miss Haru comes to buy a lot of them as “apology cakes.” The other day she came in with Miss Lupe to buy cake for everyone working at Blue Cat Nocturne. I didn’t ask what she did this time, but I felt bad, so I offered a discount. When she said, “I’ll make Chiba pay for it,” I figured that was fine and gave her and Miss Lupe a bunch of my deluxe—
“Mr. Sumo, why are you talking to yourself like that?”
The flesh of my entire body shrieked. A customer had come in even though the cafe wasn’t open yet. It was Miss Kiyori. She’s Miss Haru’s friend, but she comes in on her own now and then, too.
“Sorry, I just came to thank you for the cookies you baked me last week... But wait a minute, is it true that your real name is Jaysohlbrother? Why would you hide something so important from me?”
“Uh, err, it’s because...”
Miss Kiyori’s big eyes grew rounder and rounder as she brought her face closer. Apparently she had been listening from the beginning. The flesh of my entire body trembled in shame.
I couldn’t really explain why I was Sumo, but I told her how Miss Haru had given me that name, how I got used to it, and how even my old man calls me Sumo now. I stuttered a lot, but Miss Kiyori listened all the way through, sometimes making little feedback noises.
“I see... Miss Haru calls Mr. Endless Rain weird things like Gunma, Saitama, and Chiba, too. Perhaps where she’s from it’s rude to call a man by his given name.”
Miss Kiyori is smart. I felt like I had grown to understand Miss Haru’s puzzling behavior a bit more. From now on, I’ll only go by Sumo.
“So then Mr. Ja...Jaysohlbrother. What were you doing just now?”