“First, we’ll mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, milk, oil, and salt together in a bowl. Don’t overmix it, though, because then the dough won’t be as fluffy. It would make the texture rough. Be sure to leave some bubbles in it.”
Lady Opera mixed the dough intently. Parfeil and I quietly gave her moral support from behind.
“Now, the dough is finished,” the cook said. “Next, we’ll place some of it in this cup.”
They poured a third of the dough into the cup, added some berry jam to the center, and then filled the cup with more dough.
“If you pour in too much, it will overflow as the steam cooks it and it expands. Make sure to pour just enough into it.”
A piece of cloth was placed over the cup before letting it steam. Doing that ensured that steam droplets wouldn’t drop over the cake.
“If too much water drips down onto the cake, it’ll get soggy. The cloth will shield the cake from the droplets,” the cook explained to us. I wrote down what she was saying in my notes.
Steaming the cake took about ten minutes. Lady Opera took off the cover and was greeted by a plume of steam. She was shocked at how much steam there was. Once the plume settled, we peered into the cup. A fluffy, white steamed cake sat inside.
“Ah, it is fluffed up wonderfully! Almost like the white volcano of Diamant,” Lady Opera remarked.
“It turned out even better than I expected,” I said.
“That looks delicious!” Parfeil exclaimed.
We each had a piece of the cake while standing. It seemed like Lady Opera’s experiences eating buffet-style were helping her adapt quickly to eating like this.
I blew on my piece of cake to cool it down and then took a bite.
“Mmm!”
The cake was unbelievably soft, fluffy, and slightly sweet. Its taste contrasted with the sweet and sour berry jam inside it, which helped accentuate the jam’s flavor further.
Lady Opera’s eyes glittered as she ate a bite of the cake. “This is such a delicious pastry! This is truly a delicacy befitting Diamant!”
She seemed to approve of the cake. I was sure that other nobles would love this new delicacy too.
“What should we name this delicacy?” the cook asked.
I looked at Parfeil, but she only shook her head, seemingly having no ideas.
“Aura, what do you think?” I asked.
“Since we made it in the image of the white mountain, how about ‘mont blanc’?” Lady Opera suggested.
“Mont blanc! What a stylish name! That’s perfect!”
“Right?”
We’d managed to come up with a delicacy and its name. Now, we just had to find someone to be in charge of making it. I turned to the head cook to ask if she knew anyone who’d be interested, and she actually nominated herself.
“To tell you the truth, I will be resigning from my post as head cook by next month,” she told us. Apparently, she had come to that decision because her youngest child would be coming of age soon. “If I can be of assistance, then I would like to help out with your work.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I know I can trust you with this.”
The head cook also said that she’d ask her friends and acquaintances if anyone else wanted to help too. All my worries were being resolved one by one, and things were going very well. It seemed that the locals wanted to help make Diamant a livelier place to be.
The cooks were also planning to come up with a drink to serve alongside the other delicacies. There were several herbs that were native to the Diamant region, and locals made herbal teas from them that they drank every day.
“The teas will be difficult to drink as they are, so we’ll try to come up with some variations on them,” the head cook said.
“Yes, please do.”
Now, all the matters relating to food and drink were resolved...
However, Lady Opera muttered, “If only there were some kind of food people could bring back to the capital as a souvenir...”
Lady Opera was right. The Jeweled Snow Hot Spring Lotion wasn’t enough as a souvenir on its own. But before I could start thinking too much about that problem, the head cook suggested that we take a break. I tasted the local herbal tea as we did.
“This tea is good for your body, but a lot of people don’t like the taste. Those people will bite into snowflower sugar while drinking it,” the cook said.
On the saucer, underneath the cup, sat a sugar crystal in the shape of a flower in bloom.
“Huh? This is sugar?” I said, surprised.
“Yes. It seems that sugar crystals created with magic turn into this form when they’re exposed to cold weather,” explained the head cook. A researcher who had been investigating the phenomenon had apparently once concluded that it was a result of the Great Spirit of Snow’s protection.
“It’s beautiful. Almost like a snow jewel,” I assessed.
“Millefie, this is it! We should make this the souvenir!”
I was surprised at Lady Opera’s suggestion. But she was right—the shape of these crystals was quite rare. If someone brought these out at a tea party, it’d be the talk of the town.
“In that case, if you serve these snowflower sugars alongside local herbal teas, they’d make for great advertising,” the cook suggested.
I immediately agreed.
Still, the herbal teas were incredibly bitter. Even chewing on the snowflower sugar barely helped with the taste. We had to hope that the head cook would come through with some other tea varieties.
“Oh, I just thought of this, but what if we added some toasted caramel? I’ll make some right now.” Right then, the head cook whipped some up. She put the caramel right into the tea.
I was excited to try it and took a sip from my cup.
“Ah, it’s delicious!” I cried out.
The pleasant taste of the caramel neutralized the herbal tea’s bitterness. It wasn’t overly sweet, so biting into the snowflower sugar made the taste just right.
“Let’s go with this,” I said.
“All right,” replied the head cook.
I was relieved that this topic had been resolved.