58 — Chapter 58

In my room, I write down the recipes for pancakes and cookies and have Mary deliver them to the palace chef. While the chef is preparing the ingredients, I strive to remember anything that might be useful for Prince Richard’s salt-making.

Wasn’t the salt terrace system from the Edo period? Right, the feud between the Ako warriors and Kira Yoshinaka started because Asano Naganori wasn’t taught how to make salt, leading to a public humiliation. Modern methods are mechanized, but a while back, I saw a scene in a morning drama about making salt during the post-war goods shortage. Remember, brain!

I used to watch reruns of morning dramas while eating lunch in the company cafeteria, so my attention was always divided.

I think they decided to make salt because they got their hands on a bunch of iron plates. On the hot beach, they poured seawater over the iron plates to increase the concentration before boiling it.

This method seems like it would require less firewood. Firewood is truly precious. I never want to experience freezing in the winter ever again.

“Milady, I have a message from the chef saying that preparations are complete. However, you really needn’t go to the kitchen yourself.”

Mary dislikes entering the kitchen even at home, but since this is the Summer Palace, she is even more high-strung. She believes a noble lady should stop at handing over the recipe and leave the rest to the chef.

“I promised the Queen I would make my mother’s snacks. I want to make sure the chef prepares them correctly.”

Mary is weak when I bring up the Queen.

“The Queen said that…?”

Taking advantage of the gap in her etiquette check, I hurry to the kitchen.

Whoa, the atmosphere here is incredibly “away.” They are royal cooks, after all. The head chef in particular looks like he has a massive amount of pride. He probably hates the idea of following an amateur’s recipe.

“I have come because the Queen requested that I prepare my mother’s snacks. Now, please begin.”

I’m a fox in Queen’s clothing.

“As you wish.”

Nice, I won the first round against the chef. Pancakes are fine as long as you whisk the eggs properly. Even a child can make them; surely a chef who can make such delicious meals can…

“Wait a moment! Please use the amount of sugar specified in the recipe.”

The moment I look away, he tries to make it “crunchy with sugar.”

“The more sugar a sweet has, the higher the quality. This is to be consumed by the Queen herself.”

Whoops, the chef is a sugar supremacist.

“Even so, the Queen said she wishes to eat the snacks that remind her of my mother, her former schoolmate. Please follow the instructions.”

The way he whisks the eggs is also subpar, despite having a whisk. The chef doesn’t even bother to correct him. It’s not quite a total labor strike, but they certainly seem to have no motivation.

“That won’t do. Whisk it until it forms stiff peaks. Give me the bowl.”

It’s useless to try and slack off. I whisk them using lifestyle magic.

“Eh? Lifestyle magic?” Finally, the chef takes a step forward.

“Now, bake them according to the recipe. Serve them with butter on top, whipped cream on the side, and honey in a separate container. I’ll whisk the cream too. Give me that bowl.”

I add sugar to the cream and whisk it into a fluffy peak using lifestyle magic. That should take care of the pancakes.

As for the cookies, I block him from trying to double the sugar when mixing it with the butter. Then, I use lifestyle magic to chill and harden the dough so it can be sliced thinly.

“Cookies can be arranged in many ways. This is just the basic version. It’s delicious to mix sliced almonds into the dough, or you can put jam on top.”

The wonderful aroma of baking cookies fills the kitchen. The cooks look uneasy because the amount of sugar is so low.

“As you are chefs who always make such delicious meals, forgive my presumption, but I must say this: Everyone stops reaching for the sweets when they are crunchy with sugar. Please, try the pancakes and cookies from my recipe. And watch to see if the Queen and the others leave any on their plates.”

While staying at the Summer Palace, it’s a waste and painful to watch those sugar-crunchy desserts go untouched. Chef, please taste them properly. I believe you have a refined palate, so I trust you’ll realize that sweets with less sugar are also delicious.

Served at tea that day were pancakes with plenty of whipped cream and butter, and fragrant cookies.

“Patience, these are incredibly delicious.”

Princess Margaret seemed to love them.

“I had no idea Julianne made such delicious snacks,” Queen Victoria remarked as she ate a pancake.

Good. Now she knows that even though I receive eggs, butter, and sugar every time, I’m not letting them go to waste.

“Where did you learn of such a dessert?”

Prince Keith has already finished his pancake and is munching on a cookie.

“Patience already said it was a taste of her memories with her mother. Were you not listening? Even I can eat this.”

Prince Richard, who isn’t fond of sweets, finished his pancake but left the whipped cream.

Tea ended without incident, but afterward, Princess Margaret scolded me, saying, “I can’t transcribe the music just by hearing it once!” and in the end, I had to write the sheet music myself. Why?!

Prince Richard was delighted, shouting, “The salt is finished!” but he also told me that improvements were needed. So it’s already decided that I’m the one who has to think of them, huh? Well, I’ll just write down what I remembered on paper, hand it to him, and be done with it. I don’t want to spend my summer vacation boiling salt on a hot beach.

Princess Margaret finally released me (until after dinner), saying, “I feel like the sheet music is slightly different from how you played it. Let’s do this after dinner.” As I was heading back to my room, the chef stopped me.

“Lady Patience, I owe you an apology. Everyone finished the sweets with less sugar. I tried them myself, and though I felt the sweetness was slightly lacking, I found them delicious. Please, if you have other recipes, I beg you to teach me.”

If I had the funds, I’d open a sweet shop, but I don’t have that kind of money. In that case, isn’t it better to teach him the recipes here so I can eat delicious sweets myself? I won’t teach him everything, but maybe one or two would be fine.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll have Mary bring you a recipe.”

I returned to my room, thinking about what to give him next.