Chapter 35: Meal
“Please, help yourself.”
A platter of ham and cheese, a turnip potage, sliced bread with butter, olive oil, and Japanese plum jam on small plates. Roasted White Goose with grilled vegetables, and for dessert, a Fig Crumble Tart.
Everything was set on the table, ready to be enjoyed. Aside from the bread and plum jam, I made the rest with ingredients I could find around here. They may be ridiculously expensive and not as good as what we have at home, but it can’t be helped.
I decided not to worry about the bread since Ash had already made some using the family’s flour.
“I’ll take care of this,” the butler offered as I reached for the roasted White Goose.
It was me who called the butler, who initially only wanted to send Ash off, and it was Ash who insisted he join us at the same table. It seems he feels uneasy eating with his master.
After a brief prayer to the spirits, we began our meal.
“Delicious…”
“Is this cheese with honey? I’ll remember that. The turnip soup is exquisite as well.”
Ash’s expression turned serious after his initial comment, as he continued to eat. Is he happy? I can’t quite tell; my training in reading expressions is lacking, but since he hasn’t stopped eating, he must like it.
The butler, on the other hand, was savoring every bite, looking determined to recreate the dish with a serious expression after each mouthful.
I’m glad I made this with ingredients I could find here. That was a close call. The top of the turnip looked a bit purple and intimidating, but it turned out fine.
The White Goose, being expensive, was indeed delicious. It was roasted to perfection, with the fat oozing out. The stuffing was a mix of several types of mushrooms and herbs. The skin was crispy and fragrant, while the meat was tender and juicy.
The mushrooms were ones I had picked in the mountains and forests during autumn, soaked in oil. The Dinoss Family had taught me three methods of preservation: oil-pickling, salt-pickling, and drying. The kitchen shelves here are lined with preserved food, and the high glass jars are quite a sight.
Dried chestnuts, nuts, dried fruits, and pickles. I might go to the sea later to buy sardines and make oil sardines or anchovies.
The Fig Crumble Tart sat on the table in its round form. It was an improved version of one I had received before. The “crumble” is made by mixing flour, sugar, and cold butter into a crumbly texture, which becomes crispy and flaky when baked.
With the current season allowing for plenty of chilled ingredients, I wanted to make various dishes. But making ice cream requires a roaring fire in the fireplace, or it gets too cold. I really want a refrigerator. Oh, maybe I could store a lot of ice during winter?
“You seem happy.”
“Yeah, good food makes me happy.”
Az was bathing in a basin by the wall. Normally, this small table, water pitcher, and basin are meant for washing faces and hands, but here, they serve as a dining and bathing area for the spirits.
The spirits who help us are asked to refrain from entering the same floor when we have guests, so the same setup is available on the second floor. Additionally, since some spirits, like the Fire Spirit, dislike water, the fireplace is lit.
With water, fire, and plants, we can cover most bases. From there, preferences seem to vary, like some spirits preferring candles over the fireplace or carbonated water over plain water.
Now, how about the tart? Just as I glanced at it, the butler stood up to cut it. He brought the knife down on the round tart—
“Whoa!?”
“What!?”
Something colorful plummeted onto the tart. Red, yellow, and a dark, almost blue color.
It was a spirit. Spirits often play pranks on things that catch their interest, but they usually pass through things they don’t care about. While they can’t pass through glass or certain metals, most objects are no issue for them, so they tend to ignore their presence.
However, sometimes they unintentionally touch things when excited or cause a small explosion of energy that breaks something.
And that’s exactly what happened now.
“What could this be? Is it a temperature difference or something?”
I reached out to investigate the spot where the tart had been, pretending to check, and firmly grabbed the spirit’s head.
Since the tart was on a wooden plate, there was no problem, but it had fallen straight down, squishing and scattering everywhere.
The red and yellow spirits had been helping me keep the others away from Az and guided me home. This unfamiliar dark one must be the culprit.
The butler looked a bit stunned, while Ash seemed like he wanted to say something.
“I’ll get a replacement and a towel.”
I tightened my grip on the spirit’s head while smiling.
This dark spirit was larger than the ones who had been helping me. The two of them were palm-sized, while this one was doll-sized, fitting about half of its head in my hand. While some small spirits possess great power, generally, size correlates with strength.
The small red spirit was Rose, and the yellow, fox-like spirit was Corn, if I remember correctly. They had been working hard, so I should prepare something they like later.
As for this ruckus-maker, it’s time for some pickling.
I unceremoniously shoved it into the cylindrical container of pickling brine in the kitchen. I had separated some brine to use here, but I hadn’t put any vegetables in yet. When I dropped it in, it quieted down for a moment, so I quickly closed the lid and wrapped it tightly with a string.
It started squirming again, but I placed a weight on top to keep it still. It couldn’t escape since the container was enameled. Enameled items are made by spraying a glass-like substance onto cast iron.
I washed my hands and prepared a towel and a replacement tart.
“Ah, thank you.”
While I was away, the butler—probably not Ash—had cleaned the table.
The crumbled tart piled on the plate looked quite sad.
“The figs may be ruined, but instead, here’s a walnut honey tart and a cranberry tart.”
What should I do about that spirit?