READ NOVEL ONLINE Chapter 45
After Wintersend, the fervor of the festival began to ebb.
And it seemed that the sky of Iceland had endured quite enough.
As if waiting for the moment, heavy snowfall started to blanket the entire region of Iceland.
Once the celebrations were over, everyone returned to their mundane routines (winter life).
However, a few changes began to occur in Karem’s life.
Every few days, there was a technical exchange with Zigmeser.
To elaborate, Karem would pass down recipes and applications he remembered.
In return, Zigmeser would share his knowledge of recipes and basics with Karem.
Karem found it incredibly difficult to adapt.
Teaching a much older man than himself was a daunting task.
And with that old man being excessively friendly and flattering, it was all the more burdening.
But Zigmeser took cooking very seriously.
Karem could feel the exchange itself becoming vital to him.
What he lacked was the fundamentals.
Perhaps it was because his journey had started as just a hobby.
Having always begun with applications, Karem was short on the basics.
In that sense, Zigmeser was a wonderful mentor fitting for his age.
Moreover, Karem was filled with a strong desire to learn, so he eagerly absorbed the basics and techniques Zigmeser taught.
It’s true that the teacher can vary greatly from person to person.
Karem felt his skills improving with every exchange.
Another change was how people’s gazes had shifted.
With people unaware of the circumstances regarding Tutatis or Mayonnaise, it made perfect sense.
Though he was the exclusive chef of the Grand Wizard, direct encounters with him were rare.
With their paths seldom crossing, and with Karem being young, few took an interest in him.
Then one day, the young master and young lady suddenly showed an interest.
Next, even the head chef from Winterhome, a prominent figure, began to grovel and fuss over him?
It was only natural for the attitudes of those who previously overlooked him to shift as well.
“-Yes. This is all of it.”
“It seems of better quality than usual.”
“Ha ha ha. I picked these out especially as a gesture of goodwill.”
The worker in the food store who had been clearly concerned for Karem.
Initially, Karem had felt a bit hesitant but could now accept it with a smile.
After all, compared to Zigmeser’s fiery hand rubbing, this was mere child’s play.
As Mary brought down the food items packed in large and small boxes, Karem immediately began checking them one by one alongside her.
“The onions are solid, and the ginger looks fine. They are definitely all better than before. Normally, wouldn’t they prioritize what goes to the lord’s kitchen first?”
“Ah, that’s not entirely wrong.”
“Then?”
“Zigmeser specifically requested that they be brought to him as often as possible.”
At those words, Karem felt a moment of dizziness.
He thought he glimpsed a suave, smooth-skinned dwarf with an unnecessarily charming smile and a thumbs-up in his blurry vision.
Immediately composed, Karem decided to think positively.
After all, there was no harm in getting good ingredients.
Moving past his momentary distraction, Karem examined the spices.
Though relatively mild in fragrance, considering the era and storage conditions, they were quite excellent.
At that moment.
In a wooden box where the spices were neatly organized, he discovered something peculiar.
“Hmm? What’s this?”
A small wooden barrel, small enough for a child to hold with both hands.
“Oh wow, it’s heavy.”
“Karem, junior? What’s that?”
“I’m not sure, but it seems to be liquid?”
Karem lifted it and felt a weighty sloshing inside.
It was certain that whatever it contained was liquid.
“And the opening is sealed with wax as well? Hey! What is this?”
“Hmm? I didn’t know we had that! Just a moment.”
The worker, scratching his head in confusion while looking over the wooden list, seemed puzzled.
“What is it? It’s not on the list.”
“Didn’t you organize it yourself?”
“I’m in charge of vegetables. The spice handler just went out a little while ago.”
It seemed the unawareness of duties outside one’s own department was universal.
As Karem felt a familiar sensation in an unexpected place, Mary approached out of curiosity.
“The entrance is sealed with a waxed cork. All the gaps in the lid and bottom are sealed with wax too.”
“Almost to the point of paranoia.”
“It might be a valuable item.”
Mary stated this, knowing that even a wine bottle that might yield only one a year wouldn’t be sealed off with such paranoia.
While there was a possibility it could be a hazardous substance, that seemed unlikely.
This was Winterhome, the most secure location in Iceland.
The worker, examining the list repeatedly, shrugged his shoulders in exasperation.
“Well, it’s not on the list, but since it was in the box, just take it?”
“Really? Is that okay?”
“Of course. If they packed it without even a mark here, all the responsibility would fall on that spice worker, you know?”
In any case, since it was being given for free, Karem quickly accepted.
His thought was that if he took it to Catherine, even if it was dangerous, they could manage somehow.
“How about I carry it to the Wizard’s Tower?”
“No, just a simple hand cart will do. No, I’ll borrow one myself.”
The worker’s offer to make a good impression on Karem was swiftly cut down by Mary’s firm determination to not lose her task.
Determined, Mary borrowed a hand cart and loaded the boxes herself.
Even though she was just a brownie, appearing delicate and pretty, she drew the eyes of those present in the warehouse, but she paid no mind and effortlessly carried the loads.
Karem waited silently until Mary finished her work, then when she nodded, they stepped out from the food storage into the heavy snowfall, where visibility was nearly nonexistent.
In festivals with large crowds, cleaning up is always a complicated affair.
The festival had concluded long ago, and yet Winterhome was bustling with activity amid the heavy snowfall.
Workers and staff were busy taking down decorations, moving artworks, and cleaning up trash.
“Phew! This damned snow! I can’t get used to it!”
“As soon as we return, we need to clear out the snow piled around the tower. Just in case I mention—”
“Yes, yes. You don’t need to tell me, I won’t help.”
“Very well. It is indeed cold.”
While she said it was cold, Mary continued to pull the hand cart without a hint of discomfort. Although Karem understood that, he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, so he asked subtly.
“Still, you’re working hard. Is there anything you’d like to eat for lunch today?”
“Hmm. Something I want to eat, you say?”
“Hard labor. Cold biting from fingertips to toes. A broth that warms the mouth down to the belly, packed with heat?”
“Now that you mention it.”
In this chill, it was hard to resist a warm broth.
Karem’s anticipation blossened alongside Mary’s stoic demeanor, reminiscent of Iceland’s winter.
He then asked.
“Creamy, heaping with cream?”
“Heap it on.”
“With well-buttered bread?”
“Of course.”
Since entering the Wizard’s Tower, there had been no shortage of cream.
The buttermilk bread was delivered by the castle’s baker every early morning.
When it came to cream, clam chowder was the obvious choice.
But clams had long run out.
As a substitute, fish fillets could be added, but there were none of those either.
Yet Karem decided to pivot in direction.
Then I could simply make cream stew.
Though merely named cream stew, it would not be a flour-based stew but rather a proper cream stew packed generously with real cream.
Moreover, in this cold, dry weather, the crispy bacon stored lovingly in one corner of the kitchen’s pantry awaited.
Like a brownie who lusted after butter and bread, Mary’s once-stern face transformed in an instant.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Then let’s hurry back—hm?”
A glint caught Karem’s eye amid the snowdrifts.
Thin red shell fragments and a tiny yellowish-white seed looked on.
“Karem, junior. What are you doing? Let’s hurry back for hot broth packed with cream.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll go without you rushing me.”
Quickly stowing it in his pocket, Karem stood up at Mary’s prodding.
*
*
*
Cream stew.
An unusually stewy item, originating from Asia.
As Karem recalled, it was made in Japan.
Of course, if anyone thought of it, there would likely be two others with the same thought.
Similar items existed in Europe as well. Specifically, in France.
“I suppose this can be called a Winterhome-style cream stew.”
He placed bite-sized, seasoned chicken leg pieces into a heated pot.
There was no need to add butter just yet.
As the skin adhered to the bottom of the heated pot, fats liquefied and began to release oil.
The savory scent of chicken fat filled the kitchen, wafting outwards.
And fortunately, it was lunchtime.
Time for the hungry to perk up their noses.
Sensing the aroma, Catherine burst through the kitchen door.
“Oho! Today’s chicken?”
“Yes. I’m going to simmer it with cream and vegetables, then crumble crispy bacon on top.”
“Bacon?”
At that, Karem patted a large, solid, square chunk resting on the table.
It had dried quickly thanks to the icy climate, having been prepared for making porchetta that day.
Although Karem was anxious as he had only known it theoretically, with the help of the incredibly capable house fairy Mary, he had succeeded in one go.
Though it hadn’t been smoked, it had just been finished in the oven.
“Can I finally taste it?”
“It might be a bit salty. Would you like to try just this?”
“That sounds good.”
“Just give me a moment.”
Various prepped vegetables were added to the pot alongside butter.
After adding salt and pepper into the mix, Karem placed thinly sliced bacon onto a sizzling iron frying pan.
It quickly shrank in the high heat.
Then Karem tossed the frying pan with the bacon into the oven connected to the stove.
Now it was a matter of temperature and time.
“Huff, I’ve lost count of how many pans I’ve ruined trying to make it crispy without an oven.”
“Hmm? What’s up, kid?”
“Nothing at all. I should be adding water and cream soon.”
Throwing out the unfortunate memories of the many ruined frying pans, Karem poured cream and water into the pot.
The ratio was 2 to 1, the same as when he first introduced seafood chowder.
As the boiling pot cooled with the cold temperature, it soon began to bubble again, and Karem immediately pulled the bacon from the oven. Perfect timing.
“Must be because it’s a pig; it shrank quite a bit.”
“Would you care to taste some?”
“Of course.”
Crisp—! When Catherine bit into the bacon Karem offered, she truly admired it.
The sensation lingered in the mouth, maintaining its crunch.
“It feels like I’m just savoring the most delicious crispy skin of a whole roast.”
“The vegetables in the stew will take a bit longer to cook.”
“Doesn’t matter. Cooking is about having patience; it only makes it tastier.”
After handing Catherine the bacon, Karem, poised to sit down, suddenly felt something odd.
It was only then he remembered the item he had stowed in his pocket and quickly pulled it out.
The previously found red shell fragment and the yellowish-white seed.
Upon touching it, a familiar warmth struck him.
“What is this so familiar…”
“Hmm? The Fire Witch Finger? Though it’s a fragment, why do you have that?”
“Eh? I found it buried in a snowdrift on my way here.”
“No way, ah. Is it small enough that it doesn’t hurt as much?”
Pain? The red shell. The familiar seed. This didn’t feel like pain…
Could it be, is this pepper? But then what’s with the gruesome name, Fire Witch Finger?
Karem was left puzzled.