Chapter 244 — A Cake That Refuses to Cooperate

Nia was examining a small container of softened preserved fruit when Shen approached the household table.

He had finished clearing breakfast and was about to return the ground-grain jar to its shelf.

“Leave that here for a moment,” she said.

Shen brought it over.

Nia pressed the back of a spoon into the fruit. The flesh broke apart easily, releasing a little juice.

“I want to try making a different kind of cake.”

Shen glanced toward the hearth.

“Thicker than the ones you usually brown?”

“Much thicker. I'd like to be able to cut a proper slice, with a soft middle instead of a hard center.”

She held her hands apart to show him.

The small cakes she'd already made were reliable enough. She knew how much batter would cook through on a hot surface, and she could adjust the sweetness without changing their texture too much. This time she wanted something closer to the cakes she remembered from Earth.

Unfortunately, remembering how a cake should feel was considerably easier than recreating it.

Shen opened the grain jar so she could inspect its contents.

Nia rubbed a little flour between her fingers. It was still coarser than she wanted, but grinding another batch would take time, and she wasn't certain the experiment deserved that much preparation yet.

“I'll use what we have ready. Only a small amount.”

Shen went to fetch the smallest mixing bowl.

“Are you making it for the pond gathering?”

“No. Sera hasn't asked anyone to bring food, and I wouldn't offer something I haven't successfully cooked.”

“That hasn't stopped people from asking about your recipes.”

“Then they can ask after I know whether this one works.”

Shen smiled as he placed the bowl beside her.

Nia measured out a little grain. She had softened fat, water, and the preserved fruit for sweetness, but no proven way of giving the mixture the lightness she remembered.

Even an evenly cooked result would probably be dense.

She looked at the shallow pan beside the hearth.

The pan worried her more than the ingredients. Its base heated quickly, which was useful when she wanted a browned surface. A thick cake needed warmth to reach its middle before the outside became too dark.

She considered the deeper pots on the shelf, then returned her attention to the pan.

“I'll start with the vessel I understand. If it fails, at least I'll know what happened.”

Shen moved his chair closer.

“I can keep an eye on the hearth while you work.”

“Thank you.”

She began rubbing the softened fat through the grain.

Mari arrived carrying a covered storage vessel she'd borrowed from Nia's household.

“I washed it yesterday,” she said, setting it beside the entrance. “I meant to bring it back sooner, but Haron needed the larger pot for the evening meal, and I had to rearrange the storage shelf afterward.”

“There's no hurry. I wasn't using it.”

Mari noticed Nia's mixing bowl.

“Something new?”

“An experiment.”

Mari came over to look.

The grain and fat had formed uneven crumbs beneath Nia's spoon. She rubbed the larger clumps between her fingertips, distributing the fat while the coarser particles of flour remained noticeable.

“I'm trying to make a thick cake,” Nia explained.

Mari inspected the shallow pan waiting near the hearth.

“That's going to be awkward to cook.”

“I suspect so.”

“You could use one of the covered pots.”

“I thought about it, but I've never tested one for this. I'd rather start with what I know.”

Mari considered the arrangement.

“Fair enough. What are you putting in it?”

Nia showed her the fruit.

Mari tasted a small piece when Nia offered it.

“That's good. Sareth brought something similar home once, but ours was more sour.”

“Did you dry it?”

“Most of it. Keva's sister took some for cooking, and apparently her household decided it needed more sweetness.”

Nia remembered Ayari telling her about Keva's sister and the comb.

“Speaking of her, did she ever choose a new comb?”

“She was still looking yesterday. Her brother has nearly finished carving one for her, so I suspect she'll end up with two.”

Mari shook her head with amusement.

“Those two have been competing over small things since they were young.”

Nia smiled and added mashed fruit to the grain.

Mari looked toward the doorway.

“I ought to go back before Haron decides I'm helping someone else with supper again.”

“Are you?”

“Not yet.”

Nia laughed.

Mari pulled out a chair.

“I'll stay long enough to see whether that cooks. Then I really am going home.”

Shen made room for her beside the table.

The fruit paste made the mixture heavy.

Nia worked it through the grain, then added water in small amounts. The first addition disappeared into the flour almost immediately. The next helped loosen the clumps, but the batter still resisted the spoon.

She lifted a portion and watched it fall slowly back into the bowl.

Shen looked over from where he was tending the hearth.

“That holds together more than your usual batter.”

“I don't want it to spread too thin. The trouble is, I don't know whether I've made it too heavy.”

She tasted a tiny amount to judge the fruit flavor. It was pleasantly sweet, though the grain remained prominent.

Mari leaned closer.

“That looks like something you'd make for a hungry traveler.”

“At the moment, it probably weighs as much.”

Nia added a little more fruit paste and stirred until the color became reasonably even.

It wasn't smooth. Small grain particles remained visible throughout the mixture, and it moved reluctantly when she tilted the bowl.

She spread a thin layer of fat inside the pan, then scraped the batter into a round several finger-widths across.

Mari stood to examine it.

“You've kept it small.”

“I'd rather waste a little flour than a lot.”

Nia carried the pan to the hearth and set it on a support away from the hottest part of the fire.

The hearth was already warm from breakfast. Shen adjusted the nearby fuel so the heat remained steady while she watched the batter.

For the first few minutes, little changed.

Then a narrow brown line formed around the edge.

Nia leaned forward.

The center still shone with moisture.

“That isn't encouraging.”

Shen came to stand beside her. He observed the surface while she moved the pan slightly farther from the heat.

The browning slowed, but the top remained soft.

Nia used a clean wooden tool to lift a small section at the edge. The underside was already considerably darker than the surface.

She lowered it carefully.

“I don't think I can turn it.”

Shen looked at the center.

“Not while that part is still loose.”

Mari came over when she noticed the two of them inspecting the pan.

“It smells cooked.”

“The bottom does,” Nia said.

Mari peered at the glossy middle.

“Oh.”

Nia kept the pan away from the strongest heat for a little longer. She hoped the retained warmth would help the top set, but the outer ring continued firming while the middle stayed sticky.

She tried lifting a wider section.

The edge came free.

The middle stretched, clung to the pan, and tore apart.

Nia stopped immediately.

A damp streak of batter remained attached to the exposed bottom, and the raised piece folded over itself.

“Oh, that's awful.”

Mari bent to examine it.

“You weren't going to get that out whole.”

“I was beginning to suspect as much.”

Nia set the pan away from the heat.

Shen moved the wooden support aside so there would be room for the pan to cool without anyone brushing against it.

The cake had developed a respectable brown edge and a thoroughly unrespectable middle.

Nia looked at the result for several moments.

“I really wanted a slice.”

Mari regarded the torn mixture.

“You may get several pieces.”

“That isn't quite the same.”

Once the pan had cooled, Nia lifted away the portions that had cooked completely.

Some pieces came free cleanly. Others left a thin layer stuck to the bottom.

She put the cooked fragments on a clean plate and scraped the damp center into a separate scrap dish. None of the unset mixture would be served.

Shen examined one of the lighter pieces.

“The outside has held together, but there's very little space inside it.”

Nia broke a piece open.

He was right. The grain had formed a tight, compact mass. There were a few small gaps, but nothing resembling the soft crumb she'd wanted.

She let a fragment cool before tasting it.

The flavor wasn't terrible. The fruit brought some sweetness, though the grain was coarse against her tongue and the texture demanded more chewing than any cake should.

Shen chose a small piece from the fully cooked edge and tasted it as well. He finished chewing before looking at the rest on the plate.

“The fruit is sweet enough, but the grain is rough. I wouldn't want much of this at once.”

Nia gave him a rueful smile.

“I was hoping you'd like it.”

“I like the flavor. The texture needs work.”

Mari took a fragment from the same cooked portion. She tasted it, then set the remaining piece down.

“I wouldn't refuse that with breakfast. But if you'd given me the choice between it and your ordinary cakes, I'd have taken the ordinary ones.”

“Fair.”

Mari looked toward the pan.

“You've spent a good part of the morning tending one little cake. For a household making food every day, that time matters. If you eventually find a method that works, I'll gladly taste it. But I wouldn't ask anyone to spend extra grain and fuel on this version.”

Nia examined the fragments.

“Neither would I.”

Mari moved her chair back from the table. She had given Nia a clear judgment, and Nia had no reason to argue with it.

Shen broke open the piece he'd tasted and showed her the contrast between its darker underside and pale interior.

“The heat reached the bottom much faster than the top. The batter couldn't set evenly.”

Nia turned the fragment over in her hand.

“And the flour is still coarse. If I try again, I'll have to decide which part to change first.”

Shen nodded.

She had suspected the pan would struggle before she started. That didn't make looking at the ruined cake any more pleasant.

Mari glanced at the covered pots stored near the hearth.

“One of those might give you more room to manage the heat.”

“Possibly. I'll test the vessel before I put another batch in it.”

Mari rose.

“I'd better get back. Haron promised to finish cutting the greens while I was gone, and I want to see whether he's done it.”

“Tell him I said hello.”

“I will.”

She checked that the returned storage vessel remained beside the entrance, where Nia could take it back to its usual place.

“I'll need the smaller one again after the next market. I'll ask first.”

“That's fine.”

Mari left without taking any of the cake. Nia couldn't blame her.

Shen stayed with Nia while she cleared the work area.

They returned the grain jar to its shelf and covered the remaining preserved fruit. Nia scraped the undercooked mixture into the waste container and put the thoroughly cooked fragments into a shallow covered dish.

The pan needed soaking before its stuck coating would come free.

Shen washed the mixing bowl while Nia gathered the utensils. When they finished, the table looked much as it had before the experiment, apart from the unappealing fragments she had set aside.

She sat down with a cup of water.

“I imagined something quite different.”

Shen joined her.

“What did you have in mind?”

“A soft cake with fruit through the middle. I thought we could have it with tea after supper. You'd enjoy that.”

“I would.”

She turned the cup between her hands.

“I remember the taste. I even remember roughly how the mixture should feel, but this grain doesn't behave the way I'm used to.”

Shen reached across the table and took her hand.

“I'd still like to try it when you find a method that works.”

“You're not discouraged?”

“I've eaten things I liked far less than those cooked edges.”

Nia laughed.

“That isn't much of a compliment.”

“It wasn't meant to be one.”

He smiled.

“I know you're disappointed. But I enjoyed helping you.”

Nia looked at him.

“I wanted to make something especially for you.”

“I know.”

His thumb moved against her fingers.

“And I'm not going to lose my taste for sweets before you try again.”

That made her smile.

“I certainly hope not.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.

Shen drew her closer for another kiss before letting her settle back into her chair.

Nia was still disappointed by the cake. She'd wanted to see him enjoy a proper slice, and she'd ended up giving him a little piece he could barely recommend.

But there would be another attempt after she understood the equipment better.

For now, she was hungry.

“I think I'd rather have lunch.”

Shen rose with her.

“We still have greens and meat from yesterday. I'll warm them.”

“I'll bring the bowls.”

They prepared the meal together. Nia added seasoning to the greens while Shen portioned the meat, and they ate at the table with the cooking vessels put safely aside.

Afterward, Shen gathered his things for the care station. He had planned to spend part of the afternoon there, and Nia helped him fold a clean cloth over the items in his basket.

“I'll be back before supper,” he said.

“Take your time. I'll be here.”

Shen kissed her before leaving.

The afternoon passed quietly.

Nia finished cleaning the pan once the stuck mixture had softened, then put the unused ingredients back in their proper places.

She had no intention of making another cake that day.

Instead, she spent some time near the cave entrance, enjoying the warmth that still reached the stone. People passed along the lower path carrying baskets, speaking with neighbors, or heading toward the market before its busiest hours ended.

A female stopped to greet Nia on her way home. She'd been looking for a particular kind of cord and hadn't found enough at the market.

Nia suggested asking one of the basket makers near the lower storage area.

The woman thanked her and continued on her way.

When Nia went back inside, the dish of cake fragments remained on the table.

She looked at it briefly, then left it covered.

Kael returned as the daylight began to fade.

Nia heard him speaking with a passing patrol male outside before he entered. The man thanked him for something, and Kael answered before coming into the cave.

He washed his hands, then noticed the dish on the table.

“Something new?”

“A cake that didn't work.”

Kael lifted the covering and examined the irregular pieces.

Nia showed him which portions had cooked through, and he chose one.

He tasted it while she watched.

“That's filling,” he said at last.

Nia laughed.

“Mari said almost the same thing.”

He looked at the plate.

“Did you enjoy making it?”

“The first part. Not so much when it stuck to the pan.”

Kael smiled.

“Then I hope the next one behaves better.”

“So do I.”

He finished the small piece, then came to help her prepare supper.

Nia brought the greens and meat from the hearth while Kael carried the heavier serving vessel to the table.

Shen returned shortly afterward, his basket nearly empty.

He washed his hands and joined them.

The three ate together while the last daylight faded beyond the entrance. Kael spoke about a household he'd visited during the afternoon, and Shen mentioned a patient who had been pleased to return home after several days at the care station.

Nia told them about the female who'd been searching for cord, and Kael suggested another seller she might try if the basket makers had none.

When they'd finished eating, Shen reached for the preserved fruit Nia had saved that morning.

He offered her a piece.

It was soft, sweet, and pleasantly tart.

Nia ate it without trying to turn it into anything else.