Page 13 of Dragons & Dumplings

"What is it called?"

"Soy sauce," he responds. "There are two types. The other one is dark soy sauce." He taps one of the other bottles.

"What's the difference?"

"I've honestly got no idea. But if any of your family members like it, then we're going to have to hope that trade negotiations go well and it can be imported from Shengda."

"I have no say in that."

"No, I didn't think you would."

"What else is there?"

"Some of the usual ingredients. Cornflour, honey, red onion, and roasted pork." He points to each of them in turn. "Then we have some oyster sauce." He picks up the bottle and holds it out to me.

I take it from him and unstopper the bottle. The smell isn't like anything I've smelled before, it's kind of malty. "You said it was oysters?"

"Mmhmm."

"It's not very fishy."

"Maybe it's how they make it?" he suggests.

"I think there's a lot still to learn about Shengdanese cooking."

"We can find out more now." The excitement is really starting to build now as we start to prepare.

"I need to cut the pork."

"I can do it if you want?" I suggest weakly. I'm not that good when it comes to chopping meat, but I'll still do it when I need to.

"Definitely not. I don't want to cut the onion." He picks up the red onion and holds it out to me. "All yours."

I laugh and take it from him. "Just because you don't want to cry in front of me."

"They don't affect you the same way they do me," he protests. "It's like you're immune to onions."

"Hardly. I suspect I don't cut enough of them to be affected by the worst of them." I set the onion down on the workbench and collect everything I need, only pausing to tie an apron around myself. I wish I had one of my own, but I've never found anywhere selling them, and I haven't plucked up the courage to ask the royal tailor to make me one.

The knife moves through the onion seamlessly, and I enjoy the soothing clack of the metal against the chopping board. On the other side of the table, Nate dices the pork with ease. I'm not sure how he does it, especially after he's been in the kitchen for hours already.

"Are you ready for the next step?" Nate asks.

I nod and grab a jug from the shelves on the wall, adding about the right amount of water to it. I put it on the table in front of the bottles of sauce and look at them a little nervously. Not having used any of them before, I'm starting to feel a little uncertain about the prospect of mixing them together in case I get it wrong.

Nate doesn't seem to have as much of a problem and starts using the teaspoon measure to add the right amounts of eachingredient with the confidence of someone who feels like they might have made this before.

"What happens if I get the proportions wrong?" I ask Nate.

He shrugs. "Then we'll know for next time. Or we'll love it and it won't matter."

"Yes, but that's not the recipe."

"It's not the recipeyet," he reminds me. "Aren't you the one who always tells me that recipes can be improved on?"

"True, but this isn't a recipe from Falhaven. I don't want to get it wrong."

"Trust in yourself, Evie," he says.

---