Page 1 of Princesses & Pastries
Chapter 1
There's something soothing about watching flour fall from my hand and onto the wooden table. The gas lamps which illuminate the room help me see what I'm doing, and with less varied flickering than the previous torches gave, I'm glad they recently thought of adding the gas line to the kitchen.
No matter how many times I do this, it's always the same. Baking can be relied on like that. There are rules and instructions that have to be followed, and they make a lot more sense than the rules for formal events.
A crash comes from the direction of the oven, and I jump at the unexpected sound in time to see my small green dragon trying to undo the catch on the front of it. Again. Even after five years of sharing a kitchen with the dragon, I'm not used to it when she crashes into things.
"Ember," I warn her. "What have I told you about doing that?" I dust my hands on my apron and head over, pulling the tiny dragon away from the oven door.
She protests, her claws digging into the metal, letting out a slight screech in response. I wince, trying to not let the noise get to me.
"You're going to damage it," I say.
She looks at me with her black eyes, but I can't tell what she's thinking. Which doesn't mean much, I can't tell what anyone is thinking.
"If you let go, I'll give you a snack," I promise.
Finally, she lets go of the metal of the oven door.
I lift her and place her in the bed on top of the structure. "You've got a bed. You don't need to be in the oven."
She lets out another screech.
"Fine, be like that. I'm still not letting you into the oven. You're not allowed there." I suppose that people don't want to have their food touched by a dragon. It might be solved if the kitchen staff used the gas oven more, but I can't really talk when I'm planning on using the wood-fired oven myself, though that's only because I'm making a recipe that I learned years ago. The gas oven is a recent addition to the kitchen, and while I use it for new recipes, I haven't worked out the time conversions for older ones yet, so I stick to what I know.
There's another screech from my dragon, but despite Ember's protests, she flaps her wings and settles in the dragon bed on top of the oven.
"Stay there, I'll get you a snack," I promise the tiny dragon. Despite being over five years old, she's still small enough to carry around. Which is probably a good thing. I don't think I'd want a full-sized dragon in the kitchen with me.
I light the handheld gas torch with a taper and grab one of Ember's bowls so I can head out to the ice house.
A shiver runs through me as the cold permeates through my dress, made worse by the eerie shadows my torch makes against the rest of the items in the ice house. I head over to the bucket of scraps the kitchen staff have been leaving me for Ember. It's nothing fancy, but she doesn't seem to mind. I use the tongs to put a couple of off-cuts of meat into the bowl, and I hurry back into the kitchen, glad for the warmth.
"Here you go," I say to Ember, setting the bowl down in front of her.
The dragon gives it a curious look, stretching out her neck and seeming as if she sniffs it. She takes a deep breath, and a stream of flames spouts from her mouth, making the meat sizzle in the dish.
Satisfied that my dragon isn't about to interrupt me again, I set the gas torch back in its spot, turning it off now that I no longer need it.
I wash my hands and return to the workbench, where a block of chilled pastry I made earlier is waiting for me. I dust it with flour and start to roll it out, being careful to work as accurately as possible so that I don't overwork the pastry. I don't want to have to start again because I've ruined it.
It doesn't take long for me to have it laid out in the tin and back in the ice house to let it rest while I make the filling. My leather-bound book of recipes is untouched on the counter. I don't need it, I've made this apple and blackberry pie so many times that I can do it by heart.
A bittersweet feeling overcomes me as I mix the blackberries and apples together in my favourite pan. The sweet and tart scent of cooking apples fills the air, and I find myself thinking back over all the other times I've made this recipe. It makes me think of one of my favourite people, even if he's far away from here and won't be able to eat any of my pie.
Ember lets out a loud snore from the top of the oven, briefly drawing my attention to her. She's eaten her fill and now she's snoozing away, with little smoke rings rising above her nose as she puffs. A smile tugs at my lips. At least I have some company while I bake, even if I do wish I could be doing it with Nate again. But he's in Wafeland working for my cousins in the royal family there. Far away from Falhaven Castle.
I turn off the stove, checking to make sure the flames are completely out before I move on to the next part. I can vaguely hear the muffled chatter of some of the kitchen staff in the next room making tomorrow's bread, but I ignore them and focus on what I'm doing instead. They're not going to interrupt me unless it's something urgent.
I let my apple mixture cool, heading over to where my leatherbound journal is waiting for me. I flick through, stopping on the page with the recipe for croissants. It's a fairly new recipe, one that Nate sent me when he first started his apprenticeship in Gaullesse, and I've been trying to perfect it for five years, but they never turn out as good as the croissants I can get from the Gaullessian baker in the village.
I stare down at the recipe, trying to work out where I'm going wrong, even if I'm not actually making them tonight. I groan and run my hand over my face. I'm not used to not being able to figure it out.
Before the frustration gets the better of me, I push my book away and head out to the ice house to get my pastry. I set it on the table and tear off a sheet of baking paper, making sure that all of the pastry case is covered before I pour on baking beans. The small, grey, dried clay beans clatter against one another as they weigh down the paper and cover the pastry. The sound sets my teeth on edge, but I know this is the best way to blind bake pastry, and it's over before I know it.
I carry the pastry case over to the oven and pull open the door, getting an interested look from Ember as I do. I should have known that would happen the moment I chose to use the wood-fired oven instead of the gas one. I'm not as averse to the gas as many people, but I prefer to use the wood-fired oven for the recipes I've been making for years, including my pie.
"Not for you," I tell my dragon. "I should never have let you hatch in here, you've got all kinds of ideas from it." I slide the pastry dish into the oven and flip one of the hourglasses.
