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Winterhome.

Winterhome was quieter than usual.

It was only natural since the rescue team was dispatched outside.

However, just because there were fewer people didn’t mean there was less work.

The cooks of Winterhome were one of the exceptions.

No, they were busier than before.

The reason was simple.

Their colleague had left, but the workload remained the same.

Of course, one might argue that with fewer people in the castle, the variety of dishes required would decrease, but high nobility’s households didn’t operate that simply.

Food left by nobles and powerful figures ended up with the lower servants, and any leftovers from their meals trickled down further to even lower-ranked workers.

If there was still food left, it ultimately ended up the next morning at a free food station for the poor.

Naturally, the difficulty of cooking was relatively reduced, but what was originally hard became harder as it turned into a simple repetition of tasks.

Let alone it wasn’t a time of famine like decades ago.

Due to the honor of the Duke of Iceland and the gazes of others, the quantity of food prepared could not be lessened.

Thus, Zigmeser and the remaining cooks felt their labor was more strenuous and dull than before, but in many ways, it remained the same.

“Hm, so this is the substance extracted from the… the balls of the Grizzly Beaver?”

“Yes, it’s called vanilla.”

“Vanilla. Hm. Sounds nice.”

“What does it smell like?”

How does it smell? Are you really asking that?

Zigmeser looked at Iona with a hint of suspicion for the first time.

Although his brows formed deep canyons of doubt, the scent wafting from his nose was banishing his skepticism.

The source of the fragrance was the piled-up black granules in an elegant porcelain container, subtly yet intensely wafting upwards.

“Sniff!”

Zigmeser involuntarily twitched his nose.

As if by a reflex, the scent slammed into his head.

It filled his chest through his trachea.

More alluring than the temptation of a monster, sweeter and stickier than the honey of spring fairies.

Just smelling it made Zigmeser momentarily feel as if he was in a flower field.

Considering the stubbornness and pride that Zigmeser possessed, it was needless to say what the response of other cooks in the kitchen was.

They were already staring at the heap of granules with empty eyes, as if their souls had been sucked out, contemplating the bowl that seemed to mock the gods.

Zigmeser was also not exactly composed.

If he had his way, he would’ve buried his head in the container just to breathe in that scent.

However, behind him were his subordinates, and in front was his superior. There was decorum, after all.

He had dignity as a dwarf.

But what does that matter for someone who has shaved off their beard and hair?

Others would be shocked to hear it, but Zigmeser was completely serious.

To the point of rubbing his palms until they burned against Karem.

“Hmm, so what do you expect me to make with this?”

“I hope you can prepare a sample to present to my lord without shame.”

“Hm, it might take some time to figure out how to use it?”

“I anticipated that, so I had Karem acquire the usage instructions while returning to Coldon.”

“Uh, Karem, you mean?”

“Yes. Since it’s urgent, I’ll only ask for the Egg Tart.”

Oh, then that makes sense.

As the head chef stepped onto the platform and quickly grabbed the note, his subordinates rushed to him, pressing in hopefully.

“Hmm? You just add a small amount during ingredient mixing and it’s done?”

“I think you just need to put it when making the dough or mixture.”

“What? Is that really all?”

“It seems all the necessary quantities for cooking differ according to the recipe; this is only common sense.”

“What’s this nonsense, sticky and bothersome! Why can’t you just get lost already?!”

Bang!

Zigmeser memorized the note faster than anyone.

Anyway, this was a sample ordered directly by the steward.

Moreover, it was for Lord Alfred.

There was no way he could leave it to someone else.

As soon as Iona left the kitchen, Zigmeser immediately began to add butter to the cooled dough with magic tools, cut the pastry sheet into the tart tray, and poured in the custard mixture that had vanilla added, before sending it into the oven.

Come to think of it, there was also ice cream.

Though he hadn’t ordered ice cream, Zigmeser decided he would start making some for a tasting.

While the tart baked, he added vanilla and utilized magic tools to make the ice cream, sending off the baked Egg Tart entrusted to a servant.

“Get going quickly, they’ll be waiting!”

Zigmeser turned back as he closed the kitchen door.

The attention of the cooks had already focused on the kitchen table.

No, the interest had been directed towards the tart since the moment its aroma exploded while baking in the oven.

This was a familiar time for the cooks of Winterhome.

There had been similar reactions every time Karem sprinkled recipes they had never seen or heard before during an exchange meeting.

No, even before Karem arrived, Zigmeser had developed new dishes with his subordinate cooks, tasting them together for improvements, so it wasn’t particularly different.

However, at this very moment, Zigmeser removed the gaze from above and placed himself in the position of a mere dwarf.

Filled with rich yet light sweet warmth, the hot custard and ice cream, only enriched with cream and yolks instead of cheese, complemented with vanilla.

“Alright, then.”

As Zigmeser rushed over, the cooks swiftly brought over the platform.

Zigmeser, stepping up, had his eyes glimmering with intensity.

“Let’s taste it first.”

Gulp.

With the sound of an unknown person swallowing, the eager cooks began to taste the tart and the ice cream.

Zigmeser tasted the ice cream first.

And then silence.

A moment later, an explosion.

“Hmm? Mmm? Mmmm!?”

“What, what is this—?”

“…The milk scent is gone, and only the sweetness remains.”

“…Caramel? No, caramel usually leaves a sticky scent behind. It can’t be this clean! Has anyone ever smelled something like this?”

“The Grizzly Beaver’s scent mixes so well with custard?!”

Awe, admiration, confusion, curiosity, questions.

The cooks began to chatter about their impressions while chewing on ice cream and Egg Tart, as raucous as the kitchen preparing for the dinner banquet.

However, the impressions that emerged didn’t align at all.

Even though they were sharing the same experience, the shock brought by the new scent of vanilla was far too overwhelming to exchange thoughts.

That went for Zigmeser as well.

However, the head chef was submerged in silence.

“…This is, unexpectedly.”

Clean? Why?

Zigmeser simply couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Isn’t it expected that the stronger the scent, the stronger the flavor of the spices would be?

Conversely, the weaker the scent, the more the flavor would also be relatively weak?

Yet this vanilla from the beaver’s X was something else.

The sweet, dense, and heavy aroma that spread in his mouth disappeared cleanly the moment it reached the back of his throat.

Leaving behind a rich feeling of regret.

And an intense primal hunger of wanting to eat more.

Yet, because of this, Zigmeser gleaned that he could recognize one thing.

This monster spice was truly a beast that transformed desserts.

Countless dessert recipes flooded Zigmeser’s mind where vanilla could take a place, but right now that wasn’t what mattered.

“Hey! You insolent brats! When your superior and elder is lost in thought, you take advantage to eat all for yourselves! You, the mayflies of no hierarchy! And when the heck did you eat this much ice cream?!”

The stacks of tarts were already down to half.

The bowls full of ice cream had vanished just as noticeably.

The cooks trembled at the wrath of the head chef, yet seeing them eat even more fervently left Zigmeser devoid of any more words.

As if Zigmeser cast aside the gaze of a superior.

At this moment, the subordinate cooks were no longer subordinates.

They were competitors fighting over one piece of prey!

For now, they had to eat!

“Y-You damn fools!”

“I’m sorry, Chief Cook! But I can’t resist ‘the very first’ sample!”

“More than that, let’s try it accompanied with the ice cream. They share the same scent but harmonize—”

“Oh, really?”

Zigmeser quickly intervened to try his subordinate’s tempting suggestion.

Indeed, they shared the same scent, yet rather than getting tired with the same aroma, they harmonized beautifully, creating a crunchy, soft, and moist richness that vibrated in their mouths.

Zigmeser, firm yet gentle in front of cuisine.

Thus, he brushed aside the thought of punishing the subordinates and began to indulge in the tart and ice cream.

As the noisy commotion simmered down, a tranquil serenity washed over.

With empty bowls and plates stripped clean with not a speck remaining, Zigmeser and the cooks were lost in their aftertaste.

The conclusion of a dish is followed by cleaning.

Usually, scolding would follow for slacking off, but who cared? Zigmeser willingly enjoyed the lingering pleasure with his companions.

“Hah, speaking of which, Karem must have returned as well.”

Zigmeser murmured softly, so that no one could hear.

Having met the young genius cook, feeling the joy and satisfaction that rarely came by, his voice hinted at excitement.

And he thought of Godwin, who couldn’t partake in this.

“Lord Godwin will surely be saddened. Should I secretly arrange some for him?”

The Duchess had a rather peculiar taste.

*

*

*

And thus, the one filled with expectation was ambling toward the warehouse, savoring the refreshing summer air of Iceland, to fulfill a not particularly awkward request from Karem.

“So, Karem.”

And Mary, having responded to Karem’s request, asked again in a disheartened voice.

“You’re going to get… oats?”

“Yes. Well, there are other things I’m looking for, but the main goal is oats. They weren’t in the tower’s warehouse or refrigerator.”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Mary looked at Karem with a bewildered expression, continuing.

“Who would want to eat such a thing for fun?”

“Uh, I’ve heard oats were frequently consumed in the past in Iceland. I heard several countries still use it as a staple grain.”

“Isn’t that because they had to eat it rather than die of hunger?”

“I heard that too.”

Karem shook his head disapprovingly.

“And you, Karem, are saying you want to feed such livestock food to the heir of the duke?”

“Yes. Fortunately, Lord Godwin has promised to follow whatever I say.”

He probably hadn’t heard that it was about eating oats.

Or rather, would he even know what oats are?

Well, it’s the best livestock feed, so he probably knows.

Mary’s gaze shifted to Karem as he first displayed his skills upon entering the Wizard’s Tower. It had turned negative.

However, Karem was confident.

‘Of course, it’s only natural that he thinks he’s been poorly fed.’

Karem was well aware of why Mary, Olivier, and Catherine reacted like that.

In the homeland of his past life, oatmeal had not included oats.

Oats had endured years of neglect, but in modern times, it was revealed to be rich in various nutrients including vitamins and minerals, gaining recognition as a diet food.

But, if eaten as oatmeal or porridge, it would naturally taste horrible.

Moreover, they typically soaked it in milk and added jam or honey, sugar, to eat it.

It would taste as if one were chewing on a dirty rag soaked in filthy water.

Let alone it wouldn’t even be something a serf would eat.

Of course, back in his past life, there would be those who’d argue that oatmeal was tasty, but Karem only had one thing to say to such people.

Have you tried eating it plain, without fruit, nuts, or sugar? What? It’s delicious? Wow! You have the taste of a British person who has dominated the world over!

“So, what are you planning to do?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, the oats. You’re not just going to serve them straight to Lord Godwin, are you?”

“First, they need to be soaked in warm water for a while and then steamed.”

“Steamed?”

Karem nodded.

It was essentially rice made from oats. It was tasty and nutty, and he frequently ate it with multigrain rice in his past life to shed unnecessary weight. The texture was interesting as it would burst with every chew.

But steaming the oats, Mary couldn’t imagine the taste or texture.

And of course, the greyscale elf.

The warehouse manager Auger was also taken aback.

“Little Karem! Long time no see. Did you have a good outing? Or should I say—uh? What? Oats? Why do you need livestock feed? Raising animals?”

“Ah, uh?”

“No need to know deeply, just give it to me.”

Mary cut Karem off, pressing Auger.

 

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