“The key is persistence,” commented Professor Aionia, her breaths heavy with effort.

With a steady and careful rhythm she pounded and rolled the gigantic slab of dough on the table, each strike generating a small earthquake.

“But what’re we making?” Isaac inquired, curious.

“Neither cake nor pastry,” she replied. “You will see. Now then, I need help from all of you! We’re in a competition, aren’t we?”

They all peeked out the flaps of their tangerine-colored tent, and witnessed their classmates from other professors’ groups busily scamper about. Smoke wafted from the makeshift chimneys on each of their multihued tents, all in preparation for the grand food contest they held every year. It was a battle between each professor’s Tanaar group, and last festival, Professor Thales had won with his incredible rendition of ‘marinated roast duck in twenty-eight sauces’ by a whopping 42 votes, and no other professor was going to let him get such a lead this year.

When it came to seafood, or cuisines with historical proximity to water, Professor Thales was unbeatable; when it came to humble grills and down-to-earth cuisine, Professor William stood at the pinnacle. Professor Helen had a knack for cooking up spicy, flavor-packed renditions of her own republic, the Republic of Krithiva, which set fire to the roof of everyone’s mouths but somehow always made them come back for more; but of course, no cuisine is truly complete without dessert, and when the occasion arrived, Professor Irina made the best sweets imaginable, pioneered by those in the Republic of Utopia.

As for Professor Aionia, she always cooked up something different year after year, but this spring, she was going to cook something nostalgic from her childhood.

“Ah... no...” she sighed, as the dough in her hands crumbled and fell apart.

“Do we need more water?” asked Elwin, perceptive.

“Hmm, no. This flour from the campus cookery won’t do. Time to arm the bigger cannons,” she mused, carefully observing the minute cracks upon the dough.

“What’s the plan?” everyone asked, leaning in.

“Katherine, do you know where Alice’s is?”

“Alice’s? You mean her café by the main street?” inquired Katherine, her mind honed sharp.

“Yes, that’s the one. Her café should still be open. Could you ask for a six dozen rack of farm eggs, and three bags of her special spelt flour?”

“Spelt?”

“It’s a type of fine wheat, cultivated in classical times. It’s already paid for, so when she asks for the secret code, just say ‘Heat from Fire.’”

“Will do!” exclaimed Katherine, racing out of the tent with an entourage of four other classmates.

“Isaac, we need vegetables. Lots of it. Do you have a notepad with you?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Alright, write this down: two pounds of garlic, four pounds of shallots, two dozen stalks of long green onions – remember, the extra-long kind – two dozen knobs of fresh ginger, white sesame seeds – twelve ounces, and a pound of bamboo shoots.”

Isaac scribbled as fast as his hand could carry his pencil, his handwriting somehow unintelligible to everyone else, but completely legible for him.

“Bamboo shoots?”

“Yes. The Farmer’s Market should have some by now, harvested from the forest not too long off from here. Oh, and Elwin –” she exclaimed before Isaac could run out – “you are in charge of the meat.”

“What do we need?”

“Twenty pounds of rolled pork belly.”

“Twenty pounds?!”

“Don’t you worry, it’s all been paid beforehand according to plan. Isaac, ask for a woman named Ms. Rena, and Elwin, look for Mr. Uwe at the meat market.”

“In addition to those, we require a bag of anchovies, three large blocks of chicken stock, and ten pounds of ground pork as well. Both of you, use this –” the Professor disappeared behind the tent, appearing with a large wheelbarrow – “you are going to need it.”

“MAXIMUS!” She hollered, as Maximus’s head peeked from a tent for gamesplaces.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Could you help us this year?”

“Of course! What do we need?” He exclaimed, appearing before them in the blink of an eye.

“Some cherry wine,” she replied. “None of my Artens are old enough to purchase it, but you’ve just turned seventeen, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great, please receive this.” Professor Aionia floated a precise quantity of coin to his direction. “Just one bottle, no more, no less.”

“I’m on it.”

“And Mirai?”

She hurried out of the tent in her Orimono. “Yes, professor?”

“You should follow Elwin and –” she glanced at Mirai’s dress, “ach, we can’t afford to muddy your Orimono. Instead, I would like you to raid Chef Rosso’s pantry for his baker’s powder. You can still get them off easily.”

“How much would you like?”

“All of it.”

“All of it?”

“All of it indeed. Now proceed! Time is against us!”

The halls and corridors were completely empty, because everyone was celebrating the festivities on the lawns. If one was a bystander, they would have been surprised pantless to suddenly witness four Artens hurtle down the corridor, three of them riding a wheelbarrow like a boat, and an upperclassman pushing it forward on a wave.

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“See you!” Mirai smiled, as they dropped her off near the dining hall and Maximus began to rev-up his wave engine like a mode of transport that hadn’t been invented yet. Elwin and Isaac on the wheelbarrow-boat was having the time of their lives, rushing through the grand atrium and past the concourse, past the pillars, the statues, and the headmaster –

Oops –

They all instantly thought themselves to be in trouble for running through the campus like that, but without even looking back, Headmaster Abraxas pounded his staff and a jet of fire blasted behind Maximus, rocketing them forward at an even greater velocity.

The headmaster was once an Arten, too.

The statues of the FOUNDERS in the sacred Hall of Eternity seemed to follow their gaze upon the comedic image of the racing Artens, even though their eyes were closed. How they cherished such a sight, thousands of years later!

* * *

“Woah, steady there,” Maximus exclaimed, as the shallots almost rolled out of their sack from Isaac’s shoulder. He rolled it back with a wave of air.

“Do we have everything?”

“I’ve got the meat. Twenty pounds of pork belly, in the wheelbarrow, along with the, uhm, huge bag of dried anchovies. What about you, Isaac?”

“Erm,” he commented, flicking through his notes.

“Haha, is that handwriting?” Elwin guffawed, seeing Isaac’s scribbles.

“We were trained to take notes really fast at the hospital. Don’t you worry, I’m privy to this kind of jargon,” he joked back.

“Oh, hey guys!” exclaimed Katherine, turning the corner with their classmates, enormous sacks of flour on all of their shoulders. “Thank goodness for the wheelbarrow. Could I put these on there? MAHA forbid I use fire or these bags will explode. Thanks.”

She wiped sweat off her brow, readjusting the petals of tulip upon her hair.

“Wait, I thought we were just baking something. What do we need all of this –” she peeked at the enormous rolls of pork belly, an image straight out of those newfangled strips of comica in the papers, chuckling, “what do we need all of this for?”

“Uh,” Isaac replied, “I don’t really know. Maybe a pork pie?”

“Perhaps, but – goodness be the Five FOUNDERS, is all of this just shallots? And garlic?”

“And some cherry wine,” Maximus added, sloshing the twinkling liquid in its bottle.

“What kind of dish requires flour, pork belly, shallots, garlic, and – in the name of the MAHA, what are these now?”

“Bamboo shoots.”

“Bamboo shoots? Alright. What kind of dish needs flour, pork belly, shallots, garlic, bamboo shoots, and is that – never mind – ginger, dried anchovies, sesame seeds, and cherry wine?”

All of them shrugged, except Maximus.

“There’s probably more to the dish than you think. Professor Aionia always has a surprise up her sleeve.”

“Huh? How do you know, Maximus?” asked Elwin, leaning in.

“Professor Aionia? She was my Tanaar.”

“WHAT?!” Elwin exclaimed. “That’s why you were able to fight with your eyes closed back at the –”

“Shh, that’s a tale for another time. Everyone awaits our return. We can’t lose this time around, can we?”

“Of course not!”

And so they all raced as fast as they could back to campus, to their tangerine tent.

“Oh, all of you made it! Thank you for bringing them to me,” Professor Aionia exclaimed, dusting the fine flour off her hands into the oven and setting it alight with a snap of her fingers.

“Mirai, could you pour out all of the baker’s powder onto this tray?”

Very soon the tray resembled a beach of white sand.

“Now goes the flour, right?” Elwin appeased, knowing a thing or two about baking.

“Nope. We’re putting this in the oven straight away.”

“We’re baking the baker’s powder? What for?” gasped Katherine. This recipe was so strange; every turn defied her expectations.

“It’s for something special; you’ll see. And now, since we have about two hundred potential mouths to please for the competition, we’re going to need about ten large pots,” she said, hoisting them up to the makeshift stoves.

“Before we turn on the heat, we need to process the ingredients. Everyone is to wash their hands, now!”

Maximus condensed freshwater out of the air and doused their hands with it, Artens scrubbing them clean with soap.

Satisfied, Professor Aionia put her plans into motion.

“Now then, who here knows how to chop and dice?”

Elwin’s hand shot up, along with Mirai’s, and a dozen others.

“You are hereby the dicing team. Watch closely how I chop the shallots, the garlic, and the ginger, and I would like you to do the same for everything in the sacks.”

With three knives floating in the air by her Quan she sliced the three vegetables simultaneously, slowly at first to show her Artens how it was done, and then speeding up, chopping them crisscrossed to less than a fifth of an inch thick.

Elwin gladly got to work, taking care not to slice his fingers in the knifework; many classmates by his side matched his speed, for they had some culinary experience back home, but Mirai’s knifework was the speediest out of them all, manipulating three in the air with another in her hand. And while all of this was transpiring, Professor Aionia coordinated a second team into existence.

“Roast team! You are in charge of cooking the pork belly to a golden, crisp-brown,” she announced, hoisting up the twenty pounds of rolled-up pork bellies onto a clean table with a single chant of ‘Ura!’

“Mix these knobs of butter with the ground sprigs of rosemary, thyme, parsley, lots of it, correct, just like this,” she continued, watching her Artens carry out the orders to the word like experiments in her classes. Receiving the bottle of cherry wine from Maximus, she spoke, “and add a quarter bottle of this into the batter for good measure. When it’s done, leave it to rest for five minutes, and then lather the pork belly with it. It’ll give it a sweet, caramel-like glaze when it comes out of the oven.”

“Now then, broth team! You are in charge of making the most delicious broth of all,” she announced, steeping the cubes of chicken stock in fresh water. “With a careful use of heat, we can extract as much flavor from these chicken stock as time allows,” she stopped, peeking out of the tent. The Sun was setting; they had less than two hours to finish their grand craft.

“And finally, to the hardest part of it all: tackling the dough,” she exclaimed, cupping her hands together in a display of firm determination. “Katherine, could you take out the tray from the oven?”

Katherine did so extra cautiously; Professor Aionia’s senses were honed to help her if anything went awry. A strange, stinging aroma filled the tent, making them open the flaps to let cool air in.

“Good, now, let’s carefully mix this powder with fresh water,” she continued, dissolving it into a cloudy solution.

“This, everyone, is what we call Kana-mizu. People of Jin call it Jian-sui.”

“What is it supposed to be?” inquired Katherine, trying to deduce its purpose.

“It’s supposed to be alkaline water, used to wrest the flour into the texture we want. We’re going to use this to make noodles.”

Noodles! So that was it!

They were not baking pastries or pies, they were making noodles!

Professor Aionia continued. “If you try to make noodles from flour and water alone, they will either fall apart when cooked if they are too thick, or dissolve when they are too thin. Should such noodles survive, it would feel like biting into ropes of paper. But this, this Kana-mizu – is what prevents all of that. The alkaline solution shocks the proteins in the spelt flour so they become soft, but hold together under water and heat. The result is soft and chewy noodles.”

It was like an experiment come to life, but as a culinary recipe.

“Put on these silk gloves and watch closely. You want to spread the flour out like this, into a crater with a rim, and pour a bit of water in the center. You want to give it a short toss until the water’s absorbed, and then you want to ladle the Kana-Mizu in. Don’t throw in all at once, or it will clump! You want to do it slowly, like drizzling syrup over pancakes.”

Elwin and his dicing team, finished with the onions, got to work on the flour while the broth team tossed the finely cut vegetables with sesame oil and ground pork, and heated them on saucepans.

“Now that you’ve mixed the flour, you’ve got to beat it into submission,” declared Professor Aionia, pounding the thick, lustrous dough onto the rattling table, rolling it several times.

“...Hoo yeah, just my style,” remarked Katherine, who was mortified to realize that she’d said it out loud and everyone had heard it. Isaac leaned away from her in jest, afraid.

“No, no! You, you didn’t hear anything! It’s just a joke!”

The tent filled with roaring laughter.

All around them was a symphony of cookery: sounds of roiling water, crackling pans, humming ovens, sparkles of fire and smoke tossed over skillets; everyone worked tirelessly with sweat on their brow and fire in their eyes, exchanging glances of smiles and acknowledgement as comrades in arms.

Elwin felt like he was at home again, and for the very first time since coming to Aeternitas, he felt like he truly belonged there. It was a joyous moment he would never forget.