“Nipples?” Flaminia asks.

“Nipples!” I say.

“Nipples?”

“NIPPLES!” I laugh out loud.

“I don’t believe it,” she laughs too.

“Oh, you better.”

I just gave a brief explanation of a traditional Sicilian pastry which, translated to English, goes by 'Saint Agatha's Breasts.'

"You are saying that someone made cakes shaped like breasts on purpose," Clodia deadpans. "And you want my bakery to sell them?"

"Elves aren't bigots, are they? I could see this being a problem if we were choke-full of people having a problem with such a thing, but are we? I didn't get the impression many people would be scandalized. If anything, Amorium is a massive gossip mill. If you open a front with cakes shaped like titties, you can bet that everyone will come to check them out. And some of those coming to check them out will also buy a few to taste them! When they discover that these little cakes are actually delicious, they will be all the rage! On top of that, we'll sell another specialty from where my mother comes from: Sicilian cannoli."

"C-cannouli?" Tiberius struggles with pronunciation.

"Cahn-noh-lee," I say for the sake of everyone present. "The singular is cahn-noh-loh. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's start with the interesting history of these little nipple cakes that you can also call cassatine."

"So, a cassatina, in my family's tongue, means small cassata. By now, you all know how to make a cassata. A cassatina is just a small version of it. And if you cover it with a white glaze and put a cherry on top, it becomes the Catanese variation, the Breast of Saint Agatha."

"Why is it called that?" Raissa raises a hand and asks.

"Well," I scratch my head, "her story is a bit dark. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman, and this military officer wanted to court her. But she had taken a chastity vow for… reasons. There's quite a bit of back and forth with this guy, first locking her up in a brothel to corrupt her and then torturing her to the point of cutting off her breasts. She's a symbol of resilience for her worshippers. That's how she became a [Saintess]."

"Rotten roots," Raissa swears, pale.

"That's… we are not telling that story," Clodia says sharply.

"It's fine. We can spread it later. I understand how it can be very sensitive for some. But don't get me wrong; I still think it's inspiring. Now, though, back to baking."

"We just make a small cassata?" Flaminia asks, confused. "Is that all?"

"Not really," I say, raising a finger. "You would think that's the case, right? But smaller cakes, pastries, or sweets generally have different rules than bigger ones. When you go small, you have to use fewer ingredients. There's more you can savor in a spoonful of a big cake. When it comes to pastry, there are only about two or three if you want to stretch it, flavors that you should taste. In fact, there's no marzipan decoration in a cassatina."

"Well, actually… it depends on the recipe. A more widespread version of Saint Agatha's Breast, which doesn't take the name after her, a ‘normal’ cassatina, would just be a small-sized version of a cassata. Personally, I don't find them as tasty as Saint Agatha's Breasts, though."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Everyone looks at me weirdly.

"What? Am I talking to all ass-people? Tch."

"You know what? Just fetch the ingredients. I wrote them down. We'll go through this together."

…

"So, I say the main difference in the preparation is the dough. We are not using a sponge cake or what my mother would have called Pan di Spagna. A cassata is soft and airy. We need these little cakes to be firmer if you know what I mean. That's why we'll be making shortcut pastry. You can imagine a jam-filled tart. That's the kind of pastry we are shooting for. But be careful. We don’t want it to be too crumbly or too crunchy. Also, we'll be baking all of this in the oven!"

I've divided everyone into groups of two. Tiberius and Quintus, Flaminia and Clodia, Raissa and I.

"Flour, butter, sugar, egg yolks. Let's go," as I mix the ingredients on my side, I keep both my eyes on Raissa.

"Butter and flour," she says, starting to mix with her hands. I know she's got some variant of [Nimble Hands] or some stuff like that. Her hands mix everything together wonderfully.

"To mix the eggs with the flour, you can do the same thing I did when we first met," I tell her. "It's like making noodles, but with a bunch of sugar and butter in the initial mix."

She perks her ears up and nods at me, making a small crater in a mound of buttered flour and sugar and pouring the egg yolks there.

"Good stuff," I say. My hands are already kneading the dough into its final, rectangular form.

As soon as I'm done, I put the dough over a cooling rune and take a walk to the other two tables.

"Great stuff, Flam," I tell the pink-haired [Chef], who smiles at me more sweetly than usual.

I see that both ladies are almost done with their dough, and I briefly move on to Tiberius and Quintus. Both are so razor-focused I don't even bother to say anything as I go back to the two women.

"Those two," I say, pointing at the two ex-[Soldiers], "make me want to only hire homeless people in the future."

"They are passionate," Clodia nods. "But not everyone needs to be like them."

"Oh, sure, sure," I say. "The entire bakery would be a ball of nerves, tenser than steel wires otherwise. Anyway, girls, how you doin'? All good here?"

"All good," Flaminia nods.

"Joey, should we keep ignoring the fact that you accepted a duel and that you don't know anything about wielding a weapon?" Clodia suddenly hisses.

"I said, it's fine. I have plans. Why do you think I'm teaching you all this? I just need some time, and I need you to trust me that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Clodia presses me.

"I think so," I nod.

"I just hope you'll be okay, Joey," Flaminia says, rubbing my right arm with her hand. "And whatever happens, I won't forget anything that I'm learning now. If you are out of Amorium, I'll be out too."

"Ladies," I cringe, "stop worrying. I appreciate it, really." I look at them meaningfully, "But I don't need this. I need you to learn these two recipes. And speaking of which," I turn to the others, "are you all done?"

Everyone is.

"Good. Then, let's let this dough rest, and I'll explain the hard part about making a Sicilian cannolo."

Everyone leaves their table and comes to stand before me.

"Alright," I begin by clapping my hands together, "I'll give you the exact quantities to follow in a second, but the very base of the cannolo, the container, the shell, is fried dough. This recipe is possibly two-thousand years old, okay? So, treat it with due respect. Now, on top of what you would use for a normal dough, there are some weird ingredients in this one. First, lard. If you are a heathen, you can use butter. We will use lard, as per the original recipe."

"Lard contributes to the flakiness and crispiness of the shell. The high-fat content in lard helps to create a tender, melt-in-your-mouth texture while maintaining the shell's structure. It also adds a subtle savory flavor that complements the sweet filling.

"Second, Marsala. We don't have that. But let me explain. Marsala is a fortified wine: that means it's wine with added sugar and another distilled liquor. We'll mix some strong wine with sugar and add a drop of liquor. This adds a unique flavor to the cannolo shell. The alcohol mostly evaporates during cooking, leaving behind a complex, sweet taste that enhances the overall flavor profile. Cool, right? Plus, using it helps to bring the dough together. It's easier to work with.

"Third, Vinegar. The acidity of the vinegar helps to relax the gluten in the dough – I hope everyone here remembers all the stuff I've taught you about gluten; using vinegar results in a more tender and delicate shell. Plus, the acidity promotes browning during frying, which not only adds color but also contributes to the crispy texture of the shell. You'll see."

"How's this shell supposed to stay together while we fry it?" Flaminia asks, confused. "Won’t it break?"

"That’s an excellent observation," I say with a sly smile. "And, well, before we commission the tools we'll need… we'll just have to use some magic."