Melanie (or Mel, as she preferred to be called) logged into Eternal Online and got up from the bed in which she found herself. She swiftly dressed and exited the small room she’d been given by her boss. Well, he wasn’t really her boss, this was a game after all, and she could just stop playing at any time. But she thought of him as her boss anyway, he was the only person to offer her a chance, without his intervention she’d have been forced out of the eastern capital with all the other players.
Mel didn’t want to be an adventurer, or a pioneer, or any kind of thing that involved going somewhere and starting entirely from scratch, so she was reasonably grateful when the old half-orc had given her a chance to prove herself.
“You have one chance,” he’d said, “to impress me. Failing that, I’ll throw you out with all the other rabble.”
Mel, not wanting to be thrown out, had rolled up her sleeves and marched straight into the kitchen. There had been… problems, magical equipment had a bit of a learning curve, but the other three cooks had been happy to show her how everything worked, including a magical mixing bowl and an ice maker. From there she’d decided to make something simple but good; ice cream.
Here she began to run into true problems, the first of which was that there didn’t seem to be a local equivalent of vanilla extract. In fact, after quizzing the other cooks, she was able to determine that if vanilla existed in this world, it hadn’t been discovered yet. Thus, scrapping the idea of vanilla ice cream, she moved on, thinking perhaps chocolate. It was only after she asked about it (and found they didn’t know what that was either) that she remembered that vanilla and chocolate came from the same region; this, of course, meant that if they didn’t have one, they were unlikely to have the other.
Unwilling to let that little setback get her down, she took a look at the fruit options. The pantry was well stocked with all sorts of food stuff, including several different fruit types. There were pears, plums, passion fruit, assorted berries, and there, weirdly, a small basket of lemons. She’d plucked out five of the yellow fruits, giving one a good sniff while she did so. They were not Meyer lemons, that was certain, which meant she’d need to adjust the sweetness a bit, fortunately that wouldn’t be much of a problem.
Upon returning to the kitchen with her yellow bounty she ran into her second problem; the kitchen did not have a zester. A little searching turned up a cheese grater, and with some reluctance she carefully used that to grate the peel of a couple of lemons, doing her best to avoid the pith. That accomplished she juiced the lemons, a process that involved squeezing the juice out by hand and running it through a strainer due to lack of a juicer.
She left the juice to simmer in a self-heating bowl and went to get the milk and cream. She had initially been concerned when she’d seen the milk in the pantry, however the others explained that the shelves all had a stasis enchantment. She didn’t quite know what the limits of such an enchantment were, however the dairy products smelled and looked fresh as the day they were delivered. Milk and peel went into one of the self-heating and mixing bowls and within a few minutes she had a steaming bowl of milk. She deactivated the enchantments and set the bowl aside to steep.
While that was happening, she cleaned up the few items she’d used and wiped down the counter, receiving approving nods from the others. She then proceeded to gather the eggs and then separate the yolks from the whites. She set the whites aside, ideas for their use percolating in the back of her mind. A quick check on the lemon juice showed it had reduced by about three quarters, which was exactly what she was looking for.
She turned off the heat so the juice could cool, then turned her attention to the yolks. This was where things got dicey. There was no sugar, at least not in the form that she was used to. They had honey, and a syrup that looked at tasted a lot like maple. For a moment she was unsure of what to do, both would impart a new flavor to the finished product. Finally she decided to go with the honey, it would pair better with the lemon than the maple, in addition she knew the sugar to honey ratio; she didn’t know the same for the syrup.
Quickly, she added another egg yolk to balance the extra liquid from the honey, then she added about half the honey she would sugar. With a touch of her hand the bowl sprung to life and the egg-honey mixture began beating itself. She waited a moment to be sure it was working right, then left it be; she wanted it to beat until it turned a nice pale color. Satisfied it was going well, she turned her attention to the ice maker. For this next part she’d need an ice bath to help cool the custard. A few minutes of poking and prodding produced a large bowl full of ice which she immediately set to the side.
Moving back to the milk she returned it to a simmer and lowered the mixing speed on the yolk bowl. She poured small amounts of the steaming liquid into the slowly churning egg mixture, being careful to temper the eggs instead of cooking them. Once she’d added about half the milk she put the bowl back down, and then transferred the yolk mixture fully to the milk bowl, using another enchantment to make the surface of the bowl hydrophobic, so all of it slid right out, leaving the container mostly spotless.
She kept the custard simmering until it reached the right thickness, then turned off the heat and proceeded to stir in the cream. Once fully combined she poured the entire concoction through a strainer, removing all the little bits of lemon peel, then placed the new bowl in the ice bath, setting it to continue mixing.
Turning her attention back to the whites she knew exactly what she was going to do. First, she divided the whites, she didn’t need all of them, then returned to the pantry and grabbed a small basket of strawberries. Returning to the kitchen she cut off the tops, mashed the berries, and then ran them through the magical version of a dehydrator. Watching the device at work was fascinating, it literally ripped the water out of the mash, leaving behind a thick syrupy mush. Belatedly she realized she could have used this to reduce the lemon juice, but it was too late to look back now.
Running the dehydrator a couple more times netted her a thick strawberry paste which, she hoped, didn’t contain enough moisture to ruin the meringue. A quick taste told her that it needed to be slightly sweeter, so she added a bit of honey until it was just right. Returning to her work area she set the lesser portion of egg whites to mixing, watching as they moved like an imaginary whisk was beating them. Once they were stiff she added her berry paste and turned the bowl to its lowest setting, which was more like a gentle folding motion than anything else. Finally satisfied, she stopped the device and turned to the oven, which she found could heat almost instantly to most temperatures used in a standard range of cooking. Oven heated, she spooned the fluffy pink mixture onto a cooking sheet and shaped it into bowls. Then, into the oven they went even as she set a timer on her HUD.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Turning back to the custard, she found it completely cooled. Now came the moment of truth as she poured the condensed juice into it, praying to all the cooking gods that it wouldn’t split. The concentrate poured in smoothly, and the mixture incorporated without a hitch, much to her relief. She stopped the mixing function and removed the bowl from the now watery ice bath. She covered the bowl, and placed it in the pantry, taking advantage of the stasis enchantment to keep it exactly as it was.
Now she had reached the ‘hurry up and wait’ part of her task. The custard was ready for churning whenever, and the meringues would need another forty-five minutes of cooking time and then an hour to cool down after that. Meanwhile she took the time to clean up her area and all the dishes she’d used so far.
As she cleaned, she considered if there was anything else she should add. A sauce might go over well, but it could also be too much if the flavors didn’t all play well together; worse, she ran the risk of it being too much all together. After a moment of thought she realized she could make the sauce and put it on the side, so that the diner could choose if they wanted it or not. That just left the decision of what sauce to make.
After a few moments of thought she decided on blackberry. She knew blackberry and strawberry could work well together, as could blackberry and lemon, though she’d never tried pairing all three at the same time. However, her gut told her it wouldn’t be a bad combination, and she was inclined to listen; it was, after all, where she liked to keep her food.
Returning to the pantry she grabbed a bowl of blackberries then returned to the kitchen where she proceeded to mash them into a consistency as close to liquid as she could get. As she did so she wished fervently for a Victorio strainer, as it would make the process so much smoother. Perhaps she could suggest the idea to someone later. Still, it was what it was, which meant this sauce would have seeds.
Using the dehydrator once more she pulled a good portion of the water out of the mash, leaving a thick syrup behind. Then, after adding a little honey for sweetness, squeezed a few more drops of juice out of one of the discarded lemons into it, and then heated it until it all but boiled, making sure the berries had broken down as completely as possible. Removing it from the heat she set it aside to cool even as she settled in to wait.
Eventually, it was time, the meringues were cooling in the oven (which she had politely asked the others to leave closed) and would be for about the next forty-five minutes, just enough time to churn the ice cream. Retrieving the bowl from the pantry she placed it in another container filled with ice, and activated the mixing function once more. From there it was a simple matter of watching, waiting, and refilling the ice.
Eventually it hit the right consistency, though she had begun to wonder if the enchantment would be able to keep going; it had gotten markedly slower as the mixture thickened. Still, they’d gotten there in the end. With the ice cream finished, she turned to the meringues which had (miraculously) not cracked during their baking or cooling, leaving a half-dozen perfect bowls. Carefully she plated one of the airy confections, scooped a generous helping of frozen lemon dessert into it. Finally she scraped the cooled sauce into a small, porcelain creamer and looked around.
“It’s ready,” she had said to no one in particular. However, one of the other cooks immediately left the room even as the other two moved to inspect the dish.
The two cooks, a fuzzy black male catkin, and a heavyset human woman (who would have looked right at home in a Wagner opera), hemmed and hawed as they looked at what she had wrought, but forbore to comment. After a few moments the door opened and the final cook, a tall elven woman, indicated that Mel should plate another serving, and then bring the dessert and follow. After quickly arranging another plate, Mel put the two plates and the creamer on a tray, and followed the woman out.
They headed swiftly to a private dining room where they found the proprietor, a half-orc who was going gray at the temples and looked to enjoy his food more than a little. He was sitting at a table with a human woman of similar age but less bulk. The two had clearly been conversing, however they fell silent once she entered. Heading over to the table she carefully lowered the tray down to rest on the edge, and then doled out the plates, finally placing the creamer of sauce halfway between the two of them. Mel stepped back, tray held close to her chest, and waited.
Both diners examined the dessert with a critical eye searching, it seemed, for any flaw. Satisfied that it at least looked edible, they examined the creamer, each pouring a small dollop of sauce onto the edge of their plate, and then touched their spoons to it, raising the bare smear of concoction to their mouths and testing it. The ice cream came next, a tiny spoonful to taste, and then the barest sliver of meringue. Mel all but broke into a sweat as they tasted each part individually, she seriously hoped none of the parts was lacking.
The two conferred silently for a moment, and then they both drizzled a light helping of the sauce over their desserts, completing the confection. Finally, both of them took a bite of the full combination. For a moment, silence reigned. The woman raised a brow, the man closed his eyes. Finally, both of them nodded.
“It is much like the creamed ice,” the woman began, “though it is smoother and has more of the flavor of a custard with no hints of flour or other thickener. The blackberry sauce isn’t special, but provides a nice, flavorful addition. The real thing of interest here, however, is this strawberry confection.” She tapped the meringue lightly with her spoon. “It’s intriguing; light, with a fluffy interior and a crunchy exterior, and I presume it can be made in a variety of flavors as well, though strawberry was a good choice for this particular combination.”
The half-orc nodded along with the commentary. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen anything quite like it, something from their world, perhaps?” He turned his gaze on Mel, who felt compelled to speak.
“It’s called a meringue, it’s made from egg whites, sweetener, and usually something for flavor. It’s a very temperamental confection, and can be hard to get right,” she explained.
“I’ll have to take your word for that,” he rumbled in reply. “For now, I think we can find a place for you here. Especially if you can produce other such delights.”
After that he’d seen to her lodging, gotten her acquainted with the rest of the staff of his restaurant, and helped her settle in. All of that had led to where she was now. Standing in a kitchen some two months later and considering a small pile of chooker eggs.