Third Arc: Thirty-Second Chapter

"Cordy! Today it's omelettes!"

"Yes, yes."

Summoned by the head chef, I wiped my hands and headed for the counter.

"She's at the stove already?!"

"On her second day?! She has set a new record among all the cooks ever hired here!"

"Don't get excited. She's only being tested!"

As ever, they were noisy in the background. It was the lull between preparing breakfast and lunch, so maybe they had time on their hands.

Come to think of it, Anje was...

"Eek! I've cut my hand!"

"Poor thing! I'll do it for you."

"Then I'll tend to the wound!"

Hmm. She seemed to be managing quite well, which was all to the good. We had only started working in the kitchen yesterday, but with that fragile, protect-worthy beauty of hers and her skillful handling, Anje had won over everyone around her in no time. That she was several notches more skillful than back in her school days in Altria was perhaps thanks to her experience wandering from country to country. A little tear. Thanks to Anje, gathering information looked set to go smoothly.

As I looked this way and that and reached the counter, the head chef had a small iron pan and eggs ready in front of me.

"Today we'll test your cooking on the stove. Make an omelette with this."

"Yes, yes. Hmm, is there a fork? And onion, tomato, and cheese! Potato too, if you have it, would make it even better!"

"What?! Tch! If you can do it, then do it!"

"Yes, yes."

At the order of the head chef, who looked vexed for some reason, the ingredients were laid out before me. I diced the vegetables, seasoned them with salt and pepper, lightly sauteed them, and took out the mayonnaise. I lightly beat three eggs with a fork, and in went the mayonnaise!

"That, the magic condiment?!"

"It makes things tasty. Mayonnaise and eggs go together beautifully!"

I melted butter in the heated pan and set about making a soft, runny omelette. Letting off heat with a damp cloth is the key. And of course you mustn't forget to fold in the cheese.

The egg-cooking technique I had honed on my daughter's lunchboxes and breakfasts came pouring out! I've got umpteen years as a housewife! From tamagoyaki to omelette rice, it's all a piece of cake.

"Right, one omelette, up!"

When I plated up the beautiful, soft, runny omelette, shining like gold, and held it out, the head chef was hanging his head, both elbows and knees on the floor. For some reason, the cooks who had been murmuring were in the same pose.

"Chef...?"

Did he have a stomachache? I went to the trouble of making it, and it'll go cold.

"Such... I've never seen such a beautiful omelette..."

"That's it, I'm quitting cooking..."

"Me too, I quit being head chef..."

"Chef?!"

What has gotten into them all of a sudden? I went to all the trouble of sneaking in, so it would be a problem if he quit!

"No, I haven't tasted it yet! It depends on the taste!"

Springing up, the head chef snatched up a fork. When the fork pierced the omelette, runny, half-cooked egg spilled out from the fluffy surface. Even if I say so myself, it was among the finest omelettes I had ever made.

"De. Li. Cious..." And he slumped.

Dropping the fork with a clatter, the head chef collapsed to the floor.

"Cheeef?!"

It turned out that in this world, being able to make a delicious omelette was a mark of a full-fledged cook. Because, unlike in the modern Japan of my past life, there were no gas ranges that let you easily adjust the heat. You cook over a fire in a hearth, and adjust the heat by your distance from the flame. So the heat is hard to control, and combined with eggs, which are runny and tricky to handle, making a fluffy, golden, beautiful omelette is highly difficult. A cook who has mastered all that, and can moreover make a delicious omelette with fillings, is in great demand in any kitchen.

But I can make a fluffy, plump, golden omelette even without a gas range. Why? Hmph! It is the fruit, of course, of tireless cooking research with our head chef back home. Our head chef has the finest cooking skills in all Altria!

"What skill. Really, who are you...?"

The head chef had teary eyes. I had ended up like a bully. To comfort him, I decided to show off a dish that would be groundbreaking in this world.

"I'm just a wandering cook! Oh! I know! Today, as a special treat, I have something I'd like to introduce to you all."

I drew a square pan from inside my clothes. It was a pan I had fussed over, one that took quite a while to complete.

"Wh-what is this...? A square pan?"

"It looks hard to use. Is that the special item?"

The head chef and the other cooks gathered around the pan, gazing at it curiously.

"Heh heh heh! This item is, why, none other than a pan made just for tamagoyaki!"

To my smug declaration, the reaction around me was blank.

"Tamagoyaki? You mean a fried egg?"

But this much was expected! Tamagoyaki is a beloved part of Japanese culture, but of course it doesn't exist in this world.

"I know, I know! Then I'll now make tamagoyaki for you all to see! My assistant, Anje!"

"Yes! Teacher!"

Anje, who had moved without my noticing, appeared behind me with a nimble motion and held out a bowl of egg mixture she had already prepared. This egg mixture had a good dashi stock added and was seasoned with salt and sugar. The lack of soy sauce and mirin was a great pity. As for soy sauce and mirin, I fully intend to get hold of them eventually, but like miso, they take time to make.

"Now, everyone, watch closely, very closely! It'll be over in a flash!"

I oiled the pan and poured in the egg mixture! The egg-cooking technique I had honed on my daughter's lunchboxes and breakfasts... and so on.

Before long, a golden tamagoyaki of thin egg layered over and over was done. At the white steam rising softly from it, the cooks gathered around gulped.

"What... what...! Ahh, I can't find the words!"

"Truly, the work of a god!"

"Ha ha! Impressive, as expeeected!"

...Hm?! Wasn't there a suspicious tone mixed in at the end there?

"C-Cordy! May I eat it?!"

"Huh?! Oh, go ahead!"

Was it my imagination? Is there a country around here with that black-mouse sort of accent? Wait. Mouse-land?

"D-delicious! The depth of flavor, this delicate skill, the graceful shape, like folded layers of silk. A dish fine enough to serve at a court banquet...!"

"Er, no, hold on. A banquet, I don't know about that. It's tamagoyaki. Breakfast at most, really."

"It will spark a revolution in the culinary world! We should present it to the court!"

"No, sure, tamagoyaki is good even cold, but as for whether it's worth presenting to court, well."

"Cordy! No, Teacher!"

"Please take us as your disciples!"

How did it come to this?