Page 7

It doesn't take long for Nate to return and the milk to be ready, and I take it off the stove to add the yeast to it. I've made enough bread to know that I have to wait until a foam forms on the top, but there's still a part of me that's impatient and just wants to get onto the next stage.

Nate seems to recognise the response in me and slides a bowl with two eggs in front of me, along with a whisk.

"It's hard to be patient."

He chuckles. "It is, but you've got to be. You know what happens if you don't."

"More bread disasters will haunt my nightmares."

"And mine, I remember the tantrum you threw the first time you tried to make bread."

"It wasn't a tantrum," I mutter. "I was just having a bad day. And it's not like you can talk. I remember the jelly incident."

He closes his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "I put the gelatin in."

"You can't have done, it spilt all over the ice house floor," I point out. "At least you've never forgotten to put the gelatin in again."

"Mmm. Your eggs are done."

"Oh, right."

He grabs one of the mixing bowls he usually makes bread in and adds the dry ingredients to it. "All right, add the milk and the eggs for me."

I do as he asks, watching captivated as he kneads the mixture together.

Even if I wish it wasn't the case, I know I don't have the stamina to do the same as he is, and he mixes it with ease, working on the dough until it stretches without breaking.

I add some butter to the bowl and he carries on kneading it, working hard until he lets out a groan.

"Are you all right?"

"I slept funny," he says.

"I can get you some sleep tisane..."

"It's fine, Evie," he promises.

"If you're sure..." I don't know what makes me think that it isn't, but something feels off.

"I still have some from last time you gave it to me," he says. "I'll take some tonight."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Princess."

I roll my eyes at him, knowing he's only using the title affectionately.

"I'm glad it's time to prove it," he says as he drops the dough into one of the proving boxes.

"How long do we need to leave it for?" I ask.

"About an hour, maybe an hour and a half, it depends on how well it grows." He heaves the box so it's close to the oven where the hot air should help with the prove. "And it's just the first." He flips over an hourglass so we know when the time is up.

I nod, knowing as well as he does that the time is necessary. Yet another thing I've learned from baking mistakes made along the way.

The two of us clean up our workspace in comfortable silence. I like that we can be like this. There's something truly comforting about it.

"What now?" I ask, leaning against the workbench. There's still time left according to the hourglass, but as far as I can tell, we've not got anything else to do for these buns.

"We wait," he responds.

"You know I'm bad at that." But we always seem to manage to fill the time we spend together, and as if to prove that to be true, the time passes quickly, and the timer is finally done.

Nate goes to get the filling from the ice house, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the comforting sounds all around me.

I check the instructions and prepare the table for the next step, sprinkling flour over it, making sure that we have a dough scraper to hand.

"Ah, I see we're ready," Nate says as he reenters the room and sets the box of filling we made earlier down on the table.

"I think so, but I haven't looked at it yet."

He nods and grabs the proving box, bringing it over to the table.

Excitement builds within me as I consider what we're going to find with anticipation.

I know it's not going to be much different from when we make bread of our own, but it feels different.

This is a recipe from a kingdom that's thousands of miles away.

It's exciting to be able to discover it like this.

Nate removes the cover, and I sigh in relief to see that our dough has doubled in size.

It looks just like I think it's supposed to be.

He sprinkles some flour over the top and presses down on it, I think to remove any air bubbles that might have formed.

I wish I had a book about Shengdanese cooking so that I could understand some of the processes we're using a little better.

"All right, I think we're rolling the dough into a log," he says. "Do you want to do the honours?"

"Yes." I lift it out of the proving box and pop it on the table in front of me.

The smell of fresh dough reaches me and I let out a satisfied sigh.

It'll be even better when it's baking, but I still love this part.

It's everything. The smell, the repetitive movements of working with dough, and the way it feels under my fingers.

It's smooth and sticky, but all that means is that it holds the promise of the bread to come.

Once it's in a log, we split it into equal portions. I'm excited to see how these buns turn out. The dough feels a little wetter than I expect it to, but I suppose it's making something I haven't had before, so that's probably normal.

Nate picks up one of the lumps of dough from his end and deftly rolls it into a ball, while I do the same from my end. It doesn't take us very long to have twelve perfectly sized dough balls sitting between us.

"And now we wait," I say dramatically.

He laughs. "Not for too long." He covers the dough balls with a cloth and heads over to wash his hands.

I do the same, pausing on the way back to turn over a smaller hourglass that only counts for a quarter of an hour. "I know it needs time to rest, but it still makes me impatient. I want to find out how it all comes together."

"I know you do." It's possible to hear the smile in his voice.

"And you don't?"

He bumps his shoulder against mine, making me smile. "You know I do," he reminds me. "But patience is part of baking."

"I know, I know," I promise.

"But this wait is basically up," he says, nodding towards the hourglass.

Rather than rushing, I head over to my journal and check the next part of the instructions. "We're filling the buns," I say. "We need to flatten the dough balls and put a tablespoon of mixture into them, then put them onto a tray with the bottoms down."

He nods and slides a tray covered in a layer of baking paper.

"I'm nervous," I admit. "What if we get this part wrong?"

"Then no one will know," Nate assures me. "And we'll get rid of the evidence."

A laugh escapes me without me meaning it to. "By eating it?"

"Only if it tastes good," he says as he pulls the cloth off the dough balls. "I'm not going through the debacle where you overcooked the custard again."

"As if that's worse than when you set the almonds on fire," I counter.

"That one was bad too," he agrees. "So, what do you think?"

"They look good," I say as I examine the dough balls.

Nate pulls the bowl with the filling in closer, putting it between the two of us and adding two spoons so that we can both work at once.

I flour my hands and pick up the first dough ball. "What do you think? Flatten it with my hand? Or a rolling pin?"

"Hands, I think."

I nod and start working on my first dough ball, making sure it's a perfect-ish circle. I pause before moving on to the next one, trying to decide if I want to roll out all six before doing any filling, but I don't think I really have the space for that.

I pick up the wrapper and add a spoonful of the filling.

It's surprisingly red and has a sweet but savoury smell about it.

I kind of want to try it already, but it's too late for that.

Maybe once the buns are in the oven, I can.

The edges squish together fairly easily, and I pop the bun down on the baking sheet next to the one Nate made.

We barely speak as we make the rest of them, mostly because we're used to baking like this together, and it feels comfortable.

I don't think there's anyone else in the castle I can spend this much time with and not feel overwhelmed by their personal habits.

Though maybe it's just because there are a lot of things for me to focus on in the kitchen, and it drowns out the sound of his breathing.

I've never really thought about it too much.

"I'm going to pop these on top of the oven for their final prove," Nate says as he picks up the tray, setting it in place.

I nod and use my spoon to scoop up some of the remaining pork mixture. I know it's cold, but I'm curious about how it tastes.

Nate turns around and raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"It's good." I put my spoon down and use his to get some more of it, holding it out to him.

He leans in and eats the mix off the end of the spoon, nodding a couple of times. "That's going to be great hot."

"And surrounded by fluffiness," I respond, thinking about the ones we tried earlier. I hope ours are just as good. Or maybe better.

Nate clears away the dishes while I prepare the egg wash.

"My father has been talking about sorting me out an apprenticeship again," Nate says after a moment.

"Where?"

"Gaullesse."

I turn around and look at him. "Gaullesse?"

"Yes. It's where he did his apprenticeship, so I think that he wants me to go there too so I can learn some of the same skills."

A lump forms in my throat. "I see." Why do I feel like I want to cry? It's not as if I didn't know this could be a possibility, most of the apprentices in the kitchens have gone somewhere else for a year or two.

"I want to tell him I can't go," Nate says, taking me by surprise.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, you have to go." My voice cracks as I say the words.

He frowns. "You want me to?"

"I don't want you to leave," I say quietly. "You're my friend, and I'd miss you. But that doesn't mean I should stand in the way of you progressing your career."

A strange look passes over his face, but I'm really not sure what to make of it. "You're just saying that because you want me to bring back recipes."

"That hadn't even crossed my mind," I promise. And it's the truth. "Though now you mention it..."

He laughs. "It's not even a done deal yet, so let's not worry about it." He grabs the tray of buns from the top of the oven and sets them down on the bench. "We should egg wash these, then we can put them in the oven."

I nod, accepting that the conversation is over. To some extent, he's right. If there are no actual plans, then it isn't something we need to worry about.

"Your impatience is nearly at an end," Nate promises as he takes the egg-washed buns and slides them into the oven. "You only have to wait for ten minutes now."

"And for us to glaze the buns," I remind him, not wanting to forget the final step. I'm sure we could go without it if we needed to, but I don't want to skip a single step in the recipe.

"Ah, yes. Will you grab the honey?" He hands me a small bowl so I can put some in.

The room fills with the scent of baking bread. My mouth waters, and I can't wait to taste what we've created.

"You ready?" Nate asks as he grabs the oven cloth and pulls open the door.

A waft of steam fills the room, along with the heat from the flames at the back of the oven.

Carefully, he pulls out the tray filled with twelve beautifully golden brown buns.

He slips them onto the table, and I quickly use the pastry brush to cover them all in the honey glaze.

They glisten in the light of the kitchen, looking even more inviting than they did before.

I finish with the glaze and look at them longingly. I know they're going to be a little bit too hot for me to eat right this second, but I definitely want to.

"Want me to cut one open?" Nate asks, knowing exactly what I'm doing.

"Or tear it. That feels more like how they should be eaten."

He nods and picks one up, digging his fingers into it and tearing the bun in half. Steam rises from within and the dark red pork filling spills out. I commit the sight to memory so that I can draw it in my journal tomorrow.

"All right, I'm ready to try it," I say, standing up and getting one of the buns for myself. The bread is springy to touch, but beautifully golden and a little crisp on top. It's perfect for what the recipe says it needs to be.

I can't help tearing mine open too, even if I could just take a bite instead. The bread pulls apart easily and I pop it into my mouth. "Mmm, that's good."

"It is," Nate agrees. "I'm surprised the filling hasn't made it dense."

"The people from Shengda know what they're doing when it comes to filled buns," I say, eating some more of it.

The fluffy bun and the denser pork filling go well together, with the spices and sauces from the filling giving the whole thing a satisfying savoury taste, followed by a sweetness that pairs with it perfectly.

"They do," he agrees, grabbing another one. "Luckily, baking makes me hungry."

"Mmm, me too." It's been a surprisingly long time since dinner, and these are delicious.

I smile at Nate as we eat some more of the buns, feeling a lot of affection for my friend, and for the time we get to spend together.