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quantummindclassicalheart · 3 years

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a taste of summer

In which Caleb’s hidden talent for baking and Jester’s love of sweets collide in the best possible way. Inspired by various illustrations of this concept, chief among them @belligerentbagel’s depiction here.

I started out trying to justify the presence of strawberries in a traditional German Zemnian holiday dessert (note: strawberries are a summer fruit) and six YouTube tutorials, 10 recipe tabs, and over two thousand words later, here we are.

Caleb had gotten the idea over brunch one morning as the Mighty Nein were sitting down to a hot meal of pancakes and waffles in the dining hall of the tower.

"You know, you'd never think it was summer, considering how cold it is up here in Eiselcross," Jester had observed between shoveling forkfuls of pancake into her mouth. "Summers back in Nicodranas were always warm and sunny. That’s way better, if you ask me."

Granted, she’d gone on to spend the next fifteen minutes ranking various weather phenomena from most to least favorite (“Rainbows are probably the best, because it’s sunny but also it’s raining and also they’re so colorful? But fog is just the worst. If you bump into someone it’s like, oh no, I didn’t see you there because of this stupid fog. Clouds are all right I guess...”) but the initial spark of inspiration had been enough.

It was in fact the middle of Brussendar, not long after the solstice. And Jester was right-- the weather outside was a far cry from the balmy summers of the Menagerie Coast. But perhaps… perhaps Caleb could bring a bit of summer to her.

After returning to his room, Caleb flipped open his spellbook and pulled out a folded slip of paper from its hiding place between the pages of a little-used section towards the end. Erdbeerkuchen, it read in a flowing script. Zutaten: 3 Eier, 150 g Zucker… He traced the handwriting gently with a finger, the words illuminated by the warm light of the fire burning in the fireplace.

Caleb did a few quick calculations in his head and drew up an ingredients list on a nearby notepad, then tugged once on the red rope pull by the fireplace. A gray mackerel tabby with green eyes soon poked its head out of the brass trapdoor in the floor, clambered up, and sat patiently at Caleb’s feet, wrapping its tail around its legs.

“Ekaterina, just the cat I wanted to see,” said Caleb, giving her a scratch under the chin. He proffered the list to the small cat. “Could you please take this to the kitchen and prepare these ingredients for me? And let the kitchen staff know I’ll be needing the kitchen tomorrow afternoon. Just for an hour or so.” The tabby gave a *mrrrp* of assent, closed her mouth gently around the list, and darted back into the trapdoor, which shut behind her with a click.

When Caleb arrived at the kitchen the next day, the ingredients were all measured, sorted, and organized neatly into bowls. An extra bag of flour had thoughtfully been set out on the counter along with some spare bowls and a scale. Frumpkin wandered in behind him, tail swishing back and forth, and promptly hopped onto a counter to supervise.

Caleb tied back his hair and prepared to get to work. First, he reached into one of the bowls and counted out the strawberries one by one, inspecting each for bruising. If this was going to impress Jester, it had to be perfect.

Next, he walked over to the brick oven, assembled a small pile of kindling inside, and set it ablaze with a flick of his fingers. The little fire grew, and he made a mental note to continue adding wood as the temperature rose. Caleb gazed into the orange flame, watching it dance and catch and consume the bits of kindling. The fire crackled. Already the heat was building, and the shadows inside the oven flickered and played across the interior walls. It was at once familiar, comforting, and altogether hypnotic.

Just then, the sound of a bubbly voice startled him from his reverie. “Natasha? Sonya? Mary? Where are you, cats?” Caleb looked over to see Jester peering in through the doorway. “Oh, Caleb. Where are all the cats today?”

“I gave them the afternoon off,” Caleb said. “Well, at least the kitchen staff. I needed the space for a special project.”

“Is it a super secret spell? Because you’d tell me if it was, right?” said Jester eagerly. “What’s in the bowls? Some crazy magic spell components?”

“Well, it’s not quite magic per se. Though I suppose one could classify this as a transmutation of sorts…” Caleb stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’m making a cake for our friends. Come here and have a look, if you like.”

Returning to the counter, he loaded some ingredients onto the scale, checking that everything had been measured out to his specifications. Jester skipped over to the side of the counter opposite Caleb, where she could get a better look at the contents of the bowls. “What’s that one, Caleb?” she asked, pointing to a small bowl of white powder.

“Ah, that is bicarbonate of soda mixed with some cream of tartar,” explained Caleb. “It makes bubbles of gas in the batter during the baking process. Helps it rise.”

“Ooh. Sounds pretty magical to me,” quipped Jester.

“Well, as I recall, you have a bit of experience with magical confections, no?”

“Sure do!” Jester beamed. “Just say the word and I will load this baby up with Dust of Deliciousness like that. Boom.” She mimed an explosion with her hands.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think our friends will want to keep their wits about them.” Caleb unloaded the scale and grabbed a large empty bowl with geometric designs on the side. Opening a nearby carton of eggs, he picked up an egg in his right hand, rapped it sharply against the countertop, and leveraged open its shell one-handed over the bowl. He cracked the other two eggs into the bowl similarly and then added in the sugar.

“We do have a secret ingredient, though,” Caleb said conspiratorially. “Fresh vanilla bean.” He tipped in the contents of a smaller bowl, picked up a whisk, and began beating the ingredients together vigorously.

“Where did you learn how to bake, Caleb?” asked Jester.

“When I was a boy growing up in Blumenthal, my mother always did the cooking,” said Caleb. “She taught me how to make practical things with my hands, for the most part. Breads and rolls and such.”

“Una, right?”

“What was that?” Caleb stopped stirring.

“Your mom’s name,” said Jester. “You said it back on Rumblecusp. When we were going around and making sure we hadn’t forgotten anything important. And you say it every time you do your vault of amber thingy.”

“Good memory. I’m surprised you remembered,” Caleb remarked. “Yes, Una. Like I was saying, she mostly taught me how to make bread and that sort of thing. But every summer, when the days were at their longest and the strawberries were at their peak, she’d prepare a special Erdbeerkuchen. Strawberry cake.”

“And now you’re making one for all of us,” noted Jester.

“Well, we’ve been through a lot these past few days. I thought a little pick-me-up was in order.”

“I’m sure your mom would be very proud, Caleb.” Jester leaned over, resting her elbows on the counter. “Sooooo, can I help?”

“Can you… yes, by all means, I could use a helper,” said Caleb. “Frumpkin would do it, but he has no opposable thumbs, which makes holding a knife a bit difficult.”

“Meow,” agreed Frumpkin, raising his front paws to demonstrate.

“Why don’t you take the stems off from those strawberries and cut each of them in half? I ought to start the glaze for the fruits, so I’ll only be a minute.” Caleb set out a wooden cutting board and a paring knife on the counter.

“Sounds good to me!” said Jester, picking up a strawberry in her right hand and the paring knife in her left. With the berries taken care of, Caleb turned to place a small saucepan on one of the stove burners, lighting the stove with a well-placed mote of fire.

Carefully, he poured a beaker of red juice into the pan and brought it to a boil. As he added some starch to the juice to thicken the glaze, he could hear Jester humming to herself quietly. Listening to her voice, he realized he’d almost forgotten how nice it was to cook with someone else.

When he was satisfied with the fruit glaze, Caleb brought the heat down to a low simmer and turned back to check on Jester’s progress. By the looks of it, she’d gotten through just over half of the berries so far.

“So, how did I do?” asked Jester.

“They look good. Except…” Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he examined the pile of sliced fruit.

“What is it, Caleb?”

“I distinctly recall setting out twenty-five strawberries for this recipe, and there are only twenty-one here.” He raised an eyebrow. “Any idea what could have happened to those other four?”

“Mayyyyybe Frumpkin ate them?” Jester said hopefully. Frumpkin, who had been cleaning himself fastidiously, looked up from his perch on a nearby stool. His amber eyes flitted to Jester, then to Caleb. “Mrrrow,” meowed Frumpkin.

“Is that so? That was very naughty, Frumpkin,” said Caleb, wagging a finger playfully at his cat. “Naughty kitties who spoil their appetite with berries shall go straight to bed without any supper.”

“Meow.” Frumpkin glared at Jester.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses out of you,” Caleb declared. “I’m sorry, but this most heinous crime simply cannot go unpunished. Now, off to bed with you.” He waved a dismissive hand towards Frumpkin, who had been staring pointedly at Jester for the last thirty seconds.

Jester rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, fine, I ate the strawberries,” she confessed. “They just looked so sweet and juicy and I had to do some, uh, ‘quality control.’ You know. To make sure they were really as good as they looked.”

“You ate four,” Caleb pointed out.

“I was being thorough.”

Caleb snorted, crossing his arms. “And what do your taste buds say, o master of quality control?”

“Very good,” Jester pronounced. “Top notch.” She reached for another berry.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast,” said Caleb, swatting away her hand. “Naughty kitty cats get punished for their transgressions, you know.”

“And exactly what sort of punishment did you have in mind?” asked Jester teasingly.

It was at this moment that Caleb became acutely aware of his particular choice of words. “Well… ah... perhaps you might take over the mixing for a bit?” he offered quickly. “My arms are a bit tired, and you’re stronger than I am anyway. We’re looking for stiff peaks, mind you.” He extended the bowl of half-beaten batter to her.

“Hmph, fine,” said Jester. “But first, you’re going to try one of these strawberries.” She plucked one off the table deftly, a bright red jewel between her cornflower blue fingers.

“Jester, we’re already a few short--” Caleb began.

“Eat the strawberry, Caleb.”

“But I calculated--”

“Shut up and eat the strawberry.”

Seeing the look of determination on Jester’s face, Caleb wisely decided not to protest further, and he opened his mouth to let her feed him the berry. It really was as good as Jester had said, and more. He closed his eyes half-consciously, savoring the perfectly ripe fruit.

For a moment, he was a young boy again, picking strawberries in the field with his friends under a cloudless sky. There was the heat of the sun’s rays, the wind in his hair, the sweet burst of juice on his tongue with just a hint of tartness to tie it all together. As Caleb snapped back to reality, his eyelids flickered open to reveal a grinning Jester standing before him.

“So, pretty good, right?” She tossed the berry stub into a bin and looked at Caleb expectantly.

“Ja, pretty good,” Caleb acknowledged.

“You know, you have to let yourself enjoy things, Caleb. You put all this work into making nice things for other people, but you never let yourself just be happy.” Jester was still smiling, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“I suppose I’m still learning how.” Caleb picked up the paring knife and began hulling the remaining strawberries. “Thank you for the reminder, anyway.”

“Anytime,” said Jester, grabbing the whisk and giving the mixture a good stir. Between the two of them, the strawberries were soon cut into neat halves, and the batter beaten until light and fluffy.

Caleb inspected Jester’s handiwork, poking the whipped mixture gently with a finger. “Mother would approve,” he commented. “Here, just fold in these dry ingredients and we’ll be ready to bake.” He sifted in the flour and baking powder, passed Jester a large spoon to stir it all together, and fetched a round metal pan with a little dip around the perimeter of the base.

While Jester held the bowl, Caleb scooped the batter into the pan and leveled it off carefully. “That looks good to me,” he announced. “Let’s put that into the oven.”

“Wait, Caleb!” Jester interjected. “Isn’t there one more very special ingredient you’re forgetting?”

“No,” said Caleb, “I’m quite certain I added everything on the--” Jester leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Love,” she said. “You can’t bake without love. I’m sure your mom knew that, too.”

“I-- yes, that was silly of me.” He thought back to the handwritten recipe in the back of his spellbook. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

Caleb paused for a moment, and then spoke again. "Can I tell you something else, Jester? I planned to make enough cake for everyone, but the truth is... I was making it especially for you. I know how much you love sweets, and I wanted it to be perfect."

"For me?" she said, eyes wide. "You put all this time and effort into it, Caleb. Of course it's going to be perfect."

“Well, why don’t we put this in the oven now that it’s ready?” said Jester, taking the filled cake pan from Caleb and sliding it into the brick oven. She came back over and hopped up on one of the counters. “And while we’re waiting... I can remind you a little more about that secret ingredient.”

“We’re not talking about the vanilla this time, are we?” said Caleb. In response, Jester hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him in close until their faces were almost touching.

“No,” she said gently, “we’re not.” Caleb leaned in to close the distance between them, meeting the softness of her lips with his own. He took a moment to breathe her in, in all her sweetness and her warmth, and then leaned in a little more to kiss her. Hard.

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #widojest #writing #just like last time i saw bagel’s art and wanted to write something to go with it #and had to decide what Caleb would bake #i saw a youtube tutorial for Stollen (German holiday bread)#and then thought better of it because it’s basically fruitcake #and i didn’t think Jester would be into fruitcake #also there are no strawberries in Stollen #(it is also true that there is no rolling pin needed for Erdbeerkuchen shhhhh)#in the process of researching this fic i also learned that baking powder was invented in the mid-1800s #so we’re just gonna say that chemical leaveners exist in some form by 812 PD #this is technically canon-compliant for a very specific window of time #insert it somewhere between episodes 115 and 118 and we're golden lol #thanks again to d.k.m. for being my beta for this!

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