Chapter 52: Apple Pie Recipe
‘Is he having a hard time these days?’
The Duke looked gloomy on the way to the dining hall.
When I asked if he was okay, he brushed it off, saying he was just a little tired because of the diplomatic envoys.
“Has he been more stressed than I thought?”
I asked Cecilia, and she nodded with a knowing look.
“I heard from my father. He said the Duke is trying hard to invite the delegation from Rondoris, but it hasn’t been easy.”
“Why not?”
“Because Rondoris has the upper hand in trade.”
I tilted my head, confused.
“How come? Blenheim is stronger in military and wealth, right? Rondoris is a small kingdom.”
“True, but Blenheim doesn’t have many ways to spend that wealth. You’ve been to Goldrain, so you know how it is.”
Cecilia frowned a little.
“On the other hand, Rondoris is basically a giant resort. It has a lot of trade partners, and new, pretty things are always coming in. Even regular folks go on vacation there now. They say you can see famous operas every day in Rondoris, ones you’d rarely see even in the capital.”
Apparently, theater troupes didn’t bother coming to Blenheim even if paid extra.
Blenheim had money, a trading area like Goldrain, and even a port, so it should’ve been a good spot for merchants and guilds.
“They’ve already agreed to visit, but they keep delaying it with various excuses.”
“Is it a power game?”
“That’s just how Rondoris people are. They act fancy on the outside but are sly inside.”
Cecilia puffed her cheeks and added:
“They act like they don’t need us, even though they do. That tiny country has such a big attitude.”
That probably meant the local market here was weak.
I sighed bitterly, thinking about Goldrain.
“Isn’t there something I can do to help the Duke?”
I racked my brain while riding through Goldrain in the carriage, but the lifeless shopping district didn’t offer many ideas.
At least one place still had energy.
I smiled as I looked around Marie’s inn restaurant.
Even though dinner time was over, the place was still full of customers.
Cecilia, Norton, Leta, Morina, and I waited at a table for the restaurant to close.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. Some customers are still eating. If you could wait a little more…”
Jacques, the server, looked apologetic as he placed pumpkin pudding on the table.
“It’s fine, really. I came a bit early on purpose.”
I took a big spoonful of the smooth, glossy pudding.
“Free dessert is always welcome!”
“There’s plenty, so let me know if you’d like more.”
“You’re amazing, Your Grace,” Cecilia whispered as she watched Jacques walk away with another dessert.
“You’ve helped change this place so much.”
“Marie worked hard, and Morina’s drawings helped too.”
Ignoring manners, I quickly licked the pudding off my lips.
“It’s amazing those pictures came from such tiny hands.” Cecilia smiled, glancing at the blushing Morina.
“Why aren’t you two eating?” I asked Leta and Norton, who hadn’t touched their pudding.
I gave them a look.
“Leta, Morina’s the one working. You don’t need to be nervous. And Sir Norton, there’s no danger here. Put your sword down and pick up a spoon.”
After a moment’s hesitation, both of them started eating the pudding.
Watching them, I remembered how this odd group came together today.
After becoming my maid, Cecilia started asking me for advice on a cooking column.
At first, I didn’t plan to get too involved. But when she showed me a pie recipe from her family’s chef, I couldn’t stay quiet.
“This is it?”
“I wrote down everything the chef said… is it too short?”
“You need exact measurements.”
“Measurements?”
“Words like ‘a bit’ or ‘enough’ aren’t good enough. You need to say things like one teaspoon, one cup… that way, anyone can follow the recipe.”
“But the chef just grabs a handful of stuff and throws it in.”
“Then measure what he’s grabbing. And if you’re writing a recipe column, you have to try making the dish yourself.”
“Me? Cook?”
“You need to check if the recipe actually works. You don’t want angry letters later.”
“That’s true…”
“Also, are you planning to bug the chef every time for a recipe?”
Hearing that, Cecilia quietly grabbed the edge of my skirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Maybe it was the goddess’s will that I became your maid. Please teach me, Your Grace!”
So, I started helping Cecilia with her column idea.
First, we needed to gather reliable recipes.
We needed a trustworthy name attached to them.
“I could ask Berni, but it’s probably risky to reveal the palace’s head chef.”
That left only one person in my mind.
“As expected, it must be Madame Marie.”
When Cecilia subtly asked Leon to check Marie’s opinion, thankfully, she happily agreed.
In return for using her recipe, it was decided that the article would mention “Marie’s Inn” as the recipe source, along with the inn’s address and a short promotional line at the bottom.
On top of that, the magazine company would pay her 5 Eknang.
Considering that the article would appear in News of the North, it was a fair deal, as it would also serve as good promotion for Marie’s Inn.
“And if we use Madame’s recipe…”
One more person came to mind.
“We’ll need an illustrator.”
“For the recipe?”
“Yeah. Since recipes are basically about showing the dish, having drawings will make them more visually appealing.”
Cecilia quickly agreed when I explained that drawings could also help clarify complex cooking steps.
Apparently, Cecilia had done a great job convincing the magazine’s publisher.
I heard that Morina (the illustrator) was thrilled to get paid 3 Eknang per issue.
Today was the day the three of them were going to work on their first recipe together at the inn.
Since they planned to start after business hours, I only intended to drop by briefly. But Leta, worried about her sister, insisted on coming with me, and Norton joined as our escort—so we ended up with two sisters and two siblings all gathered at the inn.
The first recipe was apple pie.
It was one of the desserts planned for next week’s “Today’s Special” at the inn.
While Marie preheated the oven and prepared the pie crust, Cecilia followed closely behind her, measuring flour and salt without caring about her noble status.
Morina brought the sketchbook I gave her and worked hard on her drawings.
While we waited for the pie to bake, I gave a few tips for the recipe.
“First, list all the ingredients, then write the cooking steps underneath. That way, people can check if they have everything before they start cooking.”
“List ingredients first… got it.”
“This time it’s a pie, so it’s fine, but for dishes like stew, which people share, it’s helpful to mention the portion size—like a version for 2 people and another for 5.”
“That makes sense, especially since these are family dishes.”
“Also, add how long it takes to cook and a rough budget if you can.”
“You’ve probably never even stepped into a kitchen before—how do you know all this?”
“I’ve cooked for a long time, but I never thought of organizing recipes like this. If I had known, I could’ve shared my recipes with other housewives too.”
As Cecilia and Marie looked at me with genuine admiration, I just gave a shy smile in response.
The finished apple pie looked delicious.
We were happily sharing a slice each to check the recipe when loud noises came from outside.
“Sounds like someone’s here?”
Then the door suddenly swung open, and half a dozen children burst into the inn.
