Siren's Kiss (Seraphine Thomas Book 5)

by Erin R Flynn

  She hadn’t cared. Joking that she’d get lots of free labor from apprentices and as long as they were willing to work, she would teach.

  “That’s okay,” she assured Jared. “I’m not the type to throw people in the deep end. I just always want to know you’re confident you understood. Bad understanding or mislearning basics can derail all kinds of teaching. Plus, I had bakers and help under me, but I haven’t had apprentices yet, so I always want to make sure I’m not going too fast.”

  She waited until everyone seemed on the same page. A lot of nods in the group.

  “Now, while your brothers wash the mixer as I showed them before I abuse them for labor, let’s talk buttercream.”

  “Italian or Swiss?” Jared asked as he sat on a stool at the prep table, having washed off some of his body paint already so he could work. I guessed baking took priority over costumes and fun.

  So cute.

  “Neither,” Jacqueline answered, her tone tense. “I know you like that YouTube channel and a few others, but in this kitchen, we do not serve raw eggs.” She tilted her head from side to side. “Unless caviar or roe. I do not know what the chefs do, but for desserts, there is never raw anything that could make people sick.”

  The group shared glances, and I found myself curious as to what she was talking about as well, letting myself be distracted as I obviously needed it.

  “Italian and Swiss buttercreams contain uncooked meringue, which has raw egg whites. Meringue is meant to be cooked, as is cake batter to kill off possible bacteria. Some use pasteurized egg whites, but most do not, as they say it smells then or ruins the consistency. Some who make Swiss buttercream actually heat it enough to cook the damn eggs so they don’t potentially poison people.”

  “This topic upsets you,” I cut in, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry before.”

  “Not angry, but the topic agitates me,” she confessed.

  “But you like HowToCakeIt like I do,” Jared murmured, glancing between us as if asking whether it was his fault she was upset. I gave my head a slight shake so he didn’t worry.

  “I do. I think she’s incredibly talented, but even family doesn’t always agree,” Jacqueline explained. “Chefs and anyone in the food industry can vary widely, and that’s okay, that’s good, as we get lots of awesome creations and choices. I love how she puts fruit in cakes and she does spices in her buttercream as I do. What I don’t love is how when she talks about frosting, hers is buttercream and American frosting isn’t really buttercream.

  “It’s judgy, like if anyone wants to get to a real baking level, they cannot use American frosting. Perish the thought. Hey, I’ve studied for decades at some of the finest establishments in Paris, Italy, England, and a few other places. I don’t know her resume, but I also don’t turn up my nose at her for her preference on Italian buttercream. If I did, or got petty, I would say hers can’t be real buttercream, as there’s no damn cream in it. It’s Italian uncooked meringue.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jared whispered, looking like he might cry.

  “Don’t be, I’m glad we discussed this. I simply take offense that my buttercream isn’t real buttercream because it’s a powdered sugar base. People I worked with in France or England would say crap about it’s so American because there’s so much unneeded sugar or they’re too lazy to do any actual cooking to make perfection. Bullshit. They don’t want their kids to die. Salmonella can make an adult seriously sick but can kill children.

  “Their bodies are smaller and can dehydrate much faster. Kids die from stomach illness. I’m not saying they come from Swiss, Italian, or French buttercream, but for the love of the gods, why risk it?” She gestured to me as she continued. “All it takes is one case, one line drawn back here and to the desserts, and it can bankrupt businesses. So doing it for YouTube for awesome creations is fine, but when serving people, it’s too big of a risk.

  “Plus, I don’t use forty tons of it in layers or simple syrup or sugar water my cakes or coat my cakes with fondant that’s not needed, so there’s still probably less sugar overall.” She cleared her throat when she realized she’d ranted a bit. “I’ll give my fondant rant another time.”

  “What’s wrong with fondant?” the hawk unwisely asked.

  I even knew this rant, having laughed before at the rant. I’d seen her annoyed before, but this buttercream thing was more angry at a bias. Which was totally cute because in the end, they were all frosting, like Webster defined frosting, so I couldn’t fathom why people would judge.

  “It takes too much time!” Jacqueline growled. “Cakes are for eating and of course should be pretty and appetizing. Go wild for YouTube and competitions. It’s unrealistic for the real world. It drives me insane when people blather about how easy it is to do what they are and then proceed to take fourteen hours to do it. Nothing fourteen hours long is easy. That is why cakes are so expensive, and it’s not needed.

  “I would rather have a cake focused on ingredients, creative combinations, and taste than decorations. The insanity that goes into some cakes, even at bakeries, makes the hours put into it part of the price. It’s wasteful. Have more people get access to such fun by not going crazy with unneeded extras and perfect what’s easy, tasty flare. That can happen and not all be boring, Sam’s Club sheet cakes.”

  “That’s why you wanted to be paid by the cake?” Jared asked, and then his eyes went wide. “Sorry, I don’t think I was supposed to say that.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she chuckled, reaching over and patting his hand. “It’s relevant to this conversation, so it’s okay. Yes, I asked your sister and Simone to be paid by the cake as I, too, can get pulled into the crazy. I am an artist. It happens. But I am not making anything for a museum. It doesn’t need to take fifty hours. Plus, I have money, and more money from family gifts—even though I’m now cut off—and decades of pulling in good wages.

  “I do this for fun. Nothing makes me happier than when someone like your sister tries one of my creations and it can change their whole mood, brighten their day. That’s why most get into this business, but some lose that way. I never want to. So pay by the cake keeps me focused. Plus, your very wise sister agreed to put in commercial machines when most wouldn’t hand over the cash for a mixer that costs as much as a car.”

  “That was a bit shocking, but when you explained and even charted how much faster you and the kitchen staff would be able to work with high capacity machines and you could make more bases then so we were buying less, it was easy to cave. Plus, you promised not to buy shit that costs five bucks for one twentieth of an ounce all the time.”

  “No, because we will make most of it with all my help, like we will now,” she agreed, leading into the next section. “My storage area is completed in the other room, yes?”

  “Yeah, we got the resin shelves you wanted,” I assured her.

  “Wonderful. Leo, did you dry that out?” she checked as he moved over the clean, eighty-liter metal bowl that went with the mixer and the paddle thing. He nodded, and she lifted a massive bag of Sugar in the Raw onto the counter. “So, I’m going to teach you a super easy way to get edible glitter. You will see tons of videos and instructions on it, but sometimes people make things harder than they need to.”

  It was hard not to laugh as she talked about gelatin and something called tylose powder that sounded kind of scary, and ranted about how people had the answers but just make life too difficult. Apparently she was on a roll with her rants. But what she said made sense in defense of the people who went so complicated. Alcohol to mix the luster powders evaporated and could turn back into powder, so people didn’t add it to coloring sugar.

  However, adding it with coloring gel and then the sugar would get it in something as accepting as sugar, even if the alcohol burned off in the oven when they put it in to dry. It was fun to watch and even help in as she showed them how to mix the pearl luster with high grade alcohol that would never be served to guests, as it was for cook
ing and baking.

  Then gel coloring was added and mixed with a few pounds of the sugar in the big mixer, its huge power keeping anything from clumping. That got dumped onto two lined, commercial-size baking sheets and went into the oven to finish at the same time as the smallest cakes, from what she said.

  They prepared the next color, and just as they finished, the first timer went off. She showed them how to check the cakes and how to let them cool best, and traded out the baking trays of sugar while listing off what they would need next for her buttercream frosting.

  “It’s cream cheese frosting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, I like to cut my buttercream with a bit of cream cheese and sometimes a bit of meringue powder because it’s pasteurized, but given it’s cranberries, apples, and caramel, I cut this with some marshmallow crème. Also store bought, as it’s pasteurized when commercially made.

  Then came a lecture about how there was meringue that wasn’t marshmallow crème but lots of people thought it was… Blah, blah, blah, I stopped listening. Instead, I took the job of breaking apart the cooled colored sugar, as baking dried it out and into clumps. She didn’t slow down what she was doing when she saw me sit in front of the trays, handing me prep gloves, the two-liter glass jars she wanted it put in, and a funnel so I didn’t spill everywhere.

  Damn, she was good.

  And fast. She never stopped moving as she talked and, well, we had shifter speed, which she fully used except when she slowed down to show something. More cakes came out, and I learned that she had made huge sheet cakes for the cranberry vanilla cake as well—though we didn’t serve sheet cakes—because she would cut out two inch rounds for the individual cakes we served and the leftover pieces would be saved for the trifle we would have at a later date.

  I loved people who didn’t waste anything or “garbage cake” as I’d heard someone on Jared’s YouTube baking videos say. Then again, I think that meant the people working the show could eat it, but yeah, we needed to recoup all our startup costs, so maybe not everything always were extras for employees.

  She really did put them to work though, setting Leo and Alvin to wash, core, and slice apples. They did the coring with an actual corer and slicer, but then she had them cut those slices up to bake, as that would keep the filling layers from going huge. She had Ben on caramel duty, watching the candy thermometer in the big pot and stirring like she told him to. He looked less than thrilled to be in charge of that, but she promised it would be worth it.

  It was. He got to make the caramel webs on parchment paper when it was ready, having way too much fun with it. Cory was coloring buttercream from the huge batch into smaller batches with the counter mixer according to what Jacqueline wanted. She hadn’t done that on the sample cake she’d brought out, but I found it best not to question her genius or interfere. Instead, I kept breaking up more and more sugar she brought, jarring it, and slapping on the label she told me to use.

  A bit of time passed before all the pieces were in place. It was distracting in the best way to watch her explain how to foil the thin wood cake boards the contractor of the pack had done for her. And how to fill piping bags without getting it everywhere by using a big glass. Lots of additional parts I didn’t even keep all up with, but everyone was having a good time.

  Finally, she showed them how to put together the cake, making sure every one of her apprentices had cakes in front of them. Jared was actually the best one at using the frosting spatula of that group, and I actually had a moment where my heart swelled with pride. They’d all been so far behind on so much after their abuse, and maybe it was stupid, maybe it was insignificant, but finally they were finding something that was theirs.

  Cory and computers. Jared and baking. Leo I thought was gravitating to training with our chefs… But I wouldn’t push him or any of them. They needed the time they needed to find themselves. I was happy to be a part of that.

  14

  “Our other featured cake this week is a chocolate peanut cake with caramel,” she informed them. “So before we frost the now assembled cakes we were working on, let’s get those in the oven. I love chocolate cake, but I hate cakes that go too far and at the end you have that over full feeling of too much chocolate. And there’s something wrong if a person can say there’s too much chocolate, as there is no such thing as too much chocolate—if done right.”

  “No, I don’t think anyone said that about your cake,” I confirmed. “I’m pretty sure all they said was it was too good to be too full for or asked for another slice.”

  “Flatterer,” she giggled and then got to work. She’d already gotten help from Tommy on getting out the already made colored cakes for the birthday party tomorrow, who looked interested as if it was fascinating, but not like he wanted to get all into it like Jared.

  Funny, I felt the same way.

  “We should do a rainbow fruity trifle and a Summer Night event when we get the first snowfall,” she suggested as she held up some of the leftover bits from what Tommy was cutting, smiling brightly at me. “Think of it, we could have a luau, which works with the hot tubs.”

  “Mention it to Simone, I’m sure she’d agree.”

  She glanced at the clock, saw it was almost lunch time when the chefs would start trickling in to prep for the first dinner at six, and switched gears. All of her mini cakes were put together like nothing, filled with sprinkles and into the fridge for what she called a crumb coat and chill, which I’d heard before from several of Jared’s YouTube channels.

  Then came back out the apple and cranberry caramel cakes, which she had already crumb coated after all the helpers filled them. This time she showed them quickly how to frost and smooth. Then she asked Cory for the frosting he’d dyed for her that was cranberry and a goldish yellow with some orange tint almost. She showed them how she strategically stuck on a few blobs of each color and used the frosting smoother to blend them like a watercolor.

  “Tell me that doesn’t look better than fondant?” she asked all of us.

  “I didn’t think your test cake could get any prettier, but damn, girl,” I praised, smiling as I finished the last of the sugar they’d baked.

  She didn’t do it on the top, telling them it was a waste of time when adding toppings so don’t fall into that trap like too many did. Then she got them to help her lay out apples in a pattern on all the cakes she finished, cranberries in the middle, and then the hardened caramel web, which Ben beamed with pride at having done.

  The chocolate peanut cake with caramel was her light chocolate cake filled with peanut butter frosting and a caramel web for some crunch. Then more layers, and she frosted it with vanilla buttercream that was tinted a light chocolate color then had dark chocolate dripping over the sides, giving it a cool look. And she finished it off with some caramel roasted peanuts she’d asked to have done from our roaster the night before.

  It looked and smelled so damn good my stomach rumbled loudly.

  Harris had perfect timing coming in with a massive order of sandwiches for everyone.

  “Umm, we might need to come to a decision about Sunday brunch earlier than we thought,” Simone warned me as we all sat down to eat. I raised an eyebrow and bit into my toasted meatball cheesy goodness that could only have come from heaven. “We got a call left on voicemail begging us to do Sunday brunch for a baby shower because the venue had a fire and—”

  “We haven’t even opened yet, Simone,” I worried. “Getting rave reviews from our previews when most of them know us is one thing, but the general public is harsh. You know this. If we don’t get the right kind of—”

  “You haven’t asked me who the baby shower is for,” she cut in, waiting until I waved her on to give it to me. “That new wife of the Chicago Bear’s starting receiver. The super paranormal friendly one who came to the cook-off and made a huge deal of how awesome it was and people who didn’t support it missed out.”

  I started cussing; she was a friend to the community in a big way. “We
were talking bridal showers maybe for brunch because it would be cute for the hosts to show off the lingerie line as they worked it. None of our people have uniforms for a damn baby shower.”

  “Everyone can swing a white shirt and dark pants,” she argued, waving me off.

  “The new choreographer arrives tomorrow to see the show and start working with them Sunday on new dances.” We’d had a few on loan, hired one for a few months’ contract, but they were all fairy. A lot of tweaks had been made because of our flexibility and abilities fairies didn’t have that would make our show awesome.

  And all in the past few days, which was crazy, so we’d asked if Laila had any shifter choreographers she knew to work on new material to take things to the next level. Of course she had and it was good to not have it every number, but a little of everything sprinkled throughout a night. It was still a lot of work.

  “I forgot about that,” she muttered. “Catering is different. Hell, the boys could make some extra money clearing tables and bring out catering trays. It’s last minute, so they’ll know it has to be simple. I’ve catered a bunch with my other places. We do a breakfast burrito bar with all kinds of fixings. A pancake station with all the amazing fruits we have. Since there will be so many big guys, we might—”

  “Guys? Like some of the Chicago Bears?” I checked, rubbing my forehead when she nodded. “Of course she’d be super trendy and have guys come to a baby shower.”

  “I’ll work security if I get to meet them,” Brian offered. “If there’s practice, then they don’t go to the club level, but they would love getting the hot tubs. You have a daiquiri bar, and people could bring carafes like you do for dinner.”

  “Can Jacqueline swing a cake by then? What about our chefs? We’ve been working them all pretty hard.”