by David Lewman
He carefully approached the closet. He picked up a cork from the floor and threw it at Chef. BONK! The cork bounced off her. She swayed a little, but her face stayed exactly the same, and she didn’t say anything.
“That’s not Chef,” Branch said, walking confidently into the closet. “That’s just a cardboard cutout of Chef! She probably thought it would scare us.”
“She was right,” Gristle muttered, wiping sweat off his brow.
Together they pulled the cutout from the cabinet and tossed it aside. Then they started looking through the recipes. They were written on little cards, most of them yellowed with age and spattered with ingredients. Many of the recipes were for preparing…Trolls!
“There must be hundreds of recipes in here,” Branch said, shuddering as he flipped through the cards. “I had no idea Bergens ate so many different dishes. How are we going to decide which ones to make for the picnic?”
Gristle carefully pulled open another drawer. Nothing popped out. He started flipping through the recipe cards there while Branch continued to look at the ones in the bottom drawer. “The key to a good picnic,” Gristle said, “is having plenty of savory dishes. In Bergen Town, savory rules—the saltier, the better!” He licked his lips just thinking about it.
“I thought you said you’ve never been to a picnic,” Branch said.
“Maybe not,” Gristle admitted. “But I’ve been to lots of Bergen feasts, and the food is always super savory, with plenty of salt.”
“Okay,” Branch said, “but when you’re fixing food for Trolls, you can’t beat something sweet. The sweets—especially the cupcakes—make the picnic. Or feast. Or meal. Or snack.” He was getting hungry.
Gristle looked doubtful. Then he pulled a sealed brown envelope out of the cabinet. It was labeled TOP-SECRET!
“What’s this?” he said. “Should we open it?”
“Of course we should open it,” Branch answered.
“But it says ‘Top-Secret!’ ” Gristle pointed out, hesitating. “I thought you weren’t supposed to open top-secret documents.”
“And I thought you were the king around here, which means you can open any envelope in the castle if you want to!” Branch said.
“You’re right! I am the king! It’s envelope-openin’ time!” Gristle said, ripping it open. He squeezed the sides together so he could see inside, making sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Then he reached in and pulled out a card. As he read it, his reddish-brown eyes widened. “Do you know what this is?” His voice trembled a little.
“A recipe?” Branch guessed.
“Yes,” Gristle said, “but not just any recipe! This is Chef’s famous and super-secret pizza recipe! We could make this for the picnic!”
Branch still wasn’t sure about having pizza at a picnic. For Trolls, it was all about the sweets. He decided maybe he’d done enough work with King Gristle for one day.
“A famous super-secret recipe!” he said, trying to sound positive, like Poppy. “That’s great! Why don’t you start figuring out how to get a bunch of the best Bergen dishes made for the picnic? Meanwhile, I’ll head back to Troll Village and get everyone there working on the sweets.”
Gristle made a face. “Okay, but not too many sweets.” He patted his bulging tummy. “I’m kinda on a diet.”
When Branch got to Troll Village, he headed straight to the bakery. Inside, Biggie and several other Trolls were making lots of sweets. DJ Suki and her Wooferbug were providing lively music to cook by.
“Hello, Branch!” Biggie called over the pounding rhythm when he saw his friend come in. “Poppy told us all about the big picnic! So we’re baking lots and lots of delicious sweets. Like I always say, you can’t beat something sweet!”
Branch nodded and grinned. The bakery smelled wonderful. Cupcakes were stacked up high. Beaters were spinning in the mixers, making up batches of batter. The ovens were hot, baking all sorts of desserts to a beautiful golden brown. There was plenty of frosting ready to decorate the treats once they cooled. Branch inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the marvelous scents.
“We’ll need lots of sweets, Biggie,” Branch said. “Bergens are hungry. And big!”
“I know,” Biggie agreed. “That’s why I’ve been experimenting with some larger items. Take a look at these cookies.”
The big blue Troll led Branch to a platter of enormous cookies shaped like his pet worm, Mr. Dinkles. They were even the same size as him!
“I had Mr. Dinkles model for these,” Biggie said proudly, “and he did a really good job! Of course, he’s had a lot of practice modeling for pictures.”
Biggie gestured toward a wall covered in photos of Mr. Dinkles dressed up in different costumes: a flower, a dragon, a unicorn…
“Very nice,” Branch said, admiring the worm-shaped cookies. “By the way, where is Mr. Dinkles?”
“Well, he’s right…” Biggie looked around and started to panic. “That’s funny. He was here a minute ago. Mr. Dinkles? Where are you? MR. DINKLES!”
The worm popped up from the pile of cookies that looked exactly like him. “Mew!” he said. Then he chewed a mouthful of cookie. CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
Biggie picked up his pet and hugged him. “Mr. Dinkles! There you are! Good boy!”
Branch looked at one of the Mr. Dinkles cookies. “These are great, but are you sure they’re big enough? I mean, to us, this is a really big cookie. But to a Bergen, it’s about the size of a button.”
Biggie nodded. “You’re right. I thought of that. Check these out!” He showed Branch another platter of cookies. They were even bigger than the Mr. Dinkles cookies, and they were shaped like Trolls. In fact, they looked almost exactly like Branch. Life-sized Branch cookies!
“You like them?” Biggie asked eagerly.
“They’re…impressive,” Branch said, not wanting to hurt the sensitive Troll’s feelings. Biggie could cry at the drop of a cupcake. “I mean, how you managed to make such big cookies without them breaking or cracking—it’s pretty amazing.”
“Some cookies in the first batch broke,” Biggie admitted. “We already ate those.”
BURP! Mr. Dinkles belched loudly.
“But…,” Branch began.
“Yes?” Biggie asked anxiously.
“I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea, making cookies in the shape of Trolls,” Branch explained. “I mean, we don’t want to remind the Bergens of how much they enjoyed eating us.”
Biggie nodded slowly. “You’re right. I never thought of that.” He looked disappointed for a moment, remembering how much time he’d put into making the big Troll cookies. Branch was afraid he was going to cry. But then Biggie brightened. “I guess we’ll just have to eat them ourselves!”
He picked up a Branch cookie. CRUNCH! Biggie bit off an ear. Branch flinched as Biggie munched happily.
“So maybe you could make some more big cookies,” Branch suggested “Just not, you know, in the shape of Trolls.”
With his mouth full and crumbs dropping onto his chest, Biggie nodded. “Come on! Let me show you the rest of the sweets we’re making!”
Biggie led the way through the bakery. He showed Branch the cookies, cupcakes, rolls, pies, doughnuts, eclairs, cream puffs, brownies, tarts, layer cakes, and turnovers they were preparing for the big picnic.
Guy Diamond stood over a bunch of baked cupcakes, dancing to DJ Suki’s music. Every time he shook his body, glitter rained down onto the pastries.
“If Guy’s going to work in the bakery, maybe he should at least wear an apron,” Branch said, frowning. “And is that glitter edible?”
Biggie popped one of the shiny cupcakes into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and gave a big thumbs-up. “Yup!” he announced. “Totally edible!”
Meanwhile, back at the castle, Gristle was working on his part of the preparations….
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
King Gristle tapped on the door to Bridget’s room. “Hello?” he called. “Anybody home? Bridget?”
The door swung open and Bridget stood there with a toothy grin. “Hi, Gristle! I mean, Your Majesty! I mean, Your Royal Bergenness!” She tried to smooth her apron as she nervously shifted from foot to foot. Though the apron was wrinkled and stained, her light-blue skin was freshly scrubbed, and she wore her pink hair in neat pigtails.
“Hi, Lady Glittersparkles! I mean, Bridget!” he answered. “It’s okay to call me Gristle, by the way.”
“Okay…Gristle,” Bridget said shyly. “You can call me Bridget.”
“I just did.”
“Oh, yeah.”
They stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s little eyes.
“Was there…something you wanted?” Bridget prompted.
“Huh?” Gristle said, snapping to attention. “Oh, yes! There was something I wanted: help!”
Bridget looked surprised and concerned. “You need help? From me? Did you hurt yourself? Are you in danger? Is someone chasing you?” She looked past him down the hall to see if any monsters were after him.
“I don’t think so,” Gristle said, checking over his shoulder to make sure. “No—what I need help with is food for a picnic!”
“Picnic?” Bridget asked, puzzled. She’d never heard of a Bergen king going on a picnic.
Gristle explained about the big picnic with the Bergens and the Trolls. He said he and Branch were organizing the food, but he could use Bridget’s help. “I mean, since you used to work with Chef in the Royal Kitchen.”
“I was just the scullery maid,” Bridget said, “cleaning up pots and pans. Other Bergens usually helped Chef with all the cooking.”
Gristle hesitated. He didn’t want to work with other Bergens. He wanted to work with Bridget. He was in love with her.
“They’re all…busy,” he lied. “Come on.” He quickly took her hand. “Let’s go to the Royal Kitchen and figure out what we’ll need.”
As he led her down the hallway, Bridget looked at their clasped hands and smiled. She dared to give Gristle’s hand a little squeeze, and he squeezed back.
The Royal Kitchen was still a terrible mess, with dirty dishes stacked high. “Sorry I haven’t cleaned this up,” Bridget said. “But since Chef…left…there was no one in charge to tell me what to do.”
That was a bit of a fib. Bridget knew the dishes needed cleaning; she just didn’t want to do it. She hated washing dishes. So without Chef to boss her around, she’d stayed out of the kitchen completely.
“Oh, that’s okay!” Gristle reassured her. “Don’t worry about it!” He led her to the closet with the cabinet. “Branch and I found Chef’s old recipes in here.”
Bridget gasped. “Weren’t you afraid of the booby traps? The arrows?” Then she noticed several arrows stuck in the kitchen wall opposite the closet.
Gristle waved his hand dismissively, as if he hadn’t been scared at all. “Afraid? Me? Nah! It takes more than a few little arrows to scare me!” A striped furmunk scurried across the floor in front of them.
“AAAHHH!” Gristle shrieked.
“It’s just a striped furmunk,” Bridget explained, giggling softly. “It won’t hurt you.”
“Of course not,” Gristle bristled, trying to regain some kingly dignity. “I was just worried that it might startle you.”
“Thank you,” Bridget said, smiling.
They started looking through the recipes together. Gristle showed Bridget the super-secret one he’d found for Chef’s famous pizza. She whistled, impressed.
“Wow!” she said. “Pizza would be PERFECT for the big picnic!”
“That’s exactly what I told Branch!” Gristle said, excited that Bridget agreed. “But I think we should have more than just pizza, don’t you?”
“Definitely!”
“Wanna help me pick out the best recipes?”
“Sure!”
As they flipped through the old cards, Bridget helped choose recipes for the salty, savory dishes Bergens like best: pretzels, meat pies, sausages, chips, stuffed olives, pickled cabbage, and marinated turnips.
“YUM!” Gristle exclaimed. “This is going to be the most delicious picnic EVER!”
Bridget read Chef’s pizza recipe. “Hmm,” she said, frowning. “Some of the steps here—stacking the firewood in the oven, tossing the dough—seem kind of tricky.”
Gristle leaned in to study the card. It was also a good excuse to get close to Bridget. “Maybe we need a pizza expert. Do we know one?”
The two Bergens thought a moment, then smiled and said at the same time, “Captain Starfunkle!”
Captain Starfunkle ran the roller rink where Gristle and Bridget had gone on their first date. And his pizza was delicious!
“I say we go there right now!” Gristle said.
“Race ya! OnetwothreeGO!” Bridget yelled as she sprinted out of the kitchen.
The king smiled and ran after her. What a girl! he thought.
At Captain Starfunkle’s Roller Rink and Arcade, the owner read Chef’s super-secret recipe. “Uh-huh…uh-huh,” Captain Starfunkle murmured. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with happy tears. “Amazing. I’ve always wondered how Chef made her famous pizza. And now I know. I wonder, Your Majesty, may I ask you a favor?”
“Yes?” Gristle asked, his mouth full of the pizza Captain Starfunkle had generously given them free of charge.
“After this picnic, might Your Majesty grant me the right to serve Chef’s famous pizza here at my roller rink?” He folded his hands and bowed while looking up at the king imploringly.
“Hmm,” Gristle said, pretending to think about it. It was a trick his father had taught him. “Son, when someone asks you a question, always act like you’re thinking about it,” the old king had advised. “That way, you’ll seem smart.” The truth was Gristle loved the idea of Captain Starfunkle serving Chef’s delicious pizza. His pizza was good, but hers was great. And now Gristle would be able to come and eat it any time he wanted to! And roller-skate! With Bridget! What could be better than that?
“I’ll tell you what, Captain Starfunkle,” Gristle finally said. “Help us make Chef’s pizza for this picnic, and the recipe is yours. But don’t call it Chef’s pizza. We don’t want people thinking too much about Chef and wishing she’d come back. She was bad news. Call it your pizza. Or maybe something like King Gristle’s Fave-a-roo.”
“Oh, thank you, Your Majesty!” Captain Starfunkle said, kissing the king’s hand.
Gristle jerked his hand away. “That’s enough hand-kissing! I don’t like it! Spread the word!”
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Captain Starfunkle said.
“That’s all right,” Gristle said. “Do a good job on the pizza for this picnic and you just might become Colonel Starfunkle!” He winked.
Captain Starfunkle looked very pleased. He studied Chef’s pizza recipe again. “How many diners will attend this picnic?”
“Well,” Gristle said, “all the Bergens are invited.”
“And all the Trolls,” Bridget added between bites of pizza. “But they’re small. They don’t eat much.”
Captain Starfunkle whistled. “All the Bergens? And all the Trolls? We’re going to need a lot of pizza!”
“Sounds good to me!” Gristle enthused, picking up another slice. “What will you require?”
Captain Starfunkle scratched his warty chin, thinking. “Several assistant chefs. Perhaps some of the cooks who served under Chef up at the castle.”
Gristle nodded. “Fine, fine. What else?”
“Where will the picnic be held?” Captain Starfunkle asked.
“Somewhere near Troll Village, I believe,” Gristle said. He looked around to make sure no Trolls were there to hear him. “You know, it takes them a lot longer to travel on those short legs. So we’ll probably have the picnic near their place.”
Captain Starfunkle shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Oh, dear,” he sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked. “Don’t you like Troll Village? They live in c
ute little pods! So colorful!”
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just that pizza needs to be served hot, and by the time it travels all the way from Bergen Town to Troll Village, it’ll be cold. Imagine—cold pizza!”
“Unacceptable!” Gristle cried, forgetting that he had often eaten cold pizza for breakfast and thoroughly enjoyed it. “What should we do?”
“I propose,” Captain Starfunkle said, “that we construct special wood-burning pizza ovens near the site of the picnic. We can build them out of stone. What do you think, Your Majesty?”
“Excellent idea!” Gristle said, not bothering to pretend to think about the question. “I’ll put out the word: we need stonemasons to build the new pizza ovens, and chefs to help cook the pizza!”
“And woodsmen to gather the exact kind of firewood specified in Chef’s recipe,” Captain Starfunkle added.
“Your recipe,” Gristle corrected him, and winked.
Captain Starfunkle grinned and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. My recipe.”
“This is exciting!” Bridget said, clapping.
She wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Soon word of the picnic was all over Bergen Town. The Bergens were excited at the thought of a big picnic with Chef’s famous pizza, served hot from new wood-burning ovens. A few grumbled at the idea of eating food prepared by Trolls. “Won’t there be hair in it?” several asked. But mostly, everyone couldn’t wait for the picnic!
Confident that everything was humming right along at the bakery, Branch headed back to Bergen Town to see how King Gristle was doing with the picnic preparations. As he entered the castle, Branch hoped things were going as smoothly for the Bergens as they were for the Trolls.
“Branch!” Gristle called out happily when he spotted him striding into the throne room. “Good to see you again! How are things going in Troll Village? Making lots of savory treats for our big picnic?”
“Making lots of sweet treats,” Branch said. “And it’s all going very well. The ovens at the bakery are running day and night to meet the demand for all the pastries.”