by Aya Ling
“I know. All she wants is that I become thin, so I will be more marriageable.”
Ralph raised his eyebrows. “Marriageable?”
Valeria told him about the disastrous archery contest, which she could now look back without feeling humiliation. Ralph, however, listened with a serious expression.
“Oh, how hilarious it was! If only you had seen them trying so hard to miss the target!” Valeria laughed. “With such atrocious shooting, even I could have done what the Makani princess did.”
Ralph shook his head and muttered something like “morons.”
“So you see why Mother made me enroll at the Academy. I cannot blame her, but it is so hard to resist when Ferdinand asked me to food-taste for him.”
Ralph looked at her briefly before directing his attention at some squashed cherries on the grass. “I see no reason why your weight will hinder your...your marriageability.”
“Thank you.” Valeria smiled. Really, it was decent of him to say that. The Rivieran court had educated him well on etiquette, though she thought that as a friend, he did not have to refrain from telling her the truth. It was not as if she was sensitive about being called fat.
“I’ll get the cherries,” Ralph said, loosening his cape and starting to climb the tree. “How many shall we need?”
“As many as we can carry,” Valeria called.
They spent more time than necessary picking the cherries. Ralph would drop the cherries he broke off from the branches, and Valeria would catch them using her apron. Sometimes Ralph aimed the cherries at her head, which made her return the favor by pelting him with more. By the time they had gathered enough, both were out of breath, smeared with squashed cherries, and laughing at each other.
“Oh, let us not waste any time,” Valeria suddenly exclaimed. “I need to ask Pat to bake the cherry cheesecake right away. Cheesecake takes time, you see.”
The cherry cheesecake proved to be so popular that Ferdinand wanted Valeria to help with an upcoming event. The empress of the neighboring kingdom of Tintagel was going to pay a visit soon. Unlike Riviera, Tintagel was renowned for its sophisticated food, and Ferdinand was anxious that nothing should go wrong. Although they had employed a couple Tintagel cooks, no one could surpass Valeria’s talent for improving the taste, smell, and look of food.
“I’ve heard that the queen hopes to make a match with Tintagel!” Effie said, as Valeria sat down before a table laden with pastries. “Marcella—that’s the Tintagel princess—has just turned fifteen, and Prince Ralph is nearly twenty, so no wonder the queen is anxious that he should be married. There is also Prince James—Prince Ralph’s younger brother—but he’s currently at Makani for a long stay.”
“Ralph has a younger brother in Makani?” Valeria asked, surprised. Considering that Makani was only a small island in the Archipelago, it seemed strange that the Rivieran prince would choose to go there. In terms of a kingdom’s power, it was always the other way round. For example, many royals in foreign kingdoms came to the Academy because of Riviera’s famous fight training.
“Because they say he’s extremely interested in animals.” Effie shrugged. “Weird for a prince, if you ask me. Oh, and they say that the queen even has hopes for Princess Elaine to wed the Tintagel prince, Felipe, but I don’t think it’ll happen. Princess Elaine is only a child, so even if they were to marry, they will have to wait for ten years.”
Valeria felt a slight twinge of jealousy when she imagined Ralph getting married, then she shrugged it off.
“Pity.” Winifred set a cup of steaming tea in front of Valeria. “If Your Highness can become thinner, you would have a chance of attracting the prince.”
“Fat chance,” Valeria said, cramming a piece of cheesecake in her mouth and letting the sweet creamy flavor wash through her. “Even if I were thin, there are plenty of slender young ladies around.”
“Yes, but remember you’re a princess!” Effie said. “Oh, think about it, if only you can marry Prince Ralph, how pleased the queen will be! If only you can lose a few—er—many pounds, you’ll be pretty and thin, and because you are a princess, that will give you an advantage over the other girls!”
“Perhaps,” Valeria said absentmindedly.
An enticing smell of freshly baked pie hit them as Pat set a tray on the table. “Here’s a new batch of cherry turnovers, Princess. Please tell me what you think.”
“Excellent.” Valeria smiled and reached for a turnover. Recently, she had ceased overseeing Pat’s baking. The young man had lost his dejected expression and instead there was an expectant, hopeful look when he brought each newly-made dessert to her. Plus, with many kitchen maids frequently gathering around him and vying for his latest creations, it was difficult that the man could remain in low spirits.
As Valeria started tasting the cherry turnovers and imparting her gastronomic wisdom, Winifred and Effie looked at each other and sighed.
It seemed that the queen’s plan had backfired. Rather than seeing Valeria married off, the chance of the Amarantan princess becoming the Royal Food-Taster of Riviera was much, much higher.
With the upcoming visit of the Tintagel empress, there was no sign of Valeria becoming thin. Every evening, right after dinner, she would slip away to the palace kitchens, where Pat would await with a mountain of pies, pastries, and tarts. The process went like this: Valeria would take a bite of one dessert, close her eyes to savor the taste without distractions, and give her honest opinion about it and also suggestions for improvement. Then she would rinse with water to clear out the taste and start on the next one. By the time she was finished, she had tasted over a hundred desserts. No amount of physical training was sufficient to diminish the amount of sugar she consumed. Despite the gradual expansion of her waistline, Valeria was not worried. She was having too much fun coming up with ideas with cooking and baking.
Finally, the day of the Tintagel empress’s visit arrived. Since Tintagel was famous for its fine desserts, Valeria was careful when deciding the menu. After a long consideration and many days of food-testing, she ordered three items to be presented: a heavy cheesecake topped with cherry jubilee, caramelized bananas sprinkled with chopped walnuts with ice cream, and Tintagel’s own renowned dessert, sponge shells. They were not shells of course, but rather, small cakes baked in a shell-shaped mold. Valeria had improved the recipe (at least that was what she thought) by adding lemon zest and cardamom to the sponge shells, adding a distinct flavor.
Everything went well—in the beginning. The cheesecake was dense enough to please any quality-conscious gourmet, and the bananas glistened with the caramel sauce, but when Pat took the sponge shells from the oven, Valeria knew something was wrong just by looking at them. The edges were too brown, and a few were falling apart.
“Too dry,” Valeria said, making a face. “It tastes like dust! How long did you let the batter to rest?”
“For as long as the four hourglasses lasted, Princess,” Pat said, also looking distressed.
“How many eggs did you use? How much butter? Sugar?”
Upon questioning, it turned out that he had forgotten to beat the batter; instead, he simply folded the flour directly into it.
“This is all my fault,” Marianne, one of the kitchen maids, wailed. “I was telling him about the Tintagel princess’s adventures…Pat must’ve forgotten the instructions then.”
Ferdinand was livid. He had informed the queen beforehand that they would be serving a special version of sponge spells, made especially for the empress. Now they have failed to honor that promise.
Valeria sighed and ordered for a cup of tea—she was no tea aficionado like Winifred, but she found that tea was always helpful when dealing with difficulties. Somehow it cleared the mind better than coffee or chocolate.
When she took a sip of strong black tea, she suddenly had an inspiration.
Back in Amaranta, they dipped croissants in coffee. Why not do the same with the sponge spells?
Valeria soaked half of
the sponge shell in the tea and took a bite.
A shudder ran through her. The taste of the warm liquid mixed with the dry crumbs formed a sensory experience that she had never encountered before. The smell of the lemon zest and cardamom, coupled with the natural fragrance of black tea, seemed to create such harmony that she wanted to sing.
“Winifred, I want you to brew a nice strong pot of tea,” Valeria ordered. “Pat, get out the small china plates and put two or three sponge shells on each one. Each plate must go with a china cup and a napkin. And Effie, when you bring the dessert to the empress, tell her that the sponge shells are to be dipped in the tea before eating. Pretend that this is the ‘special’ type of sponge shell that we have been telling the queen about.”
They hurried off to do her bidding, though Ferdinand was pulling on his moustache. He trusted Valeria’s expertise, but could things be different when the Tintagel empress was involved?
Effie was trembling when she took the tray, so Ferdinand took over instead.
Before long, the head cook returned.
The kitchen staff braced themselves. Even Valeria, usually unruffled by anything, put down her tea cup.
“Princess Valeria!” Ferdinand boomed. “The empress is so pleased with the sponge shells she is requesting to see who made them! So I urge you to get off that stool and go to the dining room this instant!”
There was an audible gasp of relief among the staff. Effie, who was biting her nails, threw up her hands and uttered a cry of joy. Winifred smiled and went on cleaning the tables. Marianne jumped up and said that she had to find Pat, who was probably hiding in some corner or already packing up his things.
Valeria stood up, but hesitated. “But I didn’t make the cakes. Or the tea.”
“But it was your idea! If you hadn’t suggested how to salvage the sponge shells, we’d be in a tight fix! I already mentioned your name, so you need to make an appearance.”
“All right.” Valeria dusted her fingers and got off the stool. She was not nervous at all; she was actually curious to see what the empress was like. Making sure that no crumbs stuck to her clothes, she let Ferdinand lead the way to the dining room.
In the dining room, the Rivieran royal family and a few high-ranked courtiers sat with the Tintagel empress and princess.
The Tintagel empress, Empress Salome, was a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with chestnut curls and warm brown eyes. She was very elegantly dressed in a wine-red gown. On the other hand, the Tintagel princess, Marcella, looked like Nadine with red hair—tall, serious-faced, and a sword strapped to her belt.
Prince Ralph raised his eyebrows at sight of her. Princess Elaine, who was eating a piece of cheesecake, waved her spoon at Valeria and gave her a thumbs-up and was promptly admonished by her mother.
Ferdinand bowed to the king. “It was Princess Valeria’s recipe, Your Majesty.” Turning to the empress, he offered another low bow.
Valeria curtsied, making sure that her skirts did not brush the edge of the table.
“Ah, so it is you!” Empress Salome used her spectacles to peer closely at Valeria. “Valeria—of Amaranta?”
“Indeed I am.”
“That was absolutely wonderful,” the empress said, gesturing to the empty plates and cups. “The tea has breathed life in the sponge shells. Is that what you do in Amaranta?”
“Er…sometimes.” Valeria made a note to tell her father later. “Tintagel desserts are extremely popular in Amaranta, even though it’s so far away. I had my cooks travel to Tintagel so they could learn how to make cream puffs properly.”
“In that case, you must come visit us one day,” the empress said, patting Valeria’s arm. “You are welcome any time. I will personally take you on a tour of our kitchens. Perhaps you can also tell how our cooks can improve their craft!”
Valeria’s eyes sparkled. The Tintagel kitchens ought to be paradise, she thought.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Prince Ralph give her a disapproving look. Perhaps he was thinking that she ought to finish her year at the Academy first.
No matter. Only a fool would pass up the opportunity to go to Tintagel.
“I’d be honored, Your Majesty.”
Seven
While Empress Salome’s visit had been a success on the culinary side, nothing was achieved on the matrimonial side. The king and queen, who had high hopes of forming an alliance with Tintagel through Ralph’s marriage, were disappointed to learn that Princess Marcella was not in the least inclined to marry. She declared that all she wanted was to ride her horse and find a great adventure.
Valeria herself was in a good mood. She had the empress’s invitation to go to Tintagel, and though she would rather not admit it, she was glad that Ralph was not going to be married to Princess Marcella.
The palace kitchens were not at ease. For Prince Ralph’s twentieth birthday was due in three months’ time and according to Riviera’s laws, turning twenty was a significant event for any Riviera man. It was the threshold of maturity, and the man could assume his position as head of a household or set up shop as a manager.
King Ronald had ordered a magnificent celebration for his eldest son’s birthday. Of course, a banquet was expected for such an occasion, which meant a tremendous amount of work. Five thousand loaves of bread to prepare, a thousand geese to fatten, seven hundred pieces of haddock to purchase, not to mention less common foods like pheasants, peacocks, and partridges.
Naturally, Ferdinand requested that Valeria help out. Delegations would be arriving from other countries, and he was anxious to remedy the notoriety of Rivieran cuisine.
Consequently, Valeria was so frequently summoned to the kitchens that she could barely keep up with the training. She was already weary from food-tasting the afternoon tea for the empress, and now the variety of foods in the birthday feast was simply too exhausting. She had to expand her tastes from desserts to main dishes around the world.
She decided that she had enough.
“I am not going to train at the Academy anymore,” she announced to Winifred and Effie one day.
Effie promptly dropped the basket of apples she was carrying, causing apples rolling everywhere.
“Oh, Your Highness! Are you saying you want to go home?”
“Not right now, Effie,” Valeria said, picking up an apple that rolled to her feet. “I just feel that I cannot handle overseeing the feast and training at the same time. I have to rise at the crack of dawn for running, suffer through a series of physical torture, and then drag my weary limbs towards the kitchen. I don’t care how many cups of hot chocolate you bring me, I am simply too tired to continue on like this.”
“So what you mean is that you want to give up training to continue your work at the kitchen?” Winifred said slowly.
“Exactly.” Valeria reached for a fried egg roll. “This is overdone. And use a napkin to soak up the fat or the roll will be too greasy.”
“The queen wouldn’t approve,” Winifred said. “You remember why she sent you here.”
“I do not care anymore.” Valeria yawned and stretched. “I’d much rather stay at the kitchen and be plump than go through that hell of a training. I still cannot wield a sword properly, and I don’t ever feel like I want to. Amaranta doesn’t need an inept woman warrior. But Riviera can definitely use an expert food taster for their crown prince’s ceremonial feast.” She rose from her stool. “There. I am going to bed. Tomorrow I will bring it up to Lord Darwar.”
Lord Darwar was skeptical when Valeria told him about her decision, but the princess was adamant.
“My health will suffer if I continue on like this,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I am too tired to train and be in the kitchens every day. And no, I do not want to leave the kitchens, I made a promise.”
He frowned. “Your parents requested that you enroll at the Academy for at least a year.”
“My mother will be attending Prince Ralph’s coming-of-age ceremony. I shall inform her then.” Valeria smiled r
eassuringly. “Do not worry, I shall take full responsibility.”
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Lord Darwar said.
It was Ralph. He was slightly out of breath, but still managed to look devastatingly handsome.
“I was told that I’d find you here.” He looked at Valeria. “Why did you not attend the morning run today?”
Valeria explained.
To her surprise, Ralph turned to Lord Darwar and said, “I would also like to ask that she may be excused from the lessons, sir. She simply has no aptitude for fighting, and as I understand, she did not intend to enroll in the beginning. Her parents did it against her wishes.”
Lord Darwar was still uncertain. “But what will she do here if she does not train?”
“I’ve told you that I’ve been asked to oversee the preparations for Ralph’s coming-of-age feast.”
“So once that is over…”
“My parents, or at least a representative, will attend the ceremony. I will explain to them, and then I can return with them to Amaranta.”
Ralph started at her mention of returning.
“Ah.” Lord Darwar nodded. That seemed a neat arrangement. “Very well, then. I shall inform the instructors.”
“Thank you, sir.” A surge of joy rose from her heart. Finally, she was free to do what she truly enjoyed. She knew that her mother would not be pleased that she quit the training, but she would find a way to convince her.
Ralph walked with her when she left Darwar’s office. Now that she was excused from the lessons, Valeria decided she would head back to bed and catch up on lost sleep. She needed energy to work in the kitchens later.
“You wish to return to Amaranta?” he said quietly.
Valeria rubbed her temples and yawned. “I believe so. Although I should probably visit Tintagel first if the empress still wants me to, or I’d have to take the ship again from Amaranta. Have you been on a sea voyage before? It’s dreadful.”