Gilded Ashes-Chapter 291: Dough And Fire

The dough had rested now. Raizen removed the damp cloth and pressed his finger into the surface.

The dough bounced slightly, yielding to pressure, then springing back when he removed his finger. Soft. Elastic. Alive.

Perfect. At least according to the book, perfect.

He dusted the table with flour - a light coating, just enough to keep the dough from sticking - and set the ball in the center.

The book said to roll it thin. "As thin as you can without tearing it. You should be able to see light through it."

Raizen picked up the rolling pin. It was way heavier than it looked - solid wood, smooth and surprisingly new. It still felt good in his hands. Not as a weapon, but as a fun-to-use tool. He pressed it into the dough and rolled forward. The dough resisted immediately, pushing back against the pin, refusing to flatten.

Raizen applied more pressure. The dough flattened slightly, then sprang back when he lifted the pin.

He rolled again. And again.

Slowly, reluctantly, the dough began to stretch.

It spread outward from the center, forming an uneven shape.

Raizen rotated it every few passes, trying to keep the shape even, but the dough had its own ideas. One side stretched faster than the other. The edges stayed thick while the center went thin.

He kept rolling.

Push forward. Lift. Rotate. Push forward.

The motion was repetitive, almost meditative.

The dough got thinner. He could see the grain of the wood through it now - faint lines, barely visible, but there.

Almost. He rolled once more, pressing firmly-

Rip.

A small tear appeared near the edge, the dough splitting under pressure.

Raizen froze, staring at it.

"Just pinch it together" Saffi said from her chair, voice calm.

Raizen tried to pinch the torn edges between his fingers, pressing them gently.

The dough sealed. Mostly.

He kept rolling.

Another tear appeared a few inches away.

Another pinch.

The dough was covered in small repairs now - visible seams where he’d pressed the tears closed - but it held together.

Good enough.

When the dough was finally thin enough to see light through - properly thin, translucent, delicate - Raizen set down the pin and stepped back.

The dough was finally done.

He picked up a knife and started cutting it into rough rectangles, measuring against the baking tray to get the right size.

The edges were a bit jagged. The shapes weren’t perfect. Some pieces were wider than others.

But they were pasta sheets. Real pasta sheets. Made by him.

Raizen set them aside carefully, laying them out on a flour-dusted cloth so they wouldn’t stick together.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and allowed himself a small moment of pride.

Now came the vegetables.

He looked for the mushrooms. They sat in a bowl, earthy and whole, their caps dark brown and their stems pale.

Raizen picked one up and examined it.

The cap was smooth and slightly domed, with thin gills underneath that looked like tiny, delicate folds. The stem was firm when he squeezed it gently. This kind of mushroom looked pretty usual, like somehting you’d actually find in a shop in Neoshima, not in Ukai, between ones that glowed or tasted like chocolate. Yes, those actually exist.

He set it on the cutting board and sliced.

The knife cut through easily, and the mushroom fell into thin, even slices. The inside was white and dense, the texture almost meaty.

He worked through the whole pile, reducing them to a neat stack of sliced pieces.

Next: spinach.

The leaves were fresh and vibrant, deep green with slightly crinkled edges. Raizen filled a bowl with water and dunked them in, swishing them around to remove any dirt or dust.

The water turned slightly cloudy. He drained them and did it again. Clean now.

He shook off the excess water and chopped them roughly, the knife moving quickly through the tender leaves.

Raizen set a pan on the stove and added a drizzle of olive oil.

The oil spread across the pan’s surface, shimmering as it heated. When it was hot - almost steaming - he added the mushrooms.

They hit the pan with a satisfying hiss, moisture immediately beading on their surface.

Raizen stirred them with a wooden spoon, keeping them moving.

The mushrooms began to shrink almost immediately. Their color deepened, going from pale tan to rich, dark brown.

Five minutes in, their water evaporated, and the mushrooms started to brown at the edges, caramelizing .

Perfect.

Raizen added the spinach.

The leaves hit the hot pan and wilted instantly - the huge pile collapsing into almost nothing, shrinking down to a fraction of its original volume.

He stirred it in with the mushrooms, coating the greens with the oil and mushroom juices.

A pinch of salt later, he squeezed half of a lemon’s juice, a few drops flying straight into his eyes. Both of them.

Raizen flinched so hard, he almost bumped into the table. His eyes instantly started watering, and stinging like crazy.

Ignoring Raizen’s eyes, in the pan, the acidity brightened everything immediately - cutting through the earthiness of the mushrooms, making the spinach taste fresher.

Raizen wiped his eyes for a few minutes, then tried to stir once more, while not burning himself. Then started to turn off the heat-

A small flame licked up from the edge of the pan. Raizen’s eyes widened.

A bit of oil had dripped onto the burner, and now it was on fire.

His brain short-circuited.

Water. He needed water.

He grabbed the nearest cup - half full of water from rinsing the spinach - and dumped it over the vegetables.

The flame died instantly. The vegetables hissed violently, steam rising in a thick, white cloud that filled the kitchen.

Saffi made a sound - half laugh, half surprised cough.

Raizen stared at the now-soggy vegetables, water pooling in the bottom of the pan.

"...That... Wasn’t supposed to happen" he muttered.

"Probably not" Saffi agreed, but her voice was warm with barely-suppressed laughter.

Raizen drained the excess water, shaking his head.

Then he tasted a piece of mushroom.

It was... Tender. Really tender. Perfectly cooked, actually.

The water had steamed them at the last second, finishing the cooking process in a way that made them soft without being mushy.

He blinked.

"Huh."

Saffi leaned forward slightly. "Good?"

"...Yeah. Actually really good."

Raizen looked at the vegetables one more time, still slightly baffled, then set them aside.

Lucky.

Extremely lucky.

But he’ll take it.