PATRIARCH FOWL
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Casual Heroing, Chapter 105
🕑 Added 2023-05-07 12:26:25 +0000 UTCRead-y Link (Mobile Optimized Reader)
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Chapter 105 – Butter Me Up
We really have a lot of butter," I say to Clodia while I stare into the massive storage room—basically, it’s a whole building to the left of Happy Bakery that has been repurposed to that.
“We have always kept a surplus of butter,” she says. “It’s nothing. Why were you suddenly so interested in it?”
I look around at the enormous chunks of butter on top of what I suspect are preservation runes—which reminds me that I can’t learn any magic until I finish all the damn 529 Cantrips.
“There’s one specific thing we can make that will adapt to manybaking compositions. Specifically to both big and small cakes. If you want to put The Three Roses out of business, you should start thinking about that.”
Clodia gives me a long glance before joining me in staring at the huge block of butter, almost as if they themselves contained the secrets to leaving The Three Roses in the dust.
“Rotten roots,” she suddenly sighs and rubs her face. “First, the bread, now this? Care to explain?”
“Follow me,” I say, taking a big wooden box full of butter and carrying it back to the kitchen. “You’ll see with your own eyes.”
…
“So!” I say after laying all the necessary ingredients in front of myself and getting a set for each member of my team, plus Clodia. Oh yeah, the big boss is actually joining us on the frontline, it seems. “Today, we are going to make one of the most incredible staples of any bakery where I come from. To be fair, this does not come from my birthplace. In fact, it comes from the filthiest country you can think of.”
“Stilichonia?” Flaminia asks, confused.
“What?”
“Norvallia, then?” She asks again.
“I’ve never heard those two names.”
“You don’t know the names of the two biggest Human powers on Teiko?” Flaminia asks with a frown.
“Nope. Big time nope.”
Everyone exchanges glances, but I ignore them for the sake of not being bogged down in useless details.
“France. That’s the name. It’s a country you have probably never heard of. It’s… small and insignificant, you could say. They have terrible hygiene habits, but they also came up with an extremely interesting recipe.”
I pick up the cut-up butter and show it to them.
“This filthy country has a long history of dairy farming, with some of their regions being extremely specialized in it. Butter is one of the most flavorful, but also sort of neutral, fats for baking. Some vegetable oils are basically flavorless and more relevant for some products, but butter will forever remain king if you want to make something flaky. And flaky we will be today.”
I put the butter down and exhale.
“This specific recipe is an alternative to what we call ‘sponge cake,’ or, more precisely, the base of a cake. In fact, you could argue that this is the true essence of a bakery. Making a good base for a cake is everything. If it’s too dry or too chewy, or too anything, a base will ruin your cake. In fact, one should first learn how to make a good base before anythingelse.”
Raissa raises her hand.
“Yes?”
“I don’t understand why butter is so important.”
“Butter is made of fat,” I start explaining, “to be more precise, there’s a certain amount of fat and a certain amount of water. If any one of you remembers my lessons about bread, when we cook something, the water evaporates. If you make bread with lots of water, it’ll be super crunchy—that’s because the water will have pushed the flour apart and solidified it in a thinner reticle. Higher hydration bread is the kind of bread that hurts your mouth if you chew it recklessly. Lower hydration bread, instead, is the kind of bread that fills up your stomach because it’s much denser.”
I make a slight pause, noticing that there’s some confusion on Clodia’s face, but everyone else, including Flaminia, has perfectly understood what I’m saying. I’ll be honest; I feel quite proud about that.
“So,” I continue, “butter has water that will do the same for our cake base.”
“But why doesn’t that happen for a sponge cake, Chef?” Raissa asks, frowning.
“It actually does,” I wink at her. “Its effect is negligible, though. And the softness of whatever composition you are making also depends on how much air you incorporate in the kneading stage. In our specific case, we are going to bring this concept to the extreme in the following way: look at what I do very carefully, and then I’ll follow along while you try to replicate it.”
I mix together flour, water, salt, and just a bit of butter. I purposefully chose a table with a cooling rune close by and sat the butter bowl on top of it while working the dough.
“What we are preparing right here is the détrempe, the very first step of this process. The détrempe, unlike bread, shouldn’t be mixed for too long. We do not want any gluten forming—or at least not any more than the minimum.”
After a minute, I put a ball of dough on the table and engrave a cross on its surface. “This will make the dough less prone to being ‘sticky,’ meaning that it will be easier to separate.”
Now, I move the dough on top of the cooling rune and take the chilled block of butter. “Clodia, can you move that other cooling rune here?”
Clodia nods and brings along a block of wood with a cooling rune.
“Alright,” I place the butter on top of it and, with a rolling pin, I start pressing it into a rectangle. “This is a process that would have been very hard without runes. Heat is your enemy here. You want to work with very cold ingredients to achieve the best result. If not, you’ll have to be technically and manually skilled beyond what most people will ever be to avoid messing up the final product.”
After a couple of minutes, I made the butter into a nice, shapely rectangle. I take a look at the dough and gently touch it to make sure it’s cold enough.
“Now, once the dough is cold,” I explain, “we take it and stretch out the corners of the cross cut into different directions.” I take the rolling pin to the chilled dough and start working it as sort of a ‘plus’ sign.
“The center should be thicker than the folds, but it’s not extremelyimportant. You’ll get there with practice. It takes experience before you can actually guess the correct size. Sadly, this is the kind of thing that you need to do many times before guessing correctly what the best height ratio of butter to dough is. Personally, I think that the butter should be roughly as tall as the base and one of the folds. However, there are different schools of thought on this matter.”
Once the dough is rolled out, I move the almost-frozen butter to its center.
“Alright,” I say, rubbing my hands to warm them up. “Now, we close the folds on top of the butter, and we start rolling in one direction, making sure that the dough stays rectangular. The first rolling can be strong, but not the subsequent ones.”
I roll out the rectangle, catching Quintus and Tiberius straining their necks to watch more clearly. The corners of my mouth angle upward.
These two are trying really hard.
It’s not surprising, all things considered. Both want to demonstrate their worth to Clodia as an employer but also to me and, most of all, to themselves.
What I do find interesting, though, is that they appear to be genuinely enamored with baking. It would be more normal if they just coasted, doing the work required, but instead, they seem very interested in learning all the tricks in the book.
“This dough will not get any rest,” I say while rolling it. “Meaning it’ll be doughier than it would otherwise be if it had been left to rest on a chilling rune for a few hours at each step. Not frozen, just chilling. Let me demonstrate.”
After making a longer rectangle, I fold the dough again, once per side, to make another rectangle. I turn the rectangle to face me with its vertical sides perpendicular to me.
“From here, after rotating it by 90 degrees, we close the dough’s extremities. That’ll avoid butter leaks. Then, we roll it up another time and fold it again.”
I show them and immediately move it onto the stronger of the two runes.
“In theory, you should let this rest for an hour. However, if you haven’t rolled it too strongly, a few minutes at very low temperatures will have the exact same effect.”
As the dough rests, I click with my mouth.
“From now, the steps will be the same as I just showed you, only with longer rests in between. The result is called pâte feuilletée. It means ‘leafed’ or ‘layered’ dough. The butter that now sits between the layers of dough will create a special flaky texture with many very thin layers of dough that will melt in your mouth thanks to the great content of butter inside.”
When I look around, everyone has a confused expression—that’s not completely unexpected.
“I know,” I clear my voice, “it’s a bit unusual. Just bear with me for a while longer, please.”
…
All the eyes in the bakery are pointed at me as I slowly take a sheet of cooked puff pastry out of the oven. Its golden-brown hue glistens under the warm bakery light—the butter made lustier than polished silver. The intoxicating aroma reaches my nostrils first, so good I can basically smell the layers.
The puff pastry has risen beyond what I had initially expected, given that I skipped the ‘rest’ times. Like, sure, I am a professional, but I’m also not immune to the laws of physics, alright? Or so I thought.
“Yo, get closer,” I say to the small huddle of my team. I carefully lift a corner of the puff pastry, putting the leafy architecture of the layers in direct line of sight for the others.
“The butter has worked its magic,” I laugh, “see those? Look at those pockets of air. They expanded in the oven because the folds in the dough created several hundred layers. Sure, most stick together, but there are so many that it’s incredibly flaky.”
The folding separated the dough into hundreds of paper-thin sheets. Also, the edges of the pastry are slightly darker, with a tantalizing hint of caramelization—a promise of a satisfying crunch.
I break off a small piece and chuck it into my mouth. The puff pastry quickly dissolves on my tongue as the rich, buttery flavor envelops my taste buds. I immediately pass more pieces along to the crew, watching as all their eyes widen once they experience the creation of the filthiest of all countries.
Raissa, unable to contain her excitement, exclaims, "Rotten roots, this will sell incredibly well!"
On the side, Clodia’s irises sparkle with anticipation as she imagines the bakery filled with eager customers clamoring for a taste of our scrumptious puff pastry.
But then, I grin mischievously.
“Selling this?” I snort. “This is just the base. Now, we can start the real work.”
Without me realizing it, the air around me trembles for a moment, vibrating.
