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Abroad in a Pan, one of the most requested series that his viewers want Chris to do. Amazing name aside, he had only done it once for the Tokyo Creative channel for White Day. That video was a lot of him fucking around with chocolate kits for the content, and was in no way an actual reflection of his cooking skill.
Obviously.
To be fair, when he first moved to Japan, his skill in the kitchen was basically the same as in that video. But getting thrown into the deep end and not being able to rely on takeout every now and then does mean that he has picked some basic skills up. He’s a grown man, he can manage to make a decent meal that won’t give himself food poisoning. His cooking skill is not the best, but it is passable.
Baking, on the other hand... Well, he sure as hell doesn’t need to learn how to bake at any point in his life, alright? It’s fine if he can’t bake to save his life. There’s no shame to admit that Chris is absolutely hopeless when it comes to the mythical art of baking.
So when he finds out that Connor likes these kinds of things, Chris privately curses both Connor and himself out.
Connor’s coming up to Sendai in a few days and whilst Chris would never admit that he’d like to do something nice for Connor, well, he does want to show his appreciation. Such is a requirement when one is in a relationship after all, and Chris, contrasting to all rumour, does have a heart and is not just made of sarcasm and cynicism.
Tangent aside, he wants to bake something for Connor, or make some sweets, or a dessert dish of some kind. The only obstacle that stands in his way is the secured knowledge that he will set his apartment on fire before he can even bake anything edible.
The fact that he’s attempting this anyway speaks volumes.
Connor better fucking appreciate this, Chris thinks. That is, if Chris can make something decent to give to him in the first place.
His apartment doesn’t have an oven, so that lowers the chance of him calling the fire department. It also eliminates at least half of the available recipes on the internet. The rest of the recipes Chris doesn’t really trust, just from the title. Don’t get him wrong, the thumbnail of every recipe video on YouTube looks damn good, but that’s because the person behind the camera actually knows what they’re doing.
The worst part of this endeavour that Chris has gotten himself into is that said person also makes everything look deceptively easy. Also, they’re making everything from scratch, as if he has the time and patience for that.
In the end, he settles for a handmade chocolate video. Earlier this morning, he had already gone out and bought everything, so now the only thing to do is to follow instructions.
It should be easy.
Really, it should be easy. He has skipped the homemade condensed milk, and instead has cracked open a can of the stuff and poured it into the bowl. Cocoa powder follows right after. And then the mixing begins.
It’s a workout, this whole baking ordeal. Who needs Journey across Japan to exercise when he can just stand here with a spoon and a bowl of brown sludge? If he's being honest, the next 10 minutes is the most intense workout session Chris thinks he has ever had, and all he gets at the end is dry cement. How is he supposed to mix this, Jesus fuck.
…A bit of water or something will probably help.
(Spoiler alert: it does not. Well, that’s a lesson learnt as he disposes of the first fail batch: Do not experience when baking.)
The second attempt goes a little better. He might have added a bit more condensed milk and a bit less cocoa to make life easier, but Connor likes sweet things so it should turn out fine and dandy. Chris finishes mixing the damn thing together after another 15 minutes of dying in his tiny kitchen before wrapping the miserable blown sludge that is the finished product up and throwing it in the fridge.
(Another lesson: Baking is a lot of waiting, which is the perfect time for Chris to actually focus on his videos and not worry over how the chocolate will come out.
Now that he’s thinking about it, he can probably chalk all of these up as business expenses. Consider it a project for Abroad in a Pan.)
When his phone alarm goes off, Chris definitely procrastinates getting up and going to the fridge. After all, if he can't see the failure that is his attempt at making chocolate, then that means it doesn't exist.
It would be depressing if he somehow ruins the chocolate as well.
“What’s the worst fucking thing that can happen anyway,” Chris sighs. It’s been a while since he has to rationalise aloud with himself. He can't say it's not an effective method though. “It sure as hell is not the end of the world.”
He gets up and takes the chocolate out.
It looks sad, is Chris’ first impression. Thank God there is still a lot more cocoa powder to cover up all the blemishes. He does his best to make it seem pretty and appetising, before cutting it into small pieces.
Moment of truth, Chris thinks, picking up the chocolate. It has an...interesting texture in his hand. He throws it in his mouth before he can second guess himself.
Good news: It does taste like chocolate.
Bad news: It is so dry in his mouth, somehow. And it is so sweet as well. He might get heart palpitation if he eats another piece, and not messing up Connor’s health is kind of important.
Second batch is a failure then. It’s fine, Chris doesn’t like the way it looks anyway.
Third batch, he doesn’t change a single thing. Third time’s the charm, as they say, and Chris has some hope for this attempt. The break from the second try has given his arm some rest, so the mixing progress feels smoother. He still suffers, and tomorrow his arm will most likely ache like a bitch, but that’s a problem for the future. Right now, his chocolate doesn’t look half-bad as he wraps it up and places it in the fridge.
Another waiting period. Instead of editing his video, Connor rings him up at the perfect time. Time passes by quickly with Connor, and when his alarm goes off, Chris gives a lame excuse about needing to finish his video to keep to the schedule.
“What schedule?” Connor jokes, before bidding goodbye.
Chris has to say, that call does wonders to his mood. His step is a little lighter as he walks to the fridge to check on the chocolate.
This one looks the best out of the three attempts. He adds the last of the cocoa powder that he has, making it look presentable on the white plate before cutting it into small pieces, as even as he can make them.
It looks good. Now the question is, does it taste good?
It’s a first for him to spend this much time thinking about the flavour of the chocolate he's eating. It's… decent, and to be honest, better than some of the chocolate brands that he can buy from the convenience store. A bit too sweet for Chris, but it would be just right for Connor.
Chris hums, looking down at the rest of the chocolate.
The video at the end also shapes them into aesthetically pleasing little squares, and while he is bad at Arts and Crafts, just making them square can't be the hardest part. He has made this damn thing after all, he won't be defeated by molding.
He's really putting his all into this, Chris realises. Even though it is only chocolate for Connor, he can't just settle for something decent and passable. Connor has given him much joy for the time that they've known each other and the least Chris can give back is something that is actually good.
(That's also the perfectionist in him talking. That part is getting better at pretending to be rational thought. Chris knows he has a problem with that, but this time, it does have a point: Connor definitely deserves something better.)
The next few minutes are spent making the treat look nice, mostly for practice. It won't do when Chris actually manages to make a good batch and then fucks it all up at the finish line.
Maybe he should spend some money on those metal molds. He can buy them tomorrow, when he has to go out and get more ingredients. For now, he lays the finished products down on a cleaner dish, adds what's left of the cocoa on top, and snaps a picture. As for what to do with the chocolate, well, he will take care of it tonight when he has to go back to editing.
Chris sends the picture to Sharla the next day. She gives it a thumbs up, along with a few teasing DMs regarding the White Day video in good faith.
It gives him a boost of confidence as he goes shopping. He can't justify the metal molds, mainly because he's cheap and he has done a good job getting the chocolate into shape last night, so why waste money on something that he won't ever use again, right? Instead, he buys some milk and butter and more sugar, all that is needed for the homemade condensed milk.
It should hopefully improve the taste. It doesn't look that hard to do as well, which he knows is deceptive and he can't judge until he has actually given it a try, but hey, he got the chocolate in three tries. Again, what's the worst that could happen?
The hot milk and butter bubbles over the pan and all over his stove, and in the process, also burns his hand. That's the worst that could happen.
Chris hisses when the stream of cold water pours over his fingers. The skin there looks red, like a nasty sunburn. Bloody hell, he takes his eyes off the pan for 1 seconds to look at the notification on his phone, and this is what he gets.
Lesson number three: Milk is a fickle god.
He cleans up the mess in his kitchen when his hand stops hurting like a bitch. Then Chris watches the video for the nth time, and starts again with the condensed milk.
It didn’t overflow this time, which is good. He goes back and forth between the medium and low heat, being a tad too paranoid. In his defense, the skin around his fingers is still red and he doesn’t want to wipe milk off of the kitchen counter and the stove for the second time. It was genuinely a pain to clean up.
When the milk finally reaches the correct enough consistency and colour, he turns off the gas and tries some.
The taste is off. Chris disposes of the failure, pours milk in the pan, adds in the needed sugar, and starts again. And again, because who knows that milk and sugar in a pan can burn. He does, after that attempt.
Not third, but rather the fourth time's the charm, Chris thinks. And he has to give it to himself, this condensed milk tastes much better than the one he used yesterday.
Now, to not mess up the rest of the recipe and throw all of this effort down into a hole. Which, in the end, he does do so. The chocolate doesn't hold the shape and is too bitter. He sprinkles some sugar on top and finishes that batch anyway, simply because throwing it out seems wasteful. Every bite is a casual reminder that he really is hopeless with these things.
He needs that though, the disappointed snack and a bit of a break. Then Chris goes and tries to make the chocolate again.
It only takes two more attempts and what is basically the rest of his evening to get something good. The milk has gone off without a hitch, and the rest of the chocolate turns out better than any of his previous one. Connor calls in when he’s waiting for the damn thing to be done in the fridge, and Chris smiles and says he has spent the whole day trying to find some good music for a video, which isn't exactly a lie.
“Bloody hell, you’re such a perfectionist,” Connor says.
Looking down at his dish of chocolate, a piece missing for taste testing purposes, Chris can't help but remember that part of their conversation. Connor really doesn't know how right he is, Chris thinks. Because while the chocolate is really good and nice looking, it isn’t perfect.
The worst part of this is a sense of knowing in his gut, that this is the best it’s going to get. At the end of the day, this is just a simple recipe he found online, and it’s certainly not good enough to be a gift for Connor.
Chris puts the plate in the fridge, then goes about cleaning up.
That’s enough for today.
He complains to the people and crew behind the White Day video, simply because they were there to witness the chaos that was him making a fool of himself with chocolate kits, and also because they can actually bake. He thinks. Shiori can at the very least. It’s also because Sharla snitches on him by creating a group chat aptly named Redemption Arc and sends in the picture of the chocolate, so he might as well use it to his advantage.
The responses Chris gets remind him why he’s friends with these people. It also reminds him that he has two more days until Connor comes up to Sendai and he still has no idea on what to make for him.
Emma sends in a video under the guise of helping. Chris thinks she just wants to see him suffer whilst trying to make the dough from scratch. He types that thought out, sends it to the chat, and gets a smiley face from Emma which is basically a yes to his suffering.
Nevertheless, Chris goes out and buys all of the needed ingredients.
Turns out, the dough is not the only thing that makes Chris want to die. He has never in his life separated egg yolk before, and fuck it if it isn't the bane of his existence. His first attempt ends with a broken yolk mixing with the white, or in other words, a failure. The recipe calls for 3 yolks.
The first successful yolk he manages to get is, honestly, a close clutch. But he has done it, and it only took three fails. After that, it does get a little easier as he gets used to passing the content between the shells, being careful to not break the yolk and fuck everything up.
15 minutes and a total of 7 eggs in total, it takes. This is already starting out great. He sends a “Fuck you” to the chat with the image of the nicely separated egg yolks (well, one of them is a little broken but it doesn’t matter that much as he has managed to kind of remove the eggwhite away) because he has also been talked into live-documentating his foray into the kitchen, before starting on whisking everything together.
He has to boil milk again for this, which, fuck. The meager experience from before with the chocolate helps at least, and for once, everything is going nicely. Nothing is burnt yet, his custard is starting to thicken and looks like real custard, and he guesses he can see why people say baking is satisfying. It really is, especially when his hand doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off from all of the whisking.
Ha, first try though!
Chris puts the finished custard in a bowl, wraps some clink film over then throws it in the fridge, next to the plate of chocolate. And just because, he eats one of the pieces there as well. It throws off the overall rectangle shape that the pieces made, but it isn’t like he’s giving it to anyone.
Now comes the part he has been dreading. At least the dough doesn’t demand him to separate the yolk from the eggwhite, and merely calls for one normal egg. He uses one of the failures from the custard making process, mixes everything up until it looks like a war has been fought in the bowl, then plops the mess down onto the table that has been covered with a generous layer of flour. That should help with the stickiness, or so the internet has said.
Chris stares at the lump. It stares back at him from the many holes that it has, making it look more like many lumps all kind of stuck together instead of one unanimous mass.
He takes a picture and sends it to the chat. Sharla demands that he calls her, so she can enjoy this shitshow live. Aki chimes in that she would like that as well, so Chris starts a group call.
“I hate all of you,” Chris greets. “I hate this.”
Aki and Sharla laugh in his face. Well, it’s mostly Sharla, but Chris knows that Aki is also laughing inside.
“Put the camera on,” Sharla says. Chris sighs, thanks God that he has not started kneading yet, and does so. Sharla and Aki also put on their camera, with Aki looking comfortable on the couch and Sharla having a bowl of popcorn in front of her.
“Oh, fuck off,” Chris says.
Sharla laughs again. “Get kneading.”
He does, after he finds a good spot to prop his phone against.
The flour does not help with the stickiness at all. Or maybe it does, and if he didn’t add flour, it would have been even worse. Chris cannot imagine something being sticker than this, to be perfectly honest.
He copies the movement he has seen in the video, pushing the dough out and pulling it back in, then repeats. His hands complain after the first few sets, and because he has a live audience to entertain, Chris sounds those complaints aloud.
“You’re doing great, Chris,” Aki cheers in the midst of her giggling.
“What is Chris doing great?” Chris hears, and then a few moments later, he sees Joey coming into frame. His hair is a mess, he’s holding his own phone in his hand, and the moment he sees Chris, a smile spreads across his face. "Oh woah. I can't believe you're doing Abroad in a Pan and don't invite me on. The betrayal!"
"Oh fuck off, you prick," Chris grumbles.
"It's not for the channel." He hears Aki out of frame. "Chris is being a romantic."
"That sounds fucking fake," Joey says.
"Hey! I made Aki chocolate rings because you're too much of a coward to propose, and this is the thanks I get?"
Sharla laughs louder. Joey grumbles something inaudible under his breath, and Chris sees a red flush on his cheeks.
"Chris is being a romantic," Sharla repeats. "Apparently Connor likes these things."
"Oh, was that why you asked me what Connor has the hot for?" Joey asks. "Awwww, look at you go."
"Shut up," Chris says, as he pictures Joey's face on the lump of dough, then redoubles his effort with the kneading. "You all are the worst. Don't fucking tell Connor or I'm hunting you down myself, Joseph."
"I know, I know," Joey laughs. He also stays for the rest of the half an hour of Chris torturing his hands, keeping the conversation going with Aki and Sharla.
Chris would never admit it, but having them in the background to listen to as he focuses is nice. Time flies just a little faster, and before he knows it, his hands are no longer covered by the wet and sticky lump at the start and he has a completed ball of smooth-ish dough on the table.
He adds the butter according to the recipe. It is an… interesting sensation that he’s feeling, kneading the butter in with the dough. It’s not unpleasant in any way, just odd. When everything is done, he stretches a small part out and shows it to the camera.
"That actually looks good," Sharla says, and to her credit, she only sounds a little shocked. Joey whistles in the background, and Aki claps.
"I'm a top chef, a top baker," Chris chuckles. "Amazing baking skill, if I do say so myself. Gordon Ramsay better watch out, because there's a new British chef in town."
Sarcasm aside, he is actually proud of it. The texture and consistency checks out with the video, it looks good, and maybe he is not completely hopeless. Maybe.
They end the call because Chris has to throw this into a bowl and let it rest for another hour, and that is not the most entertaining thing in the world. He takes a photo when the clink film is in place, sends it in with a "Fuck you Emma, take that," before going to take a much needed break on the couch.
An hour later, the dough has risen to double its size. Though after kneading it again for a few minutes to get rid of the air bubbles, it looks smaller. Chris divides it up into even smaller portions, abandons it to its own devices for another 15 minutes or so before he actually starts on the assembling phrase.
Baking really is just leaving everything to its own devices for a while though. He finishes filling the dough with the custard and tries his best to knead it into a smooth shape, then letting it rest for the third time.
Then comes the cooking part of the process. Sharla asks to be on call when he cooks the first of the buns, and there really is no reason to say no.
“Tell me when it’s 10 minutes,” Chris says, as he places the bun into the pan.
“You got it,” Sharla says. There’s no bowl of popcorn with her this time, and she seems much more interested compared to earlier.
It is the last stretch, the moment where he can finally see if this is all worth it, so he guesses it makes sense for her to be more into it this time.
They talk for the next 10 minutes. Chris thinks if Sharla isn’t here, he would be pacing the tiny kitchen, his eyes sticking close to the pan. As it is right now though, he only keeps half an eye on the bun.
There's a sharp alarm noise coming from Sharla. "10 minutes," she says.
He opens the lid and flips it. The pale yellow colour of the dough has turned into a nice golden brown, which Chris is so relieved to see. The smell that comes from the pan is better than he expected as well. He shows the camera the half-finished bun.
“Nice going,” Sharla says. “What’s next?”
“5 more minutes, and we should be done,” Chris answers.
Sharla really does try to keep the conversation going for the last 5 minutes, but even Chris can tell that she’s too distracted by the cooking. So is he to be honest, though perhaps he hides it better.
The timer goes off on her ends, and Chris quickly stops the fire and takes the bun out. He may have been a bit too impatient, picking the damn thing up when it’s still too hot, but that is barely noticeable compared to the milk that burnt his fingers yesterday.
“Cross section!” Sharla demands.
Naturally, he complies. He shows both sides to the camera before carefully tearing it open in the middle. The bread that he made gives easily under the slight pressure, opening up. The custard comes into view thent, a soft yellow catching the light and looking absolutely fucking perfect. Bloody hell, he really has to pat himself on the back for this because it genuinely looks so good.
Sharla looks way too happy. Chris thinks he must also be smiling like her, because god, he feels fucking great.
He takes a bite of the bun. It tastes better than it looks, and maybe it’s because he is biased as it is something he has made from scratch and all, but it is so fucking good. “Shit,” Chris says. “Crikey, it is actually, genuinely good.”
“Really?” Sharla grins. “I couldn’t tell from your expression.”
“Shut up,” Chris laughs, and takes another bite. “Oh bloody hell, I really am the best chef.”
“Wish I was there.”
“As if I’m letting you eat any of these!”
Objectively, Chris knows that what he has made is actually really good.
But now, with Connor about 5 minutes away from his apartment, he is worried.
Maybe this whole baking thing was a bad idea, and Chris should have never started this project. He knows that Connor will appreciate this, but despite how good he felt about making something edible, it is just some simple treat. Maybe he should have gone with something more complex?
Fuck. Chris groans, and looks at the plate of custard buns. All of them are cooked to a nice golden brown, and if they are anything like the first, they will taste amazing. They are amazing handmade treats, but are they, though? The more he looks at them, the more he feels that they are just some normal food that he can buy from a local store. He knows that he can buy much better treats from the local store.
Before Chris can go on a debate on whether or not he should just put these away and never mention it to anyone ever again, he hears the door open with a click. Connor got a copy of the key to his apartment last month, and for the first time since then, he regrets his decision on that matter.
“Hey Chris,” Connor calls from the door. He hears footsteps follow soon after, and Connor walks into the room. His backpack is hanging off one shoulder, his clothes and hair are all ruffled up and he’s breathing heavily.
“Did you run here from the station?” Chris asks.
Connor shrugs, and drops the backpack down on the couch. He walks closer to Chris then, and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Maybe I did.”
“God,” Chris rolls his eyes. “You could have just called me, I have a car. Why did you even do something like that?”
“So I can see you sooner, obviously,” Connor grins.
“Sap.”
“And what about it?” Chris laughs, and Connor joins in with his own deep chuckle. He has such a nice laugh. “I miss you.”
“We saw each other last month, and talked yesterday,” Chris points out. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Fuck off and let me miss you.”
Chris kisses Connor again. “No,” he says. ”And sit down, for fuck’s sake, you must be tired. Water?”
“That would be great, yeah.”
Connor takes a seat, letting out a small sigh. Chris hears the crack when he moves his neck and stretches in place, and rolls his eyes again at the antic before retreating to the kitchen to get them something to drink. Honestly, running to his apartment. It is not that close to the station as well, so Connor must have been exhausted. Why is he dating someone like this?
Chris walks back, two cups of water in hands, to see Connor eating one of the buns already.
Right, he does leave that on the table.
Fuck.
Connor seems to be enjoying it though. He looks up at Chris with stars in his eyes, and holds up half of the bun. “Sorry I started without you,” he says, scooting over to make space for Chris. “Fuck, these are good though. Where did you buy them?”
“You really only care for food, huh?” Chris says. He takes the offered seat, putting the cups on the table.
“Obviously,” Connor says, taking another bite. Some custard sticks at the corner of his lips, and Chris brings a finger up to wipe that away. “Thanks.”
“Don’t speak with food in your mouth.”
Connor hums, swallowing. “Seriously, that is good. Reminds me of the donuts back in the UK. Really, where did you buy them? I gotta get some for myself, fucking hell.”
“Never like those that much, to be honest,” Chris shrugs. And then, as nonchalantly as he can, he continues, “And I made them.”
Chris reaches for the cup of water, takes a sip, and very specifically does not look at Connor after that. He can feel the pregnant pause in the air, and when he puts the cup back down, the sound of glass colliding against the table is too loud in the silence.
He should have said that he got these as a gift, or something. But it’s too late to take his words back now, so he has to deal with the consequences, he guesses.
“Oh shit, really?” Connor finally says. Chris looks at Connor then, to see wide eyes staring back at him. Connor’s mouth is agape, and the hand holding the bun hangs halfway in the air. His eyes flicker down to look at the bun then back up at him, and Connor swallows heavily. “Like, you made these?”
“Yeah,” Chris shrugs. “It’s pretty good, innit?”
Connor gulps again. He puts the half eaten bun back down on the plate, and Chris forces himself to not feel disappointed.
And then Connor dives for him, and gives him the biggest kiss. Out of muscle memory, Chris parts his lips in an invitation, and he can taste some of the custard as Connor licks into his mouth. “Fuck,” Connor says inbetween the kiss. “I love you so much, what the fuck?”
Chris only manages a weak chuckle before Connor draws him back in for another kiss. Some distance conscious part of his brain recognises this as the first time Connor tells him that he loves him. The rest of him is just so fucking relived that this turns out fine, and that Connor likes the treat. “I’m glad you like it,” Chris says it aloud when they part for the second time.
“Are you kidding me? I fucking love it,” Connor says. His skin is flushed red, his pupils are blown wide and Chris feels the same satisfaction that he got when he finished the bun. “You are amazing. Holy fuck, I didn’t know you can cook!”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Chris grins. “Only took a couple attempts. They make kneading bread way harder and more intimidating than it is, honestly.”
“You made everything?”
"I have pictures. Or well, I think Sharla has pictures.” He reaches for his phone and pulls up the chat. "Yeah, she does. Posted it all in."
Connor snatches the phone out of his hand, to Chris' amusement. "Shit," Connor mutters as he scrolls up. "There's chocolate as well?"
Chris blinks.
Ah, right, Sharla did send that in as well. "It's not that good," Chris says, taking the phone back. "The chocolate is whatever, honestly. You won't like it."
"I'll make my own judgement when I've had them," Connor replies. "You made me chocolate! Come on, don't tell me you've eaten all of it."
It's hard to say no to Connor when he's like this. So Chris mutters, "Don't say I didn't warn you," and nudges Connor off so he can actually get up. He hears Connor quickly following him into the kitchen, and Chris takes a deep breath before he opens the fridge.
The plate of chocolate is still there, missing a few pieces. Chris takes that out and hands it to Connor not unlike someone confessing to their crush with chocolate on Valentine's day. "This was just something simple to try out," Chris stresses. "Don't expect too much, alright?"
Connor takes a piece of chocolate between his fingers and pops it in his mouth. Then he makes a particularly sinful noise that is more suited for the bedroom. Jesus fuck, Connor is the one that is not good for Chris' heath, not the other way around.
"That's perfect!" Connor groans, picking up another piece. "The chocolate is whatever, he said, like a complete fucking liar. These are good, Chris!"
Privately, Chris disagrees. Sure, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, one that he wasn't even aware that it was there in the first place, but the chocolate is still just some chocolate. He doesn't say any of this, mainly because Connor is on cloud nine, and he'd hate to ruin the blissed out expression on his face. So instead, Chris smiles, picks a piece up, and feeds it to Connor himself.
The look on Connor's face when he does that is worth all of this trouble, Chris thinks.