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“Flour--check!” Flora pointed at a silver can. “Sugar, brown and white--present and accounted for!” She giggled, then proceeded to check off the rest of the ingredients. Baking powder, salt, eggs, chocolate chips, and so on--the whole ensemble for baking American style biscuits sat in an orderly line on the counter. “Oh!” Flora clapped her hands. “I forgot the measuring cups and spoons!” She turned to the photograph of herself, Luke, and Professor Layton propped next to the can of flower. “It wouldn’t do any good to not have a way to measure the ingredients out, would it, Luke?” She smiled, patted the frame, and strolled over to the drawers. “I do hope you can visit the professor and myself next year at Christmas! Then I won’t have to talk to your photograph!”
As she collected the measuring spoons and found a couple bowls, she looked over at the grandfather clock. “It won’t take much longer until the professor is back from grading tests, either!” She giggled and spun in place. “It’ll be just enough time to surprise him with the biscuits! A two for one deal--I can practice until I can make American sweets for Luke to enjoy, and until I see him again, the professor can enjoy them with me!” Clasping her hands together under her chin, she sighed wistfully. “This time he’ll genuinely enjoy them instead of just being polite about it, I’m sure!”
Clearing her throat, she quickly moved the framed photo to another counter out of her workspace. The only other distraction she allowed herself was setting up the phonograph to a vinyl of Christmas music. After that, she tossed on Layton’s plain apron over her dress and set to work.
Humming along to the music, Flora read over the recipe twice before she started any mixing or stirring. As tempted as she was to try adding new things to the recipe, the last time she tried altering a recipe, it hadn’t been received well. She frowned at the memory, but perked up again as she reminded herself she would stay true to the recipe this time around. There was no way she could mess that up, right?
Her resolution to stick to the recipe was well founded, it turned out. Making something with so many ingredients complicated itself, from the order of when to add flour or sugar to keeping wet and dry ingredients separate until the last possible moment. American recipes certainly called for strange amounts of each ingredient as well, even larger amounts of each one than Flora had anticipated. With spatula in hand and determination set on her lips, Flora stirred and stirred the combination of all the ingredients in a giant bowl until her arm ached from shoulder to wrist. Was this biscuit dough supposed to be so tough?
She had already placed a tray with balls of dough into the oven when the front door opened. A harsh wind accompanied Professor Layton as he stepped inside, scraping off snow onto the indoor mat. “That storm certainly picked up more than I expected on the way back,” Layton said as he locked the door. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting longer than I intended, Flora.” He gave her his usual gentlemanly smile with reserved warmth, then locked the door.
“It’s alright, I didn’t mind a bit!” Flora perked up, matching his smile. “It simply gave me more time to finish making biscuits!”
“Is that right?” Layton set his coat on a hanger before crossing the room. “Biscuits and tea do sound lovely. Thank you, Flora.”
“Oh! The tea!” Flora dashed to the stove. “I forgot to put the kettle on!” Once she fulfilled that task, though, she added, “These biscuits are an American style! I’m trying something new!”
“Ah, how adventurous,” Layton replied from where he had taken a seat on the couch. He could clearly see into the kitchen, since the apartment had a mostly open layout between it and the living room, and watched Flora peer into the oven. “You tried the recipe book Luke sent?”
“Oh, yes!” Flora beamed. “Just wait until you try one! Of the biscuits, I mean!”
“I look forward to it.” Layton picked up a book he had left on the low table in front of him, then paused before he opened it. “Would you like any help in the kitchen?”
“Nope! I can handle this myself.” She checked the clock, and dashed over to the oven. “And they should be done now!”
Her smile dropped away the moment she opened the door. They looked too flat, with odd chocolate lumps, and they were too brown for her liking. “Oh dear…”
“What’s the matter, Flora?”
With a sigh, Flora tugged on the oven mitts. “Another failure…” Slowly, as if at a funeral, she pulled out the tray and stared at it.
“Perhaps it can be salvaged,” Layton said as he walked over to her. “May I see them?”
Flora shook her head. “It’s just awful.” Still, she couldn’t stand there with her head bowed forever, especially when she could tell Layton was standing right behind her. So after taking a deep calming breath, she turned and held up the tray.
Layton hummed as he leaned over and inspected the brittle looking, brown biscuits. “I see. That is quite too crispy even for British biscuits.” He placed a hand to his chin as he pondered, looking to all the world like he was solving a most fascinating puzzle. “Let us see that recipe book,” he finally said, lifting a finger. “I bet we can find a solution there.”
“Alright.” Flora set the tray down on a hot pan holder and slid the book across the counter towards herself. “I followed it exactly as it said to do. Could the problem be the oven?”
“Possibly.” Layton ran a finger over the words as he studied them line by line. “These measuring cups are the ones you used?” He pointed at the cups laden with flour and dripping with oil still sitting on the counter.
“They are--oh I’m sorry I haven’t cleaned them up yet.” Flora flushed with embarrassment. Keeping one’s workspace clean was an important task for a lady, after all.
“Don’t be sorry.” Layton smiled at Flora. “In fact, I’m glad you haven't yet. I believe the solution to this puzzle lies with those cups.”
“Really?” Flora’s brows shot up in surprise. “But like I said, I followed the recipe exactly.”
“It isn’t your ability to follow instructions that I am questioning,” Layton replied. “It’s the measurements of the cups.” He held his hand in the book and flipped to the cover. “This recipe book is American, correct?”
Flora nodded.
“Did you know that measurements for cups in America are different than they are in England?” Layton tapped the cover.
Flora gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “They are?!”
“Indeed.” Layton used his free hand to flip to the index. “Let’s see… This book doesn’t have a reference, it would seem, since it is for an American readership. But let’s look through another few books and I can show you what I mean.”
Ready to learn, Flora accompanied Layton as the pair looked through more of the professor’s books. Soon enough, Flora found a list of how cups, tablespoons, teaspoons, and other measurements varied between America and England. Flora gasped yet again at the revelation. “Why, you need less of some things and more of other things!”
“And that, Miss Flora,” Layton replied as he tapped on the chart, “is why your biscuits turned out in an unexpected way. The way the ingredients interact with each other, if the measurements are tweaked one way or another, the biscuits don’t bake as you expect.”
Flora’s shoulders sagged. “And I was so proud of myself for figuring out the difference between Farenheit to Celsius so I didn’t outright burn my cookies. It never occurred to me that my measuring cups and spoons were different, as well!”
Layton placed a hand on her shoulder as she teared up. “You’ve only worked with recipes made with our measurements here, correct?”
“Well, yes, but…” Flora wiped at her eyes with her knuckles.
“No one knows everything, not even myself.” Layton gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And supposedly, for every new bit of information out in the world, about ten thousand people each day are learning that information for the first time.”
“Really?” Flora looked up at Layton, surprise quelling her tears before they could fall.
“Indeed.” Layton smiled softly at her. “You, Flora, are one of the ten thousand to learn that baking measurements in England are quite different from baking measurements in America. It’s a wonderful thing to always be learning.”
His gentle reassurance tugged up a small smile on Flora’s face. “It is. I, uh…” She darted her gaze away, a bit sheepish. “Thank you for being patient with me, and helping me.”
“Of course. I am always glad to help.”
Flora’s attention turned towards the browned biscuits again, and she deflated again. “I just had been so looking forward to surprising you with perfectly tasty biscuits like you had never tasted before.”
“Well…” Layton walked over to the tray, inspected its contents for a moment, then said to Flora, “Would you like to try again?”
Flora shook her head. “Another day, but not today. Maybe while the tea steeps I can make a simpler biscuit. Shortbread, maybe?”
Layton nodded with his smile ever so slightly bigger. “That sounds lovely. Would you like to make them together?”
Flora blinked. “... You can bake?”
Layton chuckled. “A true gentleman should know how to bake and cook, so naturally I have learned both skills. They are simply not skills I use often anymore.”
“A shame, really! It’s fun!” Flora giggled, perking up as she clasped her hands before her. “Then yes. I would love to make biscuits with you, Professor.”
“Excellent! Let’s wash up and get everything sorted on the counter here, shall we?” Layton said as he moved to the sink.
“Yes! Let’s!” Flora plucked the dirty cups off the counter and bounced over to him.
The pair spent the rest of the evening in a happy bubble of babble and baking as the phonograph, unnoticed by either of them, stopped playing Christmas tunes. The music wasn’t really needed to make the atmosphere feel like Christmas to Flora, however. Neither was the snow outside, which had slowed from a blustering wind to a gentle fall of flakes. Rather, the warmth of the hearth and the lightness of the conversation was enough for Flora to realize that she truly was home for Christmas.