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Had anyone else asked you to do this, you’d have thought they were just being nice, or trying to distract you from something. But when Frin asked you to teach them how to cook? Yeah... they actually just don’t know how to do it. So you were out shopping together now. Secret quest with Frin! Well, Nille knew about it, but Nille knew everything that happened in Bambouche. You were going to make chocolate chip cupcakes, because they were easy to teach (even if it was technically baking and not cooking) and they were going to be amazing.
“What’s next on the list, Bonbon?” Frin asked.
You checked. Only one thing left. “Eggs. Where are the eggs?”— you looked around, not seeing them anywhere near —“I don’t remember. Frin, go find eggs!”
“Yes, chef!” Frin nodded sharply and ran off in search of eggs. You started to double check what you’d grabbed so far, but looked back up when you heard Frin coming right back.
“How many?” he asked.
“Uhhh, twelve, and I’ll use them for dinner or breakfast as well.”
“Yes, chef!”
Now with Frin actually hunting for eggs, you could check your loot. Most of this stuff was already at home, but you were running low on a lot of it so Nille had asked you pick up some more when you told her where you were going. You went ahead of Frin to pay. You were carrying the money because Frin had too many pockets and would forget which one they put the money in – all their little trinkets made it hard to find specific things sometimes.
“Hey Bon. Baking something?” Mora asked. Kimora, or Mora as you called her, was the owner of this shop, and knew you pretty well. She had warm eyes, a hooked nose, and a smile like the sun, and often snuck you sweets when you weren’t looking.
“Yup. We’re making cupcakes,” you said, counting out the money as Frin arrived with the eggs, adding them to the pile of stuff that Mora was tallying up the price of – which you had already worked out.
“Oh, it’s been ages since you baked something. I’ll give you a discount if you bring me one.”
You were making twelve, which would be a perfect amount for two each, but Dile would only have one. The extra would usually end up with you or Frin at everyone else’s insistence, but you could easily set it aside for Mora.
“Sure.”
Mora grinned at you and told you the discounted price. You paid and left, waving goodbye on your way out.
Back home, you started setting up all the ingredients and tools you would need, directing Frin around the kitchen to grab things for you whilst you took everything out of the bag. There was a lollipop at the bottom that you stuck in a pocket to have – or give away – later. You started preheating the oven, and then fetched a stool so you could properly reach the counter.
“So what do we do first?” Frin asked.
“Well, first you take of your cloak and gloves, and then we wash our hands,” you said, turning the tap on. You washed your hands while Frin hung up his cloak.
“Okay,” they said once their hands were clean as well, “now we start. Yeah?”
“No, now we start weighing,” you replied, handing over a hair tie and tucking your own hair up into your hat.
“Don’t you usually just eyeball things?”
“That’s when I’m cooking. We’re baking, which is easier to learn than cooking is when you don’t know what you’re doing, that’s why we’re making cupcakes.”
“I see. You are wise beyond your years.”
“I know,” you beamed, nodding sagely and putting your hands on your hips. “Now get the scales.”
“Yes, chef.”
Frin got the scales and you told him how much of everything to weigh out, preparing everything into its own separate bowl. When they got to cracking the eggs, they hesitated.
“Hit it harder than you think you should,” you said, “but not that hard.”
Frin squinted at you, then looked back at the bowl. He struck the egg on the lip, and pulled the shell apart with both hands, only dropping a few small pieces of shell.
“I got shell in it,” they frowned, “Is that bad?”
“Eh. Not really. We can scoop it out if you want.” You handed him a teaspoon, and let him fish the pieces out.
“Ah, I broke the… what’s it called?”
“Yolk.”
“Yolk, I broke the yolk. Is that bad?”
“Nope. Gonna break it anyway.”
Frin nodded, and prepared to crack the other egg. They still dropped some shell in, but quickly got the pieces out. He turned back to you expectantly. You directed them to add the butter and caster sugar to the mixing bowl and start whisking. You were glad you had Frin here to do all the mixing, since your kitchen Craft ban also extended to Crafted mixers. You’d asked Nille, but she had said she didn’t trust Frin to not “succumb to your influence”, so hand mixing it was.
There was a thought in the back of your mind, that Frin was lying about not knowing how to cook, and you couldn’t help yourself. “Do you really not know how to do this?” you asked.
“Really truly honestly,” Frin said without looking away from the mixture, “The last time I cooked something was before joining up with the others to go fight the King, and I don’t even know when I last baked something. It feels familiar, though.”
“I can show you how to make those spicy malanga fritters you like at some point, if you want.”
“Yes! Please do!” Frin said, head snapping to you, eye wide and full of excitement. “Ooh, could you teach me how to make everyone’s favourite foods?”
His excitement was infectious; you smiled and threw your hands up. “Crab yeah I can! I can teach you everything!” You were forgetting the cake mix. “Oh yeah, we should add the eggs now.”
Frin tipped the eggs into the mix and kept whisking. They tilted the bowl as they mixed so you could see better, and guide them with your Master Chef Cooker techniques. Not that there was much guiding to do, it wasn’t particularly hard to tell somehow how to use a whisk – certainly not once he had the right speed.
Once the mix had smoothed out, you made Frin stop whisking and sift in the self-raising flour. He paused halfway through tapping the sieve, turned to look at you with that dreaded smile... “Sift-rin,” he said.
“NO!” you cried, smacking them on the shoulder and knocking a cloud of flour into the air, covering both of you in the fine powder. Worth it. Fully deserved after that pun.
Once he’d apologised for his awful sense of humour, you poured out some more flour to replace what you were now wearing, and made him finish sifting – without the puns. Then you showed them how to fold it in with the mixing spoon, and gave them back the bowl to do the rest, keeping a careful eye to make sure it wasn’t over-mixed. Once it was looking good, you tipped in the chocolate chips and left Frin to it while you put the liners in the baking tray.
“Is this good?” Frin asked, showing you the mixture.
You examined it for a moment. “Perfect!” you proclaimed, “I hereby dub you ‘Not-Quite Master Chef Cooker’. Excellent work, assistant.”
“I think there’s a fancier word for that.”
“I dunno, probably. I’ll ask Dile later. Now! Put the mix in the cases.” You handed him two spoons to scoop the mixture.
“Is there not an easier way to do this?” they asked as they scrapped the mix into the cases, making a mess of it as they went.
“There is, but it’s funnier watching you do this,” you smirked, “Now keep going.”
Frin pouted, but kept filling the cases until the mix had been mostly evenly spread between them. You tossed them in the oven and set a timer – it was shaped like a duck and always made you smile. Next you had to wash up, and clean the sides, and by that you meant: make Frin wash up and clean the sides, because what was the point of having an assistant chef cooker if you couldn’t make them do all of the cleaning? You weren’t that mean, though, so you dried and put everything away as he handed clean items to you.
“What do we do with the last of the chocolate chips?” asked Frin.
“Eat them.”
“What about the others?”
“I won’t tell them if you don’t.” You tipped some of the remainder into your hand, and gave the rest to Frin. “Since you did most of the work,” you explained.
You sat on the floor to wait. The cupcakes wouldn’t take that long, and you didn’t have anything else to do, so Floor Time it was! Frin sat next to you, tipping chocolate chips into their mouth, cheeks puffing up like a hamster as they chewed.
“We should do this more often,” he said, “It’s fun. I could help with with all our meals.”
You made a face. “Maybe not all of them. I like doing it alone. Is that weird?”
“I don’t think so. I like doing things alone. Odile does as well. Mira and Isa probably have some things like that as well that I just can’t think of right now. I think it’s good, to have things like that. Tell you what, I won’t ask every time, to avoid pestering you, and you can just come and get me whenever you want my help or to show me something. How’s that?”
“I can do that. I’m going to hug you now.”
They barely had time to raise their arms and avoid spilling the chocolate chips before you threw your arms around them. Frin’s arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer, letting you curl up into his side. It was nice hugging them without the cloak. It was a really nice cloak, soft and warm, but it was so thick you could barely feel him beneath it sometimes.
You stayed sat there in warm silence until the timer went off. The beckoning call of fresh cupcakes had you both on your feet in seconds, rushing to the oven. You whipped them out of the oven, getting blasted in the face by the heat and smell of chocolate. Your stomach growled in anticipation as you began removing them from the tray to cool, making sure to set one aside for Mora.
“I really want one,” Frin said.
“Then eat one.”
“But they’re hot.”
“Really crabbing hot, yeah. Guess you’ll have to wait.”
“But I really want one.”
“Frin. I’m not stopping you.”
They grabbed one, pulled off the case, and shoved it whole into their mouth. He immediately suffered the consequences.
“Y’good?” you asked, with real and genuine sincerity, and not a hint of teasing.
“Hashafghagfhg,” they said, desperately trying to cool the food as it burned their mouth.
“I see,” you said, stifling a laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Frin sobbed, or at least, you think that’s what he said. It was hard to tell.
Once Frin had finished burning their mouth, and you had eaten one toasty-hot instead of scalding-hot, you gathered up the rest to deliver them to the others. Everyone else was in the living room when you burst in with cupcakes held proudly before you.
“Snacks for everyone!” you yelled, “Boring but delicious chocolate chip cupcakes. Two each, except for Dile because she never eats more than one because she’s old!”
“Cheeky, but true,” Dile smirked, taking her single cupcake happily while everyone else grabbed two. The fact there was only two left afterwards didn’t need any explaining; everyone knew you and Frin had started eating them early.
“Mm, these are really good. Thanks, Bonbon,” Za said, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Frin made them,” you said, pointing.
“Oh! Thanks, Sif.”
Similar thanks were echoed by everyone else, causing Frin to blush and try to duck his head into the collar of the cloak he wasn’t wearing. They blushed even more when they realised what they’d done.
“I just did what Bonbon told me to do,” he mumbled.
“Is this a special occasion or something?” Dile asked.
“No… I just… wanted to,” said Frin.
“How sweet of you.”
Somehow, they blushed even more.
“Oh yeah,” you started, “Dile, if Frin’s going to help me, he’s going to need a fancy title like ‘Master Chef Cooker’, but I’m already that. What do we call them?”
“You just assume I know the fancy word for a chef’s second in command?”
“Yes.”
“...Sous chef.”
“Perfect! Now we just need to find a chef’s hat, like mine.”
“Boniface, that isn’t—”
“CHEF’S HAT!”