By the time everyone woke up, Bran and I were busy in the kitchen. The faint scent of baking filled the air and a whiff of smoke poured out of the kitchen alongside the sound of our bickering.

“Pete, fer the last time! I don’t have that ingredient!”

“Uh, what about this one?”

“I can’t read it!”

“Right right. Let me just copy it down in my notebook. Maybe… [Pete’s Miniature Remembrance]. Uggghhhh, Tiara’s Saggy Teats.”

“No go either?”

“Nope. Add ‘spice rack’ to the list along with my immersion blender and grill. I think the grill is too big and I don’t know enough about the blender. At least I got the cake pan!”

“Hmmm… what about a single spice?”

“Maaaaybe? I’m still not sold on usin’ it fer that. I’m pretty sure that once the duration is over tha spice won’t taste like spice.”

“Ach, good point.”

“Worth a try though. [Pete’s Miniature Remembrance]. Nope. [Pete’s Miniature Remembrance]. Hey! It worked!”

“What is it?”

“My pepper grinder!! I loved this thing! Awwww, there isn’t any pepper inside.”

“We already have pepper. I use tha mortar there.”

“This is soooo much better, and you can hold it over people’s plates and tell them ‘say when’.”

“Say what??”

I laughed. “You’ll see! We need to make fettuccine alfredo next!”

Richter was the first to arrive, peering suspiciously into the kitchen and sniffing. His shirt was missing and it looked like a single boot was too. He obviously still had his socks. “Whata ya two doin’ up so soon? And why are ya yellin’ so loud.”

I gave him a disbelieving stare. “Richter, it’s almost lunchtime.”

“What!? Arggghhh!” Richter dashed off to get ready while Bran and I chuckled in the kitchen.

I turned to Bran and gave him a wide smile. “So? What do you think?”

Bran drummed his fingers. “I think that when Richter comes back I owe him ten Gold.”

“Ah, was he the one that won the bet? I know Aqua already had to pay up.”

“Aye, he bet on you bein’ a soul from another world. I bet on a dragon soul or sumsuch from somewhere far away with intact memories.”

“Was I really so obvious?”

“To us? Aye. To everyone else? Nah, you were just a weird Easterner.”

I pursed my lips. “I admit I was expecting somethin’ more like Aqua’s reaction. She had lots of questions and wanted ta know absolutely everything.”

Bran shrugged. “I already figured out the main thing. And what I really cared about was that.” He pointed at my notebook.

Of course, the thing I’d pulled out to capture Bran’s attention had been my grandmother’s recipe book. It was the one of the first things I could think of when it came to ‘physical Matter, small, deep meaning, and know intimately’. We spent the rest of the morning trying some of the recipes in it with erdroot flour and testing the limits of [Pete’s Miniature Remembrance].

So far I’d pulled my cast iron frying pan (seasoned!), my personal cooking knife, my cutting board, and my favourite cake pan. My deer rifle, my bike, my phone, my first beer, and my first wine hadn’t come out. Either they were too big, didn’t have enough meaning, or I just didn’t know enough about them. I was absolutely sure that I knew enough about my first alcohols to summon them, and put their failure down to Tiara being the Goddess of physical Matter. Aaron was the God of Aether, which was liquids and gasses. Physics on Erd weren’t quite the same as back home.

I still had a massive list of stuff to try, but I suspected the final number of summonable items was going to be low. I was going to use the Ability as much as possible and hope it evolved to give me bigger or less precise stuff. If the Ability continued to be a dud, I’d copy all my writing down and then sacrifice it to Specialisation.

Yes, I could probably summon literal intimate objects, but I didn’t particularly feel the need to test it.

Yet.

I jotted down a few more notes, then nodded. “I probably have a half-dozen cookbooks that I can still pull out. Along with my beer and wine diaries.”

Bran whistled. “Those’ll be very valuable.”

“Aye. Though as my Intelligence increases I have a better mind fer rememberin’ things anyways. I should be able ta recall more recipes than I can get outta cookbooks eventually.”

Richter came pounding back wearing his armour and combing his dreadlocked black hair. “Mmmmm! Dat smells good!”

“It’s beer cake!” I proudly announced.

“Aye, made with Barista Brew to wake you lot up.”

“Why does da cake ‘ave a hole in it? And dose weird lines?” Richter asked, his confusion evident.

“Because we’re literally batting out of this world! Though this one’s less of a home run, and more of a bundt.” I grinned.Stolen novel; please report.

“What?” Richter’s face scrunched up.

Bran gave me a ‘you see!?’ look.

I sighed. “Just go wake up Johnsson. Tell him to get his head out of the kiln and come get breakfast.”

—

We were soon joined by Kirk, Richter, Emma, Aqua, Zirce, Emerelda, Opal, and Johnsson. Balin and Annie had moved to the Goldstone compound at some point, so there was a chance they were awake but enjoying their solitude.

Everyone looked rough. Except for Opal, who’d managed to make herself as prim and proper as always. I knew it for the lie it was - she’d been snoring up a storm in one of the booths next to Emerelda while Bran and I cooked.

I was explaining the cake to everyone for the umpteenth time - they couldn’t fit their aching heads around the shape. “Listen, it’s a bundt cake! That’s the name for a circular cake with these weird poofy edges and a hole in the middle. That or bundkuchen.”

“How did ya make it? Why did ya make it?” Johnsson asked, giving it another once over.

I groaned. “Why does it matter!?”

“Will it make us all go crazy?” Emma asked. “I still have nightmares about what Penelope did to Whistlemop y’know.”

“It’s not that bad.” Aqua whinged. “You just need to get used to tha Condition!”

Bran buried his knife point first in the cake. “No. It looks like bakin’ it changes it enough to ruin most of the magic. And bakin’ kills the alcohol. It’ll give you a bit of a pick-me-up, but that’s it. Now, eat!”

Bran began doling out slices of the dark brown cake to everyone. It had that delicious scent of sugar and fresh baked goods, along with the bitter scent of beer and coffee. We even had a coffee sauce on the side for anyone that wanted that extra kick.

The recipe for it came from Grandma’s cookbook - well, my cookbook now. It was originally for a Guinness cake, but it’d translated well enough to a Barista Brew Bundt. As an unapologetic Irish Newfie, she had a good number of Guinness recipes, and I was looking forward to trying some of them again. The province of Newfoundland had a very large Irish population, and I’d grown up with her stories about the old fisheries. That and sneaking drinks from her hip flask. I strongly suspected that it was her influence that’d turned me into a beer snob.

It’d taken a few tries to get the recipe just right. Erdroot flour just didn’t quite rise like good old wheat flour, but Bran was used to translating my recipes at this point. Plus, the carbonation in the beer helped the floof factor. It was still quite a bit denser than I was used to, but it tasted great. I actually found that dwarven beer didn’t taste half bad in sweets like this; the bitter gag got drowned out by the sugar and other flavours.

The modified recipe was as follows:

Barista Brew Bundt

Bottle of Barista Brew2 Cups of Erdroot Flour3 Large Eggs½ Teaspoons Baking Soda1 ½ Teaspoons Baking Powder½ Teaspoons Salt1 ¼ Cups Unsalted Butter1 ½ Cups Molasses1 ½ Cups Brown Sugar2 Teaspoons White Sugar

Oil your bundt pan. Then oil it again. It probably still needs more oil because those nooks and crannies are impossible to get right.

Mix two tablespoons of flour and sugar. Apply a thin coat to the inside of the bundt pan. Add a sweater if it’s still cold.

Mix a half-cup of molasses with half a bottle of Barista Brew. Simmer on a low heat until it properly mixes. Drink the rest of the bottle. Cheers!

Mix the butter and brown sugar. Cream with a paddle and at least 20 Dexterity until ingredients are fluffy. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk the beer...

Beat the eggs in one at a time. Insult their mothers while doing so.

Mix the flour mixture with the beer and molasses, alternate small amounts to prevent curdling. If it still curdles, wear a mask over your ugly mug.

Stir in the brown sugar.

Pour the batter into the pan while muttering ‘hey batter batter batter’.

Preheat the oven to 350 F and bake for 45-50 minutes. Note: Erdroot flour requires an extra 10-15 minutes, so make it a round hour.

Cool for 15 minutes then try to remove it from the bundt pan.

Swear a lot and continue trying to remove it from the pan. Use all Abilities at your disposal if necessary.

Serve with powdered sugar or a glaze of your choice.