The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum
It’s worked quite well so far, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to go on too much, or to put any pressure on her. I had thought we might try some cookies with it, first, he wanted to say, so you could get a feel for it. I didn’t do much with the oven; perhaps it is too different in the end, but - at least to try? He held off; she had been here scarcely a few hours. It was an entirely different sort of unpleasant guilt now; he swallowed, and didn’t try to push it aside, because he knew he deserved it.
Aremu glanced at her again over his shoulder, when she went on to muffins. This, at least, he thought he could solve; he could picture muffins only a little more clearly than scones, unfortunately. “Do they need a special pan? There’s a good blacksmith in the village - if we tell him what we need, I think he could make something, if you’d like.”
Aurelie drifted closer, and Aremu felt an odd pang. He hadn’t meant to disturb her; he’d wanted not to. But there was a bright curious look on her face, and she was smiling at him.
“A sweet stuffed flatbread,” Aremu said; smiling was easier than it had been, and he tried not to think too much of it. He set a flat pan on the stove, letting it warm up. “This is jaggery,” he showed her the sticky mass of it; he set a grater down flat on the counter, and ran the jaggery over it several times, with smooth firm notions of his arms.
“It’s made from our own sugar cane,” Aremu said with the faintest little hint of pride. “Here,” he pinched up a bit and offered it to Aurelie with a hopeful little smile. “Try it.” It was a richer taste than sugar, less even, with something almost spicy to offset the sweetness of it.
Aremu hovered his hand over the pan; feeling it warm, he pinched up some of the sesame seeds and settled them on to it. “I’ve started the dough,” Aremu said, smiling back at Aurelie. “I’d do much the same for a savory filling, but I thought something sweet - I hope you don’t mind...?”
His fingers settled over the handle of the pan, and he moved it in small, even, rhythmic motions, gently stirring the sesame seeds without knocking them over the edge of it. When they began to crackle, softly, and darken, he poured them off the pan and replaced them with of bit of poppy seeds, doing the same. He did the same there, working in steady, even motions.
Last, he added the dried coconut. By now the smell of roasting spices was filling the kitchen; Aremu’s stomach grumbled again in protest.
“For the filling, I’ll grind these, and mix them with a bit of cooked flour, ghee and the the jaggery,” Aremu explained. He slid the toasted coconut off as well, and set the pan to the side to cool, “and, I think, cardamom and nutmeg.”
As he waited, Aremu took out a mortar and pestle; he ran his fingers through the sesame seeds, light and quick, still waiting for them to cool. He paused, and looked up at Aurelie with a little smile. “Shall I add anything else?” He asked, searching her face for a moment, smiling still.