Sylvie felt the fluttering in her chest release. After her run-in the other night in the garden, she’d had enough of cucurbit serpents.
“You are here today to build on your foundation of culinary knowledge.” Gideon gestured to the produce on the tables with silver placards in front of it.
There were fluffy mounds of sea moss, baskets filled with gnarled marshmallow roots, vases filled with bobbing bouquets of snowdrops, and heads of what looked like feathery cabbage, which had no label.
“Even without spells, cooking is part heart, part knowledge.” She scooped up the strange plant that didn’t have a name. “Who can tell me what this is?”
Sylvie searched her memory. She’d seen it before, growing in the garden of an old woman who sold odd fruits and heirloom vegetables.
“It’s part of the chicory family,” said Sylvie, racking her brain.
“The plant is called puntarelle,” said Georgia.
“Very good!” Instructor Gideon beamed.
“I say lucky guess,” Darius muttered.
Sylvie glanced at Georgia. She got the feeling she’d heard the slight but was pretending not to.
Even though Sylvie disliked her roommate, she had to admit it wasn’t luck. It wasimpressive. Maybe there is more to her than makeup and pastry bags.
Sylvie turned her attention back to Instructor Gideon, tugging at the puntarelle. She dropped a leaf into a bowl of ice water. “Even in non-magical cooking, there are consequences when you don’t follow the rules.” She pointed to a second bowl. Inside, feathery spears rested limply, like fish languishing in the sand. “Fail to soak your puntarelle, and it will be bitter… . Ingredients always guide the recipe. That’s doubly true when whipping up wizardry.”
Adara chewed on the tip of a pencil as she jotted down notes.
Gideon pointed to the strange roots and plants around her. “These are the building blocks of every spell.Thisis where recipe meets magic!”
“So cool,” said Big Shawn.
“If you don’t understand the ingredients you’re working with, even the most talented among you will be unable to cook up the spell that will bring forth your Blade.” Gideon rested a hand firmly on the basket of marshmallow root. “That’s why you’re here, to set the foundation.”
The boy called Carlos nodded. “My mom’s a healer. She says plant seeds are the life and blood of elixirs.”
“Your mother is correct,” said Gideon.
“Are we going to talk for the whole class or cook?” Darius asked.
“Ingredients always come before the recipe, Mr. Maxwell.” Gideon lifted a sheet pan loaded with fluffy white pillows.
Sylvie eyed the spongy squares.Marshmallows.
“Before you get to the test that will decide your future, you must understand how magic works.” She pulled out her Blade, a double-edged knife with a Birchwood handle and emerald-green rivets.
Gideon pressed the tip down. Tiny sparks erupted, covering the marshmallows in crusty golden shells.
“I want to learn to roast marshmallows that way,” said Big Shawn.
Carlos nodded.
“Once you have your Blade, some magic from the spell that made it is imbued within.Ingredients. Recipe. Execution. Blade.Each component feeds off the other.”
Sylvie watched intently as Instructor Gideon moved between the two tables in front of her.
“Anyone can make a regular marshmallow.Egg whites. Vanilla. Gelatin.But if you want to make one that toasts to perfection with the flick of the wrist?” Gideon scooped up a ball of sea moss. “You must recognize the right ingredients.Sea moss. Marshmallow root. Egg whites.”
Adara raised her hand. “But isn’t that what recipes are for? They tell you which ingredients to use.”
Sylvie’s mom had loads of cookbooks, but they mostly sat on shelves collecting dust.Real cooking is about intuition,she always said.You have to feel your way through the dish.
