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Zolf never thought that he’d be this happy to be back in the inn. Sure, the week’s quarantine was boring, but even then it wasn’t a bad type of boring. Emotions had run high in Shoin’s institute, especially when they had found out what he was doing to the kobolds, so it felt nice to not do anything for a few days, and process what happened. Still, there was only so long you could do nothing.
Having now briefed Wilde on their findings and washed, Zolf had settled himself into the inn’s kitchen. He’d probably get dirty looks from the innkeeper, but Zolf really needed something to do, and cooking everyone dinner was just something he felt like everyone needed.
He’d been cooking for a few minutes when he heard the door open. He glanced behind him to see Hamid, looking clean and pristine as always.
“Uh. Hey Zolf,” Hamid stuttered out.
“Hey Hamid. You need something?” Zolf asked, trying to keep half an eye on the food as he talked.
“No? Maybe. It’s just that Azu’s still washing up, Cel’s off checking up on their village, and Wilde’s...” he made a motion that was partway between a shrug and a sweeping motion with his arms. “And I didn’t want-“
“You didn’t want to be alone,” Zolf finished. Hamid went very silent. “It’s fine, you can stay in here.”
“Thank you,” Hamid said softly.
They stood in awkward silence for a while, until finally Hamid asked:
“So what are you making?”
“Nothing fancy, just a soup. It’s a favorite of mine, though. And if I get time I’ll try to make something for dessert.”
Hamid gave a small ‘ooo’ as he leaned against the doorframe.
Another pause, this time broken by Zolf.
“You ever do this much? Cook, I mean.”
Hamid sucked air through his teeth. “Not really, no. When I was living on my own I cooked a bit, which was alright. Baking, though, oof,” Hamid winced, “they uh... weren’t the best in the world. Often ended with burnt crisps.”
Zolf turned fully to Hamid, and looked at him appraisingly. It didn’t take long for him to make a decision.
“Right. Come over here, you’re going to make dessert tonight,” Zolf said.
“What?” Hamid looked dumbfounded.
“You heard me. I was going to make an apple crumble, and it’s fairly simple, so I can guide you through it while I cook,” Zolf explained.
“But-“ Hamid began.
“But what?” Zolf asked. Hamid opened his mouth to argue, but evidently couldn’t figure out anything to say. Eventually he cautiously walked over to the sink to was his hands, and then to counter next to Zolf.
“So, what first?” Hamid asked.
“Well first I’d say you should get out about six apples out, and the knife and cutting board,” Hamid did so. “Cut them into little cubes, like this,” Zolf took one of the apples and briefly demonstrated before handing the knife back to Hamid. He cut slightly awkwardly, but a few quick corrections from Zolf and he got the hang of it. After a few minutes all the apples had been cut, and placed into a large bowl.
“Now, you should add some spices. Some cinnamon, a splash of bourbon, and anything else you think’d be good,” Zolf instructed.
Hamid opened cabinets and grabbed what he needed. “Would vanilla work?”
“That’d be fine,” Zolf answered, stirring the pot of soup.
“How much should I put in?” He asked.
“As much as you think would be ok. If you’re ever unsure if it’s enough, just sniff it, and judge from there.” Hamid did so, glancing at Zolf occasionally as if checking to see if he was doing it right.
“Alright,” he said when Hamid was done, “now you need to make the top. Get out another bowl. Yeah that one’ll work. Now, measure out about three cups of flour.”
Hamid grabbed the measuring cup and flour, took a big scoop, but as he began to dump it out, he didn’t notice his elbow slowly tipping the bag over.
“Wait, Hamid DON’T-“
Too late. The flour bag fell with a large puff, covering most of the counter and no small part of Hamid in flour. Miraculously, none had gotten in the food. There was a beat of silence.
“Oh dear...” And Zolf couldn’t help but laugh. It was nice hearing Hamid giggle at himself, trying to brush his hair out of his face, and only succeeding in getting flour in his face and hair. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”
After the flour was cleaned and the right amount added to the bowl, Zolf instructed Hamid to add sugar, brown sugar, and cinnamon to the flour and to mix it. Meanwhile, Zolf had enough time to take a stick of butter and cut it into small cubes.
“So what you want to do is add this butter, and work it into the mixture like so, until it’s mixed in fully, and its not a clump.” Hamid grabbed a handful and squeezed before Zolf stopped him. “No, pinch with your fingers, not your palms. It’ll take a while to work in fully.”
“Ah,” Hamid responded, correcting himself. After a few minutes Hamid said, laughing slightly “you know, this is actually quite fun!”
“Good to hear. I’ve always found that kinda stuff to be relaxing myself,” Zolf answered. Zolf shifted slightly on his metal legs before asking: “so, you’ve never cooked much? Not with your parents or anything.”
“Not really, no. My parents didn’t do much cooking, we had chefs for that. And I wasn’t living with them in Cairo for the longest time,” Hamid laughed a bit before continuing, “I do remember that when I was younger, I would try to sneak in and steal little snacks. Chocolates and stuff like that, always small stuff.I usually didn’t get caught, and then I’d share my plunder with Aziza, or Saira, and sometimes Saleh. But when I did get caught caught, ooo,” Hamid grimaced, but was still smiling a bit, “Miss Bennu, the chef had a nasty temper. Not quite as bad as my father, mind you, but it’d take a couple of weeks at least for me to try anything again.” Zolf quirked his eyebrow at the comment about Hamid’s father’s temper, but didn’t press. “Of course I never did it too often to begin with,” Hamid finished the story, and removed his hands from the bowl. “I think it’s mixed in well enough?”
“If you wanna make sure, take a handful and squeeze it. If it retains its shape, it’s worked in enough,” Zolf said. Hamid tested it, and it did clump up like it needed to, and Zolf instructed him to add some oatmeal to it for texture. Then they poured the apples into a pan, followed by the top, and Zolf places it in the oven.
“And now it just needs to bake. Should be done shortly before dinner,” Zolf said, looking at Hamid’s proud smile. The door opened behind them.
“Oh, Hamid! You’re in here! And... covered in flour?” Azu gave a confused smile.
“Oh! I forgot!” Hamid prestidigitated away the flour, “Zolf was teaching me how to bake and there was a bit of an incident.”
“For all his spells, he lost a fight to a bag of flour,” Zolf commented, a wry smile on his face. Azu and Hamid laughed softly.
“I think Wilde’s had a bad influence on you,” Hamid said as he walked out with Azu.
Before dinner was served, Zolf brought Hamid in to see his creation. It smelled amazing, and he could see Hamid welling with pride. The prideful feeling clearly grew bigger when time had come to actually eat it. It was a big hit, and everyone loved it. Even Wilde, who’d been invited (read: forced) to have dinner and dessert with everyone had complimented Hamid’s baking.
That night as Zolf was rereading his favorite Harrison Cambell novel, he spotted Hamid waiting nervously at the door.
“You want something?” Zolf asked.
“No, I was just wondering... could I do that again? Bake, I mean,” Hamid asked, wringing his hands together. Zolf raised an eyebrow. “Maybe just another crumble for now, and I know we won’t be here long before it’s onto the next mission, but I really enjoyed it, and I’d love to do more.”
Zolf smiled “I don’t see why not.”
Hamid beamed at him. “Thanks Zolf!”
“No problem,” he called after Hamid as he started to walk down the hall to his room, a spring in his step.
Zolf buried his face in his book, knowing full well that Hamid’s reaction was making him grin like an idiot.