Oh My, I Messed Up the Story

Marcy led us to the room that was used as a cooler of sorts—I had no idea how they got any form of refrigeration to work here—and showed us to the cheeses.

I was amazed how much food it took to feed the royal family alone. So much of it probably got wasted.

Did the kitchen staff or any other servants eat our leftovers? What happened to all that extra food?

Al, who sauntered behind us leisurely with his hands in his pockets looking like he didn't have a care in the world, was less impressed.

"What kind of cheese do you need?"

"A white one?" I said hesitantly before biting my lip.

I would have to taste all the white ones to see if any were like mozzarella. But what if they did something different here that changed the color? It might be better to try all of them to be safe.

His eyes brimmed with hidden laughter as he turned towards me.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing? Have you ever made this before?"

"I have, I just don't recognize the ingredients here."

"Why don't I order some from the countryside then? We could do this another day."

I shook my head sadly. If they didn't have something like mozzarella in the capital the certainly wouldn't in the country.

"That won't work. I'll figure something out."

Marcy eyed me curiously. "Do you intend to sample all of these cheeses to find the one you're looking for?"

Squaring my shoulders, I answered with a strong 'yes' and began my task. The cheeses here were unlike anything I had ever tasted.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. When I was thirteen, my family went on a discounted cruise to Mexico. Every night there were different menu options in the fancy onboard restaurant and one night none of the dessert options looked good to me.

I saw one called 'assorted cheeses' and was curious how cheese could be considered dessert so I ordered it. Those cheeses were the most pungent I ever had the misfortune of tasting. One bite of each and I was done, making the most horrible face.

Abby teased me about it for years afterward. Cheese in Annalaias kind of reminded me of that.

In the end I chose the mildest cheese there was and one of the kitchen staff got to grating it per my instructions.

I had never made pizza sauce before because it was easier to buy it at the store so I had no idea what to do for the next part. I imagined the kitchen staff knew how to stew tomatoes down but which spices should I use?

"Can you show me your spice selection?"

"It's right here," Marcy said cheerfully as she gestured to a bunch of small pots with different labels on them.

None of these names were familiar to me. I would have to smell them all to see if I could find any oregano, garlic, or basil.

Al peered over my shoulder curiously as I worked. To be honest, it was a bit annoying. I was trying to concentrate!

"Al, you need to take two steps back," I warned. I couldn't focus when he was in my space.

"But what you're doing is so interesting."

I gave him a disbelieving look. "How is picking out spices interesting?"

"It just is."

Had he hovered over Marcy like this when she worked in the book? I couldn't remember. How could she even stand him sometimes?

Yes, he could be amusing, but he was ridiculously needy. So much for Prince Charming.

"Back," I said with an air of finality. "Or I won't play cards with you later."

With the threat of no evening entertainment hanging over his head, he complied. I glanced at Marcy sympathetically. You've got a lot of work cut out for you in this one, sister.

Marcy struck up a conversation with Al, successfully distracting him. "You like playing cards?"

"Yes, Katie has taught me several interesting games, such as…"

I tuned them out. Pizza was on the brain. It was better for them to talk without me anyway. Wasn't that the whole reason why I brought him to the kitchen today?

I couldn't find oregano but I did find basil and pepper. I know I tasted garlic in that quail soup the other day but I couldn't find it anywhere. It might have a different name here though.

Reluctantly, I interrupted their no doubt riveting conversation about cards. "Marcy, where is the flavoring used in that quail soup?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. I don't deal with dinner food. The chef would know!" She waved someone over and directed the question at her.

"Your Highness, garlic is not kept with the spices."

Ah. My cheeks tinted red. I was used to garlic powder. I don't think I'd ever bought actual garlic in my life.

"Thank you," I said meekly. I had interrupted the lovebirds' conversation for nothing. I should have checked the pantry before I said anything!

Marcy, who had been working on the dough as she talked with Al, declared that it needed to rise for twenty minutes and asked what sort of things I referred to as 'toppings.' In the end we settled on sausage (the concept of pepperoni didn't exist here) and mushrooms because they didn't have olives or bacon either.

Once the dough had risen, I borrowed a rolling pin and showed them how to make a pizza shape and went to town with the sauce, cheese, and toppings. Both of them were baffled by it.

"This is one of the strangest foods I've ever seen," Marcy observed doubtfully. "Is this really something people eat in the country?"

"Uh…yes?"

I couldn't use the country as an excuse for everything and still be believed but what else could I say? These people had no concept of American food.

Al squinted at it while it was in the brick oven. "I hope this lives up to your expectations, Katie."

He and Marcy were in sync with their doubts about my pizza. Their solidarity should have been comforting but I was more worried that they were right.

When it came out it smelled awfully funny. I had my suspicions about the cheese.

Since they didn't have pizza here, they didn't have a pizza cutter either so I was forced to attempt cutting it with a knife as best I could.

I blew on it a little and took a bite before making a horrendous face. "I don't know what this is but this is NOT pizza!"

Al's curiosity got the best of him and he tried a piece. His face scrunched up nearly as much as mine did.

"I certainly hope not. You said this is supposed to be delicious. This is terrible!"

"It's the cheese," I said miserably. The lack of oregano wasn't even noticeable in the face of the cheese.

"Can it really be that bad?" Marcy asked before trying a bit herself. She shuddered. "Okay, I stand corrected. I don't even have words for this."

We were quite a sight. My expression was a mixture of disappointment and disgust. Al was trying to scrape the taste off his tongue. Marcy was trying hard not to gag.

When we made eye contact we all burst into a fit of giggles that made the rest of the kitchen staff stare at us. My pizza experiment was such a terrible failure but I couldn't be too upset because this was the best bonding moment Al and Marcy had so far.