Casual Heroing

Chapter 85: Donuts

My culture has something we call doughnuts, or donuts, depending on what you are most comfortable with, spelling-wise. Its a holed and fried circle of dough. You put a glaze on it and, if you want, you can fill it too.

But today, its not about donuts.

Nope.

A doughnut is too doughy for my taste. Instead, while traveling around Italy and studying there, I discovered a similar pastry composition. The name of the pastry is extremely hard to translate to English while retaining the original meaning. The complete spelling is bombolone, which roughly translates to big tank as in fuel-tank. However, Italians often shorten it to bomba, which means bomb. The Austrians and the Germans have something very similar, the Krapfen.

Now, while the Krapfen is super similar to the donut, the bombolone is something Italian pastry chefs call pasta vuota, meaning empty dough. This is the opposite of the Krapfen, which they define as pasta piena or filled dough.

Why is that important?

Well, Austrian chefs and the obese American population love how chonky a donut or a Krapfen are. But you cant really work on the inside of a donut in any meaningful way. I mean, if your culinary tastes are equivalent to the more, the better, sure, go ahead and fill your donut up. But in Italy, its more like the more, the worse, food-wise.

And when you juggle pastries all day, you dont want your clients to be overwhelmed. You want them to have a heavenly experience while still being able to walk through the door of your bakery every morning.

So, I am not bringing the donut into this world. Nope, sir. Im bringing the bombolone. Imagine a donut, without the glaze and the hole. Its still fried, but it has way less doughy. This allows us to fill its tank.

I made some more jam with Stans help and my new assistants. They are all a bit shy, except for a guy thats been talking the whole time. That one is probably drunk. Well, Stan had them wash up thoroughly before coming here. As long as the man doesnt puke anywhere or doesnt throw himself in the oven, its not a problem.

So, I start the oil in the pot, asking Lucillus to keep an eye on it. Boiling oil can kill if people are not careful. And these four are very much amateurs, for all I know.

Antoninus and Stan are setting up the stand outside while I check the proofing of the bomboloni. Singular, bombolone. Plural, bomboloni. Its like curriculum, and its plural, curricula. Latin, not English, people. In this case, its the Italian plural. If you are wondering how to pronounce the word, its bomb-oh-loh-n-e. But the final e is pronounced like the e in set. Whereas the plural is pronounced in the same way, but the ending i sounds like sheep.

Stanimal, sell the bomboloni for five silvers each, I tell the man. And buy more leaves tomorrow. I dont think we have nearly enough.

The man looks at me with a contemplative expression.

Lets start the bomboloni at seven and the croissants at five silvers each. If they buy more than ten at once, Ill drop the price to four and five each. If they buy more than thirty, Ill make an even more special price. And if some of the inns Ive spoken with want some, Ill sell it to them for two silvers and four coppers.

What.

Stan talked to other inns? When did that happen?

Anyway, we have around a thousand croissants and three hundred bomboloni.

If my Stanimal managed to set up even more deals, we will make a veritable killing, money-wise. Tomorrow Ill probably have to show my two sponsors the recipes.

So, the night goes on. Its somewhere around twenty-five when the first clients start buying. And some of them are looking at our wares with curious eyes but detached interest. Those are inn-people who need to buy snacks for their clients. But our snacks are clearly overpriced in their eyes. Or at least until they see the adventurers scarfing down our products without a care in the world for the price.

Septimus, how much does an adventurer make a day? Those people have been throwing coins around as if their gold actually stank.

Septimus is this middle-aged man with a big, inflated belly and many beauty marks on his face. Not really an image for the covers of beauty magazines. But he is also the most composed after Stan.

Many quests are issued by towns or wealthy individuals. A silver team doesnt move for less than fifty golds a day. Or at least ten golds each.

Wow.

Risking your life really pays off here, huh?

I put another tray of croissants in the oven.

I want to talk with the [Chef]! a deep voice echoes from the outside. Its so strong it's almost like it makes the walls tremble. Im intimidated to my core, but I also know its always better to avoid problems.

So, I quickly rub my hands in a bucket of water, still clumped with flour and slick with oil, and I go out to see whats happening.

Lucillus is talking to a man broader than life itself. He makes the other tall Elf look like a child. Hes probably as tall as Stan, but he has a massive body. Hes covered in chainmail from the neck down, and his face is dirty. Hes clearly been in a fight recently, but theres no wound on him.

How you doin, man? I say while side-stepping our little wooden stand.

You are the famous Human who made these treats? his voice is so deep its like its coming from the abyss.

Joey Luciani, the one and only, I fake some confidence while I stretch a hand to him.

He regards my outstretched limb with some curiosity before dropping the frown and popping a large smile on his humongous head.

Luciani, you must be a [Master Baker]. These treats are delicious. I would like to buy some to send back to my family in Prorium. Im Gaius Aemilius, and proud to have discovered your cooking before anyone else in my family.

Hearing the name, every other adventurer gave the titan a once-over. The name meant something to these people and something important at that.

Aemilius?

Wait a second.

Like the goddamn gens Aemilia?