Dio - Baking (2)

Still, it felt nice to keep folding the dough over and eventually shape it into a small ball, which he then pressed flat until his first loaf was nearly ready to bake. Dio took care to shape the dough into as round a form as he could manage and made sure everything was evenly thick.

“That looks good enough,” Wes said, as Dio was smoothing out one last part.

“You think so? Doesn’t it have to look like a circle? Or, like, a sphere? I thought that was the idea,” Dio said, eyeing the flat lump skeptically.

“Yep, I guess. Maybe? I don’t really think that much about it. I just make it…” Wes replied.

“You can go ahead and put it in the oven,” Reab added with a nod.

Dio looked down and carefully tried to bring the shaped dough over to the heated stone slab nearby without ruining its form. At last, he dropped it onto the hot surface, where it landed with a hiss. Wes and Reab had already placed their lumps of dough and were working on the next ones. Dio sat down in front of the firepit and watched the dough and the flame beneath the slab. The fire flickered and glowed red. He wondered what kind of material the stone was made of and whether all stones were equally suited for baking bread. He also frowned when he noticed that neither Wes nor Reab had put much effort into shaping their loaves, and though their lumps were roughly round, Dio had clearly done a better job. Unlike his dough, which only turned browner and never took on a healthy color, the others began to tighten, growing flatter and crispier and rounder. Dio wondered if he had chosen the wrong spot, and if the part of the stone his now grayish bread rested on simply wasn’t suitable.

When the two bakers pulled their loaves from the heat using a piece of wood, Dio quietly slid his own onto the spot where Reab’s had been. All that happened, however, was that Dio’s dough grew darker and began to singe in places. In a hurry, he took his bread off as well and placed it on a large leaf beside the others. Dio’s mood sank even further when he saw that his loaf was the only one that looked clumsy. Neither the color nor the shape was appetizing. Bumps had formed, making his bread look even worse.

“Good first try,” Wes said, but Dio could hear in his tone that he was only trying to comfort him.

He made a face and shook his head.

“No, it’s pathetic! It looks like it’s sick, and when I see that color, I want to throw it into the woods! And the woods would probably fling it right back in disgust,” Dio cursed.

“But that’s totally normal. Mine used to look like that too. I’ve kneaded and baked thousands of loaves, and most of them weren’t very appetizing. I never used to care though, it was just work. Make the dough, mash it together somehow, throw it on the baking stone, and wait. That was it,” Reab explained.

That only cheered Dio up a little.

“I bet it tastes as awful as it looks,” he grumbled.

“Maybe,” said Wes.

It wasn’t long before the loaves had cooled enough for Dio to confirm he was right. When he bit into his bread, there was nothing to taste, only blandness. And although there was something oddly calming about that, Dio still wished for more. When he bit into Reab’s loaf for comparison, his palate was tickled by the same sweet and salty flavors as it had been the day before.

“What did you do differently?” he asked aloud.

Wes and Reab looked at each other and seemed to freeze. Dio could tell from their furrowed brows that they were thinking hard.

“Nothing, I think,” said Wes.

“No, you actually did everything right, Dio,” Reab agreed with a nod.

Dio sank down onto the earthy ground and sighed.

“Maybe I’ll just watch you two for a while. See if I can spot anything you’re doing differently. Would that be all right?” he asked.

“Of course,” they laughed.

While Wes and Reab got back to work and soon began shaping new loaves, Dio did his best to observe them closely. He tried to memorize their movements and understand exactly how they kneaded. He watched attentively as the two ground the grain into flour and noted the ratios they used when mixing the flour with water. His gaze wandered to the large, goblet-like leaf they kept taking to the stream to refill with clean water. To the firepit, where the red-hot glow heated the stone slab. Dio tried to count how long the loaves baked, but it was difficult to find a good and consistent rhythm.

By the time the two bakers had made at least twenty more loaves, Dio realized something that disturbed him as much as it intrigued him: neither Wes nor Reab followed any particular or careful pattern. Sometimes they ground the flour fine, sometimes coarse; sometimes they added more water, sometimes less, and never with exact measurements, always by sight and feel. The loaves baked for varying amounts of time, something Dio noticed despite his clumsy attempts to keep track. Even the fire changed: sometimes glowing dark red, sometimes bright, sometimes leaping high when Wes added new branches, and other times glowing faintly, nearly going out.

Their only rule was that there was none.

Dio grew more and more focused as he grasped the weight of that realization.

Why do the loaves always turn out so similar, and more than that...? How do they manage to make them taste so amazing? To look so good and crispy? There must be something they have in common. Otherwise none of this makes any sense! Dio thought feverishly.

Because clearly, the Dream around him did operate by rules. On the surface, everything made sense. Still, something was there beneath that surface, in the depths. Something fascinating. Something he would uncover.

Had to uncover.

Dio thought for a moment and remembered what Reab had said.

“You mentioned earlier that your bread used to be as bland as mine. Brela or Des said the same thing…” he began.

“Did they? Which one of them? I’ll need to speak with—” Reab started, looking irritated, but Dio cut him off.

“What changed, Reab? The circle? What was it?”

The baker paused, forgot his anger, and sank into thought before answering with unusual caution.

“When Wes told me about it, it felt like the first time I ever felt ambition. I think I just wanted to bake better bread, and somehow the circle reminded me of… flatbread. You know what that is? Flatbread?”

Dio nodded. Now, as he looked again at the loaves lying nearby, the word returned to him, though he had the odd feeling it had already been on the tip of his tongue all the time. Still, he couldn’t recall any details. Nor could he say for sure whether he’d ever eaten such a bread before.

“Yes, I know the term. And I know what it is now, seeing those loaves over there. Still, it doesn’t bring me much clarity,” Dio admitted.

Reab scratched his nose and pondered for a moment.

“It was different for me, that’s true! The circle, it turned into an image, a picture buried deep in my mind. A flatbread, crispy and round and brown and full of salty sweetness. It felt so familiar, so comforting, and beautiful. When I tried to bake it, I did feel at first like something was missing, but every time I started to doubt, I lost myself again in thoughts of what I was trying to make. And it worked. In the end, I wasn’t missing anything. And I baked the first flatbreads…”

He looked at the breads gathered on the large leaves nearby.

“It’s funny, really. Before all this, I must’ve baked thousands, tens of thousands of loaves. I did it because it felt right. Because it completed me. Yet it all felt distant, like things were merely running their course. Now I see the Dream more clearly, and it gives me more satisfaction. My work gives me more satisfaction. And I’m already thinking about what else I might try baking next…” Reab finished his thoughts.

Dio turned to Wes.

“And for you?”

“It was different. Do you remember our first conversation? When you had just arrived, and we were on our way?”

“Yes, even if it wasn’t our first conversation,” Dio said with a nod.

Wes looked at him questioningly for a second, then shook his head and continued.

“Well, whatever the case, ever since then I’ve had this thought in my head. A round… pot with something inside it. Something I want to cook. Reab and I have always been in charge of the baking. Not because we had to, of course. Because we wanted to. Or rather, because it felt right. I never really thought much about it. I think it was the same for Reab, wasn’t it? Yeah. You seemed so distant when I came back with Dio and the others. Maybe you’ve always been that way, and I just never noticed? We’ve been neighbors for so long now… But when I talked about the pot and the circle, it was like his eyes lit up, like his thoughts really focused on me for the first time. It was amazing to see. He spoke of flatbread, and I understood what he meant. I understood what drove him, and soon I was able to bake those loaves the way they are now, even if it took me a while.”

“I see,” said Dio, and his words sounded like an echo in his ears.

He looked at the two men. Their faces were smudged with dirt, sweat gleamed on their foreheads. Their clothes were worn, their birch sandals scuffed, but both of them radiated a shining kind of aura he didn’t need to see to know it was there.

If Lucidity is involved here, then it makes sense. Though, Lucidity is tied to light, and a talent you have to arrive in the Dream with… isn’t it?

Dio wasn’t sure, though what he was certain of was this: the only thing their baking had in common was the mindset, the ideas, and the passion of the two bakers.

“Why do you bake?” Dio asked.

The question had surfaced in his mind without him really knowing why that was the thing he wanted to know. Though after everything he’d observed so far, it felt like the right question.

Wes and Reab fell silent. Dio could see they were thinking deeply again, taking their time with their answers.

“I bake for two reasons. Because I enjoy creating something that’s important to people, and because I can contribute a part of myself to our little settlement. I feel like I’m part of something. A part of Daw. And I love seeing people enjoy my food. The smiles on their faces…” Reab finally said.

“It’s the same for me. When I bake or cook, I already picture how the food will bring joy and comfort. And while I mix and knead the dough, I can already imagine all the beautiful flavors that will be there when someone bites into the finished bread…” Wes added slowly.

“And you’ve never thought more about how exactly you bake it?” Dio pressed.

“No. It works the way it is. Why waste thoughts on something like that?” Reab asked, smirking.

Dio nodded.

“I understand,” he said again.

And he did. He hadn’t thought about what the bread was supposed to do, what it was supposed to accomplish, when he shaped it. Why it should taste good. Though now he understood. And as he did, something distant stirred in his mind—something he couldn’t quite place, something that even scared him a little, a blank spot deep down in his being—but he ignored it. A flicker of excitement danced in him, and he shifted eagerly from one foot to the other.

“I want to try again,” he stated.

They immediately pointed to the spot where he had baked his first loaf before, or at least made the attempt.

Dio looked up at the Sun, which now stood almost directly overhead. It lit the world. Maybe it lit the spirits too? Drove away the murkiness?

Possibly.

He sat down and looked at the water and the grains. Why did he have to mix them together?

So they would become dough.

So they would become bread that others could eat.

Brela and Des, Yorm and Lot and Ogan and Wes and Reab… And perhaps, one day, Ray…

It was a gift for them, for the others living here with him. Maybe for thousands of days or more. Maybe longer. Hopefully. Maybe, if Ray chose to settle here with him one day, for the eternity of the Dream.

He still felt the urge to go out and see other places, but this place would always be his home. And he would always return here, no matter what journey he undertook. He understood that in those moments as well.

He looked down and noticed that his hands were already in the dough. He hadn’t even realized that he had ground the grain and mixed it with the water. Still, the thoughts he’d been having calmed him and made him happy. He looked at the dough and felt it between his fingers, sticky and wet. This dough would become a loaf, soon baked crisp on the stone slab and then eaten. He could almost taste it already, the moist texture as someone bit into it, the brownish glimmering crust, the fresh flavor of honey and a hint of mint mixing playfully in…

“Dio, what did you just do?”

Wes’s voice cut into his thoughts, making the stream of ideas fade.

Dio blinked and looked down. There were small round rolls on the ground, gleaming appetizingly in the sunlight.

“I… I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out. I guess I made too many…” he stammered.

“That’s not it…” Reab said, and his voice was trembling.

At first, Dio thought it was fear. Then he realized they were looking at him with admiration, but also with questions in their eyes.

“You didn’t use the baking stone. Didn’t use the fire…” Wes whispered.

“I… what?”

Frozen, he looked at both of them, then back down at the little rolls.

“But… then how did I bake them?”

“You didn’t. We don’t know exactly what you did! We were so busy with our own loaves... Though, you never got up. I’m sure of it…”

They all fell silent.

“I need to think about this. I don’t know what happened,” Dio admitted.

Then he picked up two of the rolls and handed them to the others. He kept a third for himself.

“Let’s see if they at least taste good.”

Wes and Reab bit into theirs so quickly that Dio almost didn’t see it happen. Their eyes were locked onto the rolls, and after the first bites they both sighed and laughed.

“This is fantastic! What a strange flavor! I mean, the mix... sweet and… what is that? Mint? That shouldn’t even taste good together, but it’s amazing! Mint... how could I forget mint…” Wes laughed.

“You’ve become quite the baker in no time! Even if you’re not actually baking…” Reab joined in with laughter.

Dio bit into his own roll, which seemed to be begging him to eat it. He had to grin now. It was exactly as he’d imagined it: moist and crisp, with the taste of honey and mint.

Where do I know these flavors from? Did I bring them with me from before? Dio wondered.

He let the question go and picked up two more rolls.

“I think I’ll bring these to Des and Brela. Might as well show off a little…” he said.

Wes and Reab didn’t seem to hear him at all. They were looking at each other, beaming.

“We could try other things too! Not only flatbread, but also rolls and croissants…”

“…and frasells and gambints…”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing again.

“What are those? I don’t even know what you’re listing,” Wes chuckled.

“Same here. Let’s find out!” Reab smiled and gave the baking stone a challenging nod.

Dio made a small bow and left the two men, who clapped each other on the shoulders and started shaping fresh dough.