[Ranma][Fanfic] Flambe! Week 2

[bridget ellen engman]

Ranma 1/2 Flambe!

WEEK 2: Failed Fudge

Akane wrapped the two blocks of baking chocolate in a
plastic bag and set the bag in the middle of the freshly-washed floor.
She took a deep, cleansing breath, raised her mallet over her
head, and brought it down with a resounding thwack. A few
fragments of chocolate skittered across the floor, but most of it
stayed in the bag. She gathered the few strays and put all of
the chocolate fragments in a small plastic bowl, then quickly
mopped the floor again.
The chocolate went off to the left at a thirty-degree angle,
right beside the sugar she had already measured. The sour cream
was at a similar angle to her right. The butter was in the
freezer, and the sink was filled with cold water. She checked
her notebook again. After her first session with Mrs. Murakami,
she had taken to rewriting each new recipe she learned in the
appropriate martial arts terms, taking notes as to things to
watch out for; it made remembering each kata much easier. In the
past week, she had added to her pork curry kata recipes for miso
soup, oyako domburi, and ton-katsu, as well as a few Western
dishes -- lasagna, Texas-style chili, and something called
"hamburger pie." Mrs. Murakami had encouraged her to explore
other nations' cuisines, as there were many dishes she thought
were well-suited to Akane's temperament.
Today, though, Akane had a surprise for her teacher. She
had found a new recipe, one that looked relatively simple, and
worked out a kata based on the recipe all by herself. As she set
a heavy saucepan on the stove, she laughed imagining the look
on Mrs. Murakami's face when Akane presented her with a plate of
delicious, creamy fudge.

Ranma peeked cautiously around the edge of the doorframe.
Akane was laughing. That couldn't bode well. It sounded like a
normal laugh, but really it was a laugh of pure evil as Akane
embarked on a course of destruction meant for the entire world.
It had to be. Why else would Akane be happy cooking?
He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he watched Akane
closely. She seemed to be meditating. Very unlike Akane. He
wondered briefly if she were possessed by a demon. A cooking
demon, out to trick him into lowering his defenses by plying him
with decent food, until at last it would strike with its long
pointy fangs... That was a possible explanation -- but difficult
to test, at least until the fangs showed up. He had to watch a
bit longer. He was lucky to have caught her alone; he felt
uneasy watching when Mrs. Murakami was there. There was
something about the old woman that made him feel, well,
vulnerable, as if she saw all his secrets. Wait -- Akane was
about to move...
She brought her arms around in a fluid motion and began what
looked like a martial arts form. A punch to her left, and a
plastic bowl went flying into the air. She swatted it with a
sideways chop, and the contents of the bowl -- something brown --
went flying into the pan. She caught the bowl and flung it
behind her without looking; it crashed onto the counter with a
dull clatter. Another blow, and a measuring cup full of sugar
was treated similarly, the sugar flying into the pan, and the cup
onto the counter. Akane kicked out to her right, and a plastic
dairy container leapt into the air; she brought both fists
together, crushing it directly above the pan so that the white
paste inside slid goopily out. A few more attacks, and the
ingredients that had been arranged around her were all in the
pan. Letting out a joyous cry, she brought her right arm around
in a circular block, turning on the stove at the bottom of her
swing.
Ranma twisted his mouth. <All that fuss just to dump stuff
in a pan...?>
Akane seemed to be stirring the pan with a wooden spoon,
first clockwise, then counterclockwise, with an almost hypnotic
rhythm. For the life of him, Ranma could not figure out what she
was making. It didn't really help that he was looking at her
back. He considered walking in nonchalantly and asking her what
she was doing, but her attitude made him think he would be taking
his life in his hands. She seemed almost preternaturally alert.
Plus her mallet was sitting off to one side, within easy reach.
Not good odds.
Suddenly Akane stepped back, bringing her arms around to a
ready position. Ranma could barely see the pan over her
shoulder. Not much seemed to be happening; he could see rising
steam, and the end of what looked like... a thermometer? From
the angle of her head, it seemed she was focusing all her
attention on the pan, watching for some sign. Several minutes
passed. Ranma focused on Akane. Akane focused on the pan.
With a blinding flash of movement, Akane swung her right arm
around to grab a potholder off the wall. She grasped the pan,
made a flying leap over to the sink, and dunked the pot in. A
cloud of steam rose up. Then she roundhouse-kicked the freezer
open, grabbed something small and yellow in one fist, and flung
it into the pan, diving into the air as she did so. She landed
in a roll and came up in a ready position, facing the sink.
Ranma could see her profile as she breathed heavily, all her
attention focused on the pan again. As if an afterthought, the
freezer door swung closed with a small thud.
Ranma withdrew into the hall, out of sight. He was right,
something really weird was going on. First, Akane started
producing edible meals, with no sign that they were takeout or
premixed. Now she was cooking like it was a cross between
chemistry and kempo. He had to get to the bottom of things.
So far, his investigations had been fruitless. Staking out
the front and back doors for delivery men had been a no go; no
visitors had arrived all week, and he had gotten rained on twice.
The few glances he managed to take into the kitchen when dinner
was being prepared had shown Akane active, while Mrs. Murakami
just sat there, so the old lady wasn't doing the cooking. And
what was with those sessions in the dojo?
Today, he decided, he had to follow the old lady home. He
was going to find out what was going on if it killed him.
And with Akane cooking, that was always a possibility.

Akane let out a yell and began to stir the contents of the
pan. Two right blocks, two left blocks, pause, deep breath. Two
right, two left, pause, breathe. The cookbook had said to be
sure to give the fudge time to react, so she was careful to pause
often. What a conscientious cook she was turning out to be!
Twenty minutes later, she was getting annoyed. She had
given the darn fudge plenty of time to turn, but it still sat in
the pan, completely liquid. And her arms were getting tired.
She stopped and sank to the floor. She should have known it
wouldn't work. But what could she have done wrong? She reached
up and pulled her notebook off the counter. No, she had done
everything the recipe said. She had followed the kata precisely.
It just wasn't working the way it was supposed to.
The whole fudge cookbook was probably a practical joke. All
that mumbo-jumbo about "shocking" and "graining" and "seeding"
-- she should have known from the start it was a fake. Honestly,
"soft ball stage," "hard ball stage" -- it sounded almost, well,
pornographic.
She stood and gave her fudge soup a few more stirs. It
stayed soup. She pulled out the spoon and watched it drip
sluggishly. Sure looked yummy, though. She caught a drip on her
index finger and popped it in her mouth. Tasted good, too... but
fudge was just not supposed to be eaten with a spoon. There was
probably an unwritten Law of Fudge that read "Fudge shall be able
to be picked up with the fingers." She tasted another drip, then
gazed morosely at the pan. No way she could eat all of it drip
by drip. She would have to throw it away. It just wasn't fair.
"Excuse me..." Mrs. Murakami's voice startled her, and she
spun around, trying to hide the pan. Mrs. Murakami's face beamed
gently at her, and she smiled back half-heartedly. Mrs. Murakami
went on.
"I see you've already gotten started on tonight's meal.
Good for you! After all, you'll need to be cooking by yourself
soon enough." She tried to peer around Akane; Akane shifted to
block her view again. "What is it you have there, dear? I smell
chocolate. Is this for dessert?"
Akane started to sniffle. This was not the way things were
supposed to happen. "Well, it's... it's supposed to be..." she
burst into tears, covering her face in her hands. A moment
later, she felt Mrs. Murakami's arm around her, comforting her.
"It's all right, dear." Her voice sounded like chocolate to
Akane's ears, and the thought made her cry harder. "Don't cry
any more, Akane. Why don't you just tell me about it?"
"But it's... I was making... I wanted it to be a surprise!
And it didn't work. I can't cook after all..."
"What was it supposed to be?" Mrs. Murakami was completely
calm.
"It... well... fudge." Akane wiped at her eyes and stared
at the floor in shame. "It was such an easy recipe..." Mrs.
Murakami started to laugh and Akane looked up, hurt.
"Don't look at me like that, dear." Mrs. Murakami squeezed
Akane's shoulder bracingly. "It's just that making fudge is
anything but easy. Even seasoned chefs can fail at making fudge
sometimes. So many things can affect it -- the temperature, the
humidity, anything. It's no surprise that it didn't turn out.
Now, let me have a look at it." Akane stepped aside, allowing
her to inspect the pan. "Hmmm... You've been beating this for
some time, correct? My guess would be that you didn't cook it
quite long enough. Did you test it?"
"I cooked it to the temperature that it said in the recipe.
The second it reached that temperature, I took it off. It should
have been right!"
"Ah, but thermometers aren't always accurate enough for
candy-making. You need to test it first, drop a small spoonful
of the syrup into cool water and see how it reacts." Akane
looked back down, her cheeks red. The older woman smiled and
went on. "You've been doing a wonderful job so far, learning
every recipe by heart. But there is more to it than that.
Martial arts isn't only a matter of learning movements; in order
to fight, one has to be able to respond to situations
automatically, without thought. Eventually you develop an
instinct for battle, until the strongest martial artists can
sense an attack coming before it is even launched. Isn't that
so?" Akane nodded. "Well, it is much the same in cooking. You
have to develop an instinct for cooking, become attuned to your
cooking and your environment so that you can automatically adjust
your technique to respond to the situation. Until then, you have
to learn to accept the occasional failure, and use that failure
to move you farther along the path. And remember, unlike martial
arts, cooking is, at least in this day and age, never truly a
survival situation; you can always do something over." Akane
smiled at this, and looked back at the pan, sticking her finger
in for another taste.
"Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "I guess I'd
better clean this up then. I need the pan for dinner..."
"Wait just a moment, Akane. There's one more lesson I think
you can learn from this. It's called serendipity."
"Seren-what?"
"Serendipity. It means a good result that comes about by
accident. Quite honestly, if it wasn't for serendipity, half of
the food we now consider run-of-the-mill would never have even
existed. Cooking itself was probably an accidental discovery,
made when someone long ago tripped and dropped something into a
campfire." Akane giggled a bit at this, her good mood restored.
"What it can also mean to us is making the most of our mistakes.
Sometimes failed food can be salvaged, or even made into
something better. And I have an idea for this fudge soup of
yours..."

Ranma frowned through the entire meal. The sweet-and-sour
chicken was quite good, almost delicious, though it seemed that
it was missing something; he couldn't quite figure out what.
Maybe a bit more pineapple juice? The rice was excellent,
beautifully sticky without being soggy; it had been improving
every day. The tea was just a tad too bitter, but otherwise
excellent. If Kasumi had cooked the meal, he would have been
grinning from ear to ear. As it was, his mood grew blacker as he
helped himself to seconds.
Mrs. Murakami was eating with them tonight, since Akane had
wanted to try making a full family-sized portion. Over the past
week, the rest of the family had started drifting in to meals,
first Soun, who had wept tears of joy after his first bite of
Akane's oyako domburi, then the ever-hungry Genma, then finally
Nabiki, who didn't intend to spend any of her own money eating
out. Happosai was thankfully out on a training trip that he had
said would take a month; nobody missed him. And everyone was
enjoying tonight's meal, although of course they had all waited
to taste it until Ranma had taken his first bite; old habits died
hard. Soun looked as if he was willing to give the entire house
to Mrs. Murakami in gratitude; Nabiki even offered a sidelong
compliment to Akane, who smiled, then glared at Ranma. He knew
that Mrs. Murakami's presence was the only reason he hadn't been
bashed over the head yet; Akane had quickly developed a strong
case of hero-worship, and was on her best behavior. But he
didn't trust the old woman, not one inch. This meal was only
proof of her perfidy. He served himself thirds.
The meal ended, and Mrs. Murakami gave Akane a significant
look that Ranma didn't miss. Akane stood up and practically
danced into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a small
tray. Ranma stared at it in surprise. Dessert? Oh, no. This
was Akane's first try at dessert since she had started her
diabolical cooking lessons; there was no way of knowing if she'd
figured out the difference between sugar and salt. He found
himself hoping she hadn't as she distributed plates around the
table. If it was bad, then it meant Akane was back to normal.
"Pecan pie!" Genma exclaimed in joy. "If only I had a
wonderful daughter like you, then I could die a happy man."
"Wait till you try it, you may die yet!" Ranma quipped
automatically. Akane glared at him, then beamed at the others.
"It's CHOCOLATE pecan pie," she said proudly, sending a
secretive smile at Mrs. Murakami. Ranma didn't miss that one
either. Something fishy was going on with this pie. Maybe there
was something fishy in the pie. That would be pleasantly
nostalgic. He nervously scooped a bit up with a spoon. Everyone
at the table was staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He
popped it in his mouth.
Definitely sugar instead of salt. And well-flavored, a good
rich chocolate. It had a tang to it as well, a bite that was
really quite pleasant. Heck, it was delicious. His mind froze,
and he watched the others begin to eat, now that the pie was
proven safe. Akane's eyes still bored into him. He suddenly
realized that this must be what Akane had been making earlier.
She had made this by herself. Without anyone else there.
Looking like she was trying some sort of magic spell. And it was
delicious. He automatically smashed his father's hand as the old
man made a grab for his slice; magic or not, he never gave up
good food. He finished it quickly, his face still blank. Across
the table, Akane's expectant face had fallen; as he watched, it
reshaped itself in angry lines. He was in for it now. But he
couldn't do anything but stare.
Mrs. Murakami stood. "Well, thank you so much for your
hospitality. I really must be going now; I have several errands
to attend to on my way home." Ranma jumped at this. He had
almost forgotten his plan!
"Here, let me walk you home. It's already dark." Everyone
was staring at him. He glared around the table. "Hey, I'm being
polite! Don't look so surprised."
"That won't be necessary, young man. Why don't you spend
some time with your fiancee?"
Ranma was not giving up. Besides, he knew he was getting
beat up tonight anyways; at least that hadn't changed. The inevitable
pain could wait a little while. "How about I see you to the door,
then?"
"Well, all right. If you insist."
Ranma took Mrs. Murakami's arm and accompanied her as far as
the gate, then watched as she walked slowly away. When she was
almost out of sight, he leapt to the rooftops and began following
her. Behind him, he could hear Akane screaming his name in rage.
He followed at a short distance, leaping from rooftop to
rooftop. The woman moved surprisingly fast for one so old; no
problem for him, of course, but he added it to his list of
grievances. She went straight for several blocks, then made a
left turn, then a right. They had moved into an older section of
town, where the houses were slightly more run-down; he had to be
careful of loose tiles on the rooftops. Finally he leapt to the
top of a telephone pole and watched closely as the woman slowed
down in front of a vegetable shop that had the name "Murakami" on
the door. Then she turned -- not right, into the shop, but left.
Ranma stared in disbelief as the woman walked into the Shinto
shrine.
<I _knew_ something was up!> he congratulated himself,
leaping over to the _torii_, then down into the cramped shrine
grounds. He looked around warily; she had to be just inside, and
he didn't trust spirits of any kind. He'd had some pretty bad
experiences. So he was prepared for a confrontation, though he
would have trouble fighting a spirit that looked like a woman.
But, as he had half-expected, the old woman was nowhere to
be seen.

END WEEK 2

ANYTHING-GOES MARTIAL ARTS COOKING TIP 2:
Public Relations

Anything-Goes Martial-Arts Cooking is a particularly delicate
art, and as in any other delicate art, occasionally something
gets ruined. Eggshells get into frosting, roving geezers steal
vital ingredients, and flying bodies knock food across the room.
Don't sweat it. The best strategy for dealing with this is:
never tell anyone what you're making. Ever. All they have to do
is eat; they don't need to know how the dog got the pork that was
supposed to be in that vegetable stir-fry, or how you cleaned the
eggs off the floor before beating them. Nobody needs to know.
Be sure to lock the door, too.

KATA 2
Failed Fudge Recipes
(adapted from the book Oh, Fudge! by Lee Edwards Benning)

2a: Drizzle Bars

WEAPONS:

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 1/2 cups finely crushed graham crackers (mallet useful for
this)
1 recipe failed fudge (too hard, too soft, too runny, too sugary,
too chewy, etc.)(may substitute 1 6- or 12-oz package of
chocolate chips if your fudge failed to fail)
1 6- or 12-oz package chips in complementary flavor (peanut
butter, white chocolate, etc.)(NOT wood chips)(NOT potato
chips)(NOT buffalo chips)
1 3.5-oz can (1 1/3 cups) flaked coconut (not coconut flake --
that's the principal) True martial artists will use a whole
coconut.
1 cup walnuts
1 14-oz can sweetened condensed milk

TECHNIQUE:

1. Clean up all fudge mess and don't tell anyone you tried to
make fudge. Preheat oven to 375 degrees FAHRENHEIT.
Measure all other ingredients and arrange in proper order for
kata.

2. Melt butter in pan over low heat. Gather crushed graham
crackers from floor and stir into butter. Mop floor and wipe off
mallet. Pat crumb mixture evenly in the bottom of an ungreased
13 x 9 x 2 -inch baking pan, using carefully controlled multiple
blows with the heel of the hand. Eventually, the crust should be
flat; this may take some time if your control is off.

3. Throw bag of chips into the air; roundhouse kick so that
impact occurs over crust and chips scatter in pan. Gather any
chips that landed elsewhere and return them to the pan. If
failed fudge is liquid, pour haphazardly over chips; if not, chop
fudge with edge of hand or Big-Ass Spatula (tm) into small pieces
and scatter over chips in same fashion, using opposite leg.

4. Break open coconut with mallet; speed strike coconut meat (the
white part) until it is shredded; alternately, open can. Discard
husk (the brown part) Scatter coconut evenly over fudge.
Trounce walnuts in the same fashion and add. Gather any loose
ingredients and add to pan. Mop floor.

5. Holding can of sweetened condensed milk over pan, crush can
in fist and drizzle contents over everything. Wipe up excess
from floor and walls. Place pan in oven.

6. Bake for 20 minutes (not long enough to watch any Ranma,
sorry), then use Big-Ass Spatula (tm) or mallet to squash down
and compact the bars. Make them flat. Finish baking for 15-20
minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool. Meanwhile, clean
the kitchen. Cut in squares. Don't let Kasumi take the credit
for these!

2b: Failed Fudge Pecan Pie (for expert fudge failers)

WEAPONS:

1 prebaked 8-inch pie crust (buy it! don't be ashamed!)
3 oz. cream cheese, softened
1 recipe failed fudge (1 pound), runny, at room temperature
2 large eggs
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar (I know it doesn't look like cream!
Trust me!)
pecans or walnuts
whipping cream

TECHNIQUE:

1. Clean up all fudge mess and don't tell anyone you tried to
make fudge. Preheat oven to 350 degrees FAHRENHEIT. Measure
ingredients and arrange in proper order for kata.

2. Blend cream cheese and runny fudge with bare-handed blows,
electric mixer, or food processor. Separate eggs. No, this does
not mean one egg goes on each counter while they try to work out
their differences. Separate egg yolks (the yellow part) from egg
whites (the clear part). To do so, fling eggs into air.
Precisely slice each one open 1/2 inch from the end with cleaver
or Big-Ass Spatula (tm). Quickly snatch yolks from plummeting
egg mess and toss to bowl of fudge mixture while whites fall into
a separate bowl. Remove eggshells and discard. Clean kitchen.
Beat fudge mixture and egg yolks soundly. Wash hands.

3. In separate bowl, with clean beaters, hands, etc., beat egg
whites until frothy. (Note: Cooks who tend to be heavy-handed
(this means you, Akane) or who want to build stamina, be sure to
beat egg whites by hand. This should tire you out enough to do
the rest of the kata gently. Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken speeds up
the process nicely.) Add cream of tartar (yes, that white
powder) and continue beating until whites form stiff peaks (if
you're using two beaters, they could form twin peaks).

4. Meditating on your "chocolate" mantra, fold whites LIGHTLY
into fudge mixture with Big-Ass Spatula (tm). In one smooth
movement of the Spatula, mound mixture in center of prebaked
crust. Follow Spatula movement with side-kick to nut container,
sending nuts into air. Whack nuts on top of fudge stuff with
reverse swing of Spatula. But not too hard. Mixture will spread
during baking, so don't hammer it flat.

5. Put pie in oven. Listen to Ranma 1/2 Calendar CD, including
as much as you can stand of that horrible Christmas song. If you
doubt your ability to make it through that last evil track, set
timer for 45 minutes. Center should have fallen -- this isn't a
souffle, it's SUPPOSED to fall, so don't worry about shaking your
bootie to the Nekohanten Menu Song. Let cool. Slice. Wash
hands. Whip cream severely and fling a glob onto each slice.
Clean kitchen and serve.

end week 2

bengman *** "On the appointed day, I notice something amazing. When I take a
step outside the vacant lot, a meadow spreads out before my eyes. And there
are lots of horses and cows staring at me. Since when has there been a ranch
on
Akane's street? -- Where the heck am I?!" -- Ryouga, "Ittai koko wa
dokonanda?"