Which risotto?

"I'm full..."

Hmmm from my analysis made up of common sense and pinching flesh like an evil fairy tale witch fattens up lost children, I declare this statement to be a lie. With a wave of the spoon in my hand, I sentence you to continue the punishment.

"More bacon!" screams out Lukas, an executioner acting on command.

"But...too much bacon."

"Never!!! Never too much bacon!"

With pure force alone, Lukas has Amar held down in his seat while I stuff the full spoon in his little mouth. Teamwork! Amar can't fight off the both of us like this.

There's not much to do when stuck in the sick room. No work to sneak off to, no training to do, and some brats I'm stuck babysitting. Oh and I still can't talk, at least not without sounding ridiculous. Just a mumble of pathetic sounds rather than words, it's like I'm a baby again.

There's no way to heal this beyond waiting out the deadly effects of the poison. I can't even tell Lilyanne to heal me.

How would I tell her? The chalk slate? She's 3, she can't read!

I can't wander around, I can't do any real work, I can't kill the already very damaged little boy responsible for my state, thus there's no enjoyment left but food. Let the meals commence!

Today's kitchen menu is pork belly risotto.

It's on the stickier fluffy side to imitate rice gruel but with a bit more texture for everyone else's enjoyment. However, we as quarantined kiddies get extra soft creamy mushy risotto. Easy on the tummy. It's very plain but for the stock, shallots, and white wine it was cooked with, though one can easily add a bit more salty cheese to their plate. Plain and thus all the more pure and perfect compliment to the overly decadent pork.

Child bite cubes of the flying pig have been simmered and seared for the beautifully crispy crusting on the skin of tender layers of meat. That expected greasiness is offset by the size of the cuts and cooked with sprigs of rosemary and fennel like herbs.

Such a heavenly aroma, crisp between your teeth and on one bite, bursts in the juice to softly melt in your mouth. Paired with the pure snowy base of the risotto, it's not plain or basic but absolutely essential in food pairings. One of the pillars of all food ships, a perfect combo. A flavor that captures the hearts of hardened foodies, picky eaters and kids like Lukas.

Grilled meat and white rice!

Even if it's not my japonica rice, this fluffy puffy white rice fully absorbs this fat. A perfect compliment to spread and elevate rich flavor that would otherwise be too greasy. It is a flavor that fuels men across time and continents.

"It's good...but it's too much....too heavy..."

At this point, Amar easily passes off the fatty chunks of meat to Lukas plate. Against the temptation of his favorite protein, Lukas is simply weak. His little lips so pink and greasy from being unable to resist stuffing his own face. If I'm not careful about my plate, I fear the topped portions of bacon will disappear into his belly as well.

There's already plenty of smaller pieces tattered and melted into the risotto, and there's still plenty to feed growing magical children.

There there though, I understand. It really is too much bacon. Not everyone has Lukas' love and tolerance for AYCE pork belly.

Even if I smash a spoon to his face, Amar now only opens up on bites of more untainted risotto. Is it too smelly? Sick kids are even more sensitive. Let us scoop a more balanced ratio of carbs, vegetables and condiments.

It is time. Time to break out...my secret research! Ohohohohoho!

From my very inconspicuous note of an entire chalkboard slate, I have informed Georgie and the kitchens to bring the pickles. That's right! The great vegetable pickling experiments.

Food research and anti- famine preventions aren't just about increasing farm productivity. It's about making food preservation not only more effective but more delicious! To not only stretch out the length of time that people can keep the bounties of spring and summer but to make it so tasty that people actually want to keep doing so. Bad food is bad for morale. Bright veggies are scarce in the winter. Come out my wonderful research!

Just not all of it? Abbey and I only had at most a few months to really start on my vinegar research, let alone the first rounds of pickling. Together with Georgie and some other helpful staff we're turning that salad vinaigrette craze into something more substantial.

Vinegar is a great household cleaner despite the sour smell. Great if we have no need of ...acid bug juice? My kitchen staff had no problems really revving up the vinegar productions and tests, developing different types to see what develops using different brans and bases.

I have high hopes for my vinegar research in many fields. From skincare to cleaning products, from complicated foodie dupes in the work to something as seemingly simple as ....pickles!

There are quite a few random experiments sitting down there underground in the cold storage. When Abbey isn't organizing my soaps and skin products, she's down there writing time and observations. A good number of then need more time to make any real research on long term food preservation.

But some of these pickled veggies are 'ripe' and perfectly ready for eating.

I just wish I had clear mason jars or just good glass jars for pickling in general. It's hard to tell with the dark glazed pots and jars just what is what, even if we've labeled them ahead of time.

Glass jars huh? That's not...exactly Bicchieri territory? Father allows the manufacturing of the blurry little windowpanes in our territory? Maybe we can expand to glass jars? Or maybe use that resin material for my cups? How would that material seal or keep?

Another thing to ask the nerd about when I get released.

I hear that my trip has gotten more than postponed. No capital for me this year, whoooo! Thus it's time to celebrate by popping open those pickles...talk about child friendly.

"What's that?" gazes Lukas curiously at the rolling trolley of small to medium-dark jars makes its entrance. Finally, I was waiting so long for this!

"Mi-mi-miss Rosalia! Here are the sottaceti as you requested! I-I didn't grab any of the so-sottoli."

"I don't even know if we can call most of these sottaceti or even giardiniera anymore. Whoever heard of mixing some of this stuff in giardiniera? You better not be wasting all that food with your crazy craft projects Rosa."

Eh and I guess Abbey and Georgie are here too.

Sorry, they were overshadowed by the pickles. I got too excited.

Now it's not that the ancient art of picking foods doesn't exist here. Giardiniera is absolutely a thing. Mmmm giardiniera, just no spicy versions here, or sandwiches to eat them with.

There's no real one version, with every region or household eyeballing it for their own tastes according to the regional produce. There are two major kinds, 'under vinegar' or 'under oil' as the pickling solution to keep the pickles. Due to the recommendation of my staff, I've made both kinds to experiment on since they're both popular among the common people.

Two whole different sense of tastes and textures, even if they use the exact same mix of chopped vegetables. For one though the oil packed sottoli aren't really pickles, they're not actually a long term preservative and the vegetables do have to be fully cooked before getting sunk into olive oil to cut off oxygen and increase flavor.

They go well on cheese boards and stretch out those summer vegetables. An interesting aspect though is that due to the nature of keeping food in any long-lasting brine, it's considered a peasant's staple food rather than anything that should grace the fine tables of those with status. Perhaps on the side as an appetizer, antipasto or even as a palate cleanser but it's not seen any more than that on tables fit for nobility.

Even Rosalia of the past knew that much. Pickled foods were for the poor!

Even if they were crunchy and tasted good, you had to be a pathetic lowborn or worse to need to eat such things. You could get away with more in the winter but to consume too much of such things was a testament that a household could not afford better food for their meals. No fashionable lady or her managed household would be caught serving pickles at dinner. What would people say?

Oh the horror. Oh the stupidity that is classism.

I hear there are a few countries that consider onions and shallots to be 'peasant' fare and so their dinner tables lack everything in that family. No aroma at all. What's the point of being rich if your food isn't any good?

Either way, I have a completely different sense of taste than anyone here. Apparently I'm truly suited for peasant fare! I really miss eating rice or porridge with my Asian pickled vegetables. I miss stuff like banchan and tsukemono, even plain Chinese sauerkraut! I want my rainbow of pickled side dishes!

If there's anything this nearly irresistible meal of pork belly risotto is missing, it's acid.

After a few decadent bites, even I got tired of this deliciousness. Another child could keep eating easily, hell a good number of my household staff are more than fine, especially as they add cheese for even more heaviness. I can't keep doing it even if it tastes great but then again I am a strangely refined sort of baby for this world.

'Sample each one out!' I hold out the prepared chalk slate, orders already written down.

"Hehe, it's true. You really can't talk!" snorts Georgie, a look of pure unprofessionalism on his teasing face.

Abbey is already shaky as she works at scooping and plating so I can't threaten Georgie even if I could. Can't risk her spilling. I do however erase the slate board to draw an arrow. When turned around it points directly at Amar.

'Blame him.'

Instead of everyone rightfully avenging or even being offended for me, Georgie just lets out an ugly cackle of a laugh. I shall not murder him for the sake of the pickles, I will not.

"Ahahahaha! Good! Good job! Ah what did you do and can I pickle it up and keep it on hand for when our young miss gets mouthy?!"

"Rosa? You really still can't talk?" the little culprit tilts his head, as if he truly didn't realize.

For the absurdity of that statement I smack Amar's face with the slate, then stick out my horrendously swollen tongue for the world to see.

"Oh. Oops? Sorry Rosa." says the boy curiously.

Oops? Oops won't bring my voice or tongue back to normal you secret drug dealing brat! Ack, and there's no need to poke it!? I feel bad for further abusing such a small child though so I have to change the slate for a seat cushion before smacking away my righteous frustrations.

*smack smack smack*

"Are we having a pillow fight now!? Cool! Are you still gonna eat that?" drools Lukas, eyes getting cross as they zoom onto my share of bacon.

*smack*

Blocked. Intercepted. Let's just....move my plate away even further. To safety.

"Ahhh, ahaha, alright that's enough. Rosalia stop being so darn violent, sheesh." laughs Georgie.

He takes away my feathery weapon while wiping away a tear in his eye. I am doubting the validity of those tears at my expense as he smacks me with the cushion next, all before clearing the kiddy table in the sick bay enough to help Abbey place the little plates.

I didn't want to overwhelm myself or waste too much, experiments they are I am still stuck eating them, so I asked my servants to grab at most a dozen of the ready vinegar-based pickles.

International banchan experiments come to me. As they're placed on little plates according to the vat they came out of, the colorful variety of them really looks like banchan sides. There's no chili, sesame oil, or even soy marinade but I am playing with rice vinegar.

Lots of vinegar. Let's taste what works best!

Lukas looks like a confused puppy dog, sniffing at the dishes with some reluctance while Amar perks up, not even noticing a loose feather or three caught in his hair.

"Torshi?"

"No, not sure about those but ahhh honestly, I don't even know anymore. They're just Rosa's pickles at this point." heckles Georgie, pulling out said cushion feathers and brushing them away.

"Pickles then? Okay."

Time to dig in!

As a tiny limbed toddler I most certainly don't need any help reaching for food. If I do I have a sticky clumsy maid observing, trying to help without spilling. Georgie doesn't approve of my chopsticks but he and the staff have come to accept them as pretty decent serving utensils, like a sort of tongs. For daily eating use though I haven't popularized them enough to be allowed them for actual eating use. If I had chopsticks then I wouldn't need any help reaching for plates at all.

"Eat this one." comes Amar's muffled voice, munching away.

A little plate of balsamic vinegared garlic cloves is pushed right under my nose. Followed by another garlicky based one, some bran covered collards and another garlic carrot plate. It's come to the point where my side of the table has been walled in by mostly garlic banchan.

I like garlic and all but what gives? Are they too stinky and you're trying to push them off on me? Lukas is the one who eats everything you know?

"Vegetables are gross!" said black hole manages to get out, before Georgie sticks a cucumber in there.

See, despite whatever Lukas says, he still chews and swallows at the speed of light. Just pile it up on his place with his beloved bacon and he has no choice.

"Still gross! That one was less gross! Is there any more meat?"

"Just eat Lukas." chuckles Georgie, seemingly taking amusement in feeding a hungry chirping bird. A bottomless black hole down his little mouth. Abbey awkwardly passes over some seafood-based 'banchan' since that's technically 'meat'?

A wooden spoon drops a clove of whole garlic onto my plate.

"Sorry. Eat these ones." Amar sticks out his tongue like a dummy, pointing to the normal child sized tongue then back again to the plates he piled my way.

Hmm, I see but will something as simple as garlic cure me of this silent curse? Eh whatever, pickled garlic are yummy. I shall accept.

They go so well to cut this fattiness! So much better!

Some greens, some shallot garlic things. So yummy! My tongue can taste them just fine and it's not bored anymore! The risotto is only made more delicious with the breaks of bright tart flavors. The crunch of the vegetables brining a whole new texture. It all elevates the table not only in one's mouth but on all the senses. That refreshing smell. That colorful spread, easy on the eyes. I shall take every banchan tester than comes my way, all without reaching!

Not bad, not bad at all.

The pickled experiments are still a little plain compared to what I'm used to be it's not bad at all. Let's taste everything here with today's risotto! It's my duty to do so after all. Hey hey, everyone taste some garlic too. And pass over the eggplant too, get to it. Feed me. I'm really too short.

I want to try the others too! Yummy! Mmm so yummy!

"Oh how darling!!!"

Oh no.

The big boss, monster of this territory, my mother is here. Oh no she's squealing. Oh no. Why are her eyes sparkling like that?

"Oh so darling! Is it delicious Rosa dear? Oh everyone looks like they're having so much fun! Oh so cute, oh my heart. Ahh my turn too!"

Mother rushes up with a great flutter of her skirts, taking a seat at the same time she does a spare spoon. Then however she looks suddenly conflicted, I can hear a perfectly clear muttering as her head crazily darts all around from the table to everyone under the age of 10. It's not a threatening gesture but why do I feel a great dread and chill?

"Too cute, all too cute. Oh who to feed? I can't all of them. Oh so cute. Oh my Rosa never lets me feed her like that, oh how hateful oh but he's too cute oh they're all too cute I can't be mad. Oh I can't take this."

"...."

Out of my discomfort, I must act as the only true adult here, again. Reaching up grasping a spoon of now garlicy risotto, I gesture to my foolish mother and attempt simple but actual speech.

"Mawma, ahhhh?"

The entire room falls silent as mother's strange muttering suddenly stops, seemingly frozen in that very instance. That is until the squealing starts.

"KYAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"

Oh my poor delicate ears. Is this where I get my lungs from? From mother? Is it connected to the stupid villainous laugh?

It makes no sense but who am I to scientifically impose my understanding of genetics here?

Said 50% source of my body's genes is awkwardly and grossly cuddling me like a small fuzzy animal. Mother? Mother, can you put me down? Mother, I can't eat like this, your boobs are too much in the way. Mother, I have no idea how but can see a heart in your mouth.

"Rooooosaaa~ Can you say that again?!" she squeals.

Seeing no other choice but suffocation, I repeat the gesture the moment she sits up both back at the table.

"....mama... Ahhhh?"

I can feel the rumble that is another fangirl worthy screaming going on in her chest given our close proximity. Thankfully though, as stiff and terrified as I feel, she refrains herself from exploding and simply takes a bite with those plump flirtatious lips.

"Mmmmm so good!!!" she squeals in a manner I know is her holding actually back.

I can still see a heart in her mouth and maybe more invisible pink hearts radiating out of nowhere? What is this sorcery? The strange punishment is not over yet because once again, mother's heart-shaped lips are wide open.

"Ahhhhh."

"....."

What sort of strange roleplay is going on here? I'm the physical baby with tiny limbs, you all should be feeding me! Though I don't really need it, thank you very much.

I am trapped though. Trapped in the oddly strong arms of the final boss beast with powerless witnesses all around. Trapped between a table and too soft it's suffocating place. I have no choice but to fearfully give my mother what she wants.

My food.

Truly mother is a cruel and dangerous sort of creature, far more than I have ever estimated from her.

"Oh that one is yummy too! Oh what strange giardinieras? I believe Frederick darling would like those? Ah, would he let me feed him with these? He gets so shy...so cute...ohohohoho~ what am I thinking here ohohoho?~ Rosalia dear say ahhhhh!"

Even if I am stiff in horror and gross fear, tasty food is tasty.

Mother, being an adult, also has a long reach. I don't have to feel bad pointing and ordering her around like I do the others during mealtime.

Occasionally though I can see the spark in her eyes as she eyes the primary schoolers. As if she wants to spoon them up and eat them whole like they were on the table rather than just sitting at it. The boys can definitely feel the deadly intent. Lukas keeps oddly silent, even eating his vegetables without half the usual chattering complaints. Amar, while shivering in fear, thankfully has his usual monster like appetite returned, finishing off enough plates of my 'banchans' to get an even shakier Abbey to refill them.

Those pickle plates can be the successes I suppose? He eats them with a lot more gusto so that's good?

"So cute~" coos mother, not at all sounding like a candy witch hungry to fatten up lost children. Noooo, not at all.

It looks like I shall have to be today's sacrifice to keep the peace and order. Mama look, ahhhhhh. Keep getting distracted or feed me more? Both?

Please don't eat my henchmen? Or anyone?

Please?

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Bonus (that no one asked for): Down in the actual dining room

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"Cheewsey!"

"More cheese? Now are you sure about that Lilyanne dear?"

"Cheesewie!"

A little toddler jumps up and down happily in her seat as her doting father looks increasingly concerned. Perhaps it was due to the small mountain of shaved cheese growing on her lunch plate.

No proper man, let alone a noble blooded gentleman, would put himself in such a position regulated to a mere servant. But what is a father if not servent to his family, especially when one had daughters?

So here he is, crouched over, ungracefully grating a giant hunk of misshapen cheese into powdery fine grains of sand. Like an hourglass trickling down, the mound below grows and grows as the source cheese wears itself down.

"Lilyanne darling, don't you think that's quite enough?"

The handsome, too handsome and refined for this, man is met with a simple shake of the little girls' head, her curls cutely waving around as they grew long. She looked so much like her wonderfully stubborn mother that way. Given lot neater than little Maria's wild ringlets had ever looked but that was his wife for you.

Incomparable and unmatchable.

His Chip undoubtedly took a little more after him with her short auburn turning tresses but his youngest was coming into her own. His heart shook in a very founded fear at the little beauty that would surely grow devastating to mankind in a few too-short years.

The guards around her were too weak and foolish. Yes, he needed to place more of his own, maybe not right now when his baby girl was tucked up safe behind walls of their home but he wouldn't risk it for long. He of all people knew what the world held. What horrors it had in store, the violent vile hunger it held for all this is good and beautiful.

"Mmmm mmm! Chweeeeseie~"

"If we mix it up Lily, the cheese will melt into the risotto and it will taste very 'cheesy' yes. "

"Morwe Chweeeesie~ Big. " she gestured with bright eyes and tiny little arms.

Oh curse his weak heart. How can he deny his sweet little girl with she looked like a tiny de-featherd chick?

That anatomy of a too-large head too heavy but it was somehow kept upright. Fat arms too short for the squished length of a small torso. When young, humans and chicks had little to no visible neck, no elongated anything. Just balls of fat and perceived cuteness meant to trick adults in multiple species into loving and caring for them. Replace the arms with wings and it truly resembled a freshly hatched chicken.

In her sunny yellow frock with her mother's honey touch to her hair, a true yellow chick chirped at him. He was powerless to deny her anything, let alone a shredded mountain of salted fermented beast milk.

"Surely, this is enough cheese? It will be very ....strong? Lily love?"

"Mawr cheesy!"

With a great sigh of mixed love, affection and simple exasperation he taps his slightly sore fingers before settling to drop the cheese grater entirely.

As an experiment, he holds the mangled cheese wheel right in front of his wide eyed beloved child.

"Lily- my sunshine and overly cheesy child, the wheel was thiiiiiis large." Frederick tries to indicate using simple crude gestures, "now it is only this small, for the mass has been sacrificed to that."

He gestures slowly to the great cheese mountain hat topped on the once-simple plate.

"Now, don't you see that's a little much, the cheese will disappear at his rate and you'll be consuming more cheese than grains of rice."

The tiny angel, or baby chicken, nods her head in slow understanding, her expression getting increasingly more focused as she took in his point.

She then demonstrates that understanding by pecking at the whole cheese still in his hand."

"Chewwwsss"*munch munch*

Curiously he does not separate his spawn and the curd of fermented salty milk. Rather he tests the weight by lifting not only the cheese but his attached daughter on one hand. How curious what a strong grip by her baby teeth alone.

He repeats the lifts a few more times, as one trains their bicep muscles with little to no change on Lily's position of mouth to cheese. Perhaps a few more bites up higher? It was quite amusing.

He sighs a little too fondly because she really did resemble her mother when young like this, ribbons and all. How cute. His youngest was too terribly cute.

"Lily dear, you must eat your lunch properly or else the cheese mountain I spent the last quarter of an hour on shall go to waste. Now you wouldn't want to do that now?"

The baby chicken with teeth blinks in wide awe and a small gasp, releasing her from the chewed up wheel to fall back softly into her seat. She shakes her head because she didn't want to leave cheese mountain all alone!

"Then we shall now mix it up and enjoy-"

Before Frederick could even pick up a silver spoon, or even make to fold the risotto, his wonderful daughter had buried her beautiful little face into the shredded cheese pile.

*munch munch* "noms chewsie so yummy" *munch noms noms*

Oh she even ate like a chicken? Had she ever done this before? Or has she just never been observed doing so? Does it work only with fermented milk and salt solidified? What a fascinating child. He's so glad she's his to cherish and observe.

Too fascinating really.

His eldest Rosalia was a much easier child to understand. Her intentions and the inner workings of her mind was as clear to him as his own draft drawings. Yet he's been currently banned from the sickbay by his own wife for failing to 'behave'. Which was preposterous, he wasn't actually going to shoot any child for information. Just a simple interrogation, get the quiet one to talk. It was always the quiet ones.

"Papa~"

Chirped the darling little girl, made all the more charming with a face dripping yellow in puffed rice mix and too much cheese. With her sticky bare fingers, proof that she is humanoid and not actually the fluffy chick of a bird, his Lilyanne holds up a terrible mashed ball of risotto.

"Papa nom nom! Papa ahhhhh!"

Well now, he can't call himself a man if he says no that.