When it comes to the food you crave in winter, mochi is at the top of the list.
Mochi.
Steam the mochi rice, pound it with a mallet, and knead it until it's smooth.
Mochi.
The mere thought of it makes you want it.
Mochi, mochi, mochi.
Since I was growing a small amount of mochi rice anyway, it was only natural that I’d want to make some!
The first attempt at steaming it was a failure.
Dammit.
The second time, I managed to get it right. However, the texture wasn't quite what I was looking for. Was my pounding technique off? Was it the rhythm? Or did I simply lack the power?
For the third attempt, I had a Minotaur resident do the pounding while a Centaur resident handled the turning and wetting.
It was delicious.
Sugar soy sauce is an absolute masterpiece. Sugar kinako isn't bad, either.
I think I’ll increase the size of the mochi rice fields a bit next year. It makes for excellent preserved food, after all.
And if we're talking about winter cravings, you can’t forget zenzai!
You boil the adzuki beans, add sugar, and then just a pinch of salt. Finding the right balance of flavors is surprisingly difficult. It took about seven tries before I arrived at a taste I was satisfied with.
Then, I tossed the mochi into the mix.
The result was perfect zenzai.
"To put mochi inside... I never would have thought of that."
"Combining it with mochi? It was bound to be delicious."
The pot was emptied in the blink of an eye.
What other winter foods are there? Ehoumaki?
As for the nori seaweed, I had Michael prepare some for me. I had the rice and the vinegar. For the fillings... well, it was mostly vegetables, but I made it work. I just had to cook up some tamagoyaki to go with it.
"Is this a new dish?"
"Yeah."
Normally, you're supposed to bite into the roll whole while facing a lucky direction, but I sliced them up so everyone could try some.
"It’s a mysterious flavor."
"It’s different from a rice ball, isn't it?"
"By changing the ingredients inside... I feel like the possibilities are infinite."
It was a hit.
Thinking of ehoumaki reminded me of the Setsubun festival. But with the current uncertainty regarding our long-term food supply, throwing beans around for the sake of tradition seemed a bit wasteful.
What else? Valentine's Day?
That would mean chocolate. Chocolate is made from cacao, right? I could probably grow cacao with the Universal Farming Tool, but I had no idea how to actually turn the beans into chocolate. Still... I really wanted to eat some. I decided I’d try growing cacao once spring arrived.
That was the extent of my food-related experiments for the time being. Since I’d initially prepared these dishes at my house, several people missed out, so I ended up making them again a few more times. Mochi remained the most popular.
"Make sure you don't choke on it!" I warned as they dug in.
During the winter, I also conducted a few other experiments.
On a clear day, I asked Rusty to carry a certain object as high as she could and drop it. The object plummeted straight down at first, but then a cloth unfurled with a snap and billowed out.
A parachute.
With the parachute open, the object drifted slowly toward the ground, its descent significantly slowed. I had used a wooden box as a weight for the test. When I checked the glass bottle I’d placed inside the box, it was completely intact.
Granmaria, who had been assisting with the experiment, looked on in surprise.
"Village Head? What was that?"
"A parachute. I was worried about what might happen if someone fell while riding you or Hakuren. It seems to work well."
"If someone falls... they use that to get down?"
"In an emergency, yes. I’m thinking we can use it for cargo as well, not just people."
"Cargo is fine, but isn't it dangerous for people?"
"It’s probably not a hundred percent safe, but it's better than nothing."
"There is magic to control one's descent, you know."
"...I can't use magic."
"Ah... my apologies."
"Well, I’m not going to test it on people right away. After I’ve done more tests, I’ll try it out with someone who can already fly."
"That is a relief."
Rusty returned from the sky, and I asked for her thoughts on how it looked from above.
"It looks like it would feel great if you scattered a massive amount of them at once," she said.
"..."
Regardless, I couldn't improve the design any further until Zabuton woke up from her hibernation. I would have to wait for spring.
"Hm?"
A Sake Slime approached me, radiating an aura of intense anticipation.
Are you sure about this?
The Sake Slime’s presence gave an affirmative wobble.
"I wish you luck."
I removed the lid of the wooden box and gave a sharp salute. The Sake Slime hopped inside. I decided to leave the lid off so it could see the view. Since I was worried the parachute might fail to open, I left it fully extended rather than folding it up.
"Rusty, can you take this up just like it is?"
"Understood."
"Granmaria, wait at a lower altitude. If something goes wrong, save the Sake Slime."
"Understood."
It was dropped from the same height as before. The pre-opened parachute caught the air immediately, slowing the descent. From a distance, it looked like a small hot air balloon.
After enjoying a few minutes of drifting through the sky, the Sake Slime landed safely. The impact was minimal, and it seemed perfectly fine. In fact, it was bouncing around with sheer delight.
"That actually looks like fun," Rusty muttered.
"It does," Granmaria agreed.
The two of them were looking at me expectantly. Since they could both fly if anything went wrong, I let them have a go.
"That was quite nice," Rusty said afterward.
"The sensation of floating down like that is very fresh and exciting," Granmaria added. "But... having the straps fixed around the thighs as well as the shoulders is a bit embarrassing."
"I agree. Is there no other way to secure the harness?"
The two of them, who had changed into trousers for the test, gave me plenty of feedback for improvements. However, those adjustments would have to wait until Zabuton woke up. Also, the Sake Slime was already lining up for a second turn. We had to follow the order.
Even with the snow piling up, the Centaurs were still able to move between the villages.
"Don't push yourselves if there's a blizzard, though," I told them.
"We understand. Movement is no problem in this weather, but... the snow on the bridge is a bit frightening. It would be a great help if it were a bit wider."
"Hmm... I see. But everyone was worried that if we made it too wide, monsters or magic beasts might start using it."
"Monsters... I suppose that’s true. I shouldn't have asked for the impossible."
"No, you're the ones doing the traveling every day. I want to fix what's inconvenient. I can't make it wider, but what if I added handrails?"
"Handrails? Yes, that would be a huge help. Right now, the fear is losing our footing in the snow and sliding off the side."
"Then let's go with that. Can you help me move some materials out there when the weather is good?"
"Understood."
I hitched a ride with a Centaur to the bridge. We were accompanied by three Centaurs on courier duty and two of the resident Centaurs. Ten of Kuro’s pack came along as guards, half of whom were pups born this year.
"Did the courier teams become three-person units? It used to be two or five."
"Yes. After trying various configurations, we decided that three is the most efficient."
"I see. Just don't get too caught up in the rules."
"We won't."
We arrived at the bridge. The sky was clear, but the bridge was covered in snow, marked only by the tracks the Centaurs had made on their way over.
"Since it’s a wooden bridge, we’re too afraid to use fire magic to melt the snow," one of them noted.
"Hahaha, yeah, please don't do that."
The current bridge was made of logs with the tops shaved flat. To add handrails, I’d need nails. I’d brought some, but the process of building the rails, pulling the bridge up, fixing them, and resetting it seemed tedious.
Instead, I walked into the forest and found a massive tree, about three meters in diameter. It was more than long enough to span the river. I felled it and began processing it with the Universal Farming Tool.
I hollowed out the single log to create a U-shaped trough. Not just handrails, but solid side walls.
"How’s this?"
"It’s not bad, but it limits our vision while we're crossing. The walls don't need to be quite that high."
"Fair point."
I reduced the height of the walls by half and cut some decorative holes in them to see through. Then, realizing that rain and snow would collect inside, I gave the floor a slight incline and added drainage holes along the base of the walls.
"How about now?"
"This is perfect. Thank you very much."
"Hahaha. Alright, you couriers head on to the other villages. Let them know the bridge has been replaced."
"Understood!"
The three couriers galloped across the new bridge and disappeared into the distance.
"We’ve been out here a while. We should head back," the resident Centaur suggested.
I was about to agree when I noticed Kuro and the others were flushing out some prey. The younger pups were working hard. However, the animal they were chasing was something I hadn't seen before.
Was it a deer? Its antlers looked incredibly aggressive. Its behavior was just as wild; it swung its head around, trying to gore the wolves, but the pups dodged nimbly. The beast turned and charged straight for me.
The resident Centaurs panicked, but I already had the Hoe in my hand. I "plowed" the creature's neck, bringing the vicious deer down instantly. Kuro let out a bark of approval.
"Hahaha. Alright, let's bleed it and take it home."
I was quite pleased with the unexpected addition to our larder.
"This is a Panic Caribou," the High Ogre maid and the Civil Official girls explained, their expressions strangely somber.
"Was I not supposed to hunt it?"
"No... it's just, while it's a very rare magic beast and perfectly fine to hunt, the majority of its value lies in the antlers..."
Since I’d used the Hoe, the antlers—and the rest of the head—had been turned back into soil.
"Sorry about that. But safety comes first."
I didn't want to risk getting hurt by trying to be precise.
"We understand that, but... apparently, the antlers are a legendary delicacy."
"Wait, you eat the antlers?"
"I’ve never had them myself, but those who have rave about the taste."
"Isn't that just because it's rare? You know, the kind of food that people say is good just because it's hard to get?" A "acquired taste" sort of thing.
"We’ll try to think of it that way," they said, though they still looked a bit regretful.
The meat of the Panic Caribou turned out to be delicious. Since I was curious about the fuss, I went back into the forest on every clear day to hunt for another one. I mobilized Granmaria’s team and a large portion of Kuro’s pack. Luckily, on the seventh day, we found one.
We secured the antlers.
Apparently, the traditional way to prepare them is to grind them into a powder and simmer them into a soup. I made some and tried it.
It was movingly delicious. The meat had been good, but this was on another level entirely. I was stunned.
However, no matter how many times I went into the forest after that, I never encountered another Panic Caribou.
Dammit.
I was left with nothing but the memory of that exquisite flavor.
Well played, Panic Caribou. Well played.