Night 68: Myrtle, Mille-Feuille with Strawberry, Blueberry and Vanilla Custard
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
"You mean that slab of rock Durin played with last time she was here ?" Myrtle inquired, then waved dismissivly and downed a large gulp of beer. "That's just a toy, nothing more. My little apple here is much more advanced than that." The golden apple in her hand glowed with a soft and warm light, and in moment's notice the red hue on her cheeks disappated, and she looked completely sober again. "Phew– much better. Ey boss, another tall cold one please!"
"But I still don't get it – this apple here was scanned over and over, and its internal structure differs from any amiplifer, Arts unit or weapon. Now its function is just getting more and more...varied." The lab tech came with her fixed his glasses in excitement. "It could even counter the effect of alcochol! How did you do it, Miss Myrtle? Is this your Orginium art?"
"Donno...*hic*...Every Durin on the thrid street could do it." Myrtle turned her face towards the man, and her expression suddenly grew serious. "Ey, you should address me as 'Generalissimo Myrtle', got it?"
"Alright alright, Gerneralissimo Myrtle." The man said, raising both of his hands as if surrendering.
"Humph, that's right." Myrtle passed her golden apple to the lab tech and said "How about this – you treat me with some dessert here and now, and I will lend my little apple for you to study for three days. Sound good?"
"Really now?" The man took out his meal card in an instant and inquired. "Boss, any specialty dessert for tonight?"
"Taditional Gaulish mille-fueille, with strawberry and blueberry vanilla custard." The Chef opened up the oven door. "The pastry is just about done"
Along with a great number of historical records, the now-destroyed Gaulish Empire had left behind an equal amount, if not more, receipes for delicacies. Due to the often romantic and exquisite Gaulish dining habits, many of the desserts had took on the delicate form of artworks while carrying a rich and multi-layered flavour. The pâte feuilletée was folded together many times, and in the process of baking had became thin as paper yet clear in layers. The weight placed on it during baking had ensured it would not over-expand, thus leaving behind a delicate shape. The Chef took it out and sprinkled caramel dust over the pastry, then placed it into the oven to be baked again. The melted caramel clinged upon the pastry, made it glittering like an amber colored mirror.
When it was done, the Chef took it out and cut the pastry into small rectangles, and squeezed strawberry, vanilla and blueberry custard on top. Then he placed another equal-sized rectangle pastry on top of the three clumps of custard. Finally, a thin dust of icing sugar was spinkled evenly atop of everything.
The Chef presented the plate of dessert before Myrtle. "Gaulish mille-fueille for the great Generalissimo, please enjoy." He said.
"Hmm.." Myrtle leaned in close to the dessert and took a whiff, then slowly nodded with satisfaction. "I know the Diner would never let me down. Grandpa here could really make some beautiful pastry!" She took her knife and cut the pastry into three pieces and picked up the middle section with vanilla custard with her fork and bit down. The thin, amber shell of the caramel cracked between her teeth, letting out a pleasant crunch. With the bold, slightly bitter sweetness she chewed, feeling the wonderful aroma of wheat and butter permeating through her mouth. The rich and smooth custard carried a strong flavour of milk and vanilla, and would linger long at the base of her teeth.
Myrtle finished off the rest of the vanilla third with a few quick bites and put down her fork, satisfied. "Marvellous! Fantastic! Here, you can take the apple."
"Truely? O thank you mry...Gerneralissimo Mrytle!" The lab tech exclaimed, then took the golden apple with reverence. "Wait, aren't you going to eat the rest?"
"I thought the white part was more Gaulish than the rest, really." Myrtle said, pushing the plate with the other two halves to the lab tech."My Ma once told me the Gaul would cut their pastries along the colour line, and eat the white ones first. Although...the rest are great too. Maybe 'eating up the white parts first' is some kind of Gaulish dining custom?"
"I donno. There is no living Gaul nowadays." The lab tech picked up the strawberry part with his fork, and bit off a good chunk. "It's really sweet. Makes me want to go there for their food if they are still around."
"*Hic* Hope they have good drinks too." Without her apple, the red hues quickly returned to Myrtles cheeks.