The first attempt Saskia had made was an abomination that she had no heart in trying to fix. She had been down that road before, adding more milk to the batter in hopes it would thin out the mixture, but then finding that the contents didn't end up clinging to her wooden spoon. She added more flour, then more milk, until she dipped a finger to the sides of the bowl and made a face. "Oh, dear."
The second attempt, everything looked to be going well. Her confidence was back on the rise, until her cake didn't. She wondered if it was the oven, had stuck the tin back in for another five minutes should do, and hoped for the best. It hadn't been. The bottom of the cake burned to the tin and the half that was pried out looked as ragged as a certain Syr's face in the early morn.
The third attempt, Saskia stared at the mess on the bench before her. Flour, batter, and her hair sticking out from the braids holding it back near her face, she looked near defeated. Hands on her hips, adding more flour to her apron, she stared at the ingredients waiting to be added together to make a cake.
Of course, she could have asked for help. That thought sat well with her, and Saskia gave the mess she had made one last look before turning away and striding out the door. She'd get back to that, will tidy up as she went on her third attempt.
Outside the kitchens, towards the open air, Saskia's eyes began to look around. Someone would have better luck as help, for herself and the recipe book she had bought four summers ago didn't seem to make a great team.
The second attempt, everything looked to be going well. Her confidence was back on the rise, until her cake didn't. She wondered if it was the oven, had stuck the tin back in for another five minutes should do, and hoped for the best. It hadn't been. The bottom of the cake burned to the tin and the half that was pried out looked as ragged as a certain Syr's face in the early morn.
The third attempt, Saskia stared at the mess on the bench before her. Flour, batter, and her hair sticking out from the braids holding it back near her face, she looked near defeated. Hands on her hips, adding more flour to her apron, she stared at the ingredients waiting to be added together to make a cake.
Of course, she could have asked for help. That thought sat well with her, and Saskia gave the mess she had made one last look before turning away and striding out the door. She'd get back to that, will tidy up as she went on her third attempt.
Outside the kitchens, towards the open air, Saskia's eyes began to look around. Someone would have better luck as help, for herself and the recipe book she had bought four summers ago didn't seem to make a great team.