Backdated: 8/12/2020

Flash was somewhat confounded by the message that he got, given that he had never shown any propensity for cooking. Had everyone received such a cryptic, rambling note, or had it been something to do with house point rewards, since he had been so active in errands the year before? Well, the note certainly wasn’t answering any questions, it was instead demanding a baked good. One made by him, no less. A daunting task for someone who had only ever cooked once in his life.

Of course, he could have asked the kitchen staff to make something, they wouldn’t bat an eye at the request for some extra treat. He didn’t really consider it, however. He didn’t want them to do his work for him, even if the groundskeeper was unlikely to notice or care. It was the principle… also, he was a bit bored. Trying out something new was something he was looking forward to, in the comfortable privacy of his own home rather than the daunting presence of a crowd. Practicing spells in class had always made him a bit self-conscious, but when he was alone he felt a bit freer to make the many, many mistakes he planned to make.

The only help he conscripted was that of his retainer, Luis. His relationship with him was a strange, but mostly good one. It was basically Luis’ job to do whatever Flash needed of him, which was a position he rarely took advantage of. It was very useful in Hogwarts, when he was restricted in his access to things outside of school, but in the mansion it felt that there was very little Flash needed that he couldn’t simply do himself. He liked being in control of his own actions anyway, so having someone else do them seemed more stressful than helpful.

On this occasion though, he could admit that he would be completely useless alone. He had no idea where to start, he didn’t even know the difference between baking and cooking. Or… how exactly one used an oven, or what sorts of implements to use. Complete ignorance. He regretfully texted Luis his concerns, one of the few contacts on his phone. After some short, professional back-and-forth, they decided to meet in the kitchens that evening. ‘Cookies’ had indeed been the agreed-upon consensus. Apparently they were fairly easy to make.

Once the time arrived, Flash was surprised to find Luis in a good mood. Not that he was ever a particularly somber person, but he seemed genuinely excited for the activity. Flash was so uninitiated to the world of food that he didn’t have many presumptions about it. He of course knew it was a vast field, and the culinary arts were a draw for many creative minds, but he had been slowly introduced to the idea of it also being… fun. Willow and her family certainly seemed to enjoy it. Luis, too, as it turned out.

He brought some recipe of his own, something his grandmother passed down. In that sense, cooking was also part of memories, possibly even identity. Even though he had already found it to be complex, it was even more than he could possibly have imagined. He was curious about how different recipes might have someone’s identity tied to the taste, but it was a bit more than he had time to wistfully ponder about.

Flash did the actual work as best he could, though with Luis’ guidance it was more often than not a scene more akin to a preschool arts activity. Luis was young, but still an exasperated adult trying to explain what flour was. It was clear with his body language that he had to fight off the urge to jump in and do it himself.

Even with Flash’s constant confusion and over-precise measuring, it was a rather simple process. Mostly, it was just mixing a few things together until it combined, rolling it flat, and then cutting out circles to place on a parchment-paper-lined cookie sheet. After that, a matter of cooking it at the right temperature for the right amount of time.

A bit like potion making, really, in that it would ostensibly work every time so long as the instructions were followed correctly. It was Luis’ grandmother who had done the heavy lifting in figuring out the recipe, it seemed. Perhaps a better errand would have been to have to create one’s own recipe… no, that would probably be asking too much. Not everyone had a massive kitchen and a fully stocked pantry like he did. He had more freedom for creativity than most, something he sometimes regretfully forgot.

Luis talked about his grandmother while the cookies baked in the oven, when Flash asked. She was still alive, still living with him, in fact. He explained that it was a bit more common to live together as a family unit in his culture, something the older generation of his family still held onto for the forseeable future. Flash hated to imagine his grandparents living in the mansion, let alone living there his whole life. Not exactly something he expected to think, since it had always just been assumed that one moved out when they were older. He hadn’t even considered staying, suprised that the idea even repulsed him.

When they were finished, the opened oven released a sweet scent into the air. Flash couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, despite having his hand held the entire way. When he considered eating the fruits of his own labor, he started to understand a bit of what he had begun to wonder. It was a bit fun, actually. Still, his time and attention was better spent on other endeavors. At least with this, he felt he gained a measure of appreciation for the art.

Wrapping up a neat package and giving it to one of the Holmwood owls Zoro, Flash wished he could actually see the face of the person who was eating his cooking, when they tasted it. If he were to ask later, certainly the bare bones attempt wouldn’t have left enough of a lasting memory to recall. He still had Luis’ impression to go off anyway. He watched him carefully as he tried them out, getting a smile and a thumbs up in response.

He didn’t really fancy trying one himself, since he didn’t like sugary sweets. Still, he wished he had made enough to give everyone in the staff. Even then, he feared it would have been more of an imposition than a gift. They would certainly feel obligated to eat it and say they enjoyed it, regardless of their true feelings. He was the son of their employer, after all. Better to just be satisfied with what he got, and move on.

Mentioning: @Willow Anderson
Errand: It's a Bake-Off!
Word count: 1,134 [Complete]