Pizzas and Dragons

I mulled the idea over for a couple of hours, trying to weigh its pros and cons, until finally, I sighed.

All is well and good, but I don't even know if the locals will like my cooking, Hell, as far as I know, this world might have a wonky law that makes everything taste like shit... I need to test it first...

I can ask the captain to let me cook something for dinner, but I have never tried cooking on a ship, so I am wary of trying it. Setting fire to the ship by mistake is not my preferred type of barbeque... I hope that the ship's cook is willing to lend me a hand... Well, let's try!

I get out of my cabin and hurry to find the captain...

...As expected, the captain was not very happy with the idea of letting a landlubber try to cook on his ship, but with a lot of cajoling and a bit of gold, we finally came to an agreement. I will be allowed to cook, but only under the ship's cook supervision. Also, said cook would prepare dinner as well, just in case whatever I come up with is inedible. Finally, at any point, if the cook thinks that I am putting the ship at risk, he can kick me out of the galley.

I can't say that I am 100% happy with the deal, but it is what it is and it is not as if I don't understand the captain's worry. So, before the captain has time to rethink things and change his mind, I head down to the galley, with a flabbergasted Al in tow. Al has seen me grow up and knows damn well that I never set foot in a kitchen in my life, so this last escapade of mine has left him baffled.

The cook, a short fatty with a flat nose, is as expected not exactly thrilled with my presence in what he considers his domain, but since I have the captain's agreement, he can only swallow his resentment. This however does not stop him from giving me the stinky eye. I proceed to familiarize myself with the kitchen, with the grumbling fatty following my every step and grudgingly answering my questions. The kitchen is simple and cramped. Most of the space is taken by a brick hearth, and all of the cooking is done in it over an open flame.. Sigh, this complicates things. I turn to the cook and ask,

"I am assuming that there is no oven available?"

The cook snorts at my words,

"Ha! Sorry my lordship, but this is a working ship, not a fancy mansion!"

While his words are abrasive, they are understandable. An oven would require too much space in the already tiny galley. Sigh. No more dilly-dallying, time to cook!

I ask to cook to gather the ingredients I will need, then I stand in front of the workbench. I open the bag of flour and grab a fistful, feeling its consistency. The flour is coarse, but it will do. I measure a quantity of flour and pour it on the bench in a mound, then with my hand open a hole in the middle, creating a shape resembling a volcano, then I take a bowl of slightly warm water and slowly pour it into the hole I made. Finally, I add a tiny amount of oil and a piece of sourdough, courtesy of the cook. To my delight, this ship's cook likes to make bread in the pan from time to time for the officers instead of the traditional biscuits, so he always creates a batch of sourdough as soon as the ship departs and refreshes it daily. This is not the norm usually, so I was very happy when he presented me with a ceramic jar full of sourdough. Without it, I would have to scrap my dinner idea due to the lack of a leavening agent. I mix the sourdough with the water with my hands, causing it to liquefy a bit, and slowly incorporate the flour until all the ingredients are formed together, then I start kneading the freshly created dough.

For those of you who still don't get it, I am making the first pizza this world has ever seen!

When the dough is firm and does not stick to my hands anymore, I form it into a ball and cover it with a drained wet cloth. Now, while I wait for it to rise, I can prepare the rest of the ingredients. in a small pot, I put some oil and let it heat on the fire, asking the cook to keep an eye on it, then I cut tomatoes into small pieces and proceed to adjust the flavor with salt and a pinch of sugar, before giving them to the cook to add to the pot. After waiting for two minutes for the tomatoes to soften, I add to the pot some water and some dry basil and ask the fatty cook to stir from time to time. meanwhile, I grate a big piece of semi-soft cheese with a mild flavor. I would love to add bacon or pepperoni, but this world has barely discovered how to make sausages! As for the bacon, the ships carry only the salted one, and it is a hassle to make it edible enough to be worth becoming a topping. 

After fifteen minutes, the sauce has reduced enough so I ask the cook to remove it from the fire and let it cool. Afterward, I inform him that I will not be doing anything else for a couple of hours as I am waiting for the dough to rise, and leave the galley followed by Al. As we go up on deck for a bit of fresh air, Al can't stop himself from asking me curiously,

"Sir, what are you cooking exactly?"

I grin at him,

"Patience Al, hopefully, you will like it."