Dory knew the fictional thod was also just as hard as the modern-world thod. If he couldn’t use a realistic thod, then why use an imaginative one?
He couldn’t deny the fact that modern thods would work best, at least at his current level. This ant that if he wanted to use them, he had to break the thods down to match his level of understanding.
Dory’s understanding was high when it ca to being universal, but cooking was just sothing he wasn’t gifted with. Actually, no one is gifted in cooking; it cos from hard work.
’Argh. Hard work takes years. Actually, breaking it down won’t be a bad idea.’
If he wanted to try it that way, he had to move to rudintary thods that would respect his knowledge. What was that thod, and what would be used to implent it?
’Science,’ Dory said inwardly as a smile appeared on his face.
He had been good in all departnts in school and had only chosen the business line as his passion.
Who said he couldn’t use science? Science is the systematic study of the physical world through observation, experintation, and evidence. It operates on the principle that the universe follows consistent, objective laws—like gravity or thermodynamics—that function the sa way for everyone, regardless of their status or level. By breaking down complex events into asurable variables, science moves a process from the realm of luck to the realm of predictable results.
At its core, science is a tool for deconstructing reality into its smallest parts to understand how they interact. Instead of relying on intuition or mystery, it uses a cycle of forming a hypothesis, testing it under controlled conditions, and analyzing the data to find the truth. This thod allows anyone to replicate a successful outco as long as the physical conditions remain the sa.
Be it Systems or Magic, science is the study of the underlying source code. It suggests that miracles are simply natural processes that haven’t been asured yet. By mastering these rules—such as the chemical reactions of heat or the physics of pressure—a person can achieve professional-grade results through pure logic and technical precision.
This was exactly what Dory was going to do. He was going to be rudintary and scientific at the sa ti.
Dory sighed. ’There’s no harm in trying.’
Dory cleared the wooden table with a damp rag, pushing the charred remains of the previous pots into a corner. He took a fresh clay pot and a wooden stool. He sat down and pulled a crate of tart plums toward him.
Using a small iron paring knife, he began to pit the fruit one by one. He didn’t use any skills; he just sliced the skins, popped the stones into a bucket, and dropped the halved plums into the pot.
After he had processed about five kilograms of fruit, he carried the pot to the stone hearth. He used a heavy wooden pestle to mash the plums into a thick, wet pulp. The juice was dark purple and stained the wood of the pestle. He added two handfuls of coarse salt and a small cup of bitter-vine juice.
Following the basic peasant thod for fruit leather, he placed the pot on the edge of the fire. He kept the heat low, ensuring the pulp simred but never boiled. For four hours, he sat by the hearth. Every fifteen minutes, he stood up and stirred the mixture with a long wooden spoon to prevent the bottom from sticking.
As the water evaporated, the purple mash thickened into a dark, tacky paste. The sll in the kitchen was heavy and earthy. Once the mixture reached the consistency of thick mud, Dory spread it onto a flat, greased wooden board. He placed the board on a high shelf near the rafters, where the rising heat from the forge next door would dry it out over several hours.
By late afternoon, the paste had hardened into a flexible, leathery sheet. Dory peeled a strip off and bit into it.
He imdiately spat it out.
The texture was wrong. The salt had reacted with the high tannin content of the plums and the bitter-vine, turning the snack into a gritty, astringent mass. It felt like chewing on salted sand. The bitterness wasn’t masked; the salt had highlighted the sharp, dicinal sting of the vine, making the fruit taste like rotting wood.
It was structurally sound, but physically inedible.
Dory looked at the failed leather. The problem wasn’t the heat or the ingredients; it was the timing. By adding the salt to the boiling pulp, he had locked the minerals into the fiber of the fruit.
He looked at the remaining crates. He took a handful of fresh plums and a bowl of coarse salt. This ti, he didn’t mash them. He sliced the plums into thin, uniform rounds and tossed them in a bowl with the salt while they were cold.
Within minutes, the salt began to pull the clear juice out of the plum slices through osmosis. The slices stayed firm, but the water was leaving them.
"The salt goes first, but not in the pot," he said, watching the liquid pool at the bottom of the bowl.
He then took a lemon and squeezed the juice into a separate cup of honey. He stirred it until the honey thinned out. He realized that the acid in the lemon would break down the pectin in the fruit slices, softening them without the need for high heat.
He grabbed the ground pepper. Instead of mixing it into the pulp, he realized it needed to be a topical coating... sothing to hit the tongue first before the sweetness of the plum.
’I got it!’
He had the sequence in order now: salt the raw slices to remove the water, rinse the salt off so the grit is gone, soak the cured slices in the lemon-honey mixture to add flavor, and dust them with pepper or bitter-vine powder for the final finish.
He threw the failed leather into the waste bin and reached for the next crate of plums. He started slicing again, his movents steady and repetitive.
He had cracked the code.
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