Chapter 92 – Brittles
Half the stock had already sold.
Though Jade was pretty sure they still had enough goods to last through the bazaar, sparsely filled shelves would make the booth appear empty.
And Jade knew she lacked the aesthetic instinct to make half-empty displays still look appealing. So she quickly gathered the booth’s small executive team for discussion: Miss Arrowot, Clara, Josh – her assistant – and also, Sister Miriam and Brother James for additional assistance.
“Miss Jade, do you need extra help at the booth?” Sister Miriam offered readily. “The children can manage well in the bakehouse. It would not trouble me to leave a day if assistance is required.”
“No, Sister Miriam. I still need you at the bakehouse because we’ll have to fill the empty display space with biscuits,” Jade replied immediately. “I completely forgot to plan what happens when we run low on crafts. I mean, we’re staying at the venue for two and a half days, we can’t just let the booth sit half-empty by the third day, right?”
“Oh.” Sister Miriam nodded thoughtfully. “That is certainly something we must prepare for. I’ll arrange the ingredients tonight so the children can begin baking early tomorrow morning.”
Jade continued, “So, tomorrow morning Josh and I will stay in the bakehouse to make biscuits, then deliver them to the venue around noon. I think one morning’s batch should be enough to last the rest of the day. Also, since this is a fancy venue, we need the biscuits and packaging to look as pretty as possible. Because of that, we’ll need more sugar – not just malt sugar, but cone sugar to make jam for decoration.”
She turned toward the monk. “Brother James, would it be alright if I used some of the cone sugar and donated fruit from the storeroom? I’ll reimburse everything after the bazaar ends.”
Brother James nodded without hesitation. “Use as much fruit as you require. As for the sugar, you may either repay the cost or replace it with new sugar loaves.”
Clara looked visibly uneasy at the idea of Jade being absent the following morning. “Jade, are you certain the booth will be alright without you?”
“Of course!” Jade met Clara’s eyes, her tone encouraging. “Look, I barely talked today. You were the one handling almost all the customers, right? And you did it perfectly fine! So you’ll be fine tomorrow morning too. Don’t worry!”
Miss Arrowot nodded in agreement. “You need not be concerned, Miss Whitcombe. I will assist if necessary.”
“Actually, I have a suggestion,” Brother James said suddenly. He rarely volunteered opinions, so his words immediately drew everyone’s attention.
“Yes, Brother James?” Jade asked curiously.
“We could send Brother Milo to the venue in Miss Jade’s place during the morning,” he suggested. “My reason is simple: remember the sweets he created?”
“Oh! I totally forgot about those!” Jade slapped her forehead. That was another type of product they could have added to the bazaar!
“Sweets?” Clara and Miss Arrowot repeated in surprise.
This was not the sort of skill one expected from a monk living in a modest domus, and neither of them had realised such a talent existed within the rustic place.
“This concerns the bakehouse, so it is understandable that Miss Arrowot and Miss Whitcombe would not know of it,” Brother James explained, “Miss Jade provided us with a recipe for malt sugar, a cheaply produced sweet syrup used in biscuit-making. We assigned a small room to Brother Milo for its production. He was delighted to take on the responsibility and has since experimented with improving barley malt cultivation and refining the efficiency of the process.”
He continued, “Do you remember those poor-looking nuts donated to the domus? They didn’t taste entirely bad. Brother Milo attempted to make them appear more palatable and eventually created a kind of nut brittle. It contains only a small amount of malt sugar but a generous quantity of nuts. I believe it would suit the atmosphere of the bazaar quite well. He has greatly improved the appearance of the brittles.”
Jade remembered the earliest version Brother Milo had made. It looked like a thin amber sheet scattered with crushed nuts – sticky, and quick to melt in warm hands. She had suggested thickening it to an inch and adding far more nuts, mixed with just enough malt sugar to hold them together. A bit of salt, then cut it into rectangles or squares rather than breaking it into uneven shards. In her mind, it resembled something closer to a candy bar, but since people here still call anything made this way “brittle”, so brittle it remained.
She had not paid much attention afterward, so she had no idea what Brother Milo’s sweets looked like now or how well they sold.
Still, sweetness as a sensation was rare in this era. So even if Brother Milo’s creations were unattractive, Jade believed they would sell quickly tomorrow.
“That’s brilliant!” Jade nearly bounced from her chair before hurrying out of the dining hall. “I’ll go get him!”
A short while later, a new – and thoroughly confused – participant joined the discussion.
Brother Milo spent a moment absorbing the proposal, then nodded happily. “Certainly. I can bring the stock I’ve gathered over the past few days to the charity bazaar.”
Jade blinked. “Where were you planning to sell it if not at the bazaar?”
“Well, I’ve been selling malt sugar at the weekly market among our neighbours,” Brother Mile explained. “Our production began exceeding the bakehouse’s needs, so I wanted to avoid waste and ensure ingredients remained fresh.”
He adjusted his sleeves slightly before continuing. “However, malt sugar itself remained too expensive for some neighbours. So I began selling brittles instead – brittles contain nuts and require less syrup, the cost less to make while bringing in slightly better returns. I prepare stock throughout the week and sell it at the market.”
“The weekly market?” Jade frowned. She had never heard of one within the parish.
“It is not a formal market,” Brother Milo clarified. “Neighbours with surplus goods gather at the Square alongside those seeking supplies. Most exchanges happen through barter rather than coin. I usually trade for herbs and ingredients needed by the domus.”
“Oh.” Jade nodded. That actually sounded like another quiet way the domus supported the neighbourhood. She continued, “Alright, then it’s settled: Josh and I will stay behind tomorrow morning to bake biscuits; Miss Arrowot and Clara will manage the booth, while Brother Milo helps by selling nut brittles. Sister Miriam, I’ll need your help making jam for the biscuits, and Brother James can oversee the accounts. Anything else we should add?”
Everyone shook their heads, and the meeting ended. Each person dispersed to prepare for the following day at the charity bazaar.
Jade’s absence was subtle.
A plainly dressed woman who had spent most of the previous day quietly working in the background was not someone many people noticed immediately. Even those who had overheard her bold remarks the day before failed to realise she was missing at first.
What they did notice was the monk standing at the booth, and unfamiliar sweets occupying one corner of the display.
Sweets.
Even if they were not especially refined, sweets appearing at a charity bazaar immediately drew attention.
At high-end charity bazaars such as this one, hosted by the Dowager Countess of Canareith, upper-class households sometimes hired skilled confectioners or commissioned elaborate treats to sell for charitable fundraising.
However, the Dowager Countess disliked such displays of performative generosity and had specifically forbidden them within her event. As a result, noble households wishing to flatter her were left selling unused fabrics, unnecessary belongings, or simple homemade goods prepared by their cooks – items that fell far short of the elaborate decorations capable of displaying their status and taste.
Many attendees had expected the bazaar to feel rather dull. Without elaborate sugar sculptures, towering cake with royal icing decorations, or elegant confections, there seemed little visual spectacle to brighten the venue.
Then the five-fold decorative screen had proven them wrong.
And now there were sweets.
Words spread quickly, drawing curious visitors eager to discover what kind of confection a humble domus could possibly produce.
Kathy soon presented a paper-wrapped parcel to her mistress.
“A monk is attending the booth instead of the schoolmistress today?” Miss Fairborne lifted her hand, and Kathy immediately unwrapped the package, arranging the contents neatly upon a small plate.
The young lady glanced down at the bite-size squares of amber-coated nuts. “And they have added a new product?”
Kathy nodded, her tone full of admiration. “Miss Jade is so intellectual. I heard she not only teaches new embroidery and trinket making techniques, but also provides a recipe for malt sugar!”
“Malt sugar? Related to beer?” Miss Fairborne raised a brow.
“No beer, Miss. It’s made from barley malt,” Kathy explained. “I heard the monk describing how he makes these nut brittles. Miss Jade, the schoolmistress, needed sweet biscuits to fund their school, but proper sugar costs too much, so she uses malt sugar instead.”
“Is this not their stall’s secret recipe?” Miss Fairborne asked, frowning slightly. “And the monk simply explained it to everyone?”
“Yes. One elderly gentleman asked about that too,” Kathy replied. “He sounded like a supporter of the stall and seemed worried. But the monk said, ‘Miss Jade does not mind sharing the recipe because the best biscuits still require proper sugar. Comfortable households would never rely on malt sugar, and she does not object to helping the poor’.”
Miss Fairborne tapped lightly against the tabletop as she considered this. A soft laugh escaped her. “A very clever schoolmistress.”
“Hm?” Kathy tilted her head.
“The poor and the working people rarely possess the time or facilities to make such sugar,” Miss Fairborne explained patiently, as she often did with her loyal maid. “The middle class would hesitate to adopt the recipe, while the upper class would never consider something so humble.”
She paused thoughtfully. “Keeping the recipe would not have harmed them. But sharing it elevates the reputation of both the school and the domus, with a minimum chance of helping someone who is desperate and happens to fit the criteria of using it. I imagine the skill of producing malt sugar may attract apprentices, and perhaps even grow into a workshop capable of funding the school, just like the stall.”
“Ooh!” Kathy’s eyes widened. She did not fully understand every detail of her mistress’s reasoning, but her mistress had praised the schoolmistress, that meant the schoolmistress must have done something remarkable.
Yet, Miss Fairborne was not the only lady to notice Jade’s absence.