Crickets, Pistachios, and Other Sources of Protein | DESCENT Issue #4

Z Luo

“Sometimes, cake is cake. Other times cake is not cake. It is bread.” –A Cake Spirit

“It’s time to leave.”

Startled, you turn, dropping your batter-draped chopsticks and sending lime green batter flying.

I’m baking! Give me a warning, won’t you?

“We have to go. They’re coming.”

But I’m baaaaking! How else will you get your nutrients?

Turning back to your dough, you sigh. What a waste. It’s still salvageable though you might have to reduce the eggs.

“Are you even packed?”

Yeah. My bag’s right there. Pass me the pistachios, will you? This one’s got all your favorites in it.

“Are you listening to me? We have to go. They’ll be here soon.”

Are you listening to me? I’m baking! I can’t go. Whoever they are can wait. Now, do you want lime curd or pandan curd? Oh! We can make egg tarts with the leftovers! Which crust–

“Fine. I warned you.”

That’s all the warning you get before your in gredient-strewn countertop recedes from you. Oh, there’s still some scarlet crusting over from your last foray into raspberry chili bread.

Seriously?

“At least you’re still carrying some dough. I have your bag too. Just bake when we get there.”

But my apricot-lychee buns are still rising in the oven! My buns! Let me down, get my buns!

Year 666, Ungodly Era, Season of Winds

The cabinets were the ugliest thing in your new home. And the countertops are all lumpily stained ever-worsening shades of brown and grey. You’re almost certain that it single-handedly kept this place uninhabited by ghosts and other yao.

Built into the floor and sprawling across the kitchen, the cabinets were all splashes of white against gold-flecked lopsided rhombi, intersected with what looked like an homage to neon orange half-cooked gruel. You don’t think that even the staunchest fans of abstract art could find something palatable about it.

But, what caught your eyes was the pulls of the messiest cabinet. The cabbage-leaf hinges were unique, certainly, but the handles have been completely scoured of utilitarian ism. Someone had replaced the simple, teakwood knobs and useless cyan tassels with lithe, cavoting creatures, the wood somehow maintaining the movement of silken sashes and ribbons.

Spindly feathers invite you to touch and, before you know it, you’ve teleported into the cabinet. Messily scrawled characters dance with humanoid carvings. Glimpses of familiar words mesh with the unfamiliar. Fascinating. Stepping closer, the story unfolds before you.

“Did you accidentally create some new god?”

Huh? You know I don’t do that stuff anymore. Anyway, try this! I think I finally got my ratios of sweet potato to pineapple right.

“Hm… it’s good.”

Are you sure? You sound very sincere right now.

“You gave me so much. I chew slowly, remem ber?”

Last…night… egg –no cake god … finally … from my … small rock– pomegranate cake … inside … appeared. Interesting. You’ve never heard of a cake god before. Is this something from the era before, the godly era?

The … elegant … air of the cake god … looked at me … with a glance … turned … and … to wards the cake’s inside … hid. Maybe you need to work on your reading skills. What kind of god hides in a cake?

Year 520, Foresaken Era, Season of Ice

“The council called me in for a meeting.”

What? Why? Didn’t they promise to leave you alone?

"Did you accidentally create some new god?"

"Huh? You know I don't do that stuff anymore. Anyway, try this! I think I finally got my ratios of sweet potato to pineapple right."

"Hm... it's good."

Are you sure? You sound very sincere right now.

"You gave me so much. I chew slowly, remember?"

True. Let me write this one into my rec ipe cabinet. Can you hand me my tiny red knife?

“Uh… the one covered in blue … cream?

No? I used my little purple knife for that one. It was going to be a blueberry-raisin-shrub cake for you but it deflated into those brownies in the third drawer over there. It should be … somewhere near my potatoes I think. Or the yams.

“Here.”

Thanks. Ah what were they? Three eggs, 360 grams, I think, of sweet potatoes, let’s put a cake spirit here, fif–

“Did you feel that quake?”

What? The world’s always a bit turbulent, did something happen?

“Probably. Let me check something.”

Okay. Anyway, fifteen grams of pineapple, hm, does my cake spirit want a pineapple spirit’s company? The turtle-like shell of armor and some sharp, jutting spines, sunny yellow smiles and–

“Are you aware that you’re summoning spirits again?"

!! What? Hm, oh shoot my mooncake skin is done steaming. Give me a second to rescue it. Ah! Hot!

“Here, I’ll do it. Congratulations on becoming the Council’s worst nightmare for your tenth year in a row."

I really was on my best behavior this year though.

“I know. They’re just overreacting again. You haven’t caused any massive god eradications in years, and nothing’s gone up in that weird brew of half-illusion-half-actual flame thing you made for roasting …duck?

Hey! It was for testing notes of dreams against flavor profiles of more classically torched des serts like creme brulee. You weren’t complain ing when the pies had you floating with a tail. Or at the wings you grew from that roll cake I made. Oh, that one was good.

“I know. But we’ll probably have to go into hiding again. At least until their tempers have cooled and they’re no longer clamoring for your head again.”

Did you at least remodel your safehouse’s kitchen yet? Or will I have to bake in your atrocity of a flame pit again? The last cake I baked in it came out with five different textures you know. Five!

Year 666, Ungodly Era, Season of Winds

Incense swirls in lazy clouds, as your call re sounds through the realms. Pick up, pick up, pick–

“Why did I hear from the high acolyte that you sang you me and a tree for your initiation rite?!”

Watch your tone there, my friend. It’s a classic. And you did yours with a butter knife so are you in any position to judge?

“I’m not saying it isn’t, but why did I have to hear this from the high acolyte? You know I can only put up with so much of the oh what a disgrace while nodding politely before my face freezes into something horrifying. Congratulations on your initiation by the way.”

I was going to tell you but then they were trying to block my qualifications, ha qualifications, as though they can talk about those, so I had to do it fast and lo and behold, it was me and tree and [maybe actually name the very much dying god that reader decided to become an acolyte to]. Anyway, I called because I think I found a relic in my new place.

“A relic?! Really? In that frightful place?”

What better place to hide than one so horrendously repulsive? Anyway, do you want to come over and see it?

“Of course! Can you prepare me a blindfold to protect my eyes from your hazardous kitchen though?”

慢慢的，我把我的小红刀切到蛋糕里。啊？神 呢？我用了这么多的力量吸引这神来怎么它就 逃了啊？3个鸡蛋，360克红薯，15克菠萝， 哎，来吧，来个朋友吧，菠萝神出现吧！你 看，我把朋友都邀请来了，蛋糕神你回来吧。 一瞬光从蛋糕里闪了一下，然后就消失了。蛋 糕神啊，蛋糕神，你知道我只会不停的打扰你 哦，就拜托了。来，再来个朋友。给你加个葡 萄神吧，葡萄好难用来做蛋糕啊，烤来烤去也 留不了多少东西。

Year 666, Ungodly Era, Season of Winds –Cabinet

Slow–slowly, I put my small red knife … cut? I cut with my small red knife … into the cake. Ah? God ah? … Where is the god? I used so much strength power… energy … allure … this …god come… how come … it just … ran away? Interesting pronoun choice for a god. Can this person make gods at will? What kind of person can do that? And to frighten the gods too, what might.

Three chicken eggs, 360 grams red potato … sweet potato, 15 grams … pineapple, oh, come, come a friend, pineapple god appear! You spin around, half-expecting a pineapple god to manifest. Was that the old creation technique for gods? Oh that we could have half the skies they did, draped in those billowing threads of stray magic and freehanded creations springing into playful existence.

You see, I … brought friend even… invit ed here, cake god you return … please? A flash of light… from the inside of the cake … flashed for a moment … and then … disap peared. Cake god oh cake god, you know I … only nonstop hit–bother you, so begging you. Come, again come a friend. Give you… add a … grape god, grape good hard… grapes are so hard to use… to make cakes ah, bake here bake go… no matter how you bake them … stay not many less things… there’s not much left. How many gods can be made at once? How daring, to taunt the gods. Whose fault is it that grapes are not good for baking? Are they not good for other things? ---

Year 520, Forsaken Era, Season of Death

哎，another bread.

“...Perhaps you were a little too overzealous in your kneading.”

*Bite*

Ok, not just a little, but monstrously overzealous.

“It would have probably made delicious noodles?”

Should that make me feel better?

“Did it?”

I don’t know. Do you want peach-flavored noodles? I thought you wanted a cake. I swear my hand only shook once during the addition of flour. How is that enough difference to transmute cake into bread?

“Maybe you should start writing down your successful recipes for reference. Not enough to deny the spirit of baking, of course, but just enough to make the cake spirits happy and give you cake.”

Good idea! Hm, where should I put it?

“Maybe in your recently remodeled cabinet? So that when you grab ingredients for baking, you can be inspired.”

!! Great idea! Can you pass me the knife? I’ll start writing to the cake spirits now.

“At least let me wash it first.”

Hurry up! Do you think the cake spirits will appreciate my doodles? ---

Year 666, Ungodly Era, Season of Winds

Do you really want to use a blindfold? The interior art is a fascinating glimpse into the minds of relic-crafters and the godly age.

“I’d like to keep my aesthetics intact, thanks. Besides, you said it was carved, right? I can just run my fingers along it and feel the textures. And you were going to read it out loud anyway.”

…Fine. There are varying depths to the carvings, so you might find something interesting. And don’t judge. You’re the one who gave me this blindfold anyway.

With a quick flick, you toss the pale pink blindfold, covered in magnificent soaring cranes, into the air, summoning a quick bolt of lilac, sunset lightning to char it off to the nether realm with a quick murmuring of its gift status. The blindfold materializes feather by silky feather around your friend’s face as the gift completes its ascension.

You pull your friend through your cluttered living room and into your kitchen. Hm. Maybe your aesthetics really have been warped. Somehow, there’s something more pleasing about your cabinets. Maybe it’s the way that the neon orange gruel looks like your initiation dinner. Or the fact that you might be able to trace a motif across the flecks.

You swear that the pulls have migrated, ripples in the sleek wood gliding subtly, and one of a particularly raucous dancer with a fluttering fan might even wink at you.

Ready?

At the nod you get, you throw open the cabinet. Or maybe it opened its great maw and swallowed you. Dark and light, light and dark, within the cabinet it is all cabinet, wooden, carved, never-ending, never-beginning.

蛋糕神，为什么我做不出蛋糕，只做的出来面 包1？我试了好多种了，牛奶味，香蕉味，桃 子味，茄子味，等等怎么还是做不出来啊？ 蛋糕神无可奈何的对我说了这一句：《有些时 候，蛋糕是蛋糕。有时，蛋糕不是蛋糕。它是 面包。》

Cake god, why I … make not … out cake, why can I not make cake … just make out come bread? Oh, why can I not make cake, only bread? Sometimes you can’t force yourself to become something you aren’t.

I try–tried good many types, cow milk flavor, sweet–banana flavor, peach flavor, … eggplant flavor, wait wait– etc yet still is make no out… yet still can’t make any? Ah, such dedication to the classic flavors. You wonder which cake gods corresponded to the varied flavors. Or was this god a more mutable one, who could split and reform as they pleased?

Cake god no able patience hold… cake god unable to hold patience anymore … hm cake god with an inexhaustible amount of patience to me said this line: “There are some times where cake is cake. Other times, cake isn’t cake. It is bread.” Oh! Is it possible that the narrator mistook a bread god for a cake god? The olden gods must have had a hard time with attracting followers then.

“The jagged cuts feel harried yet sure. They’re precise, even when they seem sloppy, and the entire piece pulses with a wickedly wild sort of life… how did you chance upon it?”

I really don’t know. It must be my post-initia tion luck.

“And maybe the decor is your post-initiation curse.”

Just because most people “die” post-initiation doesn’t mean initiation is actually cursed. Think about it. The relic here proves that godly creation was once so incredibly easy that people could accidentally summon a variety of gods. So how can sharing the burden of one cause any thing so dramatic?

“The pot that met my head post-initiation would like to meet yours.”

Introductions can wait. Anyway, what did you think of the relic? Want to introduce this cake god to yours?

“Absolutely! You have to feel the connections of this piece too–here, where the little grapes on the grape god’s head piece weave so gorgeously between the spirit realm and anterior realm… here, where the spines of the pineapple god protruding elegantly from the neck like a crown, feel the points, how spiky they are, sharp in each realm and tied so beautifully by the bread… the cake god must be hiding because this piece has enough energy to tether them here for a lifetime.”

Does it make you want to remove your blind fold?

“Nope. My fingers can see enough. Maybe you should stay a little longer on this side for once.”

Not today. I think I’d like to

But maybe one day, I will.

Year 520, Forsaken Era, Season of Ash

Your lumpy little tart disappears so slowly, the purple-yellow swirl at the top spin ning you in circles as careful chewing sounds.

Do … do you like it?

Middle finger, thumb, pointer, thumbmiddle, pointerpinkiemiddle–“Yes.” Really? But–

“No buts. I like it. Which flavors did you use? I taste … taro? And jackfruit?”

You can taste the jackfruit?! I thought I didn’t add enough. Yeah, there’s taro and jackfruit and there’s some mango and per simmon and …