Part 1: The game afoot
Most Portuguese conventual sweets have rather secular names, but some do hint at their religious origin, like the Paradise Cake, Celestial Eggs, or Bacon from Heaven. A few verge on the fetishistic: Abbot’s Ears, Angel’s Bellies, Nun’s Tummies, Nun’s Necks, or (brace) Nun’s Throats. So, when a TV channel organized a cooking competition to promote the creation of novel conventual sweets, the cheeky names of the delicacies proposed by the two finalist teams came as no surprise. The Carmelite Nuns put their delicious Friar’s Cheeks on the line, while the Franciscan Monks placed all trust in their equally mouth-watering Nun’s Shoulders. To be fair, the latter designation rubbed the nuns’ sensitivities the wrong way, as they thought this was going a few buttons too far.
The main issue with the Nun’s Shoulders, however, was their complex preparation. Correctly cooked, the consumption of their filling (made of egg yolk, almonds and myriad secret ingredients) amounted to an almost divine experience, but a slight mistake in stove temperature or stirring speed could easily yield an unholy congealed mess. And, in the trial runs, this was happening all too often. The monks needed expert help, and this meant Brother Edgar: a renowned authority on conventual pastries who, due to his reclusive nature, had initially declined to integrate the team. But he now agreed to help his brethren in their culinary predicament. With the competition’s televised final quickly approaching, this was now a race against time.
Part 2: The game aground
Brother Edgar spent days perfecting theory and practice, poring over new and ancient cookbooks and testing intricate parboiling and simmering techniques. He knew the key to success lay in using only containers and implements made of a certain type of copper in the preparation of the elusive delicacy. Satisfied with the results, he packed his shiny utensils in a small travel bag and booked a ticket to join the others.
Due to the perceived sexist nature of the sweet’s name, however, the nuns felt the situation justified extreme (if somewhat sinful) measures, and their underground intelligence quickly devised a plan. In anticipation of nunnish mischief, a Brother Edgar look-alike left the Portela Convent in advance, but this didn’t prevent a shrewd Sister Lara from detecting the true Brother as he headed to the train station.
On the platform, the young nun blessed herself, sprinted towards the unsuspecting monk and grabbed his leather bag. His rotund physique stood no chance against the athletic nun, so all that Brother Edgar could do was reach out and grab the woman’s habit with all his might. This made her trip and lose grip of the precious travel bag, which flew over the heads of perplexed onlookers and onto the rails, as the train approached.
Sister Lara now lay on the ground, her tunic ripped open, exposing a beautiful shoulder that mesmerized Brother Edgar… Snapping out of it, he helped the poor woman get up and offered her his jacket.
(Contribuição para um desafio do Global Writing & Storytelling Group do Internations.)