Stressed Backwards Desserts Novels & Stories

"Lobster with Sicilian lemon risotto, and your dessert, you can imagine that I prepared it myself. I couldn't believe all the effort he'd put into making that date perfect, and it being his birthday, that should be my job! "What's for dessert? "Baked Alaska filled with mint chocolate ice cream. He really went all out! Every minute I felt more enchanted by everything that was happening, and that feeling only grew. Perhaps, in the end, Gustaf was the sweetness that was missing from my life. Interrupting my thoughts, the waiter approached with a bottle of Green wine, ready to fill the glass in front of me.

I was going to stop messing with her. She returned with two desserts on a tray. One looked like brownies and ice cream and the other looked like pudding with chocolate sauce. "Here you go sir for you I recommend our house fudge chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce," she placed it in front of Mason. "And for you sir," she turned to look at me, "our taffy pudding with licorice sauce."

For the security of a crown. It must be easy, I thought. Easier than loving someone and losing them. But I did not say that aloud. I smiled and nodded and drank my wine. Dessert was everything Ysabella had promised. The lemon tart was bright and sweet, the crust buttery and flakey, the custard smooth as silk. I ate two slices and considered a third. "I am going to need the recipe," I said, licking custard from my spoon. Ysabella laughed. "It is a family secret. I would have to kill you if I told you."

Silverware gleams against folded napkins, and bowls of rose petals sit at the center of each table. The backyard looks nothing like the place the princes bashed yesterday. A shiver runs up my spine as we continue forward. There’s a faint smell of something sweet in the air. Candied almonds or maybe baked fruit. My stomach growls, and I place a protective hand over it, as if that will silence the sound.

She never realized that she made too much. “Yeah, I think so too.” Harvey agreed. Actually, a little bit is an understatement because Ara baked so much that it will not be an exaggeration if he said that the pantry was covered with cookies. He saw different kinds of pastries like Broas (lady finger), Pacencia, Puto Seco, Rosquillos and Bañadas. Harvey thought that maybe Ara was stressed based on how much she baked just within two hours. “I didn’t notice that I have already made so many cookies. And when I realized it, it was already like this.” She said while touching her ear, her way to relieve her embarrassment. Overcome with embarrassment, she blushed.

Excitement charged the air — today marked the beginning of Dessert Week. Glass cases along the hallways gleamed with delicate pastries crafted by former students: airy macarons, glossy fruit tarts, intricate chocolate sculptures. The scent of sugar, butter, and warm vanilla filled the corridors, tugging her straight back to memories of her children sneaking spoonfuls of whipped cream at home.

“Your guess is almost right. What Giselle likes the most is Raisin Chocolate Bread. The croissant you mentioned is just a backup for her.” I laughed softly. ‘Ursula? Erm... let me guess.’ I looked around again. ”Cheesecake with blueberry sauce?” Max laughed. “Strawberry sauce, to be precise.” I joined in the laughter. ‘They seem to be sweet tooths, huh.” “You're right. Sweets can improve your mood. Especially chocolate. It's said to significantly reduce stress levels.” “That's why I stopped by,’ he replied flatly. ”I'm stressed out.”

"Let’s see how you handle the silent treatment." I set to work. I wasn't making a normal meal. I was making a masterpiece of culinary sabotage. I prepared an appetizer of Peanut Butter and Sea Salt Foam. But the "foam" was actually a thick, high-protein paste designed to coat the palate like a layer of industrial wool. Then, for the main event, I crafted a Triple-Glazed Sticky Toffee Pudding for the dessert, but I boiled the sugar until it reached the "Hard Crack" stage before folding in the Manuka honey and the marshmallow extract.

“I said, I hope you’re hungry. For starters, we have spiced root vegetable fritters with harissa and lime yogurt, accompanied by our chef’s noodle salad, followed by a raspberry sorbet, then mushroom wellington, then for dessert, vanilla bean Panna Cotta.” My mouth formed an ‘O’ as she repeated the mouthful of words all over again. Caleb gave my knee a slight reassuring squeeze under the table and I jumped, making a tiny squeak. I had never heard of most of what she just said, but just to recover myself, I pretended I did. “That sounds lovely. Why are we having a dessert, right before the main course?” I asked in a timid voice, a little confuzzled. Again, I felt stupid. Just pull the lever a