The Pastry Archives: Yes, I'm doing this

[epistemological]

The day after Martin Blackwood moves into his new apartment, he is greeted by a rather nondescript box tied with bakers twine and seated off to one side from whence comes an almost divine scent of apples and candied rose. On top of it, tucked under the twine, is a simple note, in an exceedingly precise hand:

Welcome to the building. Enjoy.

Should he open the box, he will find an imaculate confection that tastes as good as it looks... but no indicator of who might have left it there or any indication that thanks or even a greeting in return might be desired.

Comments

[corkscrewed]

They are both inexplicable and delicious. It's a few weeks, actually, before he gets a lead on who may have left it at his door. He befriends a neighbor, and one afternoon over tea asks who do you think did that?

Which is why the mysterious, reclusive baker will find a package of misshapen but edible cookies outside of his door one afternoon.

Thank you! They were delicious. You're very talented. :) -Martin Blackwood, 5G

[epistemological]

There will be, left in front of his door the next day, the most immaculate chocolate chunk cookies with bright perks of orange zest that make the whole of it smell divine. There is also a note.

325, parchment paper, make sure you rest the dough at least two hours, five minutes less in the oven.

[corkscrewed]

It'll be three days before there's a response: chocolate chip cookies that are much more palatable, and a small metal tin of a dark chocolate and mint loose-leaf tea.

I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. He'd just been pointed to the unit.

[epistemological]

Why are you asking?

[ Comes with a picture perfect ricotta cheesecake.]

[corkscrewed]

Martin will just show up outside of Jon's door about thirty minutes after it arrives, rapping his knuckles on the door. He's got another tin of tea.

[epistemological]

The door will open shortly afterwards, and it's clear that the man thought he'd be signing for a package when he spots Martin outside. And has no idea what to do about it.

"...can I help you with something?"

[corkscrewed]

"Oh! Yes, hello, uh- it's Martin, from down the hall, it's nice to meet you-" He'd shake hands, but he's balancing both the tea and the cheesecake. "This is way too much to eat by myself, so I was wondering if you'd like to share?"

[epistemological]

There's a look at the tea. And then at the cheesecake.

"...if you like," though it sounds like he's not terribly interested in doing so. All the same, he'll step back to let Martin in, his hand waiting on the door to close it behind him.

[corkscrewed]

"Great," Martin says cheerfully, following him in. Something about him seems relieved. "I'm, um, I'm afraid I still don't know your name, though...?"

[epistemological]

He watches Martin walk in, like he wasn't expecting it to happen, and when the question isn't asked so much as nudged in his direction, he swallows and-

"Jon. Jon Sims."

He doesn't hold his hand out for a shake. Instead, he heads for the kitchen, which has clearly been redone since it's vastly different than the one in Martin's flat.

[corkscrewed]

Jon Sims. Martin makes a mental note of it- Jon was the last person on the floor he hadn't yet met.

"So you must bake a lot," he says, setting the cheesecake onto the first available surface. "The cookies were phenomenal."

[epistemological]

His lips flicker into something that could be called a smile before he heads for the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"I'm a baker, actually. A pâtissier specifically."

[corkscrewed]

"That's someone who does... pastries?" Martin hazards. He'll pass over another tin of tea when he can get close enough to Jon to do so - a few servings of a blueberry rooibos.

[epistemological]

The look he gives to Martin could potentially create a second Sahara Desert.

"Yes. That would be someone who makes pastries."

He glances at the tea, peers at the title on the tin, and takes a moment to get a sniff and a look at the blueberry rooibos.

Hmm.

He changes the setting on his kettle and pulls out a slightly different pot.

"And, er, what is it that... you... do?"

[corkscrewed]

Martin peers at him, trying not to look as openly curious as he is. The withering look embarrasses him a bit, but he tries to push past it.

"Oh, uh- I'm a nurse. And go ahead and get it out of your system- boy nurse, hilarious, ha ha."

[epistemological]

Martin gets another one of those dry looks at the insistence that he's going to mock him over a perfectly reasonable profession.

"Skilled nursing is, I understand, a relatively well-paid profession and one which is in frequent demand."

He looks away to pull out the cups and a small quantity of sugar.

"That explains your strange hours."

[corkscrewed]

"Yeah," Martin says, and he's torn between sheepishness at the dry look and happiness at Jon's answer. "It's- I work at a lot of strange times. I hope I'm not waking you up? I try to be quiet."

[epistemological]

He shakes his head.

"I'm up at all hours. And very very early, as a habit."

Bakeries are early-part-of-the-day enterprises generally.

"If I have a complaint, Mister Blackwood, I assure you: I will make it."

[corkscrewed]

"Yeah," Martin says, ducking his head to grin very slightly. "I got that feeling. Um- do you bake for everyone who moves in?"

[epistemological]

He tilts his head thoughtfully.

"I bake. And if I have an extra batch or two that I don't have a use for, I try to distribute it among the rest of the floor, yes."

[corkscrewed]

Martin will glance around, hoping to find something to serve the cake with. "That's very sweet of you. Um- no pun intended."

[epistemological]

"And yet, it happened anyway."

But there's no bite to it. Instead, he's point to point towards the drawer with the pie triangle; perfectly acceptable for serving cake as well.

"What was it that brought you to my door, exactly?"

[corkscrewed]

Martin will go to retrieve that, slicing carefully into the cake. "You were the only neighbor I hadn't met," he says, as if that explains everything.

[epistemological]

"And you... had to catch them all?"

Yes, he absolutely says this like the neighbors were pokemon. But try and call him on it, and you will get the most arch sort of look.

[corkscrewed]

Martin doesn't call him out, but he does look pleased. "Well- yes? I'm pretty new to London in general, I figured it's best to get to know my neighbors."