Monkeycakes were so named because the snow monkeys were known to sneak out of the forests to steal them. They were round and orange and stuffed with peanuts, usually served on sticks to resemble furred feet on bamboo. I’d spent plenty of Summer Festivals watching the vendors from Chajinda make them, and I was confident I could replicate their recipes.
Maybe a little too confident.
I used carrots to dye the rice flour, but it ended up looking more peach than orange. After I pounded the dough and peanuts with a wooden mallet, some cakes ended up with too much peanut, and some with too little. Grilling the cakes, too, proved tricky. The dough kept sticking to the pan, and I burned the edges instead of making them crispy.
My next batch, I learned from my mistakes and watched the cakes more carefully. Mother had made a similar treat for me once, using coconut along with the peanuts. She’d held my hands with a wooden spoon over the fire.
“Sing our song once, then flip,” she’d say. “Sing again, then flip.”
Channari was a girl who lived by the sea,
who kept the fire—waiting for her sister.
What did she make for a happy smile?
Cakes, cakes, with coconut and dates.
I had nearly finished grilling the second batch when Takkan and Pao entered the kitchen. Fresh snow laced their cloaks, and the outside chill had brought a flush to Takkan’s nose and cheeks—a sight I found more endearing than I wanted to.
“A bit early for dessert, isn’t it?” he greeted. “How are Pao and I supposed to search for assassins when you tempt us with these smells?”
He reached over the grill, but I swatted his hand lightly.They’re still hot.
“May I have one of those?” Pao asked, pointing at my plate of sacrificial cakes—the ones I had burned.
When I gave him the entire plate, his serious face almost opened to a smile. Almost.
“You’ve made yourself an ally for life,” Takkan joked as Pao drifted to the edge of the kitchen to eat. Pao was starting to remind me of my brothers. His ears stuck out like the twins’, and his smiles were hard-earned like Andahai’s.
But Takkan? I hadn’t yet made up my mind about my former betrothed. Somehow, it didn’t feel right comparing him to my brothers.
He drew close, hovering over the pan, and I suddenly became glad for the crackling fire under my monkeycakes—a credible explanation for the wave of heat that had come over my face.
Have you found the assassin?I mouthed hastily, pointing at Oriyu’s scarf, which Takkan had folded over his arm.
“No, Pao and I are still looking. We’ve been questioning everyone in Iro, but to no avail.” He waved at my cakes. “Thoughtful of you to send us off to work today with snacks.”
They’re not for you,I started, but Takkan reached for one over the grill.
He let out a cry. “That’s hot.”
I crossed my arms, holding back a laugh.That’s what you get for your impatience.
Takkan was still holding the cake, tossing it from hand to hand to let it cool. Finally he bit and chewed.
I fluttered my hands eagerly.How is it?
“Now who’s being impatient?” he teased. His mouth was full, and the words came out muffled. “I’ve barely finished chewing the first bite. I’ll need a second to form an opinion.”
He took another bite, keeping his expression perfectly neutral and not divulging any opinion at all.
Takkan grinned. “I’ve always loved a good monkeycake.”
I relaxed.They’re recognizable? Not too sweet? Not too thick?
He didn’t understand my questions, but he relieved my worries by reaching for another one. I let him have it before I nudged him away from the grill and pointed at Pao.Share with him.
“Who are the rest for?”
