Amalia
stop thinking so much
"Almost everything," Amalia agrees, resting her head on the back of her hands. "In baking, at least." She raises an eyebrow in wry amusement at his expression of distaste. The question is one she remembers asking her grandmother often as a child.
"My grandmother used to say that baking was a kind of magic." With deft fingers Amalia pours in the remaining dry ingredients, her voice taking on a distant tone. "It takes all the elements to bake - you need heat, and air, and water, and earth. The dry ingredients are earth."
With the pride of an artist Amalia pushes her jars of spices towards Peter, each one carefully labeled. "Well put ginger in this - here -" she gestures to the bottle "- but you can go ahead and smell the other ones. See which flavors you think will go well with the ginger." She hasn't made this challenge particularly hard: there's cloves and cinnamon and nutmeg and cardamom, as well as the somewhat less appropriate savory and sweet herbs, and some curled up peel of orange.
you're breaking your own heart
