My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!-Chapter 207: Comfort and Curiosity (part 2)

Kiva was clearly delighted to have an interested audience. She pulled out item after item, explaining each one:

Crackle Seeds - spiced and roasted pumpkin-equivalent seeds, still in their shells. "You crack them open with your teeth, eat the seed inside. Very popular with people who like to fidget while snacking."

Honeycomb Bites - actual honeycomb from local beekeepers, broken into pieces and wrapped in waxed paper. "Pure, simple, sweet. Good for sore throats, or just for people who want something natural."

Savory Scrolls - thin pastry rolled around spiced meat paste, baked until crispy. "Meat pie but portable. You can eat them one-handed while walking. Adventurers buy these by the dozen."

Sugarcrystal Gems - hard candies in jewel colors, each one flavored differently. "The red ones are cinnaberry, blue is mint-frost, yellow is lemon-bright, green is herbapple. Kids love trying to collect all the colors."

Cheese Puffs - and these made Marron actually stop and stare. They looked exactly like cheese puffs from Earth. Puffy, orange, roughly spherical.

"How do you make these?" Marron asked.

"Corn flour—well, wheatcorn flour—mixed with cheese powder and other stuff, then puffed under pressure," Kiva said. "Honestly, I buy these from a supplier. They’re too complicated to make myself. But they sell like mad. People love anything that’s crunchy and cheese-flavored."

Marron tried one. It tasted almost exactly like Earth cheese puffs—that artificial-but-addictive cheese flavor, the way they dissolved on your tongue, the orange dust left on your fingers.

"Comfort food," Marron murmured.

"That’s the whole point of this shop," Kiva said. "Everything here is designed to make people feel good. Nothing fancy, nothing intimidating. Just food that reminds you of being a kid, or makes a bad day better, or gives you energy when you’re tired."

"What’s your best-selling category?" Marron asked.

"Savory crunch, hands down," Kiva said. "The rootknot crisps, the crackle seeds, anything you can munch while doing something else. People like food that doesn’t require stopping to eat it. Portable pleasure, you know?"

Marron understood completely. She’d been thinking about her cart all wrong—focusing on sit-down meals, on soups and substantial foods that required bowls and attention. But what if she offered foods people could eat while walking? While working? Quick, satisfying, comfortable?

"Can I buy some of everything?" Marron asked. "For research purposes."

"Absolutely." Kiva started pulling packages. "And if you’re looking to add something to your cart—consider the crisps. They’re easy once you get the technique down, they keep well, and the profit margin is excellent. I charge three copper for a small bag, five for large. Costs me maybe one copper in ingredients and oil per bag."

Three to five copper per bag, one copper cost. That was good money for relatively simple work.

Marron ended up buying samples of twelve different snacks, spending about twenty copper total. Kiva wrapped everything carefully, chatting the entire time about sourcing ingredients, customer preferences, seasonal trends.

"Come back anytime," Kiva said as Marron and Mokko prepared to leave. "And if you start making crisps, let me know how it goes. I’m always curious about other food people’s experiments."

"I will," Marron promised. "Thank you for the tour."

Outside, Mokko looked at the bulging shopping bag with amusement. "That was productive."

"That was inspiring," Marron corrected. She was already mentally planning—rootknot crisps as a primary offering, maybe some of the savory scrolls, definitely experimentation with portable cheese-based items. "I’ve been thinking about my cart like a restaurant. But it’s not. It’s street food. It should be convenient, comforting, easy to eat on the go."

"And profitable," Mokko added.

"And profitable," Marron agreed. "I need to start actually making money again. The vendors I helped are doing well, but I’ve barely worked my own cart in a month. My savings are getting low."

They walked back toward the apartment, and Marron found herself looking at the city differently. Not as a place full of crises and Legendary Tools, but as a place full of people who wanted convenient, comforting food. People who’d pay three to five copper for a bag of perfectly-fried crisps to eat while walking. People who’d appreciate portable pastries and cheese puffs and honey-roasted seeds.

Her cart could serve that need. Could provide that small, daily comfort.

"I’m going to spend tomorrow developing recipes," Marron announced. "Testing crisp techniques. Figuring out optimal frying temperatures. Creating my own seasoning blends."

"Not going to The Silver Cleaver?" Mokko asked carefully.

"Not yet." Marron adjusted the shopping bag. "Petra asked for time to think. I’m giving her time. And meanwhile, I’m going to focus on my actual job—being a chef who feeds people food they want to eat."

"That sounds healthy," Mokko observed.

"That sounds like I’m procrastinating," Marron corrected. "But it’s productive procrastination. And honestly? After weeks of crises and collectors and Legendary Tool drama, cooking rootknot crisps sounds really nice."

Back at the apartment, Marron unpacked her purchases, arranging them on her counter like specimens to study. She tried each one methodically, taking notes on flavor profiles, textures, techniques she could replicate.

The rootknot crisps were her favorite—simple, satisfying, with that addictive quality that made you keep reaching for more. She could make these. She had a portable fryer setup, she could source rootknots cheaply from the market, and the seasoning possibilities were endless.

The savory scrolls were more complex but doable. The cheese puffs were too complicated—she’d need specialized equipment. The honeycomb bites were lovely but required a beekeeper connection she didn’t have yet.

But the crisps. The crisps were perfect.

"Tomorrow," Marron said to Lucy, who was watching from her jar with interest, "we’re making rootknot crisps. Lots of them. Different seasonings. Different thicknesses. We’re going to perfect this until people in Lumeria associate my cart with the best damn crisps in the city."

Lucy burbled enthusiastically and formed a little flame shape—encouragement for the frying process.

Marron smiled. This felt right. This felt like her—not the chef collecting Legendary Tools or fighting merchant guilds, but the chef figuring out how to make good food that people would want to buy.

The knife situation would resolve itself, one way or another. Edmund Erwell would keep being Edmund Erwell. The remaining Legendary Tools would be wherever they were.

But right now? Right now she had rootknots to slice and oil to heat and recipes to develop.

And that was enough.