The Last Kitchen, Part 4: Hazel the squirrel weighs flour on a plain kitchen scale while Gerzsi holds an over-packed cup, Chef Tamás laughs, Rufus the bear eats a loaf and Wendell the woodpecker crashes into the flour sacks

The Last Kitchen, Part 4: Hazel Weighs Everything

By Chef Tamás, head chef (25 years) ·

Updated

·

2–3 minutes

The Last Kitchen, Part 4 of 26. Gerzsi and friends are made up; the gear is real and independently tested. This post contains affiliate links (disclosure).

Previously: The footprints belonged to Rufus the bear, who had carried Hazel the squirrel down from the hills to bake in Chef Tamás’s old gas oven. A cheap oven thermometer showed the oven ran 50 degrees hot. Then Rufus said he saw the ring drop something near the Old Mill. Missed it? Read Part 3 · All parts

The Last Kitchen, Part 4: Hazel the squirrel weighs flour on a plain kitchen scale while Gerzsi holds an over-packed cup, Chef Tamás laughs, Rufus the bear eats a loaf and Wendell the woodpecker crashes into the flour sacks

By morning the kitchen smelled like a bakery, because it was one. Hazel had taken over two counters, three bowls and most of Tamás’s patience.

“We need bread for the trip to the mill,” she announced. “Gerzsi, three cups of flour.”

Gerzsi scooped three cups, packing each one down with his paw so it was nice and full. Hazel watched him like he had just put salt in her coffee.

“Stop. Put it on the scale.”

Her own smart scale sat in the corner, still blinking OBEY, so she pulled a plain flat digital one out of her apron. No app, no buttons except ON and TARE. Gerzsi’s three cups weighed 510 grams.

Then Hazel spooned the flour into the cup lightly and leveled it with a knife. Three cups: 375 grams.

“Same cup,” said Gerzsi. “Same flour. Why?”

Chef Tamás leaned on the counter. “Flour is mostly air until you squash it. Scoop and pack, and you can get a third more flour than the recipe wanted. A third more flour means dry bread, heavy cake, cookies like roof tiles. A cup measures space. A scale measures food.” He grinned. “My apprentices hate this lesson. Then they bake their first good loaf.”

Hazel tapped the scale. “And this one can’t be told what to say. It just weighs.”

The bread was perfect. Rufus ate one whole loaf before anybody noticed, then looked very innocent about it.

They were packing for the mill when the terrace door banged open. A woodpecker in a tiny yellow hard hat flew in sideways and crashed into the flour sacks.

“Wendell?” said Gerzsi.

Wendell sat up, coughing flour. “My workshop,” he gasped. “Every tool I own just locked itself. And they’re all pointing at your kitchen.”

Next: Part 5, tomorrow. Wendell builds a shield.

🛒 Gear from this part

A plain digital kitchen scale. Weighing flour is the easiest way to better baking. Hazel’s scale is the tested one in her baking kit.

Can’t wait for tomorrow’s part?

Gerzsi can’t either. While Chef Tamás’s stock bubbles for four hours, he puts on a sci-fi audiobook and listens with both ears flat against the pot lid (he says it helps). If you’re new to Audible, the free trial is an easy way to start one for the slow-cooking hours.

Free trial for eligible new members; Amazon sets the terms on the sign-up page. Affiliate link: Gerzsi may earn a commission.

All parts of The Last Kitchen → · The Black Friday list

Chef-cooked. Beaver-approved.


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Painted portrait of Chef Tamás, head chef, in his dark chef jacket

About the chef

Chef Tamás has cooked for 25 years in à la carte restaurants, hotels and a river cruise ship, in Hungary, Austria, Germany and France. Today he runs a restaurant kitchen and trains apprentices, including one very eager beaver.

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