Finn Crust

Once you are friends

An honour to meet a fellow fancier of cakes. The soft sponge reminds me of resting my head against my mother's chest and falling asleep. She would wake me with a start. "Finn!" she would cry, "You are 32. Can you stop doing that?"

I think age should be no barrier to enjoying the things that make us comfortable. That's why I married Rosie. She's as soft and spongy as those golden syrupy days gone by.

Once they like you

What got me so into baked goods? Well, it's all nostalgia. That's an ancient word that means 'nose tingles for an age' or something. When you get older, you yearn to be younger. Many things can set off a memory of happier, more innocent times. A smell like baking bread. Hazy sunlight above the wheat late in the afternoon. The trickle of a stream or the feel of something warm to remind you of home and family, and laughter.

I am going to cry! I need a cake cure!

Asking for help

My skill as a baker only goes so far. And the ingredients I can obtain are limited. Your Vale has the best fruit. Mellowfields has the best veg. We don't get much around here except gooseberries.

I would love to taste a pie made from ingredients found outside the Havens, and outside this realm.

It is common knowledge the Fae have access to all sorts of sweet fruits that a man can only dream of.

On your travels, if you were ever to find such delicacies, could you make me a pie? A lovely high-quality Fae pie. Hmmmm.

I will be forever in your debt!

When it is done

Amazing! Oh, that smell! It instantly reminded me of when I was little, playing under a tree. There was a hole in it and a smell drifting out. This smell!

It is all coming back to me, clear as crystal cupcakes.

I recall a little voice from within the darkness of the hole as I peered into it.

It said, "Oi, getcher big nose out of it ya big scrawny scarecrow!" Well, I got to taste your pie in the end, you little faery flapjack!