Dango 101

One truly had to wonder why she was still allowed in anyone's kitchen. Time and time again, Milky Way had proved that she was capable of only the simplest of simple tasks, and even that might be too much.  Memory recalled the way she had let a dish catch fire at a friend's house while keeping watch over it. That said, it was perhaps up for debate right now whether Dan was a saint for putting up with her... un-teachability. Hands that scarely knew a day's work held loosely onto a clump of... something. They were supposed to be making a simple mitarashi dango, but the ratio of water to flour was terribly off. This led to her adding more flour to try to balance it out— which led to more water. Maybe she didn't quite have the technique for this or maybe she had already forgotten the measurements two minutes later. The worst part is that she was honestly trying.

"Um... Is this good?"

A tired sigh was the her response.

"No. Not even close." 

The quiet 'oh' she let out sounded neither surprised nor saddened. In fact, it was devoid of most anything except for perhaps the slightest hint of confusion. This proved to be the case when she set down the clump and brought a hand to her chin. Green eyes staring at the shapeless heap before them. How was this all going so wrong? What wasn't she doing? Truthfully, the answer to this and many other questions regarding her capabilities was simple: she just wasn't good for much else. Milky Way was a popular model. She could take orders and effortlessly showcase her appearance in the best of ways— but that was it. And Dan was quickly reaching this realization for himself.  Rather than get angry with the lack of progress or upset over lost ingredients, he took a moment to collect himself. In the end, he gestured for her to move aside. Milk quickly looked to him, eyes blinking in question.

"Why don't I handle this batch? You can stand there and observe... Again. Ask questions if you need to." It took her a moment to fully process the proposal but, once it clicked, she easily nodded and stepped aside. For the next half hour, Milk would switch between standing and crouching as she watched Dan go through the motions for a second time. He made it look so easy. That's why she thought she'd be able to do it. Guess there must have been something else she was missing. Well, that's okay. This wouldn't be the first time she'd failed to learn a new skill— and it wouldn't be the last.

"The dough should be smooth before you shape it. Then you can put 3 to 4 balls on a skewer."

"Uh-huh."

"Make sure its pre-soaked."

"Uh-huh."

"After that, you can fry them if you want or try a couple toppings. But that's the gist of it. One basic mitarashi dango."

"Mhmm."

"Any questions?"

.

.

.

"How much water do I use?"