There are so many things I love about Breath of the Wild that I could run multiple weeks of articles naming them all, but one thing that I didn’t necessarily expect to love is something that I don’t traditionally associate with the Zelda series: food.
As I played the game, I would scour the countryside for different ingredients and recipes, wishing that each one could have been chronicled in the Hyrule Compendium so I could more easily keep track of them all. Yup. I’m that dork who hummed along with Link as we both stared intently at the cooking pot, anxious to see what culinary creation appeared.
Part of my fascination with the cooking in Breath of the Wild stems from my own growing, non-video game interest in the culinary arts in recent years. In the last half a decade, I’ve started to really enjoy cooking for my family and friends. From simpler things like guacamole and breakfast burritos to a little more adventurous dishes like rice balls, I have enjoyed creating and sharing new foods with my IRL companions. When I found a cookbook called The Legend’s Cookbook, where my interests in cooking and Zelda intersected, I knew that I had to try it, especially since there was a recipe for my favorite in-game dish: Princess Zelda’s favorite Fruitcake.
This vaunted recipe is found deep within the Hyrule Castle library, surrounded by Lizalfos. The description for the recipe reads, “The Royal Family’s Secret Recipe #1 The Princess’s Favorite: Fruitcake – Boil any two (or) more pieces of fruit with Tabantha wheat and cane sugar for a good while. Eating this dish will apparently clear your head and help you focus on things such as ancient technology research.” This description immediately set my imagination aflame as I imagined the young princess enjoying this delight during her early birthday parties or maybe sneaking a slice to eat in her room while pondering the mysteries of ancient Sheikah technology. I knew that I had to make this cake for my friends and me; not only because I thought they’d like it, but because I wanted to experience this treat that was so cherished by my favorite iteration of the princess.
I was a little nervous as I tied on my Wind Waker apron in preparation for making this cake because I’m not much of a baker. Sure, I’ll cook all kinds of meals, but baked goods mostly fall under my wife’s domain. As a teenager, I somehow managed to turn a simple, boxed brownie recipe into an inedible, chocolate-flavored brick. I needed some of that pixelation from the Dubious Food to block out the memory of that disaster. Not only did the recipe require me to make a cake, but it also asked me to make homemade whipped cream which would require me to use a cooking tool I’d never really used before: a hand mixer.
The first few steps were simple. Cracking eggs and making the actual cake mixture was pretty similar to making dough for familiar dishes like empanadas. Even making my own syrup to douse the cake in, giving it a rich, sweet flavor was no big task. The recipe literally calls it a “simple syrup” after all. Soon, the cake was in the oven, and with a prayer to Hylia, I gathered my courage and set myself to making the whipped cream.
I combined the heavy cream and powdered sugar, consulted my wife’s mastery of the hand mixer, and started it up. As the minutes went by, the mixture hadn’t seemed to firm up any. It was still pretty milky. I adjusted the speed on the mixer as tiny droplets of cream escaped the bowl, finding a new home on my arms and my apron. With every minute that passed, my apprehension grew. I’m sure my wife thought I was crazy as I kept up a play-by-play of what was happening. “Was it supposed to take this long? Why hadn’t it firmed up yet? I’m going to turn the speed back up. Oh no. It’s spilling out again. I better slow it down. I hope this turns out.” Finally, some culinary chemical reaction must have switched on because it suddenly looked like whipped cream. I turned off the mixer and grabbed a spoon. I must taste it — not just to see what it was like but to also potentially spare my friends from the type of food not even a Bokoblin would eat. A minute later, I popped the spoon into my mouth, and the whipped cream, like my nervousness, melted away. It was delicious!
[Print by Finni Chang]
The rest of the preparations were a snap. Bolstered by my success, I confidently frosted and decorated the cake with some blueberries and strawberry slices. I even grabbed my Breath of the Wild Zelda amiibo and a piece of art by FinniChang showing the princess eating this cake and took a picture to commemorate my accomplishment. A few hours later, my wife, my friends, and I all prepared to try the finished cake. We all agreed that it was amazing. Each person had a different favorite part. Some of my friends praised the frosting because it was so light yet flavorful, my wife loved the way the fruit and the frosting mixed together, and I was surprised to find that the simple syrup made the actual cake taste far better than most other cakes I’ve ever had. No wonder Zelda loved it so much!
Successive play sessions of Breath of the Wild where I’ve made the Fruitcake have been made all the better by having tasted it in real life and the cake has become a heavily requested dessert for special occasions like Mother’s Day and birthdays. Just as Zelda had to gain confidence in herself before she could unlock the sealing power within her, I had to be successful in making the cake once before I could feel comfortable making changes. Now, I’ve begun experimenting with different fruit toppings and even added an orange flavoring to the whipped cream. With each successive iteration, I smile with the knowledge that I’m sure it would meet with the princess’s approval. In lieu of that, I know that it’ll at least meet with my wife’s approval, which matters much more.
