Actually, this world has bacon, or something at least similar. Same as the 17th century in my world, they would dry salt or brine pork belly, a necessity due to the lack of means of refrigeration. They would heavily salt the pork belly, often to up to one tenth of the meat weight, and then let it rest. The result was an incredibly tough, incredibly salty piece of bacon. This would soon become part of the ship rations, English ships going so far as to allot to their sailors 1 pound of bacon every Monday, creating the tradition of Bacon Monday. It seems that the situation here is pretty much similar, as I spotted a slab of bacon in the galley and knocked on it with my knuckles out of curiosity, causing the meat to sound like hardwood. Trying to use this kind of bacon as a topping for my pizza is out of the question, as even if it is cut as thin as paper, it would still be incredibly salty, while boiling it to remove the saltiness would destroy the unique taste of the bacon. So, it seems that I will have to make my own! I used to make bacon at home all the time, as it takes only 5-7 days before it is ready to be cooked or smoked, but this world at this stage probably lacks curing salt, so it might take longer. On the other hand, if I can find a chemist or alchemist, or however they are called here, who can refine sodium nitrite, I can mix it with regular table salt and make my very own curing agent, which will allow me to create my own bacon, salami, prosciutto, and so on. As for cheeses, I will have to check what methods they use here, but in general, it is quite easy, plus I know two or three methods to make my own milk curdling agent, and in the very worst case, I can use white vinegar to curdle the milk.
Shaking my head, I abandon my musing and head below deck to my cabin. With a full belly and my pursuers out of range, I can finally enjoy a nice sleep...
The following days find me more often than not in the galley, teaching the cook again and again how to make pizza. Turns out, no person in this world can cook worth a shit! The day after my culinary feat, also known as the introduction of the pizza, the cook attempted to make it on his own at the captain's request. The result was, for lack of better words, incredibly bad... The dough was burned, the cheese was burned, the sauce was burned... well, you get the idea. In the end, both the captain and the cook dropped to their knees in front of me and begged me to teach them how to make, if not a perfect pizza, at least an edible one. Sighing in exasperation, I agreed to the captain's request, especially since he offered to refund us our tickets in full as long as he got to eat a decent pizza. The task, however, turned out to be more daunting than I expected, as after I showed once again all the steps one by one to the cook, I would stare flabbergasted, as he did everything wrong once again. Looking at the cook, gazing at me innocently as if to say, "See? I did everything as you told me, so why is the result so different?", I decide to do an experiment. "Let's try to cook side by side and see where the problem lies.", I said, to which the cook eagerly agreed. So, we started from the beginning. We sifted the flour and poured the same quantity into a mound side by side on the workbench, then added the same amount of water and sourdough and kneaded the dough. So far, so good. We let the dough rest, and when we came back later, both had doubled in size, so we each cut our dough into four pieces and created the pizza base, which we then shifted to the pan... and here we encountered the first issue! The cook has absolutely no sense of timing! Even when told when to take the pan off the fire, he still managed to delay and scorch the base of the dough. At first, I thought that the cook was just overstressed, as the captain told him plainly that if he could not manage a decent pizza, he would find another cook, so I told him to relax and try again. However, once again, the result is the same. This goes beyond nerves! It's like he has no sense of time at all, but that is not possible, is it? Curious, I ask him to count out loud from one to fifty in a slow, steady rhythm, and then, unbelieving of my discovery, I run to the upper deck, grab Al, and drag him back to the galley with me. There, I ask the puzzled Al to count slowly from one to fifty in a steady rhythm, and my hypothesis is confirmed. Dyschronometria! Usually found in cases of brain damage, it is a condition in which an individual cannot accurately estimate the amount of time that has passed. For example, when asked to count thirty seconds, those affected will be able to perform the task for a short time and then become derailed. This, however, seems to affect everybody, making me think that the issue is rooted in the genetic makeup of this world. My problem, however, is how I can teach somebody with absolutely no sense of time. After mulling it over for a few minutes, with the cook looking at me with desperation written all over his face, I got an idea, but I don't know if it is feasible or not. All the cook needs is a way to measure time. A clock, if clocks exist here, would probably be outrageously priced, but perhaps an hourglass?