Leaving Niflheim and the monotony of mining opened my eyes to how the world is such a dance of people coming and going, each person passing by being a deep well of stories waiting to be told.
One of my earlier exposures to that was when I was working as a dishwasher to get by, my skills as a bard still hopelessly underdeveloped. There came this woman, human, 50-ish years of age if I had to take a guess, and she began to tell stories from her home country far away. I only caught bits and pieces between the work, but she radiated life. Within minutes she commanded people’s attentions.
Where she was from, they’d call a tavern not “tavern” but a “bistro”, and she recounted how they’d sit leisurely in the sun and enjoy coffee and a snack in the company of good friends. One of those dishes being a so-called “Croque Madame”, which supposedly translates into “crunchy lady” or something…?
Ham and cheese between two slices of bread, a hint of mustard, a fried egg and some more cheese sauce on top. Not a mere sandwich, but a layered symphony of comforting tastes.
Here’s my try. I would hope to capture some of that “schwoa… schoi…” – dammit, my pronunciation sucks, but I think it’s spelled “joie de vivre”… – I’d hope to capture some of that sometime, in my cooking, or my music.
1