Huh? I was rummaging around in my bags and suddenly found some chorizo sausages. Strange, I don’t remember buying any…
Well, rest assured they most definitely won’t go to waste, but I do have a suspicion what is causing this delightful phenomenon of apparating foodstuffs.
Sorry, I don’t know why I felt the sudden urge to scream…
Marshmallow fluff and peanut butter, a righteous mess to eat, but a tasty mess.
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Ah, to resist the temptation of grabbing some freshly baked cookies still waiting to cool down…
You know, it’s kind of embarrassing, but I might as well tell the story of how I once got the moniker “Harf the cookie dwarf”.
I was only a wee lad once, with just a stubbly hint of a beard, but already a well developed sweet tooth. We had a community oven in Hofenstadt that the families used, a steady fire smoldering throughout and foods being baked from savory to sweet. But of all the foods, not one would put a spell on me such as a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Like wisps of vanilla, cocoa and toasty aromas would manifest into solid force and drag me by the collar, away from whatever occupied my mind at that time. One time, there they were, sitting on a shelf, slowly solidifying into a crunchy crust with a gooey center, unattended, unguarded. I took my chances, grabbed some and ran. But who am I but a clumsy dwarf, my dexterity only extends to carving stone or wrangling an instrument, not to stealthing and thieving! I turned a corner, eyes on the prize but not on the floor, tripped, and took a spill so epic over some hot coals from an open fire, it would almost warrant a song being written about it. In the end I had no sweets, but the scolding of some elders, burn marks on the side of my belly that are still visible to this day, and a veritable mountain of embarrassment. For quite a while all the other kids would tease me: “Harf, Harf, the cookie dwarf!”… I kinda don’t like to think about it, but I do like to remember those glorious cookies…
*Munch* I heard avocado toast is something the fancy, highfalutin folk at the court like to eat. No wonder, because avocados are such a pain to keep around in a travel bag. *Munch* Their lifespan seems to be not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, ripe, overripe with little inbetween. *Munch* But…, oh wow, this combination works astonishingly well, the sweet and smoky maple syrup really adds something to the toast. I…, aww I wanted to show the others this amazing discovery, but now I ate it all. Ah well, gotta get some more avocados then.
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Nothing too fancy, just some tasty greens.
Third time’s a charm or something? People might accuse me of being a stickler for details, but it’s like music – every note, every syllable matters. The slightest change in timing can affect the feel of the whole song. There’s a great satisfaction to making sure the little things line up just right.
I think that’s what it’s called? Could be a translation error. I also heard the dish being referred to as “lost bread”. Aaanyway, dunk the bread slices in a custard spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, fry with butter, serve with some toasted pecan nuts and put that smoked maple syrup from before to good use. Phooey, 3 slices don’t look like much but will satisfy your sweet tooth and feed you for a good while.
The smoked maple syrup is interesting. Using very fresh smoke gives it a sharpness that is kind of prominent, so it’s better to not go overboard with it.
Recently Quiz approached me about smoking soy sauce, something about making soup. It sounded elaborate as all hell and I’m intrigued, so I’ll gladly oblige her request. She strikes me as someone who really has an appreciation for good food and drink. I dig that (that’s a dwarven idiom, because dig, get it?). Because really, one ought to sit back once in a while (or twice, or thrice) and enjoy the finer pleasures in life.
But I wanted to do a test first to make sure I get the smoking process right. Went with maple syrup and took a little bit more care with the setup, and it’s actually looking good. Now I have to think about what to use it for. I have an idea…
You know, I keep thinking back to that time we confronted the shapeshifter. Nice old lady, that’s what I thought. Turns out those were surface level impressions as we peeled back the layers and went underground. Then 3 of us got lost. We found that damn creature or whatever you want to call it, but the bloody ground opened up and took two more, so it was just me, Al and Quiz left behind.
I hate to say it, but I was ready to turn around and run. I didn’t leave Niflheim to sightsee dark underground places with bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood wells. My heart wasn’t in it, so my feet went first. But then my brain caught up. Just moments before, we sat in this weird pocket of space with this Moulder guy and made breakfast. I remembered. I remembered those times I worked in taverns, behind every kitchen door, same picture. The messiest, ragtag assortment of people you can imagine. Chances are they don’t even like each other. Chances are they walk out the door, they go their separate ways. But they understand, the shift begins, you’re one team, you leave nobody in the weeds. And that fucking breakfast had to remind me of it…
So my stumpy feet steered me back. I remember trying to drag Quiz away, half wanting to escape (no place for puns here), half wanting to figure out some better way to confront a thing that was capable of what we saw hanging on the ceiling, and the look she gave me…, I don’t know if it was brave or careless, but it was fearless in a way I haven’t seen, sharp and unwavering like the edge of a freshly stropped razor. Like there wasn’t a single shred of doubt in the universe that she’d do what she’d have to do…
Well, things took some twists and turns, but needless to say the moment hasn’t left me. I spent plenty of time in the past years enjoying myself, following admittedly selfish pleasures. I had some idea of what it would be like traveling the world and seeing new things. But the past weeks have proven that the world is crazier than I’d want and the new things sometimes aren’t as pleasant as I’d hoped. I had to wonder if one could just look away and ignore what’s bubbling under the surface, I had to wonder what it means to be unselfish, if being a bard is just a frivolous pastime, and fate, with the subtlety of a granite brick to the face, put me back in Schwiflheim and I saw my own people in need…
Only ever so slowly do I begin to understand that force that seems to tug at you and tells you to do the right thing, whether that’s good for you or not. Well fuck, wherever this is going, I hope at least I still get some opportunities to enjoy a good drink and a meal and write a nice song here and there.
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I think I’m getting a hang of cooking the rice, turned out great this time. Now I have to contend with the fact that this stuff is stickier than friggin sovereign glue. Makes the shaping reaally tricky.
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Another classic. Among the illustrious list of dishes with an edible spoon, I’d say this ranks pretty high.
