16

[monkiainen]

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ROUND SIXTEEN
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[fill] Thor: Thor hates Earth sweets, alcohol

[anonymous]

On a day that the other Avengers were suitably occupied that it seemed unlikely they would have time for food, Thor set to work. Every butchers and supermarket he visited sold only the bisected flesh of an animal, and none with all the parts Thor desired, so he took up his Starkphone and found a good place for hunting in Long Island, which was only a few dozen miles from the Avenger’s tower. He walked there at a brisk pace in the morning, and came back that evening with sixteen summer hares. He brought them to the kitchen and skinned and quartered the animals. The bones he boiled down in water and vinegar, drawing out the marrow when they’d softened. Half the hares, still on the bone, were browned in an iron pan, and he decided to finish the roasting in honey and mustard. The pan was deglazed with ale, then vegetables, dill, the organ meats and much of the blood were added for the thickness of the sauce and left to simmer. The pelt he kept for gloves.

Tony had no deep kettle in his kitchen, so Thor filled another pan with oil like he’d observed Clint doing, and used it to make tiny sweet cakes of hare’s blood, walnuts, and honey. It took a few tries to get the timing right, to understand properly how the oil worked to sear the cake together without becoming unpleasantly greasy. At home they would have used the dried air bladder of a fish to coat them into round, sticky balls, but Thor hadn’t been able to find one of those for sale. To accompany them, he took the hares’ liver, which he had found pleasingly sweet, and ground them with milk and ale and the juice of some apples, and he decided to rest it on a bed of honey-drenched squash. It looked almost as pretty as the fruit tarts Natasha and Tony had brought back from the bakery last week, but now with a palatable flavour instead of the unappetising creamy mix of sugary and acidic notes. He hoped the prize of liver would make up the plainness of the main meal. It was, he thought with some pride, a dessert he would present to his father, and all the better for evoking the grand feasting halls of Asgard with the meagre resources of a mortal home.

Tony arrived to the kitchen first, drawn, Thor flattered himself with thinking, by the warm smells of the kitchen. He had taken in the sight of Thor stirring a pot of thickening blood and raised his eyebrows, seating himself at the counter. Tony had deemed the whole thing ‘interesting,’ which amused Thor. He entertained them both by telling Tony tales of hanging around the kitchens as a child, waiting to steal salted fish when the servants turned their backs, and of the first time he gutted an animal, a boar the size of a man that had given him such a run around Thor had no idea in the end whether he was chasing the boar or the boar was chasing him. The mood was merry, so he neglected to mention the rather large part his brother had played in all these escapades. That was a sorrow he kept to himself.