[Log] Adventures in Baking
Who: R'dur, Seramara, T'rien
When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 11
Where: Kitchen, Fort Weyr
What: While visiting Fort, R'dur encounters a couple of would-be bakers.
Kitchen
The kitchen area has a huge vaulted ceiling, formed from a bubble when this volcano was active. From the entranceway off the Living Caverns, the kitchens appear to be brilliantly lit and sparking clean. Everything shines and immaculately cleansed. To the right is the bank of ovens. Each is built of the finest fire-resistant brick made by the Minecraft. The smooth outer surfaces are plastered and painted in scenes from Fort's great Threadfall battles, making these ovens some of the most finely decorated anywhere on Pern. The first, and smallest, is specialized for pastries and other delicate items. Tables and sheets for all manner of careful baking surround it. The next two ovens are the large mass-baking ovens that are integral to every large Weyr kitchen. Here, a nearly endless stream of meatrolls, breads, and other staples are made. The fires are almost always hot, and Bakercraft apprentices work alongside Fort Weyrfolk to complete this major part of feeding the Weyr.
Further along used to be the cooking hearths, but they seem to have been replaced with the new-fangled cooktops that the Bakers are installing everywhere these days. This is where huge pots of stew and soup are cooked as well as any sauces that need large pots to simmer in. Along the left side of the aisle is the huge prep area for the kitchens. Gleaming white marble countertops are the theme here, with brown and black trim subtly reminding the viewer of the kitchens' home. Above the countertops are metal racks filled with ceramic bowls, and even a few of the very expensive copper ones. Throughout the kitchen there are storage areas under counters and workspaces, and drawers throughout the area suggest locations for utensils. Food seems, for the most part, to come from the storage areas in huge quantities, though spices and certain very commonly used ingredients are stored in the kitchens themselves.
Contents:
Seramara
T'rien
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Stores Living Cavern
Seramara darts over to seize the recipe from T'rien. "Really? Seriously? I promise not to spill anything on it. Not anything that stains, at least." Which isn't a bad guarantee. She looks at the recipe as she's rushing to stores, which means R'dur almost gets mowed down. "Sorry! Sorry--Fort's duties to Telgar! If you see the jam, set it by the flour sack."
T'rien seems to almost wince as the recipe is snatched from his fingertips. "Hey! Don't...don't get anything on that! It's my only copy! Seramara?" He gets up from his stool, trying to follow her around the workbench with little success. He also nearly runs R'dur down in the process. "Uh...oh, sorry. Hello. Fort's duties." He looks back toward Seramara, torn between being polite and getting his precious recipe back.
R'dur, looking very lost indeed, stops in the doorway when he finds himself looking at the kitchens--and looks very startled indeed to find two people barrelling at him. He cringes but doesn't move; fortunately, they do. "Oh. Um. I'm... sorry?" he offers, very much after the fact. He still just looks bewildered, and stares after T'rien and Seramara.
Seramara has, true to her word, set the recipe down out of reach of anything dangerous or stain-causing. "Flour, sweetener, soda, jam for filling...what else?..." She gathers the ingredients she knows, then politely hands the recipe back to T'rien. "I should've thought that was your only copy. You want to read things off to me?" Now for poor lost R'dur. "Ever had Igen dough dots? They're really good, and T'rien's from Igen, so he's going to tell me how to make them." Unless he runs screaming. "I'm Sera--Seramara. Well met. Want to help?"
T'rien takes his recipe back as quickly as he can, holding it close for dear life, it would seem. "Well, the recipe isn't exactly unique to Igen, though Dendra was living there when she created them - you need some shortening - She always made the best ones." He glances back at R'dur and offers a slight smile. "I'm T'rien. Can I help you with something or do you want Sera to try to run you over again on her way to the shortening?"
"Dough... dots." The flurry of movement and chatter confounds R'dur entirely, and he pretty much just stares at the two. "Ah. I'm just--I just had to... I got kind of..." A blank look to T'rien as the Telgari never finishes. He's quick to move out of the doorway this time, though. "Please, just--well. Carry on; don't let me get in the way. What /are/ dough dots?" He can't resist the question, though he looks rather inclined to flee.
"Shortening. Yes." That is found, and carried triumphantly to the counterspace Sera has claimed for her foray into baking. She dusts said space with flour, then looks questioning at T'rien for further counsel. "I did *not* run him over. I knew where he was." Her intentions were good! "Dough dots. You bake them and roll them in sweetener, or fry them and roll them in sweetener, or fill them with jam, fry them, and roll them in sweetener." Oh look, a theme. "They're great."
T'rien carefully, even tentatively, places the recipe back onto the workbench for Seramara's perusal. "I personally prefer them fried but the cooks decided that hot oil and I don't mix very well." He shrugs at R'dur apologetically, lifting a hand to brush his hair off his forehead. "My father sent me the recipe when I was a Candidate here and I started a sensation. I should ask the Bakercraft for a commission." He steps back to let Seramara work but keeps close enough to watch his recipe. "Sure I can't help you with something? If you need a cup of klah, there's a fresh pot brewing on the stove."
"But... what /are/ they?" asks R'dur as he edges a step forward, toward the bakers. "Just... dough?" Skeptically, he watches the continued efforts, and glances sideways at T'rien for his comment on oil. "Neither of you are bakers?" When he realizes this, he seems just a little more nervous, and takes a step back, but at least doesn't turn and run. "I'm--oh. I'm R'dur, by the way," is offered in belated introduction.
"I'm an infirmary aide," Seramara says cheerfully, "but these won't taste like fellis, don't worry. If I can make medicine-tea taste better, I can make dough dots. I can even fry them," she adds cheekily to T'rien, "and not singe off my eyebrows." Nope, he's never living that down. One of the cooks sets some oil to heating, and Sera starts rolling out circles of dough. There's already a faint scatter of flour in her hair. "Well met, R'dur. I left mint tea on the hearth if you don't want klah."
T'rien shakes his head. "'Fraid not. I haven't poisoned anyone yet with my rendition of them, so I guess that's the upside of it. Dough dots are just fried, or baked, bits of dough with a fruit filling. You roll them in sweetening and - bam - you get pure delight." He leans against the workbench to watch. Seramara's comments about eyebrows brings a touch of color to his cheeks. "No fair," he murmurs. "That was a flamethrower, not a dough dot incident." Clearing his throat, he staves off a sigh. "Nice to meet you, R'dur...sir." He adds the title after getting a closer look at R'dur's shoulder knot. "Klah?"
"I... No, thank you," R'dur waves off the offers of drinks with a half-smile. "That's not necessary. I really didn't intend to stay; I only had to drop by for a few minutes but then..." This happened, his flat look around says. He stops, and blinks, and then asks, "You made dough dots with a flamethrower?" Another step back.
Seramara says airily, "T'rien almost burned off somebody's eyebrows with a flamethrower, back when he was a Candidate. Maybe it was the Weyrleader?...no, that was Caeleb who almost shot the Weyrleader while hunting." Life is full of danger and excitement at Fort, clearly. "You *could* make them with a flamethrower, if you didn't mind them burned. I like them better fried." She dollops jam into the middle of the dough rounds and squinches them together. And licks her fingers, surreptitiously. That 'sir' makes her turn, look at R'dur, then blush and look away. "Rank knots need to be larger," she murmurs. "Sorry, Weyrsecond."
T'rien's mouth twists a bit in chagrin. "No! I..." Heavy sigh. "It was a long time ago and I was just a kid when it happened. Nothing to do with dough dots. And his eyebrows grew back, so nothing was permanently damaged." He gives Seramara a long, suffering look. "I didn't accidentally torch M'yr. So far, most of the leadership at Fort has escaped unscathed."
R'dur blushes at the sudden focus on his knot, glancing downward. "It's--no. You don't have to--it's okay." Pause. The description of the flamethrower incident does very little indeed to settle his nerves, and he circles a little further away from T'rien, still. "Just don't... Well. Alidaeth is suggesting that he could do it instead of using a flamethrower?" he offers after a moment, with a half-smile.
Seramara giggles. "He'd crisp them into coal, I think--they're very small." She considers the remaining lump of dough. "I suppose I could make one huge one and he could try and bake it, but I doubt dragons would like dough dots. No meat involved." The countertop is now strewn with raw dough dots, and she starts tossing them merrily into the oil. Cue sizzly noises and the hasty departure of a couple of drudges from the vicinity. "Till they're golden-brown, right T'rien?"
T'rien shakes his head, his cheeks suddenly quite red. "No, that's okay. I think we'll just fry them in oil like they're supposed to be." He glances over his shoulder and nods to Seramara. "Until they float, yeah. Be careful; don't burn yourself." He turns back to give R'dur another apologetic shrug. "Sorry. It was rather quiet in here not that long ago. I come in here sometimes to get away from the din of the living cavern."
"Alidaeth would still try it," R'dur notes dryly, shaking his head as he resettles to loiter nearer Seramara. "He's... like that." He glances over at the dough dots being dropped into the oil curiously--he keeps well away from them himself, however--and then he turns back to the other brownrider. "I... got turned around a little, coming back from the inner caverns," he confesses with a little blush. "It's... very confusing here. I mean, probably not to you, of course, but. Being from Telgar." A shrug.
Seramara looks sympathetic as she shuffles utensils in search of a slotted spoon. "Everyone thinks that. When I first got here Turns ago, I kept ending up in the hot spring or the stores. I almost decided to make my cot in Stores--I mean, it would be convenient!--but then I got the hang of things and found the dorms." And they all lived happily ever after. A spoon is found, and she scoops the dough dots from the oil, accompanied by a few squeaks and yips as the oil pops. "Annnnnd pat dry. At least this din leads to sweet treats, T'rien."
T'rien snorts good-naturedly. "I still get lost here. Fort is much bigger than Igen is. I'm not used to all this space." He winces as the oil pops and spits. "Be careful, Sera," he murmurs.
"I was at Igen, briefly, when I first came north," admits R'dur, nodding toward T'rien. "And it was very big to me. But Telgar was still worse." Pause. "No offense, of course," he hastily tacks on. "But I'm rather glad I haven't moved since. I don't think I could handle relearning a place again."
Seramara smiles at T'rien, waving a hand at him. "I'm fine," she assures the Fort rider. "Just little pops, nothing that really hurts. Boiling tea's far worse." She pats the treats dry, then starts sifting sweetener down, beaming. "I've only visited Igen, but it's a lot more--open. Also hotter." Her voice is distracted--she's sugaring here. "Now they just need to cool."
T'rien chuckles. "Igen's not hot. Fort's just too cold. Hard to adjust to a new place when you spent your whole life somewhere else. I never even saw snow until I was about 10 Turns old." He carefully pockets his recipe. "Save a few for me, will ya, Sera? I've got to get back up to my weyr and work on a few things before I go to bed."
"Very hot," agrees R'dur, nodding once toward Seramara. "Too hot for my tastes." He shoots another very apologetic look at T'rien for this admittedly mild bad-mouthing of his motherland. "My family's hold was rather like Fort, or Telgar, in its climate. I liked it. Oh, ah. Good night, sir," is added to the Fortian rider as he starts to leave.
Seramara grabs a folded napkin from one of the tables and bundles up a half-dozen dough dots. "Here, take these up for a midnight snack. Thanks for letting me try the recipe!"
T'rien takes the napkin after he slips on his riding jacket. "Oh...thanks! I'm sure they'll be great. Remind me and I'll make a copy of this recipe for you." He opens the napkin and pops a dough dot into his mouth, sucking back slightly against the heat. "Wan won?" he offers to R'dur.
"Oh, no, thank you. I won't steal yours," R'dur tells T'rien hastily, shaking his head. "Have a good night, though; it was nice meeting you." He glances back at Seramara, then, and the remaining sweets. "Would you mind if I--?"
"Oh, help yourself," Sera urges, waving R'dur toward the reamning couple dozen dots. "I could eat them all myself, but that would be bad later on. I know from experience." Crazy youthful hijinks. She quality-tests one, and manages not to dquirt jam all over everything. "Mmmmm."
T'rien says "Delicious," as he quickly folds the napkin back over his prize. "Thanks, Sera. You made my night. Nice to meet you, R'dur. Come back sometime and we'll try not to scare you so much with our lunatic behavior.""
Seramara scolds T'rien as he leaves. "I am *not* a lunatic! I'm just cheerful! And you're welcome!"
T'rien laughs and lifts a hand in a wave as he makes his way out. "Good night."
T'rien walks down the marble steps to the Living Cavern proper.
T'rien has left.
R'dur helps himself to one of the dough dots, nibbling its edge warily, until he gets a taste of it. Then, his eyes light up, and he stares at Seramara. "These really are good," he notes, surprised, as though he doubted her baking skills. "I wish we had some at Telgar. In f--oh. Oh, dear. I... My weyrmate is asking after me; I should go. I've stayed too long already. It was nice meeting you, though," he tells Seramara quickly, as he starts to leave. Then turns back to steal a few more dough dots for the road, and exits with a last parting smile.
"Tell your weyrmate to come help me make a double batch next time you visit!" Seramara calls after R'dur. "And bring a different kind of jam, so we can experiment."