(no subject)
Title: Substituting Cinnamon
Author: elspeth_vimes
Recipient: escalove
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Maria Ross, Lan Fan, Fu
Summary: Maria Ross begins to adjust to life in Xing.
Notes: I would like to thank my beta, vivider
The first time she had a meal in Xing, Maria Ross nearly cried. She blinked the tears away and tried to sniff discreetly, but Lan Fan still noticed, giving Maria one of those half-quizzical, half-accusing glances the Xingese girl was so good at. “Hot,” Maria said apologetically, and gulped down some tea to cut off the conversation. It was true. She'd never encountered half this much pepper in one dish before. Eating the meat with large amounts of rice helped, but she still decided to stop before she was full, and just sipped at her tea while the others finished.
But there had been more to it than the spice, even if she'd never say it. It all smelled so different. It was the smell of the pepper, the vinegar, that salty brown sauce. It was the absence of the smell of bread or beer. It was how awkwardly the chopsticks sat in her hand, even if Fu had been teaching her how to use them. There was nothing that was not different, not the tomatoes (drowned with bell peppers and mushrooms in a sweet sauce) or the tea cups (why didn't they have handles?). She was so far from home. And the idea of making this place home seemed suddenly impossible. It was ungrateful of her, cruel to her hosts, but it was there all the same.
The journey through the desert had been easier. She had been focused on learning words and customs to equip her for the land ahead. Being faced with all of Xing laid out on a round dinner table, rather than being handed easily digested portions, that was hard.
Maria had never been terribly skilled in the kitchen, a point on which she was certain her mother silently despaired. Maria's mother was an excellent cook. She had mastered everything from cabbage to cake, but her true specialty was goulash. No one could make goulash as well as she could. When Maria had been a child and allowed to request a birthday dinner, it had always been goulash (and chocolate cake, of course).
Lan Fan and Fu lived in a few rooms surrounding a courtyard, on the outer edge of one of the Yao clan's mansions. As an honored guest, Maria was given quite a bit of attention by the servants, and very firmly prevented from seeing the rest of the mansion. She knew how large it was from walks around the exterior wall, but as for what the rest of the mansion had to offer, she knew almost nothing.
It was dull, really. If there had been something to read she might have enjoyed it, at least for the first week or so, but all the books were in Xingese, and therefore completely incomprehensible. She had little to do other than the exercises she remembered from training. She couldn't bother Fu or Lan Fan to teach her more- they had their own affairs to attend to now.
But there was nothing stopping her from teaching herself.
The markets in Xing were strange as well. There were as vendors with carts as there were storefronts- selling fruit, vegetables, and even china. It was louder too, or perhaps it just seemed that way since the noises were more confusing. The smells were even more overwhelming than the noise. Sweat, peaches, the discarded lettuce beginning to rot next to a store, the piles of tea leaves displayed on a table, on and on. Maria wondered how long it would be before her nose shut down.
She stopped in front of a store that seemed to be half fishmonger, half butcher shop. “Hello?” she said carefully in Xingese, waving to the proprietress. The woman, round and red-faced, turned to face Maria. “You have beef?” The shopkeeper gave her an uncomprehending stare. “Beef?” Maria repeated, wondering if she had gotten the tone wrong. Lan Fan had drilled her mercilessly, but it was difficult to remember.
But the proprietress seemed to understand now. “We have pork.”
“You don't have beef?” Maria asked, hoping perhaps it was still a miscommunication.
The proprietress shook her head. “We have pork.” She then launched into what Maria believed to be a comparison of pork and beef, explaining why the former was superior, but Maria couldn't be sure. She smiled politely, thanked the woman, and left.
There were plenty of other butcher's shops. Surely one of them had beef.
After several attempts at translating “paprika,” Maria decided to use a mixture of red pepper and cinnamon as a substitute, and cut back on the black pepper to keep things from getting too intense. As far as she could determine, the Xingese didn't have bay leaves, so that had been cut out as well. She'd added more basil instead. With some searching, she had found wide, flat noodles which served her purpose perfectly.
The kitchen itself had provided some difficulty when she ventured in. First the family cook had done her best to chase Maria out. The kitchen was, apparently, no place for guests. But Maria stood her ground. You couldn't have a home without a kitchen, even if you weren't a good cook. Once the cook had relented there had been a new challenge. The main instruments in use seemed to be enormous, rounded frying pans. It took ten minutes of searching and another ten of broken conversation with the cook to locate a pot other than the large, rice-filled one that stood in the corner. But after those hurdles, things were surprisingly easy. A kitchen was a kitchen, even if filled with some strange utensils and a very strong smell of scallions and garlic. Even if dishes weren't universal, food, and the process of making it, was.
Lan Fan and Fu were shocked when Maria came to dinner out of the kitchen, in the company of a large serving dish. “What is that?” Lan Fan asked, with a trace of suspicion.
Maria smiled as she set the dish down. “From my home to yours.”
Lan Fan slowly lifted off the lid and cautiously peered inside. “Oh.” She didn't sound particularly excited, but Maria knew by now that the girl never did.
The taste wasn't perfect. It was far from anything Maria's mother would have made. The cinnamon made for some confusion in the aftertaste, and the basil added perhaps too much sweetness. It tasted of somewhere between Amestris and Xing. And it was more difficult to eat with chopsticks than Maria had thought it would be.
“It's not bad,” Lan Fan said, as Fu helped himself to another small serving. Maria smiled.
Maybe you took your home with you after all.
Author: elspeth_vimes
Recipient: escalove
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Maria Ross, Lan Fan, Fu
Summary: Maria Ross begins to adjust to life in Xing.
Notes: I would like to thank my beta, vivider
The first time she had a meal in Xing, Maria Ross nearly cried. She blinked the tears away and tried to sniff discreetly, but Lan Fan still noticed, giving Maria one of those half-quizzical, half-accusing glances the Xingese girl was so good at. “Hot,” Maria said apologetically, and gulped down some tea to cut off the conversation. It was true. She'd never encountered half this much pepper in one dish before. Eating the meat with large amounts of rice helped, but she still decided to stop before she was full, and just sipped at her tea while the others finished.
But there had been more to it than the spice, even if she'd never say it. It all smelled so different. It was the smell of the pepper, the vinegar, that salty brown sauce. It was the absence of the smell of bread or beer. It was how awkwardly the chopsticks sat in her hand, even if Fu had been teaching her how to use them. There was nothing that was not different, not the tomatoes (drowned with bell peppers and mushrooms in a sweet sauce) or the tea cups (why didn't they have handles?). She was so far from home. And the idea of making this place home seemed suddenly impossible. It was ungrateful of her, cruel to her hosts, but it was there all the same.
The journey through the desert had been easier. She had been focused on learning words and customs to equip her for the land ahead. Being faced with all of Xing laid out on a round dinner table, rather than being handed easily digested portions, that was hard.
Maria had never been terribly skilled in the kitchen, a point on which she was certain her mother silently despaired. Maria's mother was an excellent cook. She had mastered everything from cabbage to cake, but her true specialty was goulash. No one could make goulash as well as she could. When Maria had been a child and allowed to request a birthday dinner, it had always been goulash (and chocolate cake, of course).
Lan Fan and Fu lived in a few rooms surrounding a courtyard, on the outer edge of one of the Yao clan's mansions. As an honored guest, Maria was given quite a bit of attention by the servants, and very firmly prevented from seeing the rest of the mansion. She knew how large it was from walks around the exterior wall, but as for what the rest of the mansion had to offer, she knew almost nothing.
It was dull, really. If there had been something to read she might have enjoyed it, at least for the first week or so, but all the books were in Xingese, and therefore completely incomprehensible. She had little to do other than the exercises she remembered from training. She couldn't bother Fu or Lan Fan to teach her more- they had their own affairs to attend to now.
But there was nothing stopping her from teaching herself.
The markets in Xing were strange as well. There were as vendors with carts as there were storefronts- selling fruit, vegetables, and even china. It was louder too, or perhaps it just seemed that way since the noises were more confusing. The smells were even more overwhelming than the noise. Sweat, peaches, the discarded lettuce beginning to rot next to a store, the piles of tea leaves displayed on a table, on and on. Maria wondered how long it would be before her nose shut down.
She stopped in front of a store that seemed to be half fishmonger, half butcher shop. “Hello?” she said carefully in Xingese, waving to the proprietress. The woman, round and red-faced, turned to face Maria. “You have beef?” The shopkeeper gave her an uncomprehending stare. “Beef?” Maria repeated, wondering if she had gotten the tone wrong. Lan Fan had drilled her mercilessly, but it was difficult to remember.
But the proprietress seemed to understand now. “We have pork.”
“You don't have beef?” Maria asked, hoping perhaps it was still a miscommunication.
The proprietress shook her head. “We have pork.” She then launched into what Maria believed to be a comparison of pork and beef, explaining why the former was superior, but Maria couldn't be sure. She smiled politely, thanked the woman, and left.
There were plenty of other butcher's shops. Surely one of them had beef.
After several attempts at translating “paprika,” Maria decided to use a mixture of red pepper and cinnamon as a substitute, and cut back on the black pepper to keep things from getting too intense. As far as she could determine, the Xingese didn't have bay leaves, so that had been cut out as well. She'd added more basil instead. With some searching, she had found wide, flat noodles which served her purpose perfectly.
The kitchen itself had provided some difficulty when she ventured in. First the family cook had done her best to chase Maria out. The kitchen was, apparently, no place for guests. But Maria stood her ground. You couldn't have a home without a kitchen, even if you weren't a good cook. Once the cook had relented there had been a new challenge. The main instruments in use seemed to be enormous, rounded frying pans. It took ten minutes of searching and another ten of broken conversation with the cook to locate a pot other than the large, rice-filled one that stood in the corner. But after those hurdles, things were surprisingly easy. A kitchen was a kitchen, even if filled with some strange utensils and a very strong smell of scallions and garlic. Even if dishes weren't universal, food, and the process of making it, was.
Lan Fan and Fu were shocked when Maria came to dinner out of the kitchen, in the company of a large serving dish. “What is that?” Lan Fan asked, with a trace of suspicion.
Maria smiled as she set the dish down. “From my home to yours.”
Lan Fan slowly lifted off the lid and cautiously peered inside. “Oh.” She didn't sound particularly excited, but Maria knew by now that the girl never did.
The taste wasn't perfect. It was far from anything Maria's mother would have made. The cinnamon made for some confusion in the aftertaste, and the basil added perhaps too much sweetness. It tasted of somewhere between Amestris and Xing. And it was more difficult to eat with chopsticks than Maria had thought it would be.
“It's not bad,” Lan Fan said, as Fu helped himself to another small serving. Maria smiled.
Maybe you took your home with you after all.