OOC Memory 003 -- Sight/Taste
Black exited the kitchen as he headed for the door and slipped his gloves out of his pocket with his bare hands. Except on the table was a very strange lego creation. Had Rabbit left it? No, it wasn't possible as he hadn't left the door unlocked. At least not while he had been working. The legos spilled out of the chest as he moved to pick it up, hands fumbling to try to catch the falling pieces. Eyes widened slightly in mild surprised when something familiar slipped from the interesting insides and into his hand. He hadn't had time to recover as the legos slipped from his hands and shattered to the floor, Black joining with it with memory crystal clasped in hand.
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The butler hadn't scented a thing but he could see everything. A pot bubbled with chicken within a pot of water and his eyes were busy examining a cookbook. He couldn't hear the water or the timer but his eyes fell upon it and clicked it off. A bottle came into hand and he added it slowly, allowing the labeled "curry powder" to shift into the pot. He was pleased with the way it was turning out and when ready a large ladle went in and scooped out the amount onto a plate, garnishing it lightly with fresh sprigs. It was out onto the table in front of his young master within minutes. Another plate was set in front of an Indian male looking to be somewhere in his teens.
Tea was to come next as he lifted the kettle to pour it into his young master's cup except something had caught his eye and his attention returned to the Indian male. His face looked horrified and disgusted, spoon sliding from his displeased tongue. He couldn't remember a time when someone had been displeased with his meal. Was it too flavorable? Too graining? Too .... the male stuck out his tongue to reveal a bit of residue of powder. Strange, he had used the finest curry powder. The look of confusion filled the male's face. He too had felt that powdered residue upon the tasted dish.
The scene blurred and changed back into the kitchen, fingers curled over the curry powder until finger by finger it slipped from his grip into the trash. Apparently that was not the right method. The cook book of Indian Cuisine joined it shortly after. The area around him blurred as bags slapped into the kitchen around him and poured free out around his feet. The scene had changed and he was outside, admiring a chinese man as he conversed with his young master. Spices it seemed had entered this challenge. He felt alive and curious, his face twisted in an odd smirk. Back into the kitchen again each spice was poured onto a plate and his fingers dashed over each one, poking and sticking the generous supply into his mouth. The fragrance and the taste hit him all at once, renewing his taste buds with something he had never tasted before. Each one had a different taste. Each one could be combined with another or various more. The ingredients laid before him, he had opportunity at his disposal.
Boiled chicken flew into the spot, swirling around the yogurt and coriander, onions and before him was a new curry, now dripping onto a plate. His fingers curled lightly and feeling pleased, he served the dish. His tongue could taste the rich ingredients, but something just wasn't right. He had tasted each one, creamy yet thick like syrup. One of them had to be right. One of them had to be pleasing.
Others were with him, admiring his work, and tasted his food. He pulled each sipping spoon up to his lips. Salt, turmeric and coriander. A heavy taste and too spicy. The next was better in taste but the smell was not what he wanted. The coconut milk and taste of yogurt would provide for something mild. Cinnamon did not help, but only sullied it with a less spicy taste. The ladle in his hand kept pouring, adding red peppers and clover. Again, the taste was too strong and heavy. He sighed briefly as it was back to the beginning.
Cardamon with garlic hit his tongue heavy, his eyes closed and relaxed as the succulent chicken touched his tongue. He had no human taste and yet this explosive flavor excited his tongue like something new found and delicious. Around him he could see dancing maidens, joyous and carefree. Was this what the Indian man saw, his face now just as joyous as his own? Cardamon with garlic was the answer, and yet again, the imagine began to fade and the butler started to frown. What was wrong? Was wasn't the imagine holding? Was something flawed in his cooking once more?
It wasn't enough. It wasn't unique. Another Indian male with a turban smiled at him, taking the dish away. He had made a copy of another. He had only englished the younger Indian male with something from home. Something was missing that lacked the substance to hold everything together along with the scene before him. Something dripped into view, thick and dark into a bowl before him. His hands held a new ladle, thick chocolate slipped down to drip again and again.
His tongue tasted something sweet yet pure and bitter. Pure cocoa filled his sense, igniting his tasted buds and the room around him had transformed into a beautiful ballroom. Indians and British were dancing around him, blended in pure harmony with the taste of British and Indian cooking without conflict. There was no error between them or any fault in their step.
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Black's eyes flickered open as he laid there on the floor. He could still taste the new sensations on his tongue even if they were quickly fading. He licked over his bottom lip and sat up. Fruits and vegetables could be mixed and matched with spices to enhance flavor. He had never thought to use them how he did in his dream. Righted on his feet, he ignored the mess on the floor and proceeded towards the door. He had to experiment on his own and his first stop would be the Bazaar.
[Inspiration from Kuroshitsuji, Chapter 20]
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The butler hadn't scented a thing but he could see everything. A pot bubbled with chicken within a pot of water and his eyes were busy examining a cookbook. He couldn't hear the water or the timer but his eyes fell upon it and clicked it off. A bottle came into hand and he added it slowly, allowing the labeled "curry powder" to shift into the pot. He was pleased with the way it was turning out and when ready a large ladle went in and scooped out the amount onto a plate, garnishing it lightly with fresh sprigs. It was out onto the table in front of his young master within minutes. Another plate was set in front of an Indian male looking to be somewhere in his teens.
Tea was to come next as he lifted the kettle to pour it into his young master's cup except something had caught his eye and his attention returned to the Indian male. His face looked horrified and disgusted, spoon sliding from his displeased tongue. He couldn't remember a time when someone had been displeased with his meal. Was it too flavorable? Too graining? Too .... the male stuck out his tongue to reveal a bit of residue of powder. Strange, he had used the finest curry powder. The look of confusion filled the male's face. He too had felt that powdered residue upon the tasted dish.
The scene blurred and changed back into the kitchen, fingers curled over the curry powder until finger by finger it slipped from his grip into the trash. Apparently that was not the right method. The cook book of Indian Cuisine joined it shortly after. The area around him blurred as bags slapped into the kitchen around him and poured free out around his feet. The scene had changed and he was outside, admiring a chinese man as he conversed with his young master. Spices it seemed had entered this challenge. He felt alive and curious, his face twisted in an odd smirk. Back into the kitchen again each spice was poured onto a plate and his fingers dashed over each one, poking and sticking the generous supply into his mouth. The fragrance and the taste hit him all at once, renewing his taste buds with something he had never tasted before. Each one had a different taste. Each one could be combined with another or various more. The ingredients laid before him, he had opportunity at his disposal.
Boiled chicken flew into the spot, swirling around the yogurt and coriander, onions and before him was a new curry, now dripping onto a plate. His fingers curled lightly and feeling pleased, he served the dish. His tongue could taste the rich ingredients, but something just wasn't right. He had tasted each one, creamy yet thick like syrup. One of them had to be right. One of them had to be pleasing.
Others were with him, admiring his work, and tasted his food. He pulled each sipping spoon up to his lips. Salt, turmeric and coriander. A heavy taste and too spicy. The next was better in taste but the smell was not what he wanted. The coconut milk and taste of yogurt would provide for something mild. Cinnamon did not help, but only sullied it with a less spicy taste. The ladle in his hand kept pouring, adding red peppers and clover. Again, the taste was too strong and heavy. He sighed briefly as it was back to the beginning.
Cardamon with garlic hit his tongue heavy, his eyes closed and relaxed as the succulent chicken touched his tongue. He had no human taste and yet this explosive flavor excited his tongue like something new found and delicious. Around him he could see dancing maidens, joyous and carefree. Was this what the Indian man saw, his face now just as joyous as his own? Cardamon with garlic was the answer, and yet again, the imagine began to fade and the butler started to frown. What was wrong? Was wasn't the imagine holding? Was something flawed in his cooking once more?
It wasn't enough. It wasn't unique. Another Indian male with a turban smiled at him, taking the dish away. He had made a copy of another. He had only englished the younger Indian male with something from home. Something was missing that lacked the substance to hold everything together along with the scene before him. Something dripped into view, thick and dark into a bowl before him. His hands held a new ladle, thick chocolate slipped down to drip again and again.
His tongue tasted something sweet yet pure and bitter. Pure cocoa filled his sense, igniting his tasted buds and the room around him had transformed into a beautiful ballroom. Indians and British were dancing around him, blended in pure harmony with the taste of British and Indian cooking without conflict. There was no error between them or any fault in their step.
--------
Black's eyes flickered open as he laid there on the floor. He could still taste the new sensations on his tongue even if they were quickly fading. He licked over his bottom lip and sat up. Fruits and vegetables could be mixed and matched with spices to enhance flavor. He had never thought to use them how he did in his dream. Righted on his feet, he ignored the mess on the floor and proceeded towards the door. He had to experiment on his own and his first stop would be the Bazaar.
[Inspiration from Kuroshitsuji, Chapter 20]