Log: Dumpling Lessons
Who: Nenita, P'draig
When: It is an autumn afternoon, 12:32 of day 21, month 11, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar Kitchen, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy teaches Nenny how to make dumplings while on a quiet lunch shift at the Sandbar. Cooks chat and cook and then cook for each other, before haring off to make an evening out of the fruits of their labors.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
The morning light bathes the wooden frames of the dockside tavern with a bright yellow hue. The Sandbar stands on stilts over the water's edge, a broad ramp leading up from the beach to the slate-roofed building sitting well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. The tables and chairs are made of wood, which has been dyed as dark as possible.
A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar's surface and a series of carved shelves, also made of the sleek volcanic stone, are behind the bar. A chalkboard hangs to the right of it which usually has the day's specials written on it, though it's often used to record bets instead. A games area and kitchen are to the back of the Sandbar.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Tonight, the clear sky is alight with stars and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It's lunchtime and P'draig's behind the stove again, turning out pretty dishes for the bar's few patrons. The brownrider sweats liberally, though a headband wraps his forehead to keep the stuff out of his eyes and from dripping on anyone's food. It's not terribly busy, the heat conspiring to see to it that many have opted to nap through the middle of the day, but there are folks waiting on plates at the bar. The former baker steps out to deliver a plate, grinning in spite of the unpleasant temperature, waits a moment to make sure it's all satisfactory then ducks back to the stove.
It's not a day that Nenita would normally fill in at the Sandbar, in fact she'd usually be in the main kitchens at this time of the day. However she's here, apron still tied around her waist. She ducks behind the bar, catching the attention of one of the servers. There's some back and forth and then her shaking her tiny index finger at him. "Don't you give me that. I know you have it here. It's one of our good ones and you borrowed it the other day." The server (not an altogether trustworthy looking fellow) gives her some explanation. Which must not have been very satisfying because soon Nenny is back there in the kitchen with P'draig, bumping past him and looking in cabinets.
Hiss. That's the sound of some finely diced tubers being tossed in a pan, re-settling and then Paddy's tilting a look over his shoulder as Nenny bumps by him. "Hey beautiful, what're you up to?" he asks with laughter in his voice as she goes a-searching through the cabinets. "Or are you looking to assist with the very slow lunch rush?"
Crash. Clatter. Clang. Are the noises coming from ground level as Nenita continues to rummage through the Sandbar's cooking supplies. "I'm looking for /my/ skillet." She has the tone of a woman scorned and she looks past P'draig's legs to see if she can get a glimpse of that server from before. "He came to the kitchens yesterday and flirted his way into letting some air-headed assistant give it to him. Now it's gone." More searching goes on down by his feet. "I know it's here."
Wincing a little at the clattering, P'draig flips the tubers again, then eyes the skillet he's using, looks down at Nenita, back at the skillet. Hey nice legs. He's wearing shorts. "You uh ... you mean this skillet?" and he lifts it, tilts it towards Nenny a little, humor dancing in his eyes though he's /trying/ not to laugh.
From her position on the floor, she arches her eyebrows and stares up at him. "What do you mean /this/ skillet?" Then, Nenny is clambering onto her knees and finally her feet to see. "Yes, that one." There's a long sigh from her and she wipes her hands on her apron.
"This one here with the lovely tubers in it," P'draig says, grin pulling to one side of his mouth. "Sorry, didn't realize it was yours. Lemme finish up and I'll pass it off for washing and it's all yours again," the brownrider says and reaches over to slide one arm around the cook's waist, aiming to give her a light hug.
"I swear. If you're going to borrow something you /return/ it. You don't just throw it into whatever kitchen you see nearby." Nenita gripes as she taps her fingers on the counter-top again, staring past the brownrider again to the outside area. The arm sliding around her waist catches her by surprise and there's initial tenseness before she relaxes against it. She returns it, giving him a little squeeze. "So, um. Hello, Paddy. It's /so/ nice to see you again." The cook inches away, giving him a quirky little grin. "That's probably what I should have said when I came in."
"Very true, cooks always respect other cooks' equipment," P'driag says quite seriously and gives the tubers another flip then reaches over to let them plink down onto the plate he has alongside the stove, ready to accept them. That tension earns a quirk of Paddy's brows and his hand uncurls from her waist, giving her back some space, though his fingers drift lightly across her back. "Hey Nenny," the brownrider says with a smile. "Seen you around here and there, but yeah, how are you?" And the now-empty skillet is flourished briefly. "Needs to cool off before I wash it, but, your skillet, ma'am." He's got the rest of that plate to assemble though, fritters scooped out of a pot where they've been deep frying, arranged with a sprinkle of salt and pepper on top for seasoning.
Though initially tense, she doesn't display any of that on her face. Now seeming to have adopted a relatively cheerful demeanor since the re-discovery of her skillet. "I'm good. I went down to the 'Reaches hatching the other day." She tells him with a roll of her shoulder. "Ajatha impressed a brown up there, don't suppose we'll be seeing her for awhile." The news is expressed with a mix of pride and a little sadness for losing a friend to the snowy north. "Thank you very much." Her small hands wrap around the handle, taking it off to the side.
"Yeah, I was up on the ledges, I tend to stop by for those, you know family and everything. I'm happy for her. Though I bet you miss her," Paddy says, voice mild as he puts a little bit of green garnish atop that plate. "And you're welcome, hold that thought while I deliver this," the former baker says with a grin and steps out to set the plate down for taking off to the customer. After that one, there's a little lull and P'draig's return is marked by burners turned off or down to low and the scrub of a rag across surfaces in need of washing.
"Yeah, I do. This place is a little lonelier without her here." There's a lift of Nenita's shoulder and small smile, "But what are you going to do, right?" She waves him off with her hand, taking her skillet to the sink and washing it. By the time he's returned to her she's got the thing pretty much entirely cleaned out. A dry rag is snapped up and she begins to carefully dry the inside and out.
"Beg for rides a lot," Paddy notes with a winning smile over his shoulder. She's washing and drying and he hums a little as he wipes down the counter, flicks some stray tropped tuber cubes off the surface of the cooktip. "So want to try out a couple of things? Sweet or savory?" The brownrider suggests with a little gesture around the kitchen, eyes warm on the petite cook.
"I guess I'll have to start practicing eyelash batting." Nenita jokes, looking over to him and fluttering her dark 'lashes. Smiling, "How was that?" The skillet is given one more dry pat before she places it down on the counter. His question get a sly, half-smile from her. "Savory, I think."
"Nice," P'draig says with a thumbs up for Nenita. "Good job. I'd take you over anytime with those being batted at me," he says good-naturedly, shoots her a sidelong look at 'savory' and his grin widens a touch, something wicked in the curl of his mouth. And yet, it's just some meat and herbs and stuff that he pulls out of the cold storage. "How about dumpings?" he suggests, tilting a look up at her. "Dough and filling?"
"Dough and filling sounds just fine." Nenita responds, wiping her hands again on her apron. "You know, I ended up working in the kitchens there. At least for a little while. She was busy with chores." A little snicker-snort escapes her and she adds on, "A fairly large woman pulled me out of there once she realized I wasn't one of her workers. Just some stranger doing the dishes and moving people around."
"Snuck in and just went to work?" P'draig laughs for that. "Dedicated," he tells her with a wink and nods towards the cabinet. "Get out a big bowl? We'll chop this up fine, mix up the filling in that, and this is a really simple dough, just flour and boiling water, so put the kettle on to boil." Meanwhile he's pulling the big clay jar of flour closer for making the dough.
"I pulled an apron off a peg and just put it on." Nenny grins, "They made me give it back. Which was a shame since it fit so nicely and all these extra pockets." While he gives the instructions, she follows them easily, all things with practice. Meanwhile, she continues talking as she sets the kettle up. "They were even a little heavier material. Very nice. I'm half tempted to up there and sneak one. Or comission a better one than this."
"Extra pockets huh? Yours doesn't have pockets?" P'draig inquires curiously as he flips open the container of flour. "Get one more bowl and come on over. Have you made dumpling dough before?" he asks, pausing by the sink to rinse his hands off, dries them off on a clean towel. "And yeah, I got a nice apron when I apprenticed. My --- well my former weyrmate gave it to me, though she wasn't my weyrmate yet at the time. Canvas, the heavier material though still with some bend to it, pockets in all the right places." And ... he is in fact wearing it, though the pink on it has faded and the little snowflake embroidered in the corner is getting ragged.
"It does. But this one had /extra/ pockets." As if Nenita really needs to be shoving more things in her apron. Another bowl is selected and she shifts over the few feet to his area, "Nope, I haven't." As he begins to describe the apron, she starts to stare down at the one he's wearing. A single finger goes out to poke at the little snowflake, touching the now becoming ragged edges.
"Always good to have plenty of places to stow things," P'draig says agreeably, apparently definitely concurring on the idea of having lots of pockets in a cook's apron. The brownrider holds still as her finger goes wandering and he smiles a little, reaches up to cover her fingers with his. "I've had this since I was fourteen. I should probably ... fold it up and keep it for an heirloom, but I'm sentimental," Paddy confesses. "All right, so, this dough. Just measure in the right amount of flour, sifted, then we pour the boiling water in bit by bit and work it in gradually until it's elastic."
"Exactly. Some spoons, straws, spices. You can put anything at all in them." Nenita goes on to say. Her gaze briefly goes down to his fingers and she gives his a light tighten and a little pat. "No, you shouldn't if you don't want to. It's cute at any rate." There's another cute smile for him before she's shifting away to begin measuring the dough in, sift it and then leave in place for the boiling water. She goes over to the kettle, quickly brushing the side of it with her hand. "Almost ready."
That squeeze of fingers earns a smile and P'draig nods. "It'll probably get to a point where I'll have to retire it though. Just to keep it from falling apart altogether," he says with a wry chuckle and nods to the hunks of meat. "Okay, so while we're waiting on the water, let's start prepping the filling. That's pork and this is a little bit of veal. Let's get a fine dice going on both." He nabs one kind of meat, leaves the other for her and picks a big sharp knife out of the butcher's block to chop with. "Nice thing about dumplings is you can make the dough and keep it for a while, just make filling as you need it and they steam up in just a few minutes, easy, filling meal. Have you eaten them much here at Ista?"
Nenita's fingers dance along the handles of the knife while she makes her decision. One is finally selected and she takes her piece, chopping the meat into fine little pieces. "Mmmhmm. It's true. The older cooks usually have the kitchen make some at the beginning of the week, then keep use it all up as we get towards the end." She glances down at the apron again. "You could always get bits and pieces of it repaired as you went along. Rather than just letting it fall totally apart." Eyes going back to his face again, "And I've had them before, yes."
The ease of long practice is clear in the way P'draig pretty much effortlessly dices that meat down fine and puts it into the bowl. "Put your meat in when you're done," he instructs, nodding. "Yeah, there's different kinds from different parts of Pern. Most Istan food and Igen food tends towards spicy, it's more hearty from Fort and northward," he notes. "So, this recipe's kind of a combination of Fort-style and Ista-style, a little bit of heat, but from pepper along with the herb flavor." He sets his knife down after wiping it off and pulls garlic and green onions close. "Your pick, onion or garlic? And does onion make you tear up?" In the wake of that question he's quiet for a moment or two. "Yeah, it's been spot-repaired before."
Nenita finishes up just a bit after him, giving her work a little look over. Then she drops it into the bowl along with his. The onion is given a wrinkle of her nose, "I'll take garlic. Onion doesn't make me tear up, but I don't really appreciate the smell of it at all." Brown eyes flicking from the apron once more to P'draig's face, she smiles faintly. Then gives him a little comforting pat on his arm, "We just chopping these?"
P'draig trades the garlic over to her cutting board and tackles the onion himself, clearly unfazed by it and again it's rapid movements of his hands, the round globes vanishing into neat slices and then turning into tiny cubes. Hey presto. "Fine dice again," he says about the root veg. "Then the herbs and we put it all in with the meat, add some Istan hot pepper powder and go from there," Paddy notes with a beam her way.
At the 'dice again' command, she goes back to the familiar motions. At one point glancing over at him before she finishes up. "Ajatha said she ran into T'mic at the 'Reaches a little while ago. Were you able to see her while you were there?" She asks idly, making some conversation while she goes to add the garlic. The beaming smile gets a little laugh and she shakes her head.
"Yeah, we stopped by, I was visiting with my sister though, so I missed her," P'draig says of Ajatha as he collects onion and drops it into the bowl, then draws a few strands of herbs forth, shares out one kind to Nenny, keeps the other and chops again. "It was raining cats and dogs up there that day, we got totally soaked. Got to talk to my parents and my sister though, so it was a good visit and I think Mic had a good time. He likes getting to flirt with new people."
"Oh, that's too bad." Nenita says as she drops the garlic in. The herbs are diced as well, her motions becoming a little quicker now that they've been at this for awhile. "It was pretty cloudy at the hatching too. I wore an over jacket and this /new/ dress that I got made." She's sounding pretty proud on that front, it was new. "I'm sure he went to town."
"Yeah, maybe next time I go up, I can drop by and congratulate her," P'draig says, easygoing though and there, all the stuff is in the bowl. "THat kettle ready?" he asks mildly and he smiles over at the cook. "Is that why you looked so pretty then?" he compliments teasingly. "He always does," is noted placidly about his weyrmate. "Now we mix this all up."
"I'm sure she'd appreciate the visit. Especially from a /fellow/ brownrider." Nenita cants her head to the side there, as if considering something. "Or does that not really matter so much?" She asks, looking over at him curiously. 'Oh!' her expression seems to say, turning and checking it. "Uh, yes. Very ready, actually." Turning around a little sheepishly, she has the thing by its handle. Tossing her short, dark hair, "It may have been. Though I like to think it's more my charismatic attitude."
"Well different dragons are different, but another brownrider's perspective can be helpful, yeah," P'draig says about the color connection. "I mean, overall it's more of a girl-dragon, guy-dragon difference and the rest is differences in personality." He's adopted a slight cadence as he talks about that, weyrlingmaster voice. He mixes up the meat and seasonings and nods as Nenny grabs the kettle, brings it over. "Great, take the flour in the bowl there, and pour a little boiling water in, mix it, then pour a little more and keep going until it starts to pull together into a ball." That toss of her hair though, distracts P'draig a little and impulsively, he leans over to press a kiss to the exposed curve of her neck. "Your charisma goes with you whether you're all dressed up, or hanging around in an apron all sweaty from cooking," he tells her in a slightly lower tone of voice. One of the servers peeks in and calls out an order just then too. "Okay - give me a sec," Paddy replies.
"That's interesting. I guess you experience the same... I don't know. Browns can do what browns can do, which isn't the same as blue or bronze or what-have-you. Right?" Nenita glances at him for confirmation while she takes the kettle over to the bowl. Pour, stir. Pour, stir. The kiss to her neck causes a little intake of breath. The kettle is temporarily set down as she leans in to- hear that server approach and call an order out. There's a roll of brown eyes and she pulls away, beginning again. One of those little smiles along with a sly look, "Probably not a good place."
"You do and you don't. I mean, yes, there's similarities between browns in terms of size and physical ability and they tend to have a similar outlook on things, but they're not all the same either," P'draig says slowly. "Usually during weyrling training though, we do try to make sure that the weyrlings have someone of similar experience to talk to," he adds on. "Looking good there," he notes about the dough, though from the way he's looking at /her/ making not just the dough. "Nope, though right out back ..." he adds teasingly, eyes dancing and shifts what they've been working on aside to pull out the things needed for that order. "Finish up the dough and then put it in the cold storage for a little bit to chill while I work on this. Filling too, for safekeeping, if you don't mind?"
"That's interesting. I guess they're more like people than we give them credit for." Nenita continues her water addition, dough stirring until it's just about done. "And by we I mean... You know. Folks not dragonriders." The bowl with the dough is scooped up into her arms and she looks over her shoulder at him while she goes, "There's a nice big rock that most people can't see around." She smirks and puts that away then comes back for the filling. "How long are you on for here, anyway?"
"They really are," P'draig agrees emphatically as he starts to quick-mix up batter and dredges pre-sliced pieces of zucchini in it. "Dragons ... they're people," he finally just settles on that. "Just not humans." The heat is turned up a pan dropped onto the burner and a squirt of oil put into it. More of the veg are prepped and Paddy waits for the pan to heat up enough before tossing them in. His eyes lift back up to Nenny's face though, grin quirking back into place. "I know that rock, yeah," he says and clears his throat. "Little while longer. Mostly helping out with lunch today. Not on for dinner."
Nenita seems to grapple with the 'They're people, just not humans' statement while she watches him. Her eyebrows furrow together and finally she just shrugs her shoulders. "I suppose it's easier for you to really understand." The apron she's been wearing this entire time is finally pulled off and she leans onto the counter, watching him work. For clearing of his throat, he's rewarded with a knowing close-lipped smile. "Dinner will probably be backed." She comments, glancing out there.
"Yeah, helps to have a dragon in your head to really get it. But ... it's something I tell weyrlings. Don't think of them as smart runners. Think of them as people with a different shape and strong instincts. Don't get me wrong, they've still got a lot of animal instincts too, but they're just not -- well they're not pets," Paddy says with a breath blown out as he continues to pull that order together. Little dishes of sauces for dipping are lined up on the plate and the pan's hot enough for the zucchini spears now. They hiss and spit in the pan as P'draig drops them in. "Yeah, likely, it's going to get cooler in a bit and then it'll be a mob scene in here." Gray-blue eyes meet brown and quietly he offers: "We could make some of those dumplings up, some other things to go along with it. A bottle of wine and make an evening of it?"
Nenita's lips curl into a smile, and glances over at the cool storage she just put all the makings of dumplings away in. "I think you just had me put everything away though." She wiggles her fingers at him before she pushes away from the counter. There's another pause (considering or just letting him /think/ she's considering?) before she taps her finger on her lower lip, "But sure. I think we could make an evening out of it."
"I did, because they need to chill down for a little bit," P'draig says with a grin. "I've got this to finish up and a little longer on this shift, and," as he flips the pan, his arm reaches for her, misses and he sets the pan down, turns to /properly/ make a grab for her with /both/ hands and arms, "we should cook some things other than dumplings to bring along," he points out. "But then, then, we'll make them and then ..." and he tilts a little look towards where the bar is visible down the galley from the kitchen, risks bending his head towards her, "then ... we'll have quite an evening if I've got anything to do with it." Because of course he means to kiss her.
Nenita arches away from the first missed grab, giggling then as he actually succeeds the second time. "Mmmm. We should. I could make that chicken stir fry that I told you about. It's not so bad after it's cooled down a little bit." She talks in a low voice, bringing her head down to look /under/ his arm and to the door. Then she aides in the kissing by lifting herself onto her toes and giving him a soft press of her lips. "I look forward to you making an evening out of it."
"Sounds very, very good," P'draig says about the stir-fry and making an evening of it, though he's grinning all the more at her and gently guiding her behind the 'fridge' for a moment or two of making out until that server sticks her head around the edge of the galley. "Paddy? That order!?" And the brownrider laughs a little, backs up, straightens his shirt to go rescue the fried zucchini which might be a little crisped on the ends. A sprinkle of cheese over the top and the spears are artistically settled onto the plate, delivered to the server to be carried off. After that, there's more merriment in the kitchen as baker and cook whip up a meal to delight each other with and the rest of the dumpling tutorial is completed. Once done, Paddy finds a box to pack it all into, steals some wine from Kip and leaves some marks on the counter to pay for it, then ducks out the back with Nenny in tow as a puzzled cook from the caverns shows up to take up the afternoon/evening shift in the Sandbar's kitchen. The rock Nenita mentioned gets its due, but then there's a little ride a-dragonback off to one of the littler islands off Ista's shoreline, where an excellent meal is shared along with merry conversation and ends with rumpled blankets and other delights.
When: It is an autumn afternoon, 12:32 of day 21, month 11, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar Kitchen, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy teaches Nenny how to make dumplings while on a quiet lunch shift at the Sandbar. Cooks chat and cook and then cook for each other, before haring off to make an evening out of the fruits of their labors.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
The morning light bathes the wooden frames of the dockside tavern with a bright yellow hue. The Sandbar stands on stilts over the water's edge, a broad ramp leading up from the beach to the slate-roofed building sitting well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. The tables and chairs are made of wood, which has been dyed as dark as possible.
A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar's surface and a series of carved shelves, also made of the sleek volcanic stone, are behind the bar. A chalkboard hangs to the right of it which usually has the day's specials written on it, though it's often used to record bets instead. A games area and kitchen are to the back of the Sandbar.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Tonight, the clear sky is alight with stars and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It's lunchtime and P'draig's behind the stove again, turning out pretty dishes for the bar's few patrons. The brownrider sweats liberally, though a headband wraps his forehead to keep the stuff out of his eyes and from dripping on anyone's food. It's not terribly busy, the heat conspiring to see to it that many have opted to nap through the middle of the day, but there are folks waiting on plates at the bar. The former baker steps out to deliver a plate, grinning in spite of the unpleasant temperature, waits a moment to make sure it's all satisfactory then ducks back to the stove.
It's not a day that Nenita would normally fill in at the Sandbar, in fact she'd usually be in the main kitchens at this time of the day. However she's here, apron still tied around her waist. She ducks behind the bar, catching the attention of one of the servers. There's some back and forth and then her shaking her tiny index finger at him. "Don't you give me that. I know you have it here. It's one of our good ones and you borrowed it the other day." The server (not an altogether trustworthy looking fellow) gives her some explanation. Which must not have been very satisfying because soon Nenny is back there in the kitchen with P'draig, bumping past him and looking in cabinets.
Hiss. That's the sound of some finely diced tubers being tossed in a pan, re-settling and then Paddy's tilting a look over his shoulder as Nenny bumps by him. "Hey beautiful, what're you up to?" he asks with laughter in his voice as she goes a-searching through the cabinets. "Or are you looking to assist with the very slow lunch rush?"
Crash. Clatter. Clang. Are the noises coming from ground level as Nenita continues to rummage through the Sandbar's cooking supplies. "I'm looking for /my/ skillet." She has the tone of a woman scorned and she looks past P'draig's legs to see if she can get a glimpse of that server from before. "He came to the kitchens yesterday and flirted his way into letting some air-headed assistant give it to him. Now it's gone." More searching goes on down by his feet. "I know it's here."
Wincing a little at the clattering, P'draig flips the tubers again, then eyes the skillet he's using, looks down at Nenita, back at the skillet. Hey nice legs. He's wearing shorts. "You uh ... you mean this skillet?" and he lifts it, tilts it towards Nenny a little, humor dancing in his eyes though he's /trying/ not to laugh.
From her position on the floor, she arches her eyebrows and stares up at him. "What do you mean /this/ skillet?" Then, Nenny is clambering onto her knees and finally her feet to see. "Yes, that one." There's a long sigh from her and she wipes her hands on her apron.
"This one here with the lovely tubers in it," P'draig says, grin pulling to one side of his mouth. "Sorry, didn't realize it was yours. Lemme finish up and I'll pass it off for washing and it's all yours again," the brownrider says and reaches over to slide one arm around the cook's waist, aiming to give her a light hug.
"I swear. If you're going to borrow something you /return/ it. You don't just throw it into whatever kitchen you see nearby." Nenita gripes as she taps her fingers on the counter-top again, staring past the brownrider again to the outside area. The arm sliding around her waist catches her by surprise and there's initial tenseness before she relaxes against it. She returns it, giving him a little squeeze. "So, um. Hello, Paddy. It's /so/ nice to see you again." The cook inches away, giving him a quirky little grin. "That's probably what I should have said when I came in."
"Very true, cooks always respect other cooks' equipment," P'driag says quite seriously and gives the tubers another flip then reaches over to let them plink down onto the plate he has alongside the stove, ready to accept them. That tension earns a quirk of Paddy's brows and his hand uncurls from her waist, giving her back some space, though his fingers drift lightly across her back. "Hey Nenny," the brownrider says with a smile. "Seen you around here and there, but yeah, how are you?" And the now-empty skillet is flourished briefly. "Needs to cool off before I wash it, but, your skillet, ma'am." He's got the rest of that plate to assemble though, fritters scooped out of a pot where they've been deep frying, arranged with a sprinkle of salt and pepper on top for seasoning.
Though initially tense, she doesn't display any of that on her face. Now seeming to have adopted a relatively cheerful demeanor since the re-discovery of her skillet. "I'm good. I went down to the 'Reaches hatching the other day." She tells him with a roll of her shoulder. "Ajatha impressed a brown up there, don't suppose we'll be seeing her for awhile." The news is expressed with a mix of pride and a little sadness for losing a friend to the snowy north. "Thank you very much." Her small hands wrap around the handle, taking it off to the side.
"Yeah, I was up on the ledges, I tend to stop by for those, you know family and everything. I'm happy for her. Though I bet you miss her," Paddy says, voice mild as he puts a little bit of green garnish atop that plate. "And you're welcome, hold that thought while I deliver this," the former baker says with a grin and steps out to set the plate down for taking off to the customer. After that one, there's a little lull and P'draig's return is marked by burners turned off or down to low and the scrub of a rag across surfaces in need of washing.
"Yeah, I do. This place is a little lonelier without her here." There's a lift of Nenita's shoulder and small smile, "But what are you going to do, right?" She waves him off with her hand, taking her skillet to the sink and washing it. By the time he's returned to her she's got the thing pretty much entirely cleaned out. A dry rag is snapped up and she begins to carefully dry the inside and out.
"Beg for rides a lot," Paddy notes with a winning smile over his shoulder. She's washing and drying and he hums a little as he wipes down the counter, flicks some stray tropped tuber cubes off the surface of the cooktip. "So want to try out a couple of things? Sweet or savory?" The brownrider suggests with a little gesture around the kitchen, eyes warm on the petite cook.
"I guess I'll have to start practicing eyelash batting." Nenita jokes, looking over to him and fluttering her dark 'lashes. Smiling, "How was that?" The skillet is given one more dry pat before she places it down on the counter. His question get a sly, half-smile from her. "Savory, I think."
"Nice," P'draig says with a thumbs up for Nenita. "Good job. I'd take you over anytime with those being batted at me," he says good-naturedly, shoots her a sidelong look at 'savory' and his grin widens a touch, something wicked in the curl of his mouth. And yet, it's just some meat and herbs and stuff that he pulls out of the cold storage. "How about dumpings?" he suggests, tilting a look up at her. "Dough and filling?"
"Dough and filling sounds just fine." Nenita responds, wiping her hands again on her apron. "You know, I ended up working in the kitchens there. At least for a little while. She was busy with chores." A little snicker-snort escapes her and she adds on, "A fairly large woman pulled me out of there once she realized I wasn't one of her workers. Just some stranger doing the dishes and moving people around."
"Snuck in and just went to work?" P'draig laughs for that. "Dedicated," he tells her with a wink and nods towards the cabinet. "Get out a big bowl? We'll chop this up fine, mix up the filling in that, and this is a really simple dough, just flour and boiling water, so put the kettle on to boil." Meanwhile he's pulling the big clay jar of flour closer for making the dough.
"I pulled an apron off a peg and just put it on." Nenny grins, "They made me give it back. Which was a shame since it fit so nicely and all these extra pockets." While he gives the instructions, she follows them easily, all things with practice. Meanwhile, she continues talking as she sets the kettle up. "They were even a little heavier material. Very nice. I'm half tempted to up there and sneak one. Or comission a better one than this."
"Extra pockets huh? Yours doesn't have pockets?" P'draig inquires curiously as he flips open the container of flour. "Get one more bowl and come on over. Have you made dumpling dough before?" he asks, pausing by the sink to rinse his hands off, dries them off on a clean towel. "And yeah, I got a nice apron when I apprenticed. My --- well my former weyrmate gave it to me, though she wasn't my weyrmate yet at the time. Canvas, the heavier material though still with some bend to it, pockets in all the right places." And ... he is in fact wearing it, though the pink on it has faded and the little snowflake embroidered in the corner is getting ragged.
"It does. But this one had /extra/ pockets." As if Nenita really needs to be shoving more things in her apron. Another bowl is selected and she shifts over the few feet to his area, "Nope, I haven't." As he begins to describe the apron, she starts to stare down at the one he's wearing. A single finger goes out to poke at the little snowflake, touching the now becoming ragged edges.
"Always good to have plenty of places to stow things," P'draig says agreeably, apparently definitely concurring on the idea of having lots of pockets in a cook's apron. The brownrider holds still as her finger goes wandering and he smiles a little, reaches up to cover her fingers with his. "I've had this since I was fourteen. I should probably ... fold it up and keep it for an heirloom, but I'm sentimental," Paddy confesses. "All right, so, this dough. Just measure in the right amount of flour, sifted, then we pour the boiling water in bit by bit and work it in gradually until it's elastic."
"Exactly. Some spoons, straws, spices. You can put anything at all in them." Nenita goes on to say. Her gaze briefly goes down to his fingers and she gives his a light tighten and a little pat. "No, you shouldn't if you don't want to. It's cute at any rate." There's another cute smile for him before she's shifting away to begin measuring the dough in, sift it and then leave in place for the boiling water. She goes over to the kettle, quickly brushing the side of it with her hand. "Almost ready."
That squeeze of fingers earns a smile and P'draig nods. "It'll probably get to a point where I'll have to retire it though. Just to keep it from falling apart altogether," he says with a wry chuckle and nods to the hunks of meat. "Okay, so while we're waiting on the water, let's start prepping the filling. That's pork and this is a little bit of veal. Let's get a fine dice going on both." He nabs one kind of meat, leaves the other for her and picks a big sharp knife out of the butcher's block to chop with. "Nice thing about dumplings is you can make the dough and keep it for a while, just make filling as you need it and they steam up in just a few minutes, easy, filling meal. Have you eaten them much here at Ista?"
Nenita's fingers dance along the handles of the knife while she makes her decision. One is finally selected and she takes her piece, chopping the meat into fine little pieces. "Mmmhmm. It's true. The older cooks usually have the kitchen make some at the beginning of the week, then keep use it all up as we get towards the end." She glances down at the apron again. "You could always get bits and pieces of it repaired as you went along. Rather than just letting it fall totally apart." Eyes going back to his face again, "And I've had them before, yes."
The ease of long practice is clear in the way P'draig pretty much effortlessly dices that meat down fine and puts it into the bowl. "Put your meat in when you're done," he instructs, nodding. "Yeah, there's different kinds from different parts of Pern. Most Istan food and Igen food tends towards spicy, it's more hearty from Fort and northward," he notes. "So, this recipe's kind of a combination of Fort-style and Ista-style, a little bit of heat, but from pepper along with the herb flavor." He sets his knife down after wiping it off and pulls garlic and green onions close. "Your pick, onion or garlic? And does onion make you tear up?" In the wake of that question he's quiet for a moment or two. "Yeah, it's been spot-repaired before."
Nenita finishes up just a bit after him, giving her work a little look over. Then she drops it into the bowl along with his. The onion is given a wrinkle of her nose, "I'll take garlic. Onion doesn't make me tear up, but I don't really appreciate the smell of it at all." Brown eyes flicking from the apron once more to P'draig's face, she smiles faintly. Then gives him a little comforting pat on his arm, "We just chopping these?"
P'draig trades the garlic over to her cutting board and tackles the onion himself, clearly unfazed by it and again it's rapid movements of his hands, the round globes vanishing into neat slices and then turning into tiny cubes. Hey presto. "Fine dice again," he says about the root veg. "Then the herbs and we put it all in with the meat, add some Istan hot pepper powder and go from there," Paddy notes with a beam her way.
At the 'dice again' command, she goes back to the familiar motions. At one point glancing over at him before she finishes up. "Ajatha said she ran into T'mic at the 'Reaches a little while ago. Were you able to see her while you were there?" She asks idly, making some conversation while she goes to add the garlic. The beaming smile gets a little laugh and she shakes her head.
"Yeah, we stopped by, I was visiting with my sister though, so I missed her," P'draig says of Ajatha as he collects onion and drops it into the bowl, then draws a few strands of herbs forth, shares out one kind to Nenny, keeps the other and chops again. "It was raining cats and dogs up there that day, we got totally soaked. Got to talk to my parents and my sister though, so it was a good visit and I think Mic had a good time. He likes getting to flirt with new people."
"Oh, that's too bad." Nenita says as she drops the garlic in. The herbs are diced as well, her motions becoming a little quicker now that they've been at this for awhile. "It was pretty cloudy at the hatching too. I wore an over jacket and this /new/ dress that I got made." She's sounding pretty proud on that front, it was new. "I'm sure he went to town."
"Yeah, maybe next time I go up, I can drop by and congratulate her," P'draig says, easygoing though and there, all the stuff is in the bowl. "THat kettle ready?" he asks mildly and he smiles over at the cook. "Is that why you looked so pretty then?" he compliments teasingly. "He always does," is noted placidly about his weyrmate. "Now we mix this all up."
"I'm sure she'd appreciate the visit. Especially from a /fellow/ brownrider." Nenita cants her head to the side there, as if considering something. "Or does that not really matter so much?" She asks, looking over at him curiously. 'Oh!' her expression seems to say, turning and checking it. "Uh, yes. Very ready, actually." Turning around a little sheepishly, she has the thing by its handle. Tossing her short, dark hair, "It may have been. Though I like to think it's more my charismatic attitude."
"Well different dragons are different, but another brownrider's perspective can be helpful, yeah," P'draig says about the color connection. "I mean, overall it's more of a girl-dragon, guy-dragon difference and the rest is differences in personality." He's adopted a slight cadence as he talks about that, weyrlingmaster voice. He mixes up the meat and seasonings and nods as Nenny grabs the kettle, brings it over. "Great, take the flour in the bowl there, and pour a little boiling water in, mix it, then pour a little more and keep going until it starts to pull together into a ball." That toss of her hair though, distracts P'draig a little and impulsively, he leans over to press a kiss to the exposed curve of her neck. "Your charisma goes with you whether you're all dressed up, or hanging around in an apron all sweaty from cooking," he tells her in a slightly lower tone of voice. One of the servers peeks in and calls out an order just then too. "Okay - give me a sec," Paddy replies.
"That's interesting. I guess you experience the same... I don't know. Browns can do what browns can do, which isn't the same as blue or bronze or what-have-you. Right?" Nenita glances at him for confirmation while she takes the kettle over to the bowl. Pour, stir. Pour, stir. The kiss to her neck causes a little intake of breath. The kettle is temporarily set down as she leans in to- hear that server approach and call an order out. There's a roll of brown eyes and she pulls away, beginning again. One of those little smiles along with a sly look, "Probably not a good place."
"You do and you don't. I mean, yes, there's similarities between browns in terms of size and physical ability and they tend to have a similar outlook on things, but they're not all the same either," P'draig says slowly. "Usually during weyrling training though, we do try to make sure that the weyrlings have someone of similar experience to talk to," he adds on. "Looking good there," he notes about the dough, though from the way he's looking at /her/ making not just the dough. "Nope, though right out back ..." he adds teasingly, eyes dancing and shifts what they've been working on aside to pull out the things needed for that order. "Finish up the dough and then put it in the cold storage for a little bit to chill while I work on this. Filling too, for safekeeping, if you don't mind?"
"That's interesting. I guess they're more like people than we give them credit for." Nenita continues her water addition, dough stirring until it's just about done. "And by we I mean... You know. Folks not dragonriders." The bowl with the dough is scooped up into her arms and she looks over her shoulder at him while she goes, "There's a nice big rock that most people can't see around." She smirks and puts that away then comes back for the filling. "How long are you on for here, anyway?"
"They really are," P'draig agrees emphatically as he starts to quick-mix up batter and dredges pre-sliced pieces of zucchini in it. "Dragons ... they're people," he finally just settles on that. "Just not humans." The heat is turned up a pan dropped onto the burner and a squirt of oil put into it. More of the veg are prepped and Paddy waits for the pan to heat up enough before tossing them in. His eyes lift back up to Nenny's face though, grin quirking back into place. "I know that rock, yeah," he says and clears his throat. "Little while longer. Mostly helping out with lunch today. Not on for dinner."
Nenita seems to grapple with the 'They're people, just not humans' statement while she watches him. Her eyebrows furrow together and finally she just shrugs her shoulders. "I suppose it's easier for you to really understand." The apron she's been wearing this entire time is finally pulled off and she leans onto the counter, watching him work. For clearing of his throat, he's rewarded with a knowing close-lipped smile. "Dinner will probably be backed." She comments, glancing out there.
"Yeah, helps to have a dragon in your head to really get it. But ... it's something I tell weyrlings. Don't think of them as smart runners. Think of them as people with a different shape and strong instincts. Don't get me wrong, they've still got a lot of animal instincts too, but they're just not -- well they're not pets," Paddy says with a breath blown out as he continues to pull that order together. Little dishes of sauces for dipping are lined up on the plate and the pan's hot enough for the zucchini spears now. They hiss and spit in the pan as P'draig drops them in. "Yeah, likely, it's going to get cooler in a bit and then it'll be a mob scene in here." Gray-blue eyes meet brown and quietly he offers: "We could make some of those dumplings up, some other things to go along with it. A bottle of wine and make an evening of it?"
Nenita's lips curl into a smile, and glances over at the cool storage she just put all the makings of dumplings away in. "I think you just had me put everything away though." She wiggles her fingers at him before she pushes away from the counter. There's another pause (considering or just letting him /think/ she's considering?) before she taps her finger on her lower lip, "But sure. I think we could make an evening out of it."
"I did, because they need to chill down for a little bit," P'draig says with a grin. "I've got this to finish up and a little longer on this shift, and," as he flips the pan, his arm reaches for her, misses and he sets the pan down, turns to /properly/ make a grab for her with /both/ hands and arms, "we should cook some things other than dumplings to bring along," he points out. "But then, then, we'll make them and then ..." and he tilts a little look towards where the bar is visible down the galley from the kitchen, risks bending his head towards her, "then ... we'll have quite an evening if I've got anything to do with it." Because of course he means to kiss her.
Nenita arches away from the first missed grab, giggling then as he actually succeeds the second time. "Mmmm. We should. I could make that chicken stir fry that I told you about. It's not so bad after it's cooled down a little bit." She talks in a low voice, bringing her head down to look /under/ his arm and to the door. Then she aides in the kissing by lifting herself onto her toes and giving him a soft press of her lips. "I look forward to you making an evening out of it."
"Sounds very, very good," P'draig says about the stir-fry and making an evening of it, though he's grinning all the more at her and gently guiding her behind the 'fridge' for a moment or two of making out until that server sticks her head around the edge of the galley. "Paddy? That order!?" And the brownrider laughs a little, backs up, straightens his shirt to go rescue the fried zucchini which might be a little crisped on the ends. A sprinkle of cheese over the top and the spears are artistically settled onto the plate, delivered to the server to be carried off. After that, there's more merriment in the kitchen as baker and cook whip up a meal to delight each other with and the rest of the dumpling tutorial is completed. Once done, Paddy finds a box to pack it all into, steals some wine from Kip and leaves some marks on the counter to pay for it, then ducks out the back with Nenny in tow as a puzzled cook from the caverns shows up to take up the afternoon/evening shift in the Sandbar's kitchen. The rock Nenita mentioned gets its due, but then there's a little ride a-dragonback off to one of the littler islands off Ista's shoreline, where an excellent meal is shared along with merry conversation and ends with rumpled blankets and other delights.