Cooking as therapy.
Most people who spend any time in the kitchen begin to develop a specialty. Unexpectedly, Bran is finding that his is in no way related to traditional, familiar Welsh food--rather, the coconut-crusted mahi mahi cooked with mangos is starting to be a sign that the cook has something on his mind, but the result is inevitably worth it. It's more complicated than usual today, mostly because even the mango slices have been dissected into little petals. Even Bran's not sure what the point of that is, but there's something satisfying about making real gourmet food for so many people, and he's not minded doing it, so he's not going to complain.
Then there are oysters--shucking them from their shells is another tediously therapeutic sort of task, and he's done a rather large bowl of them before he realises it. He'd had a thought about a sauce for them, out of tobasco and sugar and mango juice, and it takes a while to get the mixture right but by the fourth try, he thinks it's actually rather good.
Some fruit slices drizzled in honey, then--bananas and pineapples, papaya and strawberries--and tossed into a bowl, and fresh, fluffy bread sliced up on the side, and Bran stops cooking, looks around the kitchen, and realises there is probably more food here than people are likely to come and eat. A small army, indeed. But he'd been so involved in the process he'd hardly noticed how much he was actually making. Still, he feels rather accomplished, and it all smells good.
[Bran makes far too much food. Abby and Ephram appear to eat some of it, and meet at last. Mostly they try to embarrass him.]
Then there are oysters--shucking them from their shells is another tediously therapeutic sort of task, and he's done a rather large bowl of them before he realises it. He'd had a thought about a sauce for them, out of tobasco and sugar and mango juice, and it takes a while to get the mixture right but by the fourth try, he thinks it's actually rather good.
Some fruit slices drizzled in honey, then--bananas and pineapples, papaya and strawberries--and tossed into a bowl, and fresh, fluffy bread sliced up on the side, and Bran stops cooking, looks around the kitchen, and realises there is probably more food here than people are likely to come and eat. A small army, indeed. But he'd been so involved in the process he'd hardly noticed how much he was actually making. Still, he feels rather accomplished, and it all smells good.
[Bran makes far too much food. Abby and Ephram appear to eat some of it, and meet at last. Mostly they try to embarrass him.]