strangetrip | [OTA] comfort foods

Emma had spent more of the last four days in front of a fire with her cards than she wanted to admit to herself. She wouldn't even let herself think what Sabine or Dani would've said if they'd seen her. When not there, she'd been curled up in a blanket nest she made in one of the twin beds upstairs, crying until she felt dryer than the desert outside. It still felt too empty to sleep until exhaustion didn't leave her a choice, but it was better than the king bed would've been. She'd left that for her roommate. He'd been back sometime while she was upstairs, gotten his bag, and left again. That was okay. She didn't really want to people, and she'd only hurt him with her face, and her not knowing what to say or not make things worse just by existing.

Four days of only leaving the room long enough to get a bite to eat she wouldn't even taste was ridiculous, and when lying there unable to sleep got to be too much, she showered and dressed. Chop vegetables, boil water, Dani would've said. Shortly before dawn, the hotel kitchen was empty. Emptier than the castle's would've probably been that time of night.

With no appetite, she looked at what was available to decide where to start. Plenty of venison... a confit maybe, since it was so early, and would take time to cook. Once that was in the oven, she was lost for a moment, and grabbed a bag of onions. If a few tears formed as she sliced them thin, it was just the onions, that was all, and once she started them caramelizing, she felt steadier, and maybe ready to think of eating herself eventually. Soup later, from the onions.

Aligot. That was what she wanted. So she gathered her ingredients, and started to peel potatoes, dropping them whole into water with lemon juice. By the time sounds of the inn started to filter through, and others came into the kitchen she had more potatoes than she had any need for, and she started thinking of all the ways she could use them, each dish sounding as welcome as the last. Putting the peeled potatoes in the walk-in to keep cool, she went looking for a small chalkboard she'd seen in the café. In neat even letters, she wrote:

Today's Specials

Potatoes All Day

Latkes
6-11AM
Gratin Dauphinois
11AM-3PM
Raclette
3PM-7PM
Tartiflette
7PM-10PM
Aligot
12N-1PM, 8-9PM
Disco Fries
all day, made on order

DINNER SPECIAL

Confit de Venaison, Pané

Soupes du Jour
Potato Leek
French Onion

She added some scrolling designs in the margins and looked over her work. That would keep her busy. Busy was good. Feeding people, feeling like she was doing something useful, that was even better.

((OOC: Find Emma in the kitchens or the café, any time throughout the day. She's shy and sad, but always willing to talk about food, and willing to take requests.))

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"That took meeting Molly, for me. She was the first ghost who was ever willing to cross over on her own. The ghosts we met before that weren't anyone anymore. They were just their anger. Lucy--" And River and MacDonald. "Reminded me they weren't all that way. We do all right now."

Lucy did the ghostly equivalent of rolling her eyes at Sam and punched him in the shoulder like she thought she was Dean. "He's a real fast learner, this one. You wouldn't even know he was a man if he wasn't so... you know."

Sam had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "Lucy."

The ghost just shrugged.

They'd run into spirits who'd lost so much of themselves there was nothing but raw emotion left. Sabine could still control what was left, but it could be more dangerous for people without her gift.

Emma glanced back at Sam, then down, vaguely embarrassed herself. Yeah, she knew, Lucy. "If my cousin does show up," she said to the spirit. "Remind me to introduce you to Mimi. She'd like you, a lot. Of course, then I'd have to apologize to Sam."

"Now I know what it sounds like when a tree falls in a forest," Sam said, lips quirking at Lucy's excited and silent clapping.

Emma seemed really shy. That was kind of tricky for Sam. He didn't like to make people talk who didn't want to. But Lucy had really pushed for this, so he took a seat at the counter. "So. Potatoes and cheese. What are the options?"

Food was easier to talk about, so if Lucy wanted them to meet, this was probably the best way. Emma decided to start with the easiest to explain and work from there. "Disco fries are the US's answer to poutine: fries with cheese and gravy." And one of Pyro's favorites, so she moved on before that could refresh the hurt that never really faded.

"Latkes are a kind of potato pancake, often served with apple sauce or sour cream. Aligot is... a cross between mashed potatoes and cheese fondue. Gratin dauphinois and tartiflette are both baked dishes; thinly sliced in cream, or cubed with cheese, lardons – or bacon – and onion, respectively. Then there's raclette, which is actually the type of cheese, but you can set a wheel of it by a fire until it melts, then scrape the melted part over potatoes, pickles, charcuterie, and that's also called raclette. It's from racler, to scrape."

She summed up by counting off her fingers. "So that's deep fried, pan fried, puréed, casseroled, or bathed in melted cheese."

"Somewhere my brother just felt a mad rush of jealousy and he has no idea why." Sam flashed her a quick grin, easy and just friendly. Dean would probably propose to her on the spot.

Sam thought he remembered that latkes were a Jewish tradition from some late-night deli study session or other, but he wasn't sure. And he didn't know whether it would be offensive or not to her if he remembered wrong. "You and Lucy pick two for me to try." He could eat something that wasn't a salad occasionally.

There was a pause, hopefully not long enough to become awkward, then Emma nodded. "We'll be back in a few." She waved for Lucy to join her, and they headed back into the kitchen red hair and spectral glow bent close together as they made plans in a whisper.

Lucy chatted and the gratin reheated while Emma mixed up and fried a potato's worth of latkes, both coming out piping hot at the same time. A pile of mixed greens simply dressed with a drizzle of olive oil and squeeze of lemon to cut the rich fattiness of her carb bombs (yeah, she was in the mood for comfort food, but it didn't feel like a meal without something green and fresh), applesauce and sour cream for the latkes, and everything was set. She'd tried to keep the portions on the small side, but Sam was a big guy. Even without a mutant metabolism, he could probably eat a lot.

"You don't have to eat anything you don't like," she told Sam as she set the plates in front of him. No matter what Pyro said, not everyone was going to like everything she made. That was just life.

Since Lucy had gone with Emma, Sam let himself turn off and just kind of coast mentally. Feeding Bo and Caroline, sleeping with them both, left him a little more content than he was used to being. It was weird to be so chill.

He was thinking about spells, the ones Henry had taught him, and the ones he wanted to create, when Emma and Lucy returned. "I'm sure that won't be a problem. It smells amazing."

"It's hard to go wrong with carbs and dairy." Unless there were dietary restrictions, but in general, potatoes and cheese were going to be good no matter how they were cooked.

"You said you have a brother?"

"Older, by four years. He's not here," Sam said as he cut into one of the latkes. "Anymore. He was here. But he disappeared a few months ago." It didn't hurt so much to say that anymore.

From near the counter, Lucy made a face that was probably supposed to resemble Dean. Sam sighed and smiled. "The ghosts didn't like him because he didn't like them."

"I'm sorry." Sabine had been in London for weeks, and they could email and Skype whenever they wanted. Hop on a train and be there in a few hours. Or, in an instant, if Illyana or Clarice helped. Emma hadn't really been here long enough for it to really feel how separated she was now from her cousin, who'd been guardian, sister, best friend for so long.

"Sabine's four years older than me too."

"I know better than to ask how old that is," Sam replied, a hint of a smile more in his eyes than on his lips. "So instead, does she cook too? Because these are really good."

Lucy gave an approving nod for Sam's choice of conversational shifts. Or at least that was what she seemed to be doing. With the way her attention bounced between the two of them, it was a little hard to tell.

"She does. We have different specialties, but it was one of the first things we really bonded over, when she realized I not only enjoyed cooking, but would eat vegetables because I liked them without her having to hide them in quiche." Considering Emma was a fourteen year old carny fortune teller at the time, it had been a logical assumption. Especially for someone who hadn't wanted or expected to be anyone's guardian, and was only barely not a minor herself. "Her ginger beef and scallion pancakes are amazing."

"Wow." Sam had to laugh at his own near awe at the idea that someone might not only be able to cook ginger beef and scallion pancakes but have it be enough their own for it to merit being 'her'. "Dean pours a mean bowl of cereal, and I can make a salad?"

Emma offered a shy smile, then looked down and away before her eyes could show the hurt that came with the thought that followed. "I know lots of people who's idea of cooking begins at the freezer and ends with a microwave."

She shrugged. "I had good teachers. And cooking feeds people, flexes my creativity, and can be a simple meditation."

Sam caught something in her eyes that said it wasn't quite as simple as that, but still, "That's a good way to look at it. And around here, you've got to find stuff you believve is worth doing or you're going to lose your mind. If cooking helps--" He took another bite, chewed, swallowed and smiled, "You should definitely keep doing it."

[OTA] comfort foods

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