[OTA] comfort foods

[st_ackeddeck]

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.))

Comments

[st_ackeddeck]

"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?"

[st_andingtall]

"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."

[st_ackeddeck]

"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."

[st_andingtall]

"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.

[st_ackeddeck]

"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."

[st_andingtall]

"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?"

[st_ackeddeck]

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."

[st_andingtall]

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."