Open!

[kirkhammer]

Who: Vivienne and YOU
When: Feb 7-11
Where: Around Caissa
What: Festivities are never easy. Pickpockets are even worse.
Rating: PG-13?



A: Feb 7

[Another festival? As she understood it, weren't they brought here to fight? To win a war? Why, in such dire times - dire enough that heroes need be called - is action not being taken?

Thoughts similar to those are what's circling Vivienne's mind as she helps one of the stalls perform their final set up before the festival truly begins. It seemed an easy enough task when she first read about it at the Town Plaza, but that was before they mentioned anything about food preparation. Following recipes is one thing, but some of these are extremely tedious and delicate, and patient as Vivienne can (selectively) be, she has a limit.

Which is why the stall owners have allowed her a break, and a small tray of dumplings, which she's now sitting with out the front of the stall. Should anybody curious walk up, Vivienne will tiredly murmur:]

They're not open.

[Except it probably isn't too convincing since she's.. you know, holding food.

Alternatively, feel free to catch her mid food prep!]

B: Feb 9

[Vivienne isn't the type to believe in things like fate, or destiny, and so the idea of a fortune is equally unreliable in her eyes. That's why she almost deadeyes the little slip of paper her Carrier - who she has finally named Gideon - insisted that she have. How it managed to get its little hands on it, she has no idea (though it likely just picked it up off the ground, as it's taken to doing), but she shakes her head as she reads it.

Unstable foundations forge stronger bonds.

It's nonsense, honestly. How can mere words on a slip of paper possibly foretell any coming event? It's impossible. Absolutely impossible, she thinks, as a slow splintering crack begins to fill the air. One of the wooden support beams at a stall begins to sag to one side, before giving way entirely and crashing down into the counters below, sending an array of fresh ingredients, hot cooked food and splintered wood into the air.

Some of the debris is heading Vivienne's way, and while she's normally much more alert, she's still thinking about unstable foundations and impossibility. Someone please yank her out of the way and tell her not to stand around like a deer caught in headlights. Though maybe not in those words - she won't have any idea what that means.]

C: Feb 11

[Recovering a lost item is a good way to not only make colle, but also to give herself something to do in her uneasy, restless state, and perhaps most importantly, properly acquaint herself with Caissa. The capital may be large, but she has to start somewhere. And the woman's request - "please bring back my pendant, it's a family heirloom! - sounded simple enough. But then the woman mentioned the culprit ran in the direction of the docks, which presents two problems:

1) Vivienne has no idea where the docks are in relation to her current location and 2) she can't swim. So if the pendant somehow managed to find its way into the water (and knowing her luck, it has), she's low on options.

Help a gal out? She's currently borrowing the ledge of the fountain in the Entertainment District, having unrolled a map of the capital she purchased, chin in hand. It's markings are smudged, and the roads seem unclear, but for only 15 colle (negotiated down from 25), you get what you paid for.]

[If you'd like to hash out any of the prompts with me beforehand, or come up with something completely different, feel free to contact me via PM or through plurk at paako!]

Comments

[moreasleep]

[He looked at the garlic powder. He looked at her. How. How does someone fuck up white pepper with garlic powder? He clenched his jaw. Had this not been a job, he would question her about what she was doing in a kitchen. Instead, he had to be patient.]

Not that one. The white pepper smells and tastes like pepper. It's right next to you. Bring it here.

[He cut the heat to the pot, though he continued to stir. Thankfully, the soup only needed white pepper. He did not want to ask her for more ingredients or else they would be here forever.]

[kirkhammer]

[Ah, so the other jar it is, then.]

I apologise.

[Wiping her hands on a nearby towel, she'll then come around with the jar and hold it out for him to take.]

Is that all you required?

[moreasleep]

Wait here.

[He took the jar and, just to confirm that she grabbed the right one, he smelled it first before he added a few dashes to the soup. There was no need to measure it, he had a feeling this would be enough. After he mixed it in, he took a bowl and poured a small amount of the finished soup in it. He held it to her.]

Taste this.

[He waited for her feedback. This simple soup had the rich taste of eggs and chicken in a smooth, silky texture. The pepper added a mild heat and depth to the dish without being overpowering.]

[kirkhammer]

[A brief moment of silence as she looks between the man and the bowl. While she has her own preferences when it comes to food, she isn't exactly a connoisseur of culinary delights - if the earlier mishap is any indication. Regardless, she takes it from him, blows on it once, and then takes a sip, and--

Colour her surprised.]

It's good.

Do you often cook?

[moreasleep]

[It was an indication to him, and that made her the ideal judge for this soup. They were serving to regular citizens so her opinion would likely match theirs.]

I do. [He quickly corrected.] I did. Before all this happened.

[He slapped the spoon against the pot and put it away. With that dish finished, he could move on to the next. He wiped his hands on a towel.]

What're you making? I'll help. [She needed it, from what he gathered.]

[kirkhammer]

Mm, I imagine we all had our respective duties before being brought here.

[But that's neither here nor there, and so she dismisses the thought.]

Dumplings. [She regards her corner of the stall where she's been preparing them.] I've not seen such a dish before, and have simply been following instructions, but they're oddly delicate.

[Which is probably why several of hers have burst during cooking; likely bundled too tightly.]

[moreasleep]

[That dish was simple enough, for him at least. He did not understand why they had her do a dish she knew nothing about. While he did not say anything nasty about the staff's poor decisions, he was thinking it.]

Show me your process.

[He stood by her station. She said she followed instructions but she probably did something wrong. If not by mixing up spices, then by not being able to properly understand what the result should be. He looked at what she had made and what she was in the process of making.]

[kirkhammer]

[When he looks, what he'll find is an array of wonton sheets set up on one side of her counter. She was in the process of making additional filling earlier as her pot of water re-boils, but she does as she's told, spooning a rather generous amount of filling onto each individual sheet, after which she folds up each corner, and pinching them into place.

It's a combination of pinching too hard, thus stretching the remaining sheet, and the larger portions of fillings that are resulting in her failure.

Though it isn't as though she's actually tried any of the finished product herself, so who knows.]

They are then steamed until tender. Yet many are prone to bursting.

[moreasleep]

[After watching her make one, he had seen enough.]

Stop.

[He grabbed a sheet of dough and then her newly made dumpling. First, he inspected the sheet so that he could be sure the dough itself had an even thickness throughout it. He did not know if she had made the dough so he needed to consider this possibility. After confirming it was thin only after she pinched it together, he held the newly made dumpling to her.]

Do you see how hard you pinched it here? It's thin. Here's where it breaks.

[After she had a chance to look at it, he put the dumpling down and sliced it open.]

You put too much inside. If it can't cook through, people could get sick. Be careful. Use about half as much.

[He took part of the filling and placed it in a new sheet of dough.]

Watch.

[He pinched and tucked the edges, moving slowly so she could observe every move. The finished product was an even seal all the way around and a more reasonably sized dumpling.]

Try again.

[He looked at the bowl of filling. There was not much to go wrong with a recipe. However, he did not have the best impression on her ability to identify ingredients. Because he was unable to use his sense of taste for as far as he could remember, he had compensated by using his sense of smell. He sniffed at the filling to identify what went into it.]

Did you taste any of the finished ones?

[kirkhammer]

[There's a certain tensing in her jaw at his commands. She doesn't like being treated like a child - nobody would - but she says nothing of it. She did make mistakes, after all, and in this case, he's right to be curt.

Nevertheless, she watches. Not quite intently, but enough that she's able to grasp where she went wrong. It's quite a simple solution, all things considered, requiring a skill she hasn't quite refined as of yet - moderation.

She hums when he tells her to try again, following his unspoken instructions to the letter to result in a smaller, but certainly more stable dumpling.]

I see.

[There's almost... a sense of accomplishment here, as insignificant as it is in the grander scheme of things. She doubts she'll ever need to revisit what she's learned today, but still.]

But no, I haven't. Even if I had, I've no reference as to how they ought to taste.

[But if nothing else, they don't smell bad? That's a good sign, isn't it?]

[moreasleep]

[He continued regardless of her expression. Whether he did that because he was oblivious or intentionally ignoring her was unclear. All that mattered was the result. He examined her new dumpling, checking its size and seams.]

Good.

[However, he did not tell her to make more. He looked for a dumpling she cooked earlier. When he found a suitable, thoroughly cooked one, he put it before her.]

Just taste it. Does it taste good to you? The inside should be savoury and juicy. The dough should be tender, not limp, not firm.

[He tried to keep the description simple. She looked completely new to this; the people here were idiots for hiring her. The filling did not smell bad, which was a relief, but nothing stood out to him. It was bland. This would not compare to the rest of the delicacies they were putting out for the festival. He grabbed a knife and quickly added chopped scallions, garlic, and ginger. After drizzling in a touch more soy sauce and toasted sesame oil, the new filling smelled much more appealing.

He did not wait for her feedback on how it tasted before adding to the filling, that was not why he told her to taste it. If she were to have any hope of improving, she needed to learn to taste often.]

[kirkhammer]

[And once more, she does as she's told, sampling a taste of her own cooking. By her standards, they're perfectly acceptable, but on the other hand, "perfectly acceptable" encompasses everything from "it's bland, but I can eat it" to "this is decent". Fine cuisine is lost to her and her townsfolk.

For what it's worth, the insides are as they should be, it's simply... lacking in kick. Any kick.]

Adding more flavour. [That's more a passing observation than any real statement.] Is it not sufficient?

[Well. Duh.]

[moreasleep]

[Sufficient? Did she know why she was cooking here? He breathed through his nose. There it was, a headache, but he had to focus here so he could not do anything about it. He gave her the bowl of filling. Because this had already turned out so bland, he suspected the sauce would be the same, if she made it yet.]

Not for this. This is for a festival. They want good food. Make the dumplings with this.

[He assisted in making dumplings as well. Unlike the pace he used before to demonstrate, he moved much faster. In a few fluid motions, he took the dough, formed some filling, and crimped the edges. Soon the number of prepared dumplings piled up, ready to cook. He checked the pot of water to see if it was up to temperature.]