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The Fae Ingredient: Seeker's Kitchen, #1
The Fae Ingredient: Seeker's Kitchen, #1
The Fae Ingredient: Seeker's Kitchen, #1
Ebook376 pages5 hoursSeeker's Kitchen

The Fae Ingredient: Seeker's Kitchen, #1

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Amandine loves to cook. As the scull for a noble house in the magical land of Beregoth, she watches and learns from grumpy old Chef Brutsche and his assistants and dreams of being a chef herself one day. After a new acquaintance has a peek into Chef's secret pantry, a mystery begins to unfold. Dark fae, old magic and a strange mushroom lead Amandine to try and discover the secrets of Chef's amazing food.

With the strange ingredient from Chef's pantry in hand, Amandine sets out, with the help of her friends, Gil, the baker's apprentice, and Fredderick, a mysterious noble youth with magical powers, to discover what it is and what the secretive Chef Brutsche does with it. Along the way she discovers that it may have a link to a local tribe of dark fae who are in a bad light with the nearby townsfolk and nobles. Are the Boglings really responsible for the recent problems plaguing the town of Stoneman? Will the key ingredient to one of Chef's signature dishes be lost forever? As Amandine struggles with these questions, she and her companions are flung into events that will test both their bravery and her cooking skills…

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMidnight Tide Publishing
Release dateDec 13, 2023
ISBN9781958673645
The Fae Ingredient: Seeker's Kitchen, #1
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    The Fae Ingredient - Jason Bustard

    The Fae Ingredient

    Seeker's Kitchen, Book 1

    Jason Bustard

    Midnight Tide Publishing

    Copyright © 2023 Jason Bustard

    All rights reserved

    The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. No part of this book may be used to train AI systems without express author permission.

    ISBN-13: 978-1-958673-64-5

    Cover design by: Natalie Bernard (art) and Jason Bustard (titles)

    Printed in the United States of America

    For Alex: amazing partner, dedicated mother, and kitchen wizard. The title of Chef belongs to her in our home. This story is dedicated to her, the love she has for everything culinary, and her love for the people she serves it to.

    Other Books By Midnight tide publishing

    Windsong

    Stephanie E. Donohue

    Life doesn’t wait for tears to finish.

    Eighteen-year-old Roxana Welhaven has lived her life by this motto. When her mother is diagnosed with terminal cancer, Roxana swallows her tears and vows to do whatever is necessary to save her.

    Even if it means making a deal with a talking polar bear.

    The bear offers to cure her mother, but only if Roxana lives with him for one year. When she agrees, the bear whisks Roxana through a portal to another world and gives her lavish accommodations in an enchanted castle. Although she’s determined to serve her year and return home, the impatient and high-strung Roxana finds her heart drawn to the bear’s tranquil nature. He’s compassionate, clumsy and utterly adorable.

    He's also a cursed man, trapped inside a bear’s body.

    True love won’t be enough to break his enchantment. To save him, Roxana must embark on a treacherous quest to find his captor, a journey that will lead her east of the sun and west of the moon.

    Secrets of Galathea, Vol 1

    Elle Beaumont

    Journey to the depths in this fast paced collection of four short stories, based in the same kingdom, spanning from centuries to weeks apart.

    A merman and his brother are tasked with protecting what belongs to their people and failure is not an option. When two seventeen-year-olds witness their Prince threaten an infamous sea-witch, they have no idea how soon all of their lives will be intertwined, and what secrets lay in the depths. A prince must decide what is most important: the people or his relationship with his brother. And a soon-to-be-king must do what is right, even if it costs him everything.

    Each story highlights a specific character and their current struggle in the kingdom of Selith, but one thing is always the same–the strength of the characters and the magic that lives within them.

    Praise for The Fae Ingredient

    In a time where cozy fantasy is in, this novel is everything! A must read for those looking for low stakes.

    -Elle Beaumont, Author of Seeds of Sorrow

    The Fae Ingredient is a fun, rollicking adventure – it brought me back to playing D&D around my family’s kitchen table with friends on a snowed-in weekend.

    -A. Parise, Author of The Fork

    Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright

    Dedication

    Other Books By Midnight tide publishing

    Kettles and Cauldrons

    Chef Brutsche

    Shortbreads

    Gil

    A Slip of the Knife

    Eggs

    A Menu Confirmation

    Dark Rumors

    The Shepherd

    Mashed Potatoes and Parsnips

    Half a Horse

    Butterflies

    Shivs

    Oats and Signposts

    Goats

    Fennel and Silver

    Honest Business

    Pyrestone

    First Mate

    Good Deals

    Floppy Duck

    A Sharp Knife

    Chef’s Pantry

    Riding Crust

    Lessons With Green

    The Price of Bogwort

    A Prayer to Kayla

    Tea, Dumplings, and Lizard Tails

    Seeking Allies

    Maps and Onion Sacks

    The Dark of Night

    A Cat’s Eyes

    The Creature of the Fens

    Familiar Faces

    A Feast for Boglings

    Bounties

    Apprentice

    Acknowledgements

    About The Author

    Books In This Series

    Books By This Author

    Kettles and Cauldrons

    The trick to cleaning an iron cauldron is to not burn anything in it to begin with. Apply a thin layer of seed oil with a clean cloth before using one for a boil and refrain from cooking things in them that are starchy or sticky. I find them to be excellent for soup stock.

    -          Seeker’s Kitchen, Chapter 2, Tools of the Trade

    RIVERDAY AT MANOR L’EAU was always busy. It was the one day the staff took in every tenday to halt other services while they cleaned and ordered the house. On Riverdays, all things once again found their places, floors were swept, and repairs were made.

    Amandine knelt on her hands and knees inside a large cast-iron cauldron that had been turned on its side. She tried to steady the round base of the bowl with one hand while the other rasped a brush made of oak and stiff horsehair against the layer of char in front of her. There were several brushes, and they all had a use: horsehair and wire for iron. Knobbly birch for copper. Soft linen mops and mosswood scrapers for the glazed porcelain.

    The brushes didn’t belong to her, of course. Everything in Manor L'Eau belonged to Lord Estevan and his wife, Gia. They were good enough people as nobles went. The staff was treated well and Amandine had her own cot in the warm cellar near the pyrestone furnace that heated the enormous house. Her tenday stipend of two silver was twice what the scull working for the Potashe House earned to boot. So, the brushes weren’t hers. But the job in the kitchens, scrubbing pots and cleaning plates and hauling garbage was hers. She did her best to do it well.

    Grendel, the kitchen’s fat, gray-striped cat, stuck his head into the cauldron next to hers. He blinked slowly and purred as he watched her brushes scrape at the blackened mess on the bottom of the cauldron. Amandine gently blew at him to make him move so she could reposition herself and get better leverage against the rounded surface.

    She could hear the cooks, a Hill Folk woman named Sunflower and a human man named Kivel, gossiping while they prepared the kitchen for the following day.

    The barges are uppa’ river this tenday, yah? Sunflower said in the sing-song accent of her people. Maytell the Chef’ll be back in a tok with more’n them spices come round the bend from Irongate? Makes a nice kipper, yah?

    He’d have to ride to Stoneman for those, Kivel opined. He doesn't go that far until Starday. I think he’ll be at the hamlet’s market circle for meats. The smokehouse is low and Lord Estevan does enjoy his chicken.

    Funny, that, Sunflower said with a laugh. Fancy lord nippin’ a chicken like us plain folks.

    If my Gram made chicken like Chef does, I’d want it more often too, Kivel said with a laugh of his own. Surly old bastard has Leonid’s gift with a roast. I imagine he’ll be back before sundown, though. That old horse of his can’t see so well in the night, even with glowstone marking the road.

    Now, now, Juniper still has some life in ‘im! You gathered all the ashes from the hearth and oven yet, Kivel?

    Oh, leave the high oven Sun, there’s coals banked in there, just in case.

    Oh! Righ’ righ’!

    Amandine smiled at the banter. The cooks were nice to her, mostly, and Chef Brutsche was a genius. Every noble family in the Gold Hills jumped at the chance to put their feet under Lord Estevan’s table and sample the pinnacle of Serentian cuisine Chef laid out for his guests.

    There was a soft rapping of knuckles against the outside of the cauldron. Amandine, foal, Sunflower's voice called.

    With a care not to roll the huge metal cauldron, Amandine backed out on her knees and looked up at Sunflower. She didn’t have to look far. Like all Hill People, Sunflower was tiny. Amandine was taller than her when standing and she was only thirteen, accounting for three shivs. Sunflower was a grown woman twice her age, perfectly proportioned, if a bit plump, but like a human in miniature. Her sun-gold hair was braided back to keep it out of food and ash and her rosy cheeks beamed at Amandine.

    Them baggy clothes, tsk, she said, clucking her tongue. We need to get ye a set that fits proper. Them belonged to the last scull and he were a lad twice yer size.

    They are comfortable enough, sah, Amandine said politely. The last scullery had departed to join the army in Irongate when he came of age. The trousers and shirt that she wore flapped about her small frame like a tent.

    Ye only say tha’ ‘cause you’ve ne’er had a set that weren’t drapin’ ye like a bedsheet. Or maybe a nice dress? Something green to match yer lovely eyes.

    Amandine pursed her lips and made a face. She felt that dresses would leave you cold or get in the way. Shirts and pants were best, in her opinion. She wore her hair short, partly because she didn’t own a hair brush, but also because it was easy to clean that way. Her skin was a shade darker than most of the House, as if she had a High Summer tan that never faded. Sunflower was obsessed with her eyes, however. They were green, perhaps greener than most, and the small woman often remarked on them, much to Amandine’s embarrassment.

    All well, then, Sunflower said as she waved a hand and dropped the subject. You’ve been here three seasons now. Just seems wrong that yer clothes still don’ fit. Sunflower pointed to some hanging kettles above their heads. Will you be a dear and fetch the larger tea ket’?That rascal, Hedgehog, made off with the co’orless steppin’ stool again!

    Amandine looked about and noticed Kivel was not there, he must have stepped away, or Sunflower would not have bothered her with the task. She nodded and stood on her tiptoes to unhook the copper kettle and handed it to the cook.

    It’s Riverday, sah, Amandine said. I think Hedgehog took the stool this morning to dust the crystal. I can go see if he’s done and fetch it?

    No need, child, Sunflower said as she ladled water into the kettle and moved it to the low wood-fueled hearth to hang. Chef told ya that he wants the cauldron scrubbed ‘fore he rolls back from wherever he got off to. You best keep at it to avoid his ire, yeah? As for Hedgehog, I’ll box his ears meself later. He should be askin’, not grabbin’!

    That isn’t what I hear, someone said from the doorway. The voice was oil smooth, but with a whiff of something in it that hinted at its rancid nature. Rumor is he grabs just about everything.

    Sunflower turned red in embarrassment and her mouth twisted in a grimace, but she turned and gave a neat bobbing bow to the newcomer in the kitchen. Amandine quickly duplicated the gesture.

    Luminous morning, Taster, they chorused to the man in the doorway.

    The tall, dark-haired, pale-skinned human with a thick mustache was Henri Nous, the house’s Taster. He served the meals to the family, paid the staff, ordered the house, and was in charge of the kitchen when Chef was away. He held a silver tray of empty dishes from breakfast in his hands and thrust them out with a raised eyebrow.

    Amandine hurried forward and took the tray from him. Dishes were her job. She bowed again and carried it to the large washtub in the back. She would have to wash them later. The cauldron was barely half-clean and Chef could be back any time.

    As she unloaded the tray, Taster Nous turned his attention back to Sunflower. Please clear out the high oven, he said with a sniff. The kitchen smells like a charcoal pit.

    Taster, there be some coals banked in that oven. I think that Chef may—

    Madam Sunflower, he interrupted. Is Chef Brutsche here?

    No, sah.

    Riverday is cold meals only, so we can clean, yes?

    Yes, sah, but—

    Cook Sunflower, Henri interrupted again, emphasizing her title. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled in distaste.

    Yes, Taster, I’ll scoop the oven directly. Amandine, foal, I need ya to go fetch the steppin’ stool after all, love, Sunflower said as she wrung her hands nervously.

    The Taster nodded, turned smartly on his heel and departed. His feet had never once crossed over the frame into the kitchen itself. For someone who liked to order the kitchen’s staff about, Amandine noted that he rarely deigned to set even a foot inside its boundaries.

    Did Kivel say what the coals were for? Amandine asked. Chef will be cross if there is a use for them.

    Nay, Kivel said they was just there in case. Taser Nous pays out the silver, and I don’t want to give that old tusker any reason to short us again. Remember the day the co’orless pastries were cut wrong? Sunflower said with a worried expression. Just be quick, like a spearbill, so ye can get back ta that old cauldron.

    Amandine nodded and hurried out of the kitchen and through the servants’ pass to the Grand Hall. Grendel followed her, as he did most places in the Manor. She didn’t stop, but did slow a bit as she passed the long window-mirror in the Grand Hall. Mirrors were outrageously expensive. Kivel had told her the glass was coated with an alloy of silver that only the dwarves knew how to make. Even though she was in a rush, the chance to look at herself in it was hard to pass by. Amandine had never owned a mirror and even the Lord’s eldest daughter only had a small one on a handle, but this pane was huge. It stretched the length of the room and reflected the scene from the window on the opposite side of the chamber, creating an illusion of there being two windows when there was really just one.

    The only thing that spoiled the effect was her reflection. Sunflower was right about the clothes, they really didn’t fit her well at all. She had others, from her previous home in the city of Artemis to the East, but they had grown small on her since she had come here, so she didn’t wear them anymore. Amandine made sure the cuffs were straight and she had no grime on her nose from the cauldron, and then picked up her pace again and hurried on her way.

    She found Hedgehog, a stocky Hill Folk man only a bit taller than Sunflower, coming down off the rolling stool that she sought. A rack of sparkling crystal wine glasses sat behind him against the parlor wall. He mopped his brow with a cloth and adjusted his tousled dark hair as Amandine approached.

    Need the stool? he asked in a voice that was surprisingly bass for his size. I’ve just finished with the crystal. Sorry if I was a bother to Madam Sunflower. Tell her I will make it up to her later, he said with a wink.

    Amandine folded the stool and tucked it under an arm. You should tell her yourself, someplace other than the outer pantry. Nous knows what you’re up to.

    Hedgehog grimaced. Puffed up busybody… he grumbled as he turned to pick up a rolled carpet that needed beating. The roll was four times his size and likely weighed enough that even Kivel would struggle with it, but Hill Folk were uncannily strong for their small builds.

    Amandine didn't understand why the two of them carried on as they did, playing at secrecy. The entire staff knew what was going on. Is it against the rules for you to like Sunflower?

    Hedgehog cleared his throat and looked a bit flustered. Erm, no, not exactly… she’s a fine lady. And her fried eggs, Delinkhal have mercy on me… it’s just there are proprieties… His voice trailed off at the end. Grendel meowed and rubbed up against his legs. The cat was so large that he nearly bowled the small man over as he unbalanced his awkward load.

    Oh, hello, Grendel. Go catch a mouse would ye? Shoo, shoo. Hedgehog said as he tried unsuccessfully to direct the cat away from him with a foot.

    Like what? Neither of you is married, Amandine said.

    True, true. But since we also work together it’s, well… never mind. Take the stool to her, lass. Thank you, Amandine. Hedgehog continued to grouse quietly to himself as he hauled the heavy carpet away.

    Amandine shrugged. She didn’t understand why it should be a problem, but Taster Nous was in charge of staff and controlled the coin, so Hedgehog probably avoided the topic for the same reason that Sunflower was going to clean the oven. If you wanted to be paid on time and in full, you always did what the Taster asked.

    What do you think of the Taster, Grendel? she asked her shadow.

    Grendel meowed, brushed past her ankles, and then flopped on his back to beg for a belly rub. Amandine rolled her eyes and stepped over him.

    She helped Sunflower by holding the ashcan while she stood on the stool and used the oven rake to empty the smoldering pile from the top chamber. Then Amandine hauled the can out to the compost shed and added it to a larger pit filled with old ash and bits of char. Grendel trailed in her wake, but finally grew bored with the chore and wandered off into the garden to hunt. She used a ladle in a nearby trough to douse the remaining hot coals and then returned to the kitchen to clean the breakfast dishes... and that cauldron.

    Chef Brutsche

    The title of ‘Chef’ has an interesting history. Unlike the more general title of ‘Master’ given to someone who has achieved mastery of a craft, the moniker popularized for the world’s finest cooks implies a level of leadership skill as well as competency. Derived from an ancient Serent word for ‘leader’, the Chef is not only a master of their art, but of delegation, organization and presentation of their craft.

    -          The Art of The Meal, Foreword, Excerpt

    AMANDINE WAS STILL struggling with the cauldron when Chef Brutsche returned in a cloud of wagon dust and pungent language. The squealing of the old wagon’s misshapen back axle set Amandine’s teeth on edge, and when the back door to the kitchens slammed she started so badly that she cracked the top of her head on the inside of the cauldron. Grendel, who also had his head in the cauldron, bristled and hissed and ran for cover under the washbasin.

    All you lazy milk sops, line up! Chef bellowed. Move your swine-bellied arses!

    Amandine rubbed her head as she stood and faced Chef. His hair was graying and he had dark, leather-like skin the color of hazelnuts. His shoulders sagged slightly as if he were tired, but his back was straight and his blue eyes watched everything around him like a hawk. Amandine had seen his gnarled hands juggle four different pans and stir a sauce all while barking over his shoulders at Kivel and Sunflower. His posture might seem slothful to someone who hadn’t seen him in action, but Amandine and the rest of the staff knew better.

    Sunflower and Kivel quickly stepped up next to Amandine and gave him their attention, although Kivel kept looking back over his shoulder at a pot he had abandoned to join the lineup.

    Listen up, periwinkles, Chef began, I have a problem, which means you have a prob—Old Jack’s shriveled balls, Kivel! What hook is stuck in yer craw?

    Candied strawberry and treenuts, Chef, he replied quickly. It’s almost to simmer.

    Kivel was a tall, rotund man with light brown hair and a bulbous nose. He stood half a head taller than Chef and was so wide as to make nearly two of the smaller man, but he kept his eyes locked on the wall behind Chef and twitched nervously as he glared at him.

    Chef made a disgusted noise and waved a hand. Drop in a tin-star leaf, two stirs then move it to the low coals and come back. It’ll hold.

    Kivel hurried away to do as instructed while Chef Brutsche watched him, his arms folded and his foot tapping impatiently. He sucked at his teeth while Kivel moved the pot. Amandine had noted the gesture before, especially when Chef was critically eyeing the performance of his cooks. She tried not to fidget. Grendel appeared from under the wash basin and wove around her shins.

    When Kivel returned, Chef nodded at him. Adequate, he grumbled, which was about as high a praise as anyone in his kitchen was likely to receive. Kivel stood up a bit straighter and Chef resumed his speech, but the initial fire had been quelled somewhat by watching Kivel work.

    As I were sayin’, we have a problem. It would appear our patron is having a dinner reception this evening. None other than Lady Everdawn from Stoneman and her husband. Plus the usual entourage.

    They all exchanged glances at that.

    The Magistrate for Irongate, Chef? Sunflower asked. The last time she called it was for Winter Night, and we had two tendays to prepare!

    Amandine remembered that dinner. It was her first experience with one of Chef’s famous dinner parties. The memory of the dishes he had created for that night still made her mouth water. Especially the dessert.

    I really liked the egg puffs, she said without thinking, lost in the recollection. When Chef Brutsche turned his glare to her, however, she pressed her lips together and resolved not to make another peep. His gaze lingered on her as he continued to speak.

    Oh yes, ye all see the dilemma now, I hope? Riverday cold roast and bread ain’t gonna cut it, fingerlings, Chef continued. We are ta put on a proper dinner. Our best show.

    How da ye know for sure the High Lady is comin’ ‘ere, Chef? Sunflower asked. The Taster ain’t said nothin’ to us about—

    Just then, Taster Nous stepped into the doorframe he inhabited when delivering messages from the house, or when he simply wanted to boss them around. He pulled up short at the sight of Chef Brutsche and bowed respectfully.

    I didn’t realize you had returned, Chef. I have instructions from Lord Estevan. We are entertaining Lady—

    Yea, we know already, you stuffed pigeon, Chef growled at him over his shoulder. Tell our patron the menu will be braised hen on a green nest, soft-peel fruits and hoar-root soup. Second course, spiced river clams in wine sauce, buttered striped squash on oats and pickled beets. Third, smoked boar thigh with candied strawberry and tree nuts and a boiled mash.

    Amandine noted that he had included the candied strawberries Kivel had made. Surely he had no notion of them until he had walked in the door a moment ago. Had he just created that menu on the spot?

    Taster Nous looked as startled by the litany as she felt. His moustaches twitched and his eyebrows rose with each addition to the list, but he recovered his composure towards the end. Very good, Chef. I will choose wines for all of that to match and for dessert?

    Sweet egg puffs, Chef said with a glance towards Amandine.

    Amandine gasped and clapped her hands together, in spite of the stern look she got from Chef for doing so. The egg puffs! They were absolutely the best!

    Sunflower winced. Chef didn’t seem to notice, but Amandine did. She was pretty sure Nous noticed as well, but the Taster simply nodded and strode away, his posture stiff.

    Chef glanced back at the empty doorway and grunted. All right, then. Ye all heard the menu. Kivel, ye already made the glaze so do the thigh. Sunflower, visit the garden and gather the vegetables. Pot girl! Make sure we have clean ramekins for twelve and fetch the better soup pot. To the Pit with that old cauldron, scrub it tomorrow!

    Kivel was moving as soon as Chef turned away from him, and Amandine was about to do the same but saw Sunflower, bouncing on her toes, trying to get Chef’s attention.

    Chef, sah, about them poofs…

    Ah yea, Chef interjected without looking at her. Visit the coops as well when ye are out back. Gather all the chicken eggs ye can, and bring the flat from the cold cellar too. Not all of ‘em will be fit fer baking. Just chicken mind ya! The frelkin eggs make the batter the wrong color!

    No, sah, I mean the high oven—

    No need ta unbank the coals yet, Chef interrupted again as he gathered pots from hooks.

    There ain’t no coals! Sunflower said. I... I raked the oven, Chef.

    Amandine’s heart sank. She was talking about the oven that Nous had ordered them to clean. This was going to be bad…

    Chef Brutsche slowly turned to face the tiny woman. His face began to darken like a raincloud and Amandine felt a stab of pity for the cook. She looked absolutely ashamed as Chef sucked in a breath to begin his tirade. Grendel ran for cover again.

    I helped her! Amandine blurted out loud. Taster Nous told us to do it!

    He turned his gaze to her and Amandine braced herself for the shouting. It wouldn’t bother her. She was used to shouting, and worse, but Chef, despite his snarly disposition, never used a switch, so compared to the Night Sisters from her old home in Artemis, this would be nothing. She could endure this for Sunflower. It wasn’t her fault.

    Fools! Chef Brutsche roared. Blind mucking hagfish! The lot of ya! That dandy-arse whined about the smell didn’t he? And ye listened to him! Now we have ta make fresh coals too! I should tie the three o’ ye ta the mast as penance!

    Sorry, Chef! Sunflower said quickly, bobbing a bow.

    Grendel popped his head out from under the washbasin and hissed at Chef Brutsche.

    Amandine should have duplicated Sunflower’s contrite gesture but a hard stone had settled in her gut and before she could control her mouth…

    No ship, no mast. Could I fetch ye a broomstick?

    Sunflower gasped and covered her mouth. Kivel studiously ignored the row and stirred his berries with great concentration.

    Chef’s angry face glowered at her a moment longer and then he rumbled in a flat, stern voice: I would say ye are all kobolds in aprons, only kobolds are actually clever little shites.

    The comment was addressed to the room at large, but his piercing blue eyes never left Amandine.

    Go and fetch my ramekins and my pot, girl. Then go an’ get hardwood for new coals. Ye helped unmake it, so ye can help make it again.

    Shortbreads

    Elven cuisine is difficult for humans to master. It is not a matter of the recipes being more complicated, or one of rare ingredients. Indeed, elven food is often the epitome of simplicity itself. The problem lies in the radically differing senses of taste, smell and cultural context that exist between the fae and mortals. While some things, especially sweet flavors, are mostly agreed upon, many others fall into varying categories of cultural bias. Cooking for fae requires not only skill, but empathy and insight into what flavors they find attractive and complimentary.

    -          Seeker’s Kitchen, Chapter 7, Flavors of the Faewilds

    THOSE SET YET?

    Chef’s voice echoed inside the high oven’s burn chamber. Amandine pushed the last of the split hardwood logs into place and coughed. Even after the earlier sweep it was still incredibly sooty.

    Done, she called as she backed out of the deep chamber and slid down the brickwork sidewall. Her work shirt and trousers were stained black and she could feel the ash stuck in her short-cropped hair.

    Adequate, Chef mumbled as he peered inside to inspect her stacking. We don’t have the tide with us, though, so we’ll need a bit of a push.

    He pointed to a small cloth-covered dish on the block. "Wash yer paws and go sniff out Mister Green. Tell

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