Experimentation was limited in the kitchens, unless of course, one sacrificed their own food vouchers. This was precisely what Eoin did, or rather, was doing, as he poured oil into a thick-walled cooking pot that sat upon a blazing fire. When combined with the summer heat, the kitchen was unbearably hot, humid air weighing down every move. Ignoring the discomfort as best he could, the Avora reached for an egg. However, upon a quick whiff, he discerned that it was spoiled and immediately reached for another. He then cracked an egg with a hand, expertly separating yolk from white, as the other filled the bowl with water. Following a flat oval motion, he stirred, before pouring into another bowl containing flour and salt once thoroughly mixed. Eoin then turned the mixture with a large wooden spoon, gently combining wet with dry until the consistency resembled heavy cream. By now, the oil was ready to be used and he, having repeated this all too often in his Yasi days, counted on such a fact. Knowing he was not the quickest mover, the Avora often compensated with reliable work and efficient use of his time. And with a great deal of practice, the timing itself was now embedded in his muscle memory.
Shifting over, Eoin bent over the bucket of lazy crabs, a rough hand reaching in. Carefully, his fingers dodged the defensive snapping before grabbing at the opportune time, fishing out two large specimens. The Avora placed them into the batter top-down and waited until each side was a golden brown and crisp, which he tested with a poke of his spoon. With a pair of well-used tongs, he set the fried crabs to dry. To feed several Inartans, he would have had to repeat this procedure several times, but today was a test and two sufficed. With a knife, Eoin sliced open the crustaceans to reveal steaming, white meat, which he dressed with a sautéed mix of olive oil, ginger, garlic, brown sugar and a variety of julienned vegetables which was cooled with sesame oil and rice wine vinegar, the last of which he had requested from Chef Davoid. She gave had given the Avora a faintly interested look, but did little else. Of course, it was an unspoken rule that if all went well, she would be the first to taste the new dish.
Wiping sweaty arm to sweaty forehead, Eoin cooled the flames beneath the pot before he began scrutinizing his own creation. The idea was not new to him, for the ambitious Avora had tried this same recipe beforehand. Theoretically, he believed the ingredients would work together, but never was he able to achieve the perfect balance of flavours. Today however, he was optimistic, a strange notion for the often pessimistic realist in him. Cooking was perhaps the only thing that drew such a side from the Inarta. After grabbing a fork, he eased a piece of meat from its golden shell, dipping it once in the sauce, blew away the steam, took a whiff, all before putting the piece into his mouth. From a third person's view, Eoin was unreadable, eyes distant as he absorbed every flavour and texture.
It was…good.
The Avora was in slight disbelief, for it was a large improvement from than his last attempt when the crabs were fried for too long and the sauce too salty, sucking all the moisture from the crab on contact. Of course, to be critical, he found minor defects in the dish but overall, he was rather pleased. It was one of the first recipes he created, but too long had it sat in his journal neglected. As if on cue, Chef Davoid entered the humid kitchen looking a great deal less exhausted than Eoin. Naturally, he offered her the fork, watching her take the first bite as he recited the ingredients. The master chef said little, her visage stern as usual, but the apprentice took her lack of disgust as a decent sign. She was a hard woman to please, and he could not expect to win her over with one dish.
After Chef Davoid left, the Avora sated his hunger by finishing the rest of the meal, all the while analyzing each bite and jotting down notes of what to try next time. Damp with the effect of his efforts, Eoin decided to spend some time by the bay, where temperatures were surely cooler than his second home in the kitchens.
In a few chimes, he reached the sandy beaches, which were a great deal more crowded than usual, even for summer. Curious, Eoin took a few steps toward the growing crowd, his interest peaked by the various castes that gathered. It didn't take long to figure out that this was the sandcastle contest he heard of a few days past, but completely forgotten, which was typical of the single-minded Inartan. Nearby, were forming castles of various shapes, some hardly castles but were instead, buried Yasis with exaggerated body parts. Seeing the carefree joy of their laughter, his eyes grew warm and attention captured, and just a tick too long for he then collided with a warm body. Immediately after knocking the victim over, Eoin made movements toward helping the girl up, a gentle hand reaching for the area just above her elbow.
"I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
He inquired, his helpful gesture pausing briefly as he took in what it was that the girl actually fell into. Surrounding the devastated area was a wall lined with sandy evergreens. Little of what the wall protected survived, aside from a lonely, elevated tower to their right. Naturally the Avora felt guilty, but a great deal more so upon seeing the detail she put into even the wall, which was dressed in etched bricks. Though a sandcastle competition was a bit silly, Eoin could understand her efforts.
"I'm sorry about your castle." He added, and though the Avora was sincere, the apology sounded and was rather useless. Removing his hand from her elbow, the Avora pulled his eyes away from the sandy ruins and toward its creator. "Could I help you with this?"
At the very least, Eoin could help fix what he destroyed.
