[Flashback] Jamboree

[Orin Fenix]

51st of Fall, 514AV

Though Orin would never tell anyone this, despite the pain and the inconvenience caused by taking a scythe to his leg, it actually probably turned out for the best. Sure, Orin couldn’t exactly walk very far on his own and it hurt abominably. But it had gotten him out of the infinitely distasteful harvest tasks and allowed Orin to help prepare store the food they’d gathered for the winter. While Orin might be needed out in the fields, he wanted to be here, in a tucked away storeroom with a kitchen attached. He had everything he could want here, for the time time being. Today, Orin would be making jam and he was as happy as a cat that got the cream. Even if he’d never made it before he had a recipe before him, and Orin had gotten quite good at following recipes. So Orin had waved off the people who’d assisted him with a cheerful mein. Today would be spent in blissful solitude. It wasn’t so much that Orin fundamentally disliked other people, but rather that he knew he saw the world in a completely different way than most of them. And that failure to connect grated on everyone’s nerves. So Orin didn’t need company, especially when he was performing a task that actually spoke to his talents rather than stunted his growth.

Orin surveyed the wide array of ingredients in front of him. However it wasn’t really that diverse, since it was simply a few different kinds of fruit a lot of sugar, some lemons, and a whole lot of butter. It was more exciting because of the sheer amount of foodstuffs, not the actual diversity. Those were all to Orin’s right, and the fruits had been separated and washed already. To Orin’s left were the tools Orin would need including row upon row of jars for the finished product. Finally, directly in front of him was a small stove, which had already been stoked. There was a small pile of firewood on the ground in case Orin needed to refill it for whatever reason. Orin had made sure that everything was arranged to his satisfaction by his aides before they had left to get back to the fields. Since Orin wasn’t really supposed to be walking yet, he’d made sure everything was reachable without Orin having to strain too far. The seat wasn’t comfortable, but it was far from the worst chair Orin had been in, and Orin wasn’t used to all that much comfort anyway. Finally, the stage was set for Orin to actually get down to work.

Grabbing the enormous bowl of blueberries Orin set it in the one clear spot on the counter. It was just slightly to his right. Swiping a wooden ladle from the pile of utensils, Orin started mashing the blueberries, using the bowl as a makeshift mortar and the back of the spoon as his pestle. It was soothing work, and soon enough there was a nice paste. After a while, Orin was satisfied that he’d managed to grind the blueberries down enough for his purposes. They really didn’t need that much work since they were already pretty small, but the recipe was pretty clear that the fruit needed to be crushed, and Orin hadn’t gotten to the point where he felt comfortable deviating from tried and true recipes yet. So Orin would do this particularly task step by step. After all, it wasn’t the same as cooking a dish where Orin had learned to recognize the tell-tale signs when it was going well or poorly. This was a completely different process, so Orin was essentially back to basics. Which felt good, actually. Orin got to rediscover his love of the mysteries of food.

[Orin Fenix]

Taking the bowl in one hand, and the spoon in the other, Orin took them over to one of the pots. Orin dumped the contents of the bowl into the pot but some of the blueberry mush was stubborn and decided to cling to the edges of the bowl. Orin sighed, and scraped against the side of the bowl with spoon. Bit by bit the blueberries were transferred from the bowl to the pot. However, it was a slow process and by the time Orin was done there was still blue smears in the bowl that no amount of digging with the spoon could get rid of. Orin frowned, peering into the bowl. He’d followed the directions but obviously they hadn’t meant for Orin to waste this much of the precious fruit. Maybe the next time Orin would skip the intermediate container and just mash the berries in the pot that they would eventually be cooked in. That way Orin wouldn’t have to deal with leftover residue. However, the harm had already been done, at least for the blueberries. Hopefully the leftover blueberries wouldn’t make a noticeable difference in the final amount of jam but Orin wouldn’t actually know that until he got to the end of the process. Still all he could do about it now was finish making the jam and hope. And he’d just have to avoid making the same error in the future. Still, there were quite a few steps left in the process and Orin figured he should get back to work.

The fruit had been prepared, and now Orin had to work with the other ingredients. Picking up a lemon Orin sliced it in half, and started scooping out the seeds. Those Orin set aside in the now mostly empty bowl. Taking up a cup, Orin squeezed the lemon as much as he dared. Juice squirted out. A good portion ended up in the cup but there was also a sizeable amount that ended up on Orin’s fingers and on the table. Orin frowned. He almost never had this much trouble with food related tasks, but obviously making jam was different somehow. Scanning the tools, Orin realized just how idiotic he was being when he spotted something that could only be designed to squeeze out the lemon juice. It held a scoop for the lemon, and pushing the handles together would cause the lemon to be pressed. Taking up the second half of the lemon Orin placed it in the strangely shaped object. Taking the handles in both hands, Orin held the lemon over the cup and squeezed the handles as hard as he could. Sure enough, the process went much smoother. However, the amount of force needed was actually surprising and Orin didn’t particularly want to continue with the lemons. Still, it wasn’t as if he had any choice. Pulling out the now crushed lemon half, Orin threw it into what was quickly becoming his trash bowl. Orin took up another lemon, sliced it, and took the seeds out. The ends went into the press to be squeezed. This process repeated until Orin had gone through eight lemons and had two full cups of juice. By that point his hands ached from the exertion and Orin was tired and annoyed with himself. This day was not going according to plan and Orin didn’t know how to fix it.

[Orin Fenix]

Part of the lemon juice went into the pot with the blueberries. The rest Orin would save for the remainder of the jam he would have to make. Taking up a knife, Orin cut a generous portion of butter up and threw it in the pot with the other ingredients. He gave it all a few good stirs with a spoon, just to be safe, then picked up the pot and placed it on the stove. The recipe called for the mixture to be brought up to a full rolling boil. Unfortunately for the uninitiated it didn’t explain what that meant. Orin only knew because he’d asked the first time through reading the recipe. All it meant was that the water, or other substance, was at a high enough temperature that even if someone stirred it, the bubbles would continue unimpeded. Orin thought it was a highly pretentious phrase for what was essentially one of the simplest of tasks. But he hadn’t made the rules and so he’d just have to put up with them. And since his soon to be jam was already heating up, Orin pushed all contemplation of the chef’s who came before him and how and why they might have decided to name various techniques.

As the purplish substance which appeared halfway between a solid and a liquid heated up, a wonderful aroma spread through the small room. Orin breathed it in deeply, letting it settle deep in his nose. It was sweet, with the tangy undertones from the lemon juice hanging about as well. It seemed like a promise of the goodness to come and Orin felt his heart swell with anticipation. However he was so intent on examining the scent that he completely forgot to watch the pot. It was only when the sweetness was replaced with the smell of something burning that Orin realized he was in trouble. Snatching up his spoon Orin furiously stirred the bubbling fluid and solid mix. Unfortunately the burning seemed to get worse rather than better. Orin started worrying, since he had no idea what was causing the jam to go bad. He furiously examined the pot, but nothing had leaked over the edge onto the stove below.

Finally, though, his brain dislodged the answer from the deep recesses of his mind. Like anything else Orin might cook, the bottom heated up faster than the top, for reasons Orin couldn’t even begin to understand. Since he had ignored the jam and let it come to a boil, the bottom had started to burn. He wanted to smack himself for his ignorance, but he had to rush to save what he could. He stuck the spoon in as far as he could until it hit the bottom then gave it a hard spin around the edges of the pot. He overcompensated, and a glob of the mix flew out and hit the edge of his right hand, which was gripping the spoon. Orin hissed in pain and immediately brought it to his face so he could try and cool it down by licking it. He stuck the offending portion into his mouth as he switched the spoon to his left hand. His stirring slowed down a bit, but stayed as deep as he could reach. It felt incredibly awkward to be using his left hand. His right was dominant, and much more used to almost every task. The pain dulled slightly, but it still burned. Orin took it out to where he could examine it. There was a small red circle where the substance had hit, indicating a nice burn. He perversely was glad of it, since as it was healing it would remind him of his mistakes. Still, his hand still made a fist, even through the pain, which meant he could keep using it for now.

[Orin Fenix]

There were still quite a few steps left and so far Orin’s progress hadn’t been great. He was tired, in pain, and supremely pissed at himself for failing what at first had seemed to be an incredibly basic task. If he wasn’t still in the middle of making jam he’d go to bang his head against the nearest available hard surface. As it was there was still a chance he could make this work, and he refused to quit now. It was almost becoming a matter of pride. Orin had begged for this duty, and he’d look awfully foolish if he failed in it.

Grabbing the sugar in his left hand, Orin poured it into the conveniently located measuring cup. Once he’d gotten what he hoped was the right proportion. Honestly he just wanted to get this over with. He was still be careful but he was almost certain he’d already ruined this particular batch and spending more time and energy on it seemed like such a waste. Still if there was even a chance he could make it turn out fine in the end he had to try. So he dumped the sugar into his already messed up pot and kept stirring. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. He was making sure that he was getting everything on the bottom moving as well. The grains of sugar made a pile in the center. It slowly sank in as the purplish-blue semi-solid goo started creeping in from the outside edges and swallowing it whole. In reality Orin knew the sugar was being dissolved but if he let his imagination run wild it looked like some strange creature was feeding. However, time was of the essence so he took a quick break from stirring to spread the sugar out evenly across the surface. Orin didn’t actually know if that would help but it seemed like a smart decision and it likely wouldn’t hurt. He resumed stirring quickly. He was getting a bit paranoid about the whole action of stirring now, and gripped the spoon so tightly that even if he hadn’t already burned his hand it would probably be hurting. As it was, the current injury was just getting worse.

Finally, after an indeterminate time that seemed like an eternity the last grains of the sugar disappeared. Orin mopped the sweat off his brow with the back of his left hand. Some of it was heat from the stove but mostly it was stress. He wiped his hand on his shirt for lack of a better option, and resumed his hawk eyed gaze on the pot. The jam wasn’t done yet. Orin still had to wait for it to soften into the right consistency. Orin didn’t exactly know when that was but it was supposed to occur around ten chimes. Presumably the spoon would start to move through the pot significantly easier, although jam was supposed to still be fairly chunky. He began counting out loud. While he wasn’t entirely accurate he’d done his best to synchronize his counting with the passing ticks by spending days with an hourglass. Besides, this wasn’t exactly an exact science. Close enough would hopefully suffice in this particular instance. Orin let his awareness zone in on the pot, the steadily climbing numbers, and his right hand as it circled.

[Orin Fenix]

Finally, just as his worry began to spike again, and his count was reaching numbers he didn’t even know necessarily existed, there was a noticeable difference in the resistance of the spoon. Sighing in relief, Orin grabbed the pads he used to handle hot objects, at least when he remembered, and lifted the pot off the stove. He felt ready to celebrate that he’d finally gotten through that ordeal, but he wasn’t out of the hot water yet, literally and metaphorically speaking. And at just that moment his careful memory of exactly how to proceed with the process. Groaning, Orin placed his palms upon the table and used the leverage to stand up. Immediately pain lanced up from the cut on his leg and he wobbled where he stood. The doctor had ordered him to stay off the leg as much as possible. He should only be upright for emergencies. Of course, the doctor’s definition of an emergency and his definition probably varied greatly. Limping, each step sending another shot of agony through him, he half-walked half-stumbled the few paces to the side table where he was keeping the recipe. On reflection, it had been one of many unintelligent choice he’d made today. At the time he’d been so supremely confident in his memory and his skills and so nervous that he might damage or stain the parchment that he’d kept it away from where he was working.

He was coming to regret that choice as he quickly scanned the end of the page. There was some sort of residue on the top of the jam that was supposed to removed once it was taken off the stove. With Orin’s luck, it was probably as time sensitive as most cooking was. Cursing quietly under his breath, he turned and practically fell as his leg protested the movement. He had to breathe deeply until the pain subsided, then essentially toppled forward in a controlled fall, catching himself on his seat. He somehow managed to maneuver himself into his former position and took the spoon back in his hand. He could see what the recipe was talking about now, a ugly looking whitish substance, and sighed. It was time to get back to work.

He dragged the spoon across the whitish ooze, attempting to get rid of as little of the jam as he could as he did so. He dumped his spoonfuls into the bowl he was quickly coming to regard as his trash area. It was going fine for a while, until he got cocky and sped up. Unfortunately he’d underestimated how aggravating his burn was. Orin didn’t know if it spasmed or if the pain just flared up, but his fingers opened involuntarily and the spoon dropped, breaking the film and letting some of it slide into the jam itself. He picked it up as quickly as he could, but the damage was already done. ”Sylir take it.” Using the god of peace’s name in vain was frowned upon but Orin was too fed up with the entire day to care. He just wanted to go home, curl up in a ball, and forget this ever happened. Of course, his home had burned down years ago, so that was an impossibility. Tears sprang up, but Orin angrily dashed them away. He refused to let himself cry over jam making of all things. He went back to removing the film with a vengeance. When it was all gone, Orin set the spoon in his soon to be dirty dishes area and picked up the first of the jars.

To add insult to injury, his right hand refused to screw the top off. Luckily his left managed, but Orin hated having himself be impaired in one area, let alone too. He was going to turn into an invalid at this point and he’d already gotten enough lectures about living off of other’s charity. He was sick and tired of it, and was dying to strike out on his own. But he didn’t have the funds quite yet. And it wasn’t as if he could very well travel in his current condition. Locating another spoon Orin began scooping the jam into the jar. When it was filled, Orin sealed it back up and set it aside. He filled a dozen jars before he was done. Now it was the moment of truth. Taking up the now useless second spoon, Orin took a tiny amount from a jar. He blew on it, not wanting to burn his tongue as well. Finally, he deemed it safe and tasted it gingerly. He almost spit it out, it was so foul, but Orin had stomached worse and forced himself to swallow it down. Those tears that had threatened earlier were back and Orin was almost inclined to let them flow. He didn’t know if it was the burning, or the residue, or any of the other numerous mistake he was now sure he had made, but for all appearance this batch was ruined. And now he had to clean out twelve jars. In fact, as he gazed at them they appeared to be congealing into a solid again, although he prayed that was just an image served up by his despairing brain. This was definitely not Orin’s finest moment.

[Sayana]

Orin Skills: Skill EXP Organization +3 Food preservation +5 Planning +1 Cooking +3 Endurance +4 Observation +1 Mathematics +1 Acrobatics +1 Lores: Planning when disabled: Everything in easy reach Cooking: Using a lemon press Food preservation: Making jam Cooking: Maintaining a full rolling boil Mathematics: Counting out ticks to estimate time Comments : Nice little cooking / food preservation thread. It was interesting to see Orin struggle so much with some basic food preservation particularly while injured. Though I was really sad that the jam didn’t turn out. Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request in the grade request thread. However, make sure to keep the link so that the DS can review graded threads with ease. If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message (like really, I’m all ears if you feel like I missed something). Enjoy.