Winter 25, 505 AV Location: Grandmother's Home A young Gunho stirred that morning to the freezing draft gently seeping in from the space between the wooden panels covering the window. Winter was not so cold yet that he couldn't simply shrug off the chill, but he was a boy and like many young children he was still a little sensitive. He shivered and drew his blanket over his head to trap the heat of his body behind the curtain of cotton but he couldn't go back to sleep anymore. The sound of creaking wood from the room beside his own was too loud, such was the consequence of having thin walls. He pulled over an orange wool jacket on top of his sleepwear and hopped out of his bed so he could check up on the person in the other chamber. He had too, this was a cold morning and she always complained on such mornings. Predictably his grandmother was groaning. It was her arthritis again, always seemed to be at its worst during winter. He would have to prepare for her daily treatment, but before that he placed an extra blanket over the woman like his mother had told him to. When he was sure that she was warmer he quietly snuck out the door, closing the sliding it shut making the least possible noise. The half-vantha went to the kitchen to begin the first task of the day. With flint and steel he ignited shredded tinder, an easy fire to nurture given the dry condition of the logs stacked atop each other. When the fire came to life and seemed self-sustaining he left it for a moment to fetch a kettle. This one was filled with water, he needed it to boil for the tea that his grandmother loved. While that was being heated his attention fell on the main course for breakfast. It was something easy to consume, even for an old lady. It was a Syliran recipe for soup... mushroom soup. Gunho prepared the ingredients and set to work. It would all begin with the main subject of this soup, mushrooms. He placed them on a cutting board resting atop the dining table, then he set a clean knife upon them and while rocking the cutting edge back and forth pressed more forward to be torn into tiny little pieces that were easy to eat and almost impossible to choke on. The onions came next, receiving the same treatment as the mushrooms though he didn't use more than one bulb since his grandmother didn't have a great fondness for spices. Following that, he took a bottle of milk, drained it into a bowl and poured in a predetermined amount of flour to mix into it. This would have a purpose later but for now he would let the flour soak well. A bit of oil was in order to get the pan where he would work his magic on, he liberally applied the olive oil on an iron pan and he waited for the kettle to cry once that was done. When it did create that shrill cry he used his mittens to set it aside on stone so he could place the pan to replace it. A few minutes was all it took to cook the shredded mushrooms and chopped onions to their golden forms. Now was the time to introduce his mixture, he stirred the milk and flour together until they blended perfectly and poured them into the pan. It simmered, bubbling slowly... it wouldn't be long now. His grandmother would wake up soon, but at least she had something to eat and no reason to get angry at him this morning. |