Flashback Carrots and Parsnip (solo)

[Eada Vine]

18th Spring 511 AV

Eada shut her bedroom door and fell back against it with a growl.

Her parents were so stupid. She had told them she didn’t want to do it countless times, but they persisted: No one will ever want to marry a girl that can’t cook or your father will be so disappointed. Let them be disappointed, she used to think. Besides, she didn’t need to be married to be happy.

But this she couldn’t let slip.

She had gone downstairs and heard her name. Pausing on the stairs, she listened. “Oh, Samuel. She’s just passionate about something else.” Eada waited. “Her musical skills have really come on a long way, you know.”

Her father sighed. “But she needs to be able to cook. When she leaves this house – and you know she will, Natalie – I won’t have her living on the stale bread bought from the market or spending all her mizas on posh restaurant meals.” Eada narrowed her eyes. What if I want to live on stale bread?

“I know,” her mother said. “Maybe it’s for the best though. You know what she’s like; she probably couldn’t do it anyway.”

Eada’s mouth had dropped open and she stormed into her bedroom, not caring that they knew she had been eavesdropping. She couldn’t believe them. Of course she could so it; she could do anything she put her mind to, but she just didn’t want to do it. She folded her arms and growled again. She didn’t want to have a stupid cooking lesson, but she needed to prove them wrong.

Her mother’s fiddle was sat on the bed, just calling out to be played. She would much rather spend her time on that and become a musician like her mother. She would watch her mother play and be entranced by the sound, hypnotised by the way her fingers moved over the strings. She had wanted to do that since, well, as long as she could remember.

But her dad had to stick his nose in. She sighed. She couldn’t believe that they would think her incapable of cooking. That was ridiculous. She set her jaw and went downstairs, careful to make the sound of descending the stairs particularly loud. Her parents frowned at her as she entered the room. “Eada. Is it really necessary to stomp everywhere?”

Eada crossed her arms, ignoring her father’s comment. “I have decided to cook something.” Her father’s eyes widened, but her mother just smiled – a small smile that made Eada narrow her eyes. But she wouldn’t go back on it now. She would show them that she could cook.

“Brilliant!” Her father jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “We can start right now.” Eada blinked. She hadn’t expected it to be so sudden, but she nodded and followed her father into the kitchen, casting a glance over her shoulder at her mother. Natalie smiled and Eada narrowed her eyes. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, the kind she got when she felt she had been cheated.

But her mother couldn’t have known she was listening. She had gone down the stairs silently.

“Right.” Eada turned back to her father, shaking away the suspicions – she would sort them out later. He had already assembled a collection of things. Eada recognised a few. At least, she knew the wooden bowl and spoon. Oh, and the stuff beside it was meat, definitely, but she wasn’t sure what kind.

“What are we making?” She asked, rolling up her sleeves the way her father had, past her elbows.

“Stew. Trust me, it’s one of the easiest things.” She frowned slightly, but nodded. That’s fine then, at least I can prove Mother wrong. She copied the way he peeled the outside off the carrot. He seemed to function at superhuman speed as he ran the knife over the skin and it dropped onto the table. She pulled the blade across the vegetable slowly, making sure it took off the layer. The knife snagged her skin as she reached the bottom, but she was moving slow enough that it didn’t cut her. She widened her eyes as her father raced through another two carrots as she did one more strip on hers.

“How do you do that?” She asked, her tongue peeking out as she tried again. Her father smiled.

“Practise makes perfect.”

Eada hated that saying, but she understood it when it came to music. It took time to teach your fingers to find the right place on the strings and your mind how to read music. But cooking? Cooking wasn’t hard. You just follow the recipe, or rather, your father’s instructions and, hey presto, a meal.

The carrots were finally peeled and Samuel chopped them – again at superhuman speed. “I won’t bother making you slice them up. I’m sure you know how to do that.” She nodded. She had never tried, but honestly, how hard could it be?

“Now, put these in that pot over there.” He gestured to a small pan sat on the unlit stove and Eada grabbed a handful of chopped carrot and dropped it into the pot. A few slices of orange dropped onto the floor and she smiled guiltily at her father. He sighed.

“Never mind. Tell you what, I’ll deal with the meat – that’s probably the hardest bit – and you can peel the rest of the veg.” Eada nodded and picked up a pale stick of a vegetable. It looked like a carrot, only an off-white colour. “That’s a parsnip, sweetheart.”

“I know,” she said and began peeling. The strips of skin dropped onto the floor and got stuck to her arms.

[Eada Vine]

But she refused to believe this cooking stuff was beyond her, even her mother could cook basic food, although she rarely got to go into the kitchen with her father about. Eada continued to peel, receiving several nicks in her hand, but never too deep. She washed any blood away before her father could see, with the excuse that all the veg peelings were making her hands smell gross.

She watched her dad chopping the white slimy bits off the meat, but her lack of concentration earned her another bite from the peeling knife. “When it comes to meat, you don’t want any of the fat left on, at least not for a stew. It just goes slimy in your mouth and that makes customers unhappy.” Eada rolled her eyes. It was typical of her father to be constantly thinking about business.

“Alright, I think I’m done,” she said, glancing down at the pile of peeled vegetables. They were odd shapes where she had peeled to deeply or not enough and the peelings were everywhere. She chewed the corner of her lip; her father never made this kind of mess.

“Perfect,” he said and Eada exhaled. “Chop them up. That’s it, use that knife there. See how the blade is smooth?” Eada nodded, comparing it with the knife beside it that had teeth running along its edge. “That makes it perfect for chopping.”

Eada took the knife and tried to copy what her father had done, only a tenth of the speed. A slice of parsnip flew across the room and she looked at her father. She smiled and he shook his head, trying to hold back his own smile.

“How do you stop it from doing that?” She asked and he rinsed his hands and came behind her. He covered her hands with his and guided them over the parsnip.

“Just be smooth and gentle. Let the side closest to you go first, then rock the weight onto the front of the blade.” He demonstrated, her own hands feeling the pressure put onto the knife as he guided them. She nodded and he let go. She copied the movement and a slice of parsnip feel onto the board. She grinned and tried again.

Her father ducked as a piece flew over his head. Eada groaned.

“Practice makes perfect,” he said with a smile and Eada was beginning to see that he might be right, even when it came to cooking. Not that she would admit that to him. “So we can actually get this stuff on the stove, I’ll chop them up for now.”

A few minutes later, she poured two cups of water over the vegetables and chunks of meat – which Eada had discovered was deer. Or venison as her father called it, but she didn’t see how giving it a posh name could make a difference. “We have to add some stock to give it flavour.” He pulled out a jar and opened the lid.

Eada covered her nose. “That stinks, what is it?”

“It’s the juices that come from boiling the bones and the fat and all the stuff that we don’t eat. It makes the food taste amazing.” He poured a little into the pot and Eada swallowed back her disgust. After all, she’d been eating it for seventeen years. He lit the stove and patted his daughter on the shoulder. Eada frowned.

“Hey, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” You mean, apart from the flying vegetables, cuts in my hand and the stench of some boiled down bones?

“I guess not.” Her mother was wrong after all. She could cook. Mostly.

Half an hour later, Eada was in her room with her fiddle under her chin when her father called her back downstairs. With a groan, she obliged.

“Your lesson isn’t over, you know. You need to taste how it’s doing so far.” He handed her a spoon and whispered. “It’s one of the pros of cooking.” He winked.

The stew looked thicker than when Eada had seen it last. She copied her father and dipped the spoon into the mixture and brought it to her mouth. Her father watched her. “Well, what’s missing?” He asked and Eada shrugged. Samuel sighed. “You, my girl, need to work on your palette. It’s seasoning.” He gestured to the rack of herbs and spices. “Just a bit of… rosemary and salt and this this will be a beauty. You don’t need much, okay. Just a pinch or so.” Eada nodded and pulled down the jar labelled Rosemary.

“Sam, honey.” Her mother called from the other room. “I’ll be back in a second, sweetie. Just go ahead and finish it off.” Eada nodded and shook a pinch of rosemary into the mix. She swirled it around with a wooden spoon, like she had seen her father do. And what was the other one he had said…? Salt.

She tiptoed up, but none of the jars were labelled salt. She obviously knew what that one looked like though and scoured the other shelves for the white grains. She found them. The jar was massive, much bigger than she had expected, but she supposed salt went into everything. She shook the jar into the mixture and a handful fell into the pot. She cursed under her breath and grabbed a spoon, trying to get out any of the grains that hadn’t yet got wet, but most of the had already sunk into the mixture.

“Oh well,” she said. “It couldn’t be that bad.”

[Eada Vine]

An hour later her parents and Eada stood in the kitchen. Her father was frowning and Eada chewed the corner of her lip. Hopefully it won't be too salty, she thought to herself.

"It smells a bit strange," said Samuel, but her mother just shrugged. Her father picked up a large spoon and served up a bowl. It did smell odd, Eada thought. She didn't think adding too much salt would make it smell like that. She wasn't sure how to describe it...

Her father dipped in his spoon and blew on the liquid, cooling it down before eating it. He put it in his mouth and starting coughing. Eada rose an eyebrow and her mother patted him on the back. "You added sugar!" Eada's mouth opened and her cheeks went pink. Her mother swallowed a spoonful and started laughing. Eada crossed her arms and pouted.

"How did you manage that?" Her mum said, her laughter contained to chuckles."I thought your father was watching you the whole time."

"I only left her for a minute." He was rubbing his eyebrow, like he couldn't work out how it had happened."You must have got confused between the salt and sugar." He sighed, but a smile played in the corner of his lips. "You must have added loads."

He started to laugh and Eada scowled at them. She marched out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs. She sat down on her bed. Well, damn them. She had tried and it was just a tiny, silly mistake. It was her father's fault for leaving her to it.

But the worst part was, she had proved her mother right. She couldn't cook.

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Eada

Skills

~ Cooking - 3
~ Observation - 1
~ Socialization - 1

Lores

~ Cooking: How to Peel a Carrot
~ Cooking: Don't Leave Fat on Meat
~ Cooking: How to Chop Parsnips
~ Cooking: You Get to Taste
~ Recipie: Stew

Other

N/A

Notes

Quite a nice solo! Somehow I knew Eada was going to add sugar... it couldn't end all well, could it? Still, some good lores, and a few cooking points! Enjoy