milliways_bar | (no subject)

There had been yelling, that Saturday morning. Rae's mother had come home from an early grocery-shopping trip to find a vegetarian version of Charlie's sausage-hashbrown pie cooking in the oven, and a ten-year old alone in the kitchen, reading while she waited for it to finish. Charlie had gone to open the coffeehouse hours before Rae woke up, leaving Rae alone in the house, as happened often enough. And, it being a cold, dreary, January day, Rae had wanted something heartier and more warming than cereal with milk for breakfast.

Rae had shown her irate mother that everything was all right, that she had been extra-careful and safe while chopping onions and shredding potatoes, chopping up kale and cooking everything (which hadn't phased her mother a bit), and explained that she'd cooked for herself when left home alone loads of times before and had been just fine (which actually made things worse).

It's just as well that the door to Milliways appeared in the door to Rae's room, where she had been sent. The girl was still hungry, and still smarting - from the assumption that she couldn't do it on her own just as much as from being grounded.

And there was a kitchen, easily within reach now. She wasn't technically leaving her room, since her room didn't deign to show up when she had opened her bedroom door. That isn't her fault at all.

So there is a young girl in the Milliways kitchen, this morning, shredding potatoes using a large cheese-grater and generally illustrating her opinion that adult supervision is something that happens to other people.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Athelstan would be befuddled by the idea that a ten-year-old shouldn't cook unsupervised. A toddler, yes, but not a ten-year-old, and especially not when she's doing it with such confidence.

"What are you making?" he asks with a smile.

"Making a breakfast pie," the girl answers, looking up from the grater with a return smile. She takes this opportunity to pause for a moment - grating so many potatoes after having already grated potatoes for the first, lost pie is tiring her arm. "It'll have eggs and cheese and potatoes and kale and caramelized onions and herbs in it. You're welcome to have some once it's done, if you like."

"If I'm to share your food", he suggests - and he even recognises almost all the ingredients - "I should help in its making. What can I do?"

"Could you chop the kale and the onion?" the girl asks, putting down the grater and showing him where the round white onion the size of a baseball and the thick, leafy green kale is by one of the cutting boards. "They're washed and ready to go, I just knew the potatoes would take more time and so was doing them first. The onion'll need to be diced, and then the diced onion rinsed so its flavor mellows out, and the kale will need to be chopped up really fine."

"Gladly", he says with a nod and begins with the onion. "You cook often, I'd guess?"

Elrond pokes his head in, looking for a cloth to tie his lunch up in.

"Hello," he says.
He too does not seem concerned to see a child her age handling sharp kitchen tools.

"Often enough," Rae nods, slightly wry. More often than my parents know, she doesn't add.

"I enjoy seeing what I can make, and enjoy eating it afterwards."

He shoots her a sidelong grin.

"Then you must have learned to make it all enjoyable to eat."

The little red-headed girl looks up from grating the potatoes, offering a friendly smile. "Good morning!"

"I'm still learning," she admits with a wry smile in return, as she resumes grating the potatoes. When she has to take some of the potatoes out from under the grater, she sets them in a bowl lined with thin cloth. "But even when it doesn't turn out just right, that makes the next time that much better."

He nods at the results of her efforts.
"Are you cooking for company?"

"Because you can tell where you went wrong", he says with a nod. "My name is Athelstan, by the way."

"Morning!"

That is Dorian Gray, in his favourite purple shirt and a black silk kimono worn loosely, like a robe. He's not wearing shoes and looking quite cheerful.

"If company comes by and would like some food, yes," Rae's smile gains sincerity past just friendly greeting, dumping the last of the grated potatoes into a bowl lined with a thin cloth. "If not, then... there'll be plenty of leftovers for lunch."

Charlie always said to make more food than just strictly for the people you know will be there. Someone may want seconds, or there may be unexpected company. You should always try to be ready.

"It's going to be a breakfast pie - with eggs and cheese and potatoes and caramelized onions and herbs - if you'd like to have some once it's done."

"Nice to meet you, Athelstan!" the girl beams at him, moving to gather the corners of the cloth with the potato shreds inside. "My name's Rae."

She puts pressure on the bundle of potato, squeezing what water she can from them, letting it drip down into the bowl.

It's hard to resist returning the smile just as widely, and he doesn't try.

"Nice to meet you as well, Rae. I can only get potatoes here."

Rae isn't wearing shoes, either - but she is wearing rainbow-striped socks, a pair of slightly ripped jeans and a fuzzy sweater with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

"Good morning!" she calls back to him, grinning. "Hello, again." It hasn't been long for her since they were pilfering apples together.

Sunshine blinks at him, surprised. "You can't get potatoes at home?"

"They're... practically a staple, in my world."

"Not in my part of it. They grow on Earth, I know, but we haven't yet discovered the place where they are."

Autor pops his head in the door, intending to cook lunch for himself, but melts into a smile when he spots the girl grating potatoes. He crosses to her and waves.

"Hello, Rae," he says warmly. "What do you call a reluctant potato?"

"It sounds lovely," he replies. "But I am going for a walk today and as well as your dish looks now, I am certain there will be not a crumb left when I return."

Smiling.

The girl gathers the bundle of shredded potatoes in the cloth, and squeezes, until the excess water drips out and into the bowl below.

"It'll be a while before it's done - about an hour to finish preparing the ingredients, mixing them up, and baking the pie," she says, only now having the potatoes ready. Next is the kale and the onion. "If you're around then-ish, you'd be welcome, of course."

"Oh!" the girl says, intrigued. "I hadn't known."

Potatoes are just... everywhere, to her. Like eggs, and butter, and cheeses.

"What about kale?"

"Kale, we have. And onions too - really everything in your pie except potatoes."

"I will make sure to stop by if I have returned by then," he says.
"I do not think I have ever had - breakfast pie?"

Page 1 of 3