Chilling Summer Soup

Werrengren Summer Soup

- Bring three gallons of water to a boil in a large cauldron.

Add:

- Two pinches of salt.

- One bay leaf.

- Two cloves of garlic.

- One pinch of cobbleswift.

- One spoon of dry chillroot flakes.

- One ounce of pitch.

- Three gills of sumei oil.

- One pint of chara.

- Mix thoroughly with a metal spoon.

* * *

“Pitch!” Delton said with a gasp. Pitch? Really?” He asked, complying with the recipe’s bizarre instructions, finishing with the viscous red chara and reaching for the large metal spoon on the stone table to his right.

“I’ve never cooked anything like this before,” Delton said from the corner of his mouth, toiling over the wide cook pot, trying his best to stir the heavy metal spoon without sloshing the soup everywhere.

“You’d better figure it out, Del,” Miss Janin said at his left with a haughty toss of her black, shoulder-length hair. “If Mistress Erol isn’t pleased, it’ll be both our heads. She has a tongue like a wizened shaman,” she said, turning to meet Delton’s eyes.

“Look, I’ve never cooked this one on my own either, but … it must be made to perfection. Regardless of Chef Gelson’s unexplained absence…. There has never been a single excuse suitable for the Erols. Especially when it comes to their meals.” She moved to the center of the kitchen, her head sweeping mere inches below the thick wooden crossbeams that hung lower than the rest of the already low ceiling.

Delton followed her with his eyes, never ceasing his constant stirring.

“I’ve got to run out to the market, or I won’t be back in time to help you serve the meal. If Bendi hasn’t readied the wagon, I’ll….” She trailed off, pulling the muck-covered apron up over her head and tossing it to land on the shabby wooden stool that never left the dark, cob-webbed corner of the kitchen.

Even in candlelight, and even with her less than glowing attitude, Delton didn’t think he’d ever known love until he’d been raised to be her co-apprentice. Miss Janin was just… well, she was a real woman.

Delton was merely a boy. A boy just two months shy of his eighteenth name day with bulky arms and broad shoulders, sure, but for now, still just a boy.

“I’m sure Bendi has the horses and wagon ready, Miss Janin. I’ll be fine in here. Just have to follow the recipe, right?”

“Yes, Del, and just Janin is fine. No need to be so formal. It makes me feel old, and I’m barely two years your senior, besides.” She made a weak grin, tying back her hair and putting in small brown studded earrings one ear at a time. They were nothing too fancy. Though, even in the dim light, they brought out the hazelnut in her coffee-dark eyes.

She crossed the small kitchen, making for the large wooden door at the end of the cramped, square room.

Delton watched her move; she seemed to sway when she walked. Like a sort of graceful, slender swan or a majestic myrilin.

She paused at the door, turning back to add, “Del, the recipe is a bit odd. But it’s important that you follow the words exactly as they are written … word for word, alright. You understand?”

“Yes, Miss Jan—sorry … just Janin. I understand. Exactly as they’re written,” he said with a nod. “Word for word.”

The wooden door creaked open, “I’m counting on you, Del,” Janin said just before swinging the heavy door shut with a rattling slam as she left him to the task.

Alone in the kitchen, Delton turned his attention back to the recipe.

* * *

- Mix thoroughly with a metal spoon.

* * *

Yeah, yeah, I’ve done that bit, Delton thought loftily, his eyes scanning down the recipe to find where he’d left off.

* * *

- Once fully incorporated, use a small bellows to cool the air above the soup; three full squeezes should suffice.

- Once chilled, mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon, stirring clockwise until the surface is frothing.

* * *

Change spoons? Delton thought, putting the bellows aside and removing the weighty metal spoon from the pot to trade it for an equal-sized but lighter wooden one. This recipe is nonsense, he thought with a drawn-out sigh. There was no way this could be right.

Delton couldn’t imagine a single scenario in which this soup ended up tasting anything better than horrible. And still, he continued to follow the instructions. Exactly as they were written….

* * *

- Let simmer.

Add:

- Two handfuls of hot coal from the fire.

- Three fingers of pine needles.

- One cup of goat’s blood.

- Two pounds of cubed werrengren cut north to south.

* * *

North to south? Delton thought curiously. So specific, he shook his head. It made no sense. Still, he followed the recipe word for word, awkwardly aligning himself at the corner of the table and slicing the stringy meat. “North to south,” he said aloud.

* * *

- Stir counter-clockwise for no more than three minutes.

Add:

- One pinch of ground yellow pepper.

- Three cloves of arledem.

- One splash of shaken guillion.

- Three quarts of distilled varytol.

- Two knuckles of diaphonym root.

* * *

Delton scanned further down the list, curious how many more ingredients would be required. He froze upon reading the recipe’s second to last line.

This can’t be… he thought, confusion assaulting him like a sudden storm. I won’t! He barked inside his mind.

Tears began to stream down his cheeks in uncontrollable rivulets. He wiped his eyes to no avail. This was crazy. He couldn’t follow this recipe any longer; there was no way. These instructions were beyond mad! They were insanity!

I won’t … I … can’t….

* * *

- Let stew untouched for nine minutes before removing the roots.

- *DANGER!* (Explosive when overcooked).

Add:

- Three eyelashes.

- One whispered prayer.

- One deep, hopeful breath.

* * *

Delton sucked in what felt like the deepest breath he had ever breathed before continuing with the awful recipe in front of him. Forced to do what he was about to do, he couldn’t help but sigh out half his air.

He traced his finger down the recipe to the final two lines, biting his lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood. The rest of his air left him as he read the last two lines aloud.

“Slit your throat and dip your head into the cauldron.” He said with a gulp. “Stir and serve.”

Delton wasn’t sure what else to do. He wanted to be brave, to follow through with the recipe as Janin had instructed; he didn’t want to let her down, but….

Tears still flowing, Delton lowered his head above the cauldron and proceeded to follow the recipe.

He followed it word for word … exactly as it was written….