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neutral_omens2006-07-30 05:15 pm
deatheater-cook.livejournal.com) wrote in neutral_omens2006-07-30 05:15 pm
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Time: Late afternoon, 25 July 2000
Place: The Manor Grounds
Status: Public
Summary: The Barbecue
Severus had prepared for this extensively, had done research as soon as he was told that he needed to provide food for a ‘barbecue’. Well, that was American, wasn’t it? A newly-published book titled The Great American Barbecue and Grilling Manual was his starting point. (The words ‘great’ and ‘American’ did not belong in the same sentence, although perhaps he might be mistaken, never having been to America.) After learning that this was not merely an American cuisine but a regional (Southern) American cuisine, he began to specialise. Having found a butcher to bring a pig and something to cook it over (yes, the whole pig, you dolt) he learned that it could have been done with a goat as it had been in the Caribbean, and with less effort.
Having put forth effort already, he pushed ahead. The intensive labour required to prepare food by the slow ‘barbecue’ method had been provided by Remus Lupin, although he surely did not understand when he volunteered exactly what it was he’d be doing. The butcher himself was also interested and so Snape had ‘invited’ him to come and help. Work for the day, eat. Bring your family with you and they can help and eat also. Only if they help. Severus’ labour shortage crisis solved.
The whole concept of barbecue sauce was confusing, so he’d made three kinds. Two for public consumption—a South Carolina style with mustard, vinegar and black pepper that seemed reasonable enough. Kansas City style that was thick, red-brown, and gloppy, made with a tomato base and molasses. The third was for Crowley, a Texas-style sauce amusingly named ‘Devil’s Spit’ made from a tomato base with cumin and hot chiles. These American chiles being unavailable, he procured an Oriental variety that were infinitely hotter. Let him call that bland.
Chicken would go on, although not for as long as the blasted pig, and sausages for the unadventurous. The Brunswick Stew might end up in the restaurant under ‘American Cuisine’. It was simple enough, with a tomato base, lima beans (or any beans), corn, other vegetables, and meat. Traditionally rabbit or squirrel but he could use leftover pork, chicken, beef or even cut-up sausages. Basically, a fine way to rid himself of leftover almost anything and he revised his opinion of American ingenuity. The true test would be Crowley’s opinion. If he disapproved, it was definitely going on the menu.
Okra and sweet potatoes proved impossible to procure. Field greens—of the turnip variety—were simple enough to cook in some of the extra pig fat. Black-eyed peas, which looked an awful lot like beans, with bacon. He made carrots in sauce of butter and brown sugar that seemed terribly French, but he simply shrugged. There would be green peas—not mushy, unfortunately, which would have made Crowley complain and Snape smile, a dish of fried apples that was a side dish, apparently popular with pork, and potato salad. It was a source of annoyance that the recipe he found for this called for red potatoes that did not need to be peeled. How brilliant would it have been to set Lupin to peeling potatoes for his own requested potato salad?
Cornbread was simple enough to make, although all the different names and types confused him. The concept of beaten biscuits was repulsive so he settled on cheddar biscuits instead. American biscuits, he found, were a bread roll that seemed a bizarre combination of bap, scone, and crumpet. But they were a Southern staple and very simple to make. Devilled eggs—also simple, seemingly French—were another extra dish along with pickles of varied types. He refused to make grits—porridge was bad enough at breakfast and he would certainly not serve it in any other time.
Cold tea, sweet, with or without lemon was also a disgusting concept. Lemonade, if people wished to drink it. Lupin had to deal with squeezing the lemons, too. He had procured some Bourbon and Belial would, he imagined, not object if any leftover made its way to the bar. Mint juleps required it. Mint grew in the garden and sugar was a staple.
Having no sweet potatoes with which to make sweet potato pie, which seemed unpleasant anyway, he went with pecan pie. It was too sweet, but someone would eat it. Pound cake with whipped cream (another job for Lupin) and blackberry cobbler, which was enough like local fare for people to be willing to eat it. If he could have found watermelon, that would have been amusing. But messy, so just as well he hadn’t found it.
All in all, it was a great effort on his part, slave labour or no, and people had better appreciate it else he would be extremely put out.
"Let Wensleydale handle things in the kitchen, Lupin. The butcher will take care of serving the meat. You can clear plates and make sure the dishes are all filled." He had planned this. "The butcher's wife can help with drinks. The children have been disposed of."
Out of the way, nothing more sinister. Eating now, washing dishes later. Work for food, and a good trade on his part.
"Keep an eye on the biscuits, Wensleydale, and see that they don't burn. And make sure there is plenty of ice."
He turned.
"No, mint juleps are not sweets, get away from me, you silly child." Weren't they supposed to be on the far side of the lawn, eating their supper?
Attention Edit: As of this point the Devil's Spit sauce is no longer on the serving table but in Snape's hands, doled out by him. Please do not have your character get into it.
Place: The Manor Grounds
Status: Public
Summary: The Barbecue
Severus had prepared for this extensively, had done research as soon as he was told that he needed to provide food for a ‘barbecue’. Well, that was American, wasn’t it? A newly-published book titled The Great American Barbecue and Grilling Manual was his starting point. (The words ‘great’ and ‘American’ did not belong in the same sentence, although perhaps he might be mistaken, never having been to America.) After learning that this was not merely an American cuisine but a regional (Southern) American cuisine, he began to specialise. Having found a butcher to bring a pig and something to cook it over (yes, the whole pig, you dolt) he learned that it could have been done with a goat as it had been in the Caribbean, and with less effort.
Having put forth effort already, he pushed ahead. The intensive labour required to prepare food by the slow ‘barbecue’ method had been provided by Remus Lupin, although he surely did not understand when he volunteered exactly what it was he’d be doing. The butcher himself was also interested and so Snape had ‘invited’ him to come and help. Work for the day, eat. Bring your family with you and they can help and eat also. Only if they help. Severus’ labour shortage crisis solved.
The whole concept of barbecue sauce was confusing, so he’d made three kinds. Two for public consumption—a South Carolina style with mustard, vinegar and black pepper that seemed reasonable enough. Kansas City style that was thick, red-brown, and gloppy, made with a tomato base and molasses. The third was for Crowley, a Texas-style sauce amusingly named ‘Devil’s Spit’ made from a tomato base with cumin and hot chiles. These American chiles being unavailable, he procured an Oriental variety that were infinitely hotter. Let him call that bland.
Chicken would go on, although not for as long as the blasted pig, and sausages for the unadventurous. The Brunswick Stew might end up in the restaurant under ‘American Cuisine’. It was simple enough, with a tomato base, lima beans (or any beans), corn, other vegetables, and meat. Traditionally rabbit or squirrel but he could use leftover pork, chicken, beef or even cut-up sausages. Basically, a fine way to rid himself of leftover almost anything and he revised his opinion of American ingenuity. The true test would be Crowley’s opinion. If he disapproved, it was definitely going on the menu.
Okra and sweet potatoes proved impossible to procure. Field greens—of the turnip variety—were simple enough to cook in some of the extra pig fat. Black-eyed peas, which looked an awful lot like beans, with bacon. He made carrots in sauce of butter and brown sugar that seemed terribly French, but he simply shrugged. There would be green peas—not mushy, unfortunately, which would have made Crowley complain and Snape smile, a dish of fried apples that was a side dish, apparently popular with pork, and potato salad. It was a source of annoyance that the recipe he found for this called for red potatoes that did not need to be peeled. How brilliant would it have been to set Lupin to peeling potatoes for his own requested potato salad?
Cornbread was simple enough to make, although all the different names and types confused him. The concept of beaten biscuits was repulsive so he settled on cheddar biscuits instead. American biscuits, he found, were a bread roll that seemed a bizarre combination of bap, scone, and crumpet. But they were a Southern staple and very simple to make. Devilled eggs—also simple, seemingly French—were another extra dish along with pickles of varied types. He refused to make grits—porridge was bad enough at breakfast and he would certainly not serve it in any other time.
Cold tea, sweet, with or without lemon was also a disgusting concept. Lemonade, if people wished to drink it. Lupin had to deal with squeezing the lemons, too. He had procured some Bourbon and Belial would, he imagined, not object if any leftover made its way to the bar. Mint juleps required it. Mint grew in the garden and sugar was a staple.
Having no sweet potatoes with which to make sweet potato pie, which seemed unpleasant anyway, he went with pecan pie. It was too sweet, but someone would eat it. Pound cake with whipped cream (another job for Lupin) and blackberry cobbler, which was enough like local fare for people to be willing to eat it. If he could have found watermelon, that would have been amusing. But messy, so just as well he hadn’t found it.
All in all, it was a great effort on his part, slave labour or no, and people had better appreciate it else he would be extremely put out.
"Let Wensleydale handle things in the kitchen, Lupin. The butcher will take care of serving the meat. You can clear plates and make sure the dishes are all filled." He had planned this. "The butcher's wife can help with drinks. The children have been disposed of."
Out of the way, nothing more sinister. Eating now, washing dishes later. Work for food, and a good trade on his part.
"Keep an eye on the biscuits, Wensleydale, and see that they don't burn. And make sure there is plenty of ice."
He turned.
"No, mint juleps are not sweets, get away from me, you silly child." Weren't they supposed to be on the far side of the lawn, eating their supper?
Attention Edit: As of this point the Devil's Spit sauce is no longer on the serving table but in Snape's hands, doled out by him. Please do not have your character get into it.
no subject
He was so shocked (somewhere between infuriated that Remus would treat him this way and embarrassed that he'd been caught defending Remus, which in turn infuriated him more because why the hell shouldn't he be defending Remus?) that he didn't try to speak up as Remus gave him as close to a shouting at as he'd ever seen Remus give him. He glared, but his expression softened into a sulk when he saw the way Remus' hands shook. Impulsively, he reached out, and held them still for a second in between his palms.
"I hate Snape," he said dully. "I wish I could've done something to help." He glanced away from Remus for a second. "You never let me help," he muttered resentfully. He felt stupid for getting so carried away with Snape, and he was so tired of always feeling stupid and useless.
He sighed when Remus spoke again, and let Remus' hands go free when he pulled them away, holding one out in front of Sirius to stop any further objections. Sirius was surprised to see his normally composed friend become undone, but he didn't mistake the slight stammer in Remus' speech. The idea that someone cared about him filled him with warmth, and he found he couldn't be angry with Remus. He had wanted to stay angry this time, and instead he felt hollow and disgusted with himself and resentful.
"Damn right I'd say that," he muttered. "Remus, you lied to me. Every day. I can't fucking stand it when you--"
That intense gaze caught him completely off guard, and something caught in his throat. He shut his mouth, and when Remus finished, he merely nodded.
"Okay," he said, after a few seconds pause. "Okay. But I'm just going to go and get a bite or something, right?" He nodded again and stepped away from Remus. "Just stay away from that git for me, will you?" he added because it seemed somehow necessary.
He turned his back and walked away, feeling somehow shaken. How long had Remus had hazel eyes?
no subject