(no subject)

[deatheater-cook.livejournal.com]

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.

Comments

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor let go of Pepper and bowed low to John. "Why thank you, Johnny," he said. "This is my wonderful singing partner Pepper, have you two met?"

He raised an eyebrow at the human. "Beer? Whatever happened to wholesome, non-alcoholic fun? (Or pan-galactic gargle blasters? If you're going to get drunk, do it properly)..."

[playswithboys.livejournal.com]

She had gotten a little caught up, just a bit carried away. Enough that she didn't see anyone else approach at any rate. There was a sardonic voice, one that Pepper hadn't heard yet at the manor, and she followed it when the Doctor let go and bowed to... someone who didn't look like any Lord of the Court, that was for sure.

He was human, Pepper knew it. Mainly because of the gruffness to his voice that said chronic smoker (so he clearly wasn't just lighting up for appearances), and the fact that he looked like life had kicked the crap out of him one to many times to allow for immortality. Pepper had to admit that in a manor full of boys and very young-looking types, it was refreshing to see someone who looked like a man for a change. A pretty up front and no-nonsense one at that, if his comments were anything to judge by.

She waited while the Doctor gave a haphazard introduction, and made a mental note to ask about pan-galactic gargle blasters later. "Beer's not wholesome?" she teased, thinking of typical cookouts in the summer. Mr. Young had always had a beer in his hand whenever they ate outside.

Pepper turned her attention to the man the Doc had called 'Johnny' and smirked. "We haven't met, no. I haven't been here for very long yet, I'm a friend of Adam's." She held out the little shovel to him instead of offering a hand to shake. "As for presentation, maybe you should teach us something about it, since you seem to know what to do, Mr. ...?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Beer's the elixir of life, don't let anyone tell you different. John Constantine," he said by way of introduction, and chuckled at the invitation. "What, me? Christ, I haven't done anything like that since Mucous Membrane broke up..."

He was about to decline when the song faded out, to be replaced by an old Sex Pistols tune he knew very well. Oh fuck me, it's too perfect.

Unable to resist, he dropped his cigarette and crushed it out with his heel, taking the shovel with a smirk on his face that was liable to turn into a stupid grin if he wasn't careful.

Striking a slightly-less-bad-than-the-Doctor's-but-still-fairly-ridiculous pose, he fixed his eyes intently on Pepper (who was easily young enough to be his daughter, possibly even his granddaughter--shameful, that's what it was) and 'sang' along with old Sid Vicious:

Look at that
Here she comes
Here comes that girl again
Wanted to date her since I don't know when
But she don't notice me when I pass
She goes with all the guys from outta my class
But that can't stop me from thinkin' to myself
She's sure fine lookin', man, she's something else"

[playswithboys.livejournal.com]

John Constantine. Pepper judged a lot by names, she found. That was a solid, tough kinda name. Told as much as his face did that he'd seen a lot.

So he'd been in a band? That was immediately exciting to her already-hyperactive-from-the-heat-and-jumping-about brain. No wonder he'd been judging their little impromtu act. But it looked like he wasn't too keen on her suggestion, which she'd expected. Shame. Until that thrashing-til-your-ears-bleed guitar solo sounded in the trademark screech that only one band could claim, and he took the shovel from her, striking a pose that was wonderfully remeniscent (as ridiculous poses could hardly bother a young woman who still liked to pretend she was a superhero) of old videos that she'd seen from the 70s. She tried to hide her surprise. He's a Sex Pistols fan?

Pepper shook her head back and forth in time to the music. "You know this band too?" she asked the Doc. Most people found the Pistols abrasive at best, and after his statement renouncing the wholesomeness of beer, she had to inquire.

When she checked back John Constantine was still looking at her moving through the song in a way that would have made Johnny Rotten proud. Pepper wasn't used to being the center of attention this way, especially with men, but she found that the weird fluttering in her stomach was a lot better than how she normally felt around boys (even around her boyfriend, truth be told. He never inspired anything fluttery or even interesting). And John had a rugged quality that she was appreciating more by the second, even as he lipsynched indecently for her random amusement. Anyone who had the guts to play was automatically 'good' in Pepper's book. She grinned at him and mouthed the next lyrics with him as the song continued:

Look at that
cross the street
Theres a car built just for me
To own a car would be a luxury
But right now I can't afford the gas
A brand new convertible is out of my class

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

"Beer isn't wholesome," the Doctor said sternly, "beer's Oirish. Top o' the morning to ya, my goodness my Guinness, I really have to work on my Irish accent..."

He paused but brightened after a moment. "I'm good with Scottish accents, though."*

The name Adam rung a bell. He'd heard the name recently. Who had said it... oh, Uriel. Adam was her manager. The one he was supposed to find if he wanted a job here. Maybe he could get Pepper to introduce him to the fellow.

The Doctor grinned when John joined in the game. He snuck a sidelong glance at Pepper and saw her smiling too. Good. It was going to be a good day.

"Know the Sex Pistols?" He pretended to be affronted. "Of course I know the Sex Pistols! The Sex Pistols and Queen are two of the best things of the past century!" He'd met both of them, too. The whole tapes-morphing-into-Best-of-Queen-cassettes-after-a-fortnight was partially his fault.

He opened his mouth to join in the singing when a young man with bright eyes and flushed cheeks interrupted, running up to them and calling Pepper's name.

___
* David Tennant is, actually, Scottish, but can talk with a very good English accent. It isn't the other way around.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"You'd think that," drawled Crowley from behind the Doctor, "until you heard that bloody album every day for thirty years."

The demon surveyed the group before him. "Hello, John, Pepper, and I don't believe we've met yet," he said to the Doctor. "Anthony Crowley, but everyone calls me Crowley. New to the Manor?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Caught in the act of making a complete git of himself over a pretty face, John stopped and did his best to look as though lip-synching and flailing around like a moron was perfectly normal and in no way uncool behavior for a man pushing fifty. "Oi Crowley," he said with a grin that was not at all sheepish in any way, "This's Docter...er, Doctor Something?" He raised his eyebrows at the Doc, only now realizing he still hadn't got a full introduction.

[playswithboys.livejournal.com]

She almost laughed at John's expression once Crowley arrived. It made her feel better in some way. At least she knew that she wasn't the only person Crowley seemed to have that effect on.

"Well, look who's outside," she said to the dark lenses with a twisted smirk. "Haven't seen you in a bit. Was beginning to think I imagined you."

It was then that she heard a voice that was most certainly Brian's, whining her name in a tone that suggested there was something that 'she just had to see,' in traditional Them fashion. Rather than let him reach the group and confuse the whole conversation while introductions were still taking place, Pepper shouted back at him. "Oy, Bri, I hear you already! Keep your knickers on, I'll be there in a tick!" She turned back, hoping she hadn't shouted too loud, remembering belatedly that she was pretty noisy when the occassion called for it.

"Sorry gents, 'pears I'm being commandeered for something. Talk you all later I'm sure, Doc, Crowley..." She tossed John a conspiratorial wink for his trouble. "Mr. Vicious."

And then she walked off in Brian's direction.

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor smiled at John, in a completely non-patronizing way. "Just the Doctor," he said cheerfully, "but if there's any paperwork say my name's Doctor John Smith or something. Yes, I arrived yesterday," he added to Crowley. In a blue box that's currently standing locked in the lobby, if anyone cares to look.

He gave one of his manic grins and said, "new new Doctor!"*

Crowley was a tall dark-haired fellow, and the Doctor thought the sunglasses a bit extreme. Yes, it was a nice day, but it wasn't that nice. Maybe he just had sensitive eyes, or something. From Pepper's comment about being seen outside, perhaps Crowley was extremely sensitive to light.

Hah. Vampires, aliens, and 'gods', oh my!

He waved a goodbye to Pepper, stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled at John and Crowley. "So," he said, "shall we be off to this barbecue, then? I wonder if they have any jelly babies..."


___
* From the episode New Earth, where he and Rose joke about New New York.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Nice to meet you, the Doctor," said Crowley, unsurprised. He could appreciate the value of an alias. "Lead on. Though if there are jelly babies, I'll be very surprised."

Don't skin me! It was the Doctor's idea!

[first-catwoman.livejournal.com]

Bast was half lying on the ground, idly picking the last strands of meat from the chicken carcass and practising her newfound dexterity by flicking them up in the air and catching them in her mouth. She paused as three people walked by her and a familar scent caught her. Eats-with-snake? Ah, the one with the sunglasses must be the kitten's...well, not human, but something else. Ah, well, curiosity killed the cat...

She rose to walk beside the black-haired male (the silmilarity in fur colour amused her; she idly wondered if he had yellow eyes too) and tapped him on the shoulder. //Excuse me, but you wouldn't happened to be the keeper of a black kitten with one white forepaw?//

Why would I?

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Turning at being tapped on the shoulder, Crowley's eyes widened as he caught sight of a woman with a furry cat's head and tail. He hadn't seen that in a while - must be another Egyptian god, but damn if he could keep their names straight.

Suspiciously he said, "I am, actually. Who are you and why do you ask?"

Re: Why would I?

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Walking along with Crowley and the Doctor, John blinked at the woman with the cat's head and then blinked again, certain he shouldn't be seeing what he was seeing. He wasn't even drunk.

Speaking of which... "Oh look, someone brought beer. Pardon, all, I'll be back," he said, nodding politely to the cat-headed woman as though it was all perfectly ordinary to have naked feline-human hybrids wandering around in a crowd of gods, angels, demons, an alien time traveler, and a few humans at a British barbecue.

With that he made for the beverage table post-haste, certain he'd be better able to cope with this new twist when he'd downed a pint or two or three.

Thanks, Bast, love you too... *sarcasm overload*

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

She was - well, mostly a cat. She was cat enough not to want clothes, and human enough to need them.

The Doctor had met cat-humans before. They'd tried to kill him. He decided he wasn't going to take any chances with this one.

"I have a screwdriver," he said. It was the best thing that came to his head. In hindsight, he could have said something tougher.

Boo!

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

For some reason Mictain found himself wandering towards a group of people. Some of them he had seen before in the Manor, some he hadn't. None of them seemed to have noticed him yet.

"And?" he asked right behind the obviously crazy man, raising an eyebrow. "What does a screwdriver have to do with anything?"

Re: Boo!

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

The Doctor wouldn't have admitted he jumped. If he had, he would have blamed it on the presence of the cat-woman, and the 'bad memories' she stirred up.*

"What hasn't a screwdriver go to do with?" he asked, trying to cover his (frankly, really strange) sentence with philosophical jargon. "You never know. Could be one of those great rules of science no one ever notices. Always carry a towel, never say 'it can't get any worse', there is no spoon...

"I'm the Doctor, by the way," he said, and held out his hand.


___
* New Earth.

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

Another eyebrow joined the one that had been already raised. Yes, this man was definitely crazy. He fit right in, then. The Manor was one big madhouse anyway.

"It can always get worse. And I'm Mictain," he replied, and shook the offered hand after a moment of thought. He didn't even have his claws out; he was really making an effort to behave.

[tardis-lord.livejournal.com]

"Nice to meet you, Mictain," the Doctor said brightly. The man had a very strong handshake. Slightly too strong, if he was being honest.

Mictain. He ran the name through his head. Mictain. Mic-tain. Mic... oh.

"Mickey!" the Doctor said joyfully. "Mic Mic Mickedy Mic Mic! Mickey!"

Okay, so he was acting even stranger than usual and someone was going to tell him to stop it. Ah well. He'd found a little something that reminded him of his old life, of Rose*, and he was damned if he was going to let it go.


___
* Her ex-boyfriend was called Mickey Smith, aka Mickey the Idiot. Didn't look much like Mictain, though.

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

Mictain took a step backwards, staring at the strange man. "I'm not Mickey," he said, flashing his fangs as he spoke. "Mic, I might tolerate, but my name is not Mickey. What are you on, anyway? Or did you forget to take your medication instead?"

The Doctor reminded him of a manic Uriel, which only worked to convince him that if the man wasn't using any medication, he definitely should. He probably should keep an eye out for snowballs, just in case.

I just like to ensure that all my remaining lives, well, remain.

[first-catwoman.livejournal.com]

Mentally, Bast gave him a point for not acting like the other two, who she was trying very hard not to laugh at. She focussed on the...she really needed to learn to identify species, but he smelled faintly like burnt feathers - and tried to remember why she had gone to speak to him. The one in the pinstriped suit and funny hair was making her nervous. Oh, that'll do. //She doesn't like the brand of catfood you've been feeding her. I'm Bast, by-the-by. Nice party, isn't it?//

He's not going to kill someone for talking to him...

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Bast. Of course. Nice to meet you." Crowley looked around, unfazed. He'd stroll around without clothes if he could get away with it, too. "Yeah, it's all right. No one's died yet."

He blinked. "You've spoken to Chicago?" Well, that wasn't the strangest thing to happen, but it did give him pause. He thought for a moment. "I don't know what kind of cat food it is. It's whatever is supposed to be good for her. What would she prefer?"

I'm a cat. They all think someone's out for their fur.

[first-catwoman.livejournal.com]

//Chicago? Is that what you call her? Not bad.// She nodded thoughtfully. *There are fancier names, if you think they sound sweeter..*

She rubbed the back of her back across her eyes absently. //Something with rabbit and milk in it, I think. Condensed milk's best for kits her age, and she was just living on whatever her mother brought her, before the scary lady with the brown hair picked her up while she was exploring and it's unfair for you to have to eviserate rats for the sake of a kitten. On the other pa...I mean, hand, what are you, if you don't mind me asking?//

-
*From Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. She likes the musical based off it.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"It's classy," explained Crowley. "And if she wants rabbit and condensed milk," he grimaced ever so slightly, "then she's welcome to it. I appreciate you letting me know."

Trying not to get defensive - she probably didn't intend to make him sound like an object - the demon replied, "I don't mind, as long as you tell me about yourself first."

[first-catwoman.livejournal.com]

Bast shrugged. //Fine. Not much to tell, really. Egyptian patheon, main jobs were secrets, that's knowing and keeping, cats, and looking after women in pregnancy. Helped a friend stop a bunch of other gods from beating each other up, then got bored, then came over here.//

She tilted her head to one side, noting his expression at eats-with-snake's preference. //And she is just a kitten. Small mammals, of any kind, tend to have weird tastes. Once I knew a human who liked to have marmite on apple-slices, when she was little.//

Her ears flattened a bit. //And also, sorry. I'm not used to being around so many people. I haven't even asked your name, which is so rude that if this was the old days, I would've owed you a couple of dozen bulls or something...//

Bast sighed, suddenly feeling very in over her head. //I'm really bad at this.//

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"A goddess, then?" asked Crowley, as if she could be anything else. But he'd been right. Egyptian. "I'm Crowley. Anthony Crowley. I'm a demon." He offered her his hand. "And don't worry about it. This place isn't like anywhere else on Earth. We don't exactly stand on ceremony around here. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know a crazy kid who can turn into a hawk, would you?"