The Great Elvish Culinary Contest: Ån RP Game

The fair valley of Rivendell, upon whose house the stars of heaven most brightly shone.
Arien
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Welcome to the House of Master Elrond, who has graciously allowed us to use his rather magnificent kitchens for this little experiment. Who will be crowned the Cook Supreme?

Within the great kitchen halls are set up your workstations: you each have three buckets of clean water and a bucket of ice; a stone firepit; pots and pans; and the hall itself contains an enormous cook’s fireplace at each end where you will be able to access spits, and place your pots into the flames to cook if you haven’t enough space to bake in your firepit.

In the three vast shared wooden tables running down the centre of the Hall you have space to chop, knead, and prepare your food - except the mid most table, which is filled with ingredients all ripe and ready for the choosing.

SCORING

You will be judged on:
Presentation/Creativity
Taste


Points may be knocked off if you haven’t properly adhered to the brief.

Presentation/Creativity will be based on the strength of your RP. There will be 5 points available for this.

Taste will be based on the judges’ tastebuds... by which I mean, a die roll.

You may choose a 6 sided die, where the roll you get will be the number of points you gain, OR
You may choose a 12 sided die. The points you gain may be much higher, BUT there are also penalties to be suffered. Even numbers will get you points, odd numbers will get you a penalty...

Each Judge will roll a die, but you will get the best of the 3 rolls as your “points”: however, if you choose a D12, you May receive up to 3 Penalties, which you will have an opportunity to RP!

You will also have one opportunity during the contest to SABOTAGE AN OPPONENT. To do so, please indicate in bold who you are sabotaging at the top of your post, and RP our what you do. Dice will be rolled to determine whether or not you will be successful, and how many points your opponent accordingly loses...

RULES
- You May RP as any kind of character you like - but please only have one competing character. Extra spectators are allowed and encouraged! We will need tasters!
- No godmoding except by the GM. If you move to interfere with someone else’s dish via a sabotage, just RP it as attempting to do whatever it is, then the GM will tell you if you’ve been successful
- Please mark OOC clearly at the bottom of your post. No need to white out if you don’t want.
-

On with the tasks!
To participate, please RP entering the hall, introduce yourself and give a brief character description - and tell us your favourite food! (Also make it clear if you’re not here to compete, just spectate)
The Contestants:

Starbreeze (Fairy Nuff)
Veowyn
Eldûrien (Frostbite)
Ducky
Aerlinn
Viola Brockhouse (Elarith)
Arphen (Aethelu)
Tarawen
Åduchil


there will be 5 rounds and there may be eliminations!
(An operation run by Sil, Alma and Dimcairien)
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Starbreeze, a wizzie

It was a long time since Starbreeze had travelled to Imladris on any kind of business, but something incredibly important had come up...a cooking contest, and an opportunity not to be missed. She wondered if any of her old friends would make an appearance, for she had known many among the elves in the last age, but so many had left now for the West, and she no longer knew who remained on these shores. With her staff tap-tapping on the floor and her green robe swishing behind her she made her way into the kitchen hall where the contest would take place, and saw she was the first to arrive, besides the judges.

As she passed she eyed up the table of ingredients critically - certainly there was plenty there, but you would expect nothing less of Elrond. Starbreeze's grey-green eyes twinkled as she wondered what a hobbit would make of such a spread. She approached where the judges waited and gave a little bow. "Mae govannen, esteemed judges, and thank you for this wonderful opportunity to demonstrate the culinary skills I have obtained in my travels around the lands and peoples of Middle Earth. I am intrigued as to what you have planned for us in this contest, but I do hope it will include the opportunity for a sweet course, as my preferred dish in all of Arda is a rhubarb crumble, in the manner of the Shire. It can't be beaten with a good helping of hot custard." she gave a mischievous grin, highlighting the crinkles around her eyes and jowls and making her look both older but also more energetic at the same time.
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

Arien
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Silarien, Your Host

Silarien beamed, her eyes roving the neatly placed implements and the boards, scrubbed and shining. Everything looked perfectly in place, but she was bound to have forgotten something. Hopefully nothing too important.

(It’ll probably be something important.)

Her hands fluttered on the edge of her adorable floral print apron. It was purely decorative of course - Silarien didn’t actually intend to do any COOKING. Her forte was more... being fed delicious items, and hopefully there would be plenty of opportunity for that...

Fortunately for Silarien, her fellow judges, Lindariel (@Almarëa Mordollwen) and Artanis (@Dimcairien Luiniel) are a little more competent (or are they) and would no doubt be on hand to avert any disasters or put out any fires. Not that Silarien was anticipating any fires. This isn’t Mordor, after all.

The first contestant entered and Silarien swept up to meet her, nervously twirling the end of her silver braid around her finger.

“Mae govannen, Mellon! How wonderful to meet you, Starbreeze! There will certainly be a dessert round, and we look forward to tasting what you have to offer!”
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Veowyn ~signing up for the contest

Just a quick check in with the cooks in the kitchen, then she would be on her way, back to the Mirkwood, and her cinnamon grove. Veowyn had all 3 of her children with her, and they were ready to go. She just needed to find out when the cooks thought they would need more cinnamon, to decide when they were coming back again. When she got there though, things were set up a little different than usual. There wasn't any one cooking, at the moment. It looked like they were setting things up for something. She arched her eye brow while she looked. The kids all looked from her to each other, Thorion and Bellawen both went back to the cart, to unhook it from the horse. They knew their mother, she was going to want to participate in... what ever this was.

Valion, the youngest, looked up at her. "Amme. It is a contest." He spoke matter of factly. She nodded, and handed him her cloak. After tucking her braid into a bun, closer to her head, she grabbed an apron from where she knew they would be, then headed towards the judges, and other entering contestants. "Mae govannen, mellon nin! Veowyn Silverleaf. I would like to join this contest. I was taught to cook in this very kitchen. I also nurture a grove of cinnamomum trees, and am the largest supplier of cinnamon in Middle Earth." She did her best to hide the pride in her voice, but her son beamed beside her. "I also make my home in Mirkwood. That forest is full of interesting and wild ingredients. Cooking with them is often a process of trial and error. So I am up for almost any challenge you could throw at us." Valion piped up, "Amme can make any thing taste good, but she is an ace at soups and sweet treats."

Well, here's to hoping this contest goes well, Veowyn is excited.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
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Eldûrien (Elf, she/her), entering the contest

What a concept! A cooking competition. That was just the thing Eldûrien would excel at. Had she ever entered something like this before one might ask? Of course not! That doesn’t mean she didn’t know she was going to win. She won everything.

The black skinned elf strode into the kitchen hall with an air of supreme confidence. She had never been in Imladris before, it might have been very awkward if she had. It was shockingly easy to infiltrate the Elven stronghold as Eldûrien. Why hadn’t Rök thought of this before? Who cares. That wasn’t important right now. Right now, what she had to do was find a way to blend in with these folx. She wasn’t the first to arrive, that would have been a serious faux pas for the high station she claimed to represent.

Putting on her best bougie smile, Eldûrien strode to the Elf (Silarien) apparently in charge of the whole affair and curtseyed. “Darling, this competition looks positively gorgeous! I can’t believe how well you’ve transformed the place. Really, you deserve so much credit. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Eldûrien,” she extended her hand with practiced elegance. “I hail from rather far to the south so you might not have heard of me. I knew I had to come and try my hand at the competition as soon as I heard about it. I think my favorite thing to cook would be phở, it’s not a traditional Elven dish where I’m from but I first had it when I started traveling abroad and I fell in love with it. Each time I make it feels like I’m carving out a new sculpture or weaving together a new tapestry. So, where do I start?"
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Ducky swaggered confidently into the hall, bow still on his back from archery practice. It had made him hungry. He was ready for some food, even if he had to make it himself! He realized as he entered, though, that there was something unusual afoot. Another contest, for cooking this time! He stroked his short brown beard thoughtfully. Why not put his culinary skills to work for fame and fortune? No reason, he thought. No reason at all.

"Hello everyone, or hello again. Don't be too amazed, my friends, but the old Duck wizard has appeared yet again, this time to shock and awe" he lifted his arms, one at a time, as he said this phrase, "you with my fantastic cooking. This will be an even greater success than that time I managed to create a new sandwich, the L, after I pulled the bold move of leaving off the bacon and tomato, or the time I actually made a group of Hobbit children scream about ice cream." He paused momentarily. "And yes, they were screaming for me to take it away, but that's not important at this time."

"So, uh," he continued, realizing he was a bit lost. "Where do I actually sign my name to enter?"

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Aerlinn fell back on her bed with an un-elf-like thump and considered the notice in her hand. The Great Elvish Culinary Contest. On the bookshelf across the room was a set of slim volumes embossed with a checkerboard pattern and silver lettering that read "Cutthroat Kitchen". She looked at the notice, then at the bookshelf, then back at the notice. A shaggy auburn wolfhound gnawed industriously at the sky blue blanket piled up at her feet.

"C'mon, Yávië," she said after a few minutes, "let's just go see what there is to see."

If pressed, Aerlinn might have called herself a...campfire cook. She treasured efficiency over presentation, and trusted hunger to add subtleties to her run-of-the-mill spices. But many years ago she had spent a pleasant summer studying the art of kitchen sabotage, and she was undeniably tempted to test her knowledge in a practical setting. Airien was going to be horrified.

Elf and dog jogged across the bridge linking Linyamaril to the heart of the valley and up the stairs to the main halls of Imladris. Aerlinn paused for a moment at the threshold, a sudden lump in her throat. She could have danced through these halls in her sleep and never missed a step, but they were a marvel to her now. She had not expected to be back.

~~~

"Don't eat anything," Aerlinn said firmly as they entered the kitchens, "In fact, stay right there." Yávië's ears drooped, but he dropped obediently to his haunches as his mistress went to greet Silarien.

"Mae govannen, my friend. I am Aerlinn Mordagnir, or perhaps we've met? I dwelt long in this valley, though am only recently returned. But I'm very curious to test my, uh, skills, in such a grand setting. I can make a decent dessert, I think, but my true love is curry. Do we have that in Imladris yet? I was introduced to a few varieties through various travelers and now keep the appropriate herbs in the garden where, luckily, someone else remembers to water them."

She glanced back at her wolfhound, who had sprawled across the entryway in an attempt to either garner attention, or trip someone up. "I thought I'd bring him along to eat any mistakes."
Last edited by Yávië on Tue Jul 14, 2020 3:25 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Viola Brockhouse, hobbit, signing up

Peering round the door, Viola Brockhouse's heart plummeted and she knew she had made a mistake. "Go on then," her cousin Daisy said, grinning and giving her an elbow in the ribs. "I'll go and sit with the spectators and cheer you on."

Viola's heart sank further into her curly-haired toes, but she managed a watery smile. "Yes, that would be great," she replied. There was no way out now. She watched Daisy walk away, and reflected that she should maybe not have boasted so much about her cookery prowess. She wasn't really very good at all, but had managed to fake her way through hosting dinner parties by wheedling from neighbours and disguising with embellishments and such. It was just her luck that their sight-seeing tour to Rivendell had coincided with a cooking competition, and she couldn't back away from the challenge with Daisy there to witness it.

"Hello. I'm here for the competition," she said approaching Silarien, who was looking very cheffy in an apron. Viola risked a sidelong glance at Daisy, who waved back cheerily. Nothing to do but carry on now.

"My favourite food is strawberry tart. But I'm not fussy when it comes to eating," she added. Her snub nose twitched. There were lots of good smells coming from one of the tables. She might get some decent grub here at least.

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Arphen, elf, signing up

A cookery contest? Arphen wasn't usually one to take part in competitions, she wasn't really the competitive type. She was an elf who normally sought out peace and calm, something to make a contrast to what was often chaos at home. A mother who only wanted the best for her children, a daughter who struggled to contain her emotions, and a son who found himself in the middle of it all. Truly not the most ideal home life. Now her children were rarely home, they liked to disappear off into the valley and she had to admit it was starting to get a little lonely at home. While she was not much for competition, perhaps this would be a good way to make some new friends.

Stepping into the hall, she couldn't help but marvel at how it all looked. She hadn't ventured into Elrond's halls for a long time and she had forgotten how impressive it could all be. The central table was full of such an array of ingredients, some of which she hadn't even considered to use. There were plenty of spaces for contestants to work at. It was going to be so much fun, she did so enjoy cooking. Maybe someday she could try and teach her children to cook more, if they could avoid an argument while they worked.

There were already a few others in the hall, it was going to be a very diverse contest as well. This really was going to be interesting. With a smile, she walked towards where the judges were already set up. "Greetings, my name is Arphen, I would very much like to take part in this contest. I love to make all sorts of foods, but I especially love to bake biscuits. A sweet treat is something I enjoy, but most of all I like to share them with others. In fact," she laughed, "I rarely eat much of what I make these days!"
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Tarawen had worked hard to find her way into the fredding vale of Rivendell, and she wasn't going to leave until she had participated in every contest the elves could throw at her. After failing miserably at archery, she heard that there was to be a cook-off. On the day of the event, she strolled into the vast kitchens unarmed with anything but a packet of dried herbs she'd picked on her travels, a box of salt, and some unfounded optimism. Living largely on the move, Tara had never perfected the art of cooking. She knew a bit of healing, though, and assumed (perhaps wrongly) that this might be similar.

She recognized one of the judges (Artanis) from the archery tournament. The second (Lindariel) was new to her, but the third judge looked strangely familiar, though Tara couldn't place her. Perhaps they'd crossed paths in the accursed maze. Tara approached the hostess (Silarien) who was already surrounded by other entrants (including the wizard she'd seen shouting while shooting arrows). "Greetings!" she called as she approached. She caught a few introductions and gazed bemusedly at the wizard (Ducky) when he boasted about his mishap offering hobbit children ice cream. Maybe she wouldn't finish last here.

Once the others had spoken and signed up, she inclined her head to each of the judges in turn and said, "I'm Tarawen, here to try my hand at cooking to hopefully redeem my performance at the archery tournament." She glanced at the table of ingredients, worrying that the precious dove she'd accidentally shot in the wing was among the fodder. It would not be a great testament to Lord Elrond's healing abilities if it was.

Shaking off her lingering guilt for now, Tara continued, "I typically enjoy savory things, but an occasional sweet treat is a luxury after weary travels. We'll see what I can cook up! What's our first task?"
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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Artanis, cohost

Artanis arrived a bit late to the Culinary Contest she was meant to be co-hosting. "Mae govannen, Silarien," she greeted the elleth. "I apologise for my tardiness." She glanced around and noticed that one contestant (Starbreeze) was already signed up and getting ready to bustle about the kitchen.

Artanis pulled on her dark blue apron and, as her hair was a bit unruly at the moment pulled it back into a quick braid, and prepared to help the arrivals get their bearings. "I wonder what sort of tasty treats or nasty experiments we'll see today," she said to Silarien and Lindariel. "You never know what concoctions other races will come up with."

She smiled at seeing the elleth Veowyn, "Greetings," she said, "it's a pleasure seeing another Mirkwood elf here. Your Cinnamon Grove is a delightful place." Turning towards the small elf, Artanis' stooped down and said to the child, "You're welcome to watch, but make sure to stay out of everyone's way."

Unfortunately, her pleasure was not to last long because low and behold, the strange wizard (Ducky) from the archery tournament gallivanted in, still wearing his ridiculous hat. Of course he was just as rambunctious as before. Holding back a grimace, Artanis turned and offered a forced smile, which she hoped appeared genuine. "Sign-ups are right here,"and she gestured towards the parchment were several participants had written their names. "And NO magic." She glared at him, not trusting the wizard since he had done rather too well during much of the archery tournament. "Hopefully your cooking skills are stronger than your skills with a bow." But, she highly doubted it and fully expected the wizard to once again, put his foot in his mouth.

Hoping the wizard would at least have some semblance of knowing what to do, Artanis turned to great yet another familiar face from the tournament. "Mae govannen, Tarawen. I trust you're well recovered from the archery tournament? The first task will be announced once we're certain everyone has arrived. It won't due for someone to have an advantage."

Looking around, it was evident that there was already a mix of contestants: elves (Veowyn, Eldûrien, Aerlinn, Arphen), a hobbit (Viola), wizards (Starbreeze, Ducky), and a human (Tarawen). "Just as long as no dwarves show up," she muttered under her breath. Why she had agreed to co-host this event, she didn't know. She certainly enjoyed a well-cooked meal, but there was no guarantee that an edible meal would come out of this. There was nothing to do now, but wait and see if more contestants showed up and then get ready to announce the first round.
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Arien
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Silarien, Co Host, Greeting

More and more people were coming through the door! And not just in search of snacks, either. Silarien’s eyes hastily flitted over the collections of equipment to ascertain they had a sufficient stock of spatulas, before she was being approached by another Elf, Eldûrien - who was curtsying?

“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” Silarien quantified hastily, blushing slightly. “But you’re very kind! I have never heard of this pho but I look forward to trying it if you choose to cook it as one of your competition dishes.”

Silarien relaxed slightly as Artanis arrived, looking full of competence as she whisked into her blue apron, promptly setting about showing Veowyn to a spot. “Oh no, you aren’t late at all,” she assured Artanis. “Plenty of time yet - people are still arriving, as you see!”

She was slightly relieved as Artanis greeted the Wizard. Silarien had long been of the opinion not that one shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of Wizards - indeed, she had recently attempted a valiant climb of Isengard, which had left her more ruffled than not - but she certainly didn’t want Wizards meddling in her affairs. Whilst Starbreeze was known to be a benign and friendly Maia, she’d heard stories of Ducky’s more wacky adventures... As long as Ducky avoided full-blown godly possession, or hilarious explosions, everything would probably be all right...

“Mae govannen Aerlinn - my, what a handsome hound,” exclaimed Silarien, rushing to pet the beast, and then immediately rushing to a wash station. Wash your hands after you pet animals in a kitchen, Ellons and Elleths. “I believe we’ve met slightly? Possibly in the maze, like Tarawen there.

And Viola - welcome to you too! We have a couple of shorter workstations here, reserved for Hobbits, Dwarves; and people who have unfortunately had their legs cut off in battle. There are also a few stepstools about and of course you may always ask me or one of the other hosts should you require anything high up.

Greetings Arphen! I hear like Viola you enjoy sweet treats. I hope there shall be many here today - I cannot wait!”

Silarien beamed fetchingly. Once Lindariel arrived and any stragglers to the competition, it would be time for the competition to start.

Welcome one and all! Please choose a workstation - and help yourself to our selection of aprons and hats and implements - and wash your hands, we’ll be ready to start soon!

Silarien waved her hand to one of the doors, open against the heat that would surely soon fill the kitchens; outside was the bright song of running water from the fountains that poured clear water ready for washing or drinking, if contestants did not wish to use the water in their basins. But not for bathing. Please do not jump in the fountains...
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Viola, hobbit, plotting and snacking

Viola smiled back to Silarien as well as she could manage whilst also feeling a bit queasy. She was trusting it was nerves and nothing more sinister, but then what could go wrong if she was preparing food for people with a bit of a dicky tum?

"Thank you, a lower workstation is very considerate of you," she said to the elf, bowed, then went towards the shorter benches. The hobbit took a longer route than necessary, approaching from all angles to apparently give them full consideration but always making sure she passed the food table and liberated a handfuls of tasty ingredients. Couldn't work on an empty stomach and it might help with the nausea.

Eventually Viola picked a bench towards the middle, where she could look over (with the help of a steps tool) at other people's stations and copy whatever they were doing. She also found herself a lemon-coloured apron patterned with lots of little pink hearts around the edge, and tried on one of those tall white chef's hats but disappointingly she couldn't cram it over her tight brown curls before it bounced back off.

Hatless, she returned to the workstation she'd chosen before anyone else could nab it and looked around at the other competitors. Plenty of elves, as expected, a human, and two wizards would make it interesting. Who would be the best to copy off?

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Chef Åduchil, here to chef

The doors to the kitchen burst open to reveal Aduchil. They had already been open, but he had asked someone to close them first, allowing him his entrance. Wearing a chef's hat that brought his height far above seven feet, he had to duck under the door frame. He surveyed the culinary battlefield. The other cooks, his enemies. The work station, his defensive position. The ingredients and produce, his army. Boldly, he strode through the terrain soon to be a gruesome field of gastronomical slaughter, ignoring his foes.

Reaching his designated position, he quickly arrayed his soldiers for battle. Vegetables and ethically sourced meat at the centre - the bulk of his army holding the main line. Oils and butter on the wings - the cavalry making the first charge into the frying pan of power. Rings were for suckers; Aduchil would take a good skillet any day over a magical ring. Lastly, spices of every kind arranged on the far sides - skirmishers and agent provocateurs sent in deep to deliver the final blow, ensuring a savoury victory.

He carefully removed his hat and placed it under the table. It was all white, after all, it would only get dirty if he kept it on. This done, he turned with a flourish to face the room. "Yes!" he proclaimed. "Your eyes do not deceive you. It is it, Chef Aduchil. I have come to recite brooding poetry and make your tastebuds explode, and I am all out of poems."

He adjusted his elegant hair into a ponytail, rolled up the dark blue sleeves of his tunic, and twirled his non-existent moustache (note to self: find out Círdan's secret to beard growth). Cracking his fingers, he considered what to make. Should he... no. The last time he made the Dish, three people gave up on their current career paths and became carpet sellers in Harad, two people got spontanously married, one person lost all their toe nails, and two people were confined to the latrines for a week. Aduchil was a chef, not some novice cook, and he had sworn never to use this power again.

No, his mind turned to an old favourite. A dish he had made on many an occasion, even once wooing someone's heart through their stomach. A risotto, carefully stirred and nurtured with the utmost attention. Aduchil had yet to learn what exactly the competition would entail, but this dish was among his preferred, and he assumed the opportunity would arise to make it.

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Artanis, cohost

After helping several contestants find aprons, tables, and other necessary items, Artanis was about to go finalize her thoughts for one of the upcoming tasks, when the door flung open (why it had been shut was beyond her) and the flamboyant elf Åduchil pranced into the room. "Good Oromë," she muttered under her breath. This was the elf she had heard horror stories about. His cooking skills were legend throughout Middle Earth, and not for the reasons cooking skills should be. She glanced over at Silarien, but the other elleth was busy getting water ready for washing.

Taking a deep breath, Artanis stepped towards Åduchil and said, "Before the contest begins, I must ensure that you do not have any … exotic spices on your person. I have heard about the Dish and we do not wish to replicate that here." She closed her eyes for moment, trying to form the correct sentence. "Do to your cooking history, you will need to have a pat down before you are allowed to proceed. Do you wish to do so?"

OOC @Aduchil: (Hope this is ok, but I couldn't resist due to your escape in the Towers.)
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

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Lindariel Elenessë - cohost

As she entered the great halls of Elrond's kitchens, Lindariel could already hear a great deal of bustling and excited chatter. She was what could be called fashionably late, except that she was helping to run this contest, and it couldn't start without her - so she was not late, she was precisely on time. And in this case, she could lay the blame for her tardiness squarely on the shoulders of the recent events in Ost-Halatir, which had delayed her and Almarëa's arrival to Imladris.

She cast her eyes over the spic and span tables and the beautiful shelves and racks of ingredients, all precisely labelled. It was all in perfect order, which suited Lindariel very well, though she did doubt whether it would remain so for long. The golden-haired, grey-eyed elleth had taken up the culinary arts seriously in Gondolin, and had thus had many years to perfect them. She had spent plenty of hours running army kitchens, and plenty of hours in more peaceful times creating elegant and sumptuous dishes for her friends, family, guests, and more distant acquaintances. She was looking forward to seeing what the combined imaginations of the folk of Middle-earth would create for this contest - and she hoped very much that they would not disappoint her.

She was dressed in a neat blue-grey dress - no apron or chef's hat for her, not this time. The doors were still ajar and she slipped in quietly behind someone she assumed was a potential competitor (@Aduchil), given his flamboyant entrance. Hopefully his confidence would not turn out to be misplaced. Making her way over to Silarien, she noticed that many of the competitors had already sought out their stations. It seemed she was not a moment too late!

"Silarien! Thank you so much for getting all of this set up - I am so sorry I'm late. Ran into a little bit of trouble on the way here from Lindon, but fortunately I seem to have made it just in time. Is everything ready?"

A nod from Silarien, and a brief, whispered conversation later, they were ready to announce the first task. Artanis was dealing with one competitor, Aduchil, who apparently seemed suspicious in some way, but Lindariel was sure that would work itself out.

She raised her voice and addressed the assembled competitors.

"Welcome, one and all, to the kitchens of Lord Elrond in the valley of Imladris! For anyone I've not met yet, I am Lindariel, and I'll be one of your hosts today, alongside Artanis and Silarien. I am sure I can speak for my fellow hosts when I say I am so looking forward to tasting your dishes, and learning more about your homelands and your different styles of cooking. To that end, here is your first task! We would like you to cook one dish - one plate of food - of your choice, that represents your homeland. It can be savoury or sweet, your choice, and could be suitable for any meal of the day - again, your choice. The important thing is that it is a dish that you love." She gestured to the shelves of ingredients, and to the pantry off to one side. "I hope you will find all the ingredients you need here; if you are having difficulty finding something essential, do talk to me or one of my co-hosts and we will try to help you find it. You have an hour and a half - best of luck!"




OOC instructions:
You have 72 hours to create your first dish, in one or several posts. Feel free to interact with the judges and with your fellow competitors. At the bottom of your post (as an OOC), please also indicate whether you would like to choose a 6- or 12- sided die for taste.
She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor

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Starbreeze, a wizzie

Starbreeze had selected a workstation near the middle of the hall, so as to be in easy reach of all the ingredients she might need. She had no idea what kind of thing they would be making but she couldn't wait to start. Finally the first task was announced..."a dish that represents your homeland....a dish that you love". Well, that was a tricky one, as a maia her 'homeland' was somewhat further than many from Middle Earth had ever travelled, and not all knew of the origins of the istari order, so perhaps that should be avoided. However, and she smiled wickedly at the thought, wizards were well known for their fireworks...so, firecracker chicken it must be!

She busied herself first with collecting ingredients. Taking a tray from her workstation she went around the shelves of provisions and picked up handfuls of green and red chilli peppers, brown sugar, catsup, garlic, preserved anchovies, tamarind paste, more garlic, mild flavoured vegetable oil, and several juicy chicken breast fillets.

Returning to her station she arranged everything in the order she would use it. Most of the ingredients so far were for the sauce. The chicken she cut into chunks and put to one side for now. She took a pestle and mortar and tipped in the garlic, sugar, tamarind, anchovies and several of the chillies, and had rather too much fun pounding those ingredients into a paste. Then, taking a clean bowl she tipped the paste, the catsup, and the oil. She gave it a good stir and a liberal application of salt and pepper to season. She (carefully) chopped one of the remaining chillies up, and sliced a few more cloves of garlic and added these to the sauce, and then it was ready.

Tipping the chunks of chicken into the sauce and making sure they were evenly coated, the next thing for her was to sit back and let the chicken absorb all of those flavours. She took the opportunity to sneak a look at what everyone else was doing...

12 sided die please
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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Chef Aduchil, here to set tastebuds (and maybe kitchens) on fire

The Elf looked at Artanis addressing him. A Mirkwood Elf, he would wager, by the scent of birch trees with a faint fragrance of roasted spider leg. As she made her demands, a flurry of expressions crossed his face. Fury at being singled out. Flattery at being singled out. Consternation that he would deprived of his emergency spice rack. Acceptance that it was the only way to make this competition fair. "Very well," he huffed. "Do what you must. My body is ready." He spread his legs and extended his arms, closing his eyes. Let the kitchen police find what they may. A true culinary anarchist, he would never be cowed.

It took a while. The extra spices in his boot, check. The imagination-freeing mushrooms in his other boot, check. Backup skillet, ideally sized for small egg dishes and pancakes, check. Several pounds of white nose powder, sewn into his tunic to make it look like he had abs, check. Emergency herb knife hitherto serving as a hair pin, check. Small sprigs of timian masquerading as his eyelashes, check.

Once the small mountain of items had been carted away, Aduchil stuck his nose up and took place by his work station. "Let the games begin," he muttered in his most brooding fashion, perfected through many hours in front of the mirror.

Voices reached him. Not the inane clamour of his competition. Not the soft humming of the fly buzzing through the kitchen. Not the anticipatory squeal from the spider, watching the fly approach its web. No, this voice belonged to one of the judges, and it was necessary he paid attention. Aduchil closed his eyes, summoning the flavours of the world to his nose. The task was given. The objective was clear. His eyes flew open. Carnage was at hand.

What to make? The choice was simple. Breakfast, the most important meal of the day in Aduchil's opinion, after dinner and supper. Maybe also after lunch or afternoon snack, depending on mood. In some cultures, he knew, they even had two of them. But the genius of this dish lay that it could double as dessert. It was a two for one! Aduchil marvelled at the brilliance.

If time permitted, he would have made the yoghurt himself. In fact, he would have milked the cow himself. After raising the cow from calf, ensuring it was grass-fed. But time waited for no Elf! Well, it usually did thanks to their immortality, but not today. Straightening what remained of his genuine eyelashes, Aduchil fetched a pitcher of plain yoghurt from the pantry to serve as his base. He gave it a sniff. Decent fermentation, could have been better if the temperature had been a few degrees lower, but it would do.

With a sweeping gesture, and almost without knocking anything over, Aduchil fetched several strips of vanilla. With the chopping speed that on many occasions had nearly cost him a finger, he turned the strips into fine little kernels. Next, a bowl of blueberries. He ate half of them without thinking, realised he needed them for ingredients, and fetched some more. Controlling his urge to stuff his mouth blue, he took half the berries and squeezed the juice from them. Fetching a bowl of strawberries, he did same, squeezing half of them for all they got. It was quite easy, as Aduchil had the training - before his radical change of lifestyle, he had been Elrond's tax collector through the lower boroughs of Imladris. Finally, with his berries done, Aduchil started a fire.

While his instinct was always to let fire roam free, he contained it to his stove, letting it heat up his pan. Once ideal temperature was reached, he sowed butter across the hot surface. As it melted happily, sugar followed to create a mass of caramel. A tiny sprinkle of salt gave it a little bite to combat the sweetness, and Aduchil removed the mass, letting it cool on his table.

So far, so good. No. So far, so brilliant. All the pieces were nearly in play. Soon, Imladris would be remade in his image, and a glorious new commune - no, wait. That was another recipe. Focusing, Aduchil fetched what remained. Nuts. Lots. Aduchil was nuts for nuts. Excellent source of valuable nutrition hard to come by elsewhere. He gathered nearly all the forest's bounty. Walnuts. Hazelnuts. Chestnuts. Coconut - no, not that one. Fooled by the name. Just the first three, and almonds.

Once more, the chopper went to work. The nuts were decimated into coarse little pieces. Big enough to still have crunch, small enough to strew them with generous hand. Only one thing remained. A bar of dark chocolate, tethering on the edge of bitterness, but not quite. It went the same way as the nuts, turned into chunks. Collecting the now cool caramel, it received this treatment also. Finally the pieces were set. Now came the assembly.

"Yoghurt, white and bland, here's the taste of the land," Aduchil muttered, mixing vanilla and a small spoonful of sugar into the dairy product. "Should any be, lactose-free, this may only please me. Yet I bet, once they taste, even if latrine should call with haste, they'll eat the last spoonful of my paste!" He divided the dairy into two parts. The former was mixed with blueberry juice, the latter with strawberry. The final touch awaited.

Aduchil fetched three glasses. Each received a spoonful of blueberry yoghurt as the lowest layer, with bits of salted caramel mixed into it. For the second layer came the remaining, untouched blueberries along with the assortment of nuts. The third layer consisted of strawberry yoghurt with bits of chocolate in it, and above it for the fourth layer, another round of chopped nuts and the last of the strawberries. Finally, Aduchil arranged the remaining yoghurt to act as the fifth and final layer, with stripes of blue and red swirling around each other. A final sprinkle of chocolate and caramel bits on the very top gave it the last crunch. Exhaling deeply, Aduchil visibly relaxed the tension throughout his body and took a step back, spreading out his hands. "It is done." Now all he needed was to present it to the judges.

Placing the glasses on a dish, Aduchil approached the trio. With a flourish making the glasses wobble dangerously, he placed the glasses, each with a spoon by it, on the table. "Voila! I present to you, the taste of Elven homelands. All the bounties of the forest, nuts and berries, mixed together with the gift of that noblest of creatures, the cow. I call it, Silvan Parfait. It is, dare I say it, parfait."

OOC: Give me 6 rolls on the pound and a penny for the guy, mesdames et messieurs.

New Soul
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Veowyn - Cinnamon!

The elleth smiled as she and Valion were greeted by Artanis. Then she was shown to a work space by Silarien. She sent her son out to play with his siblings. She knew that her children wouldn't go far, and would be in and out. Maybe they would be of some help along the way, but for now she already had a plan for her first dish. It fit so well with what Lindariel stated, to make dishes representing homelands. Well, Veowyn's home was a grove of cinnamon trees. Everyone's favorite, cinnamon rolls would be it then!

After washing up, Veowyn gathered her equipment, mixing bowls, spoons, and a rolling pin. She also grabbed all her ingredients, flour, sugar, etc. came back to her work station. She started to measure out the wet ingredients first. Then added the dry, and mixed thoroughly. Once that was mixed, it had to sit and rise for a moment. Veowyn took this moment to look around the room at the other competitors.

It was then that she noticed @KingODuckingham! Her wizard friend was here! "Ducky! It is so good to see you! Are you competing as well? How fun! Do you need any of my secret ingredient? I, as always, have some extra cinnamon on hand." She offered him a pouch of her cinnamon. Not as much as she was using, since cinnamon rolls required quite a bit, but enough to add flavor to whatever he was coming up with.

She then returned to her station. She took the dough from the bowl, and started kneading it, then she rolled it flat. She then slathered the surface of the dough with butter. She then applied a generous amount of cinnamon to the buttered dough. She then added a layer of sugar and then more cinnamon. She then took the edge of the dough and rolled it up. Once the rolled, she used a string to make perfect cut portions, and placed them into a large cast iron pan. She then slid the pan into the ovens fire. They would take a bit to bake. She used the wait time to make the frosting. A little sugar, a little butter, a little milk, and a couple drops of vanilla...

Once she found the proper tools to retrieve the pan from the oven, she placed it on her station, to cool. She cleaned up her spot while she waited. Once the pan was cool enough to touch with a bare hand (but still warm), she placed a spoonful of the frosting on the center each roll, and let it just melt to cover the rest. Once the last roll had frosting, she placed the spoon in her mouth, licking the remainder of the sugar sweet substance clean.

She then picked up the pan, and headed toward the judges. "I present, cinnamon rolls! The finest way to present my crop." She beamed, but then she leaned in close with a serious whisper. "Cinnamon is also known to help with stomach ailments.. I know you are elves, as I am, but some of these dishes look questionable, and cinnamon could tame any discomfort." Straightening again, she held set the cast iron in front of them. "Left in the pan, so that they stay warmer, longer. They are best that way."

OOC: 6 sided die please
Last edited by Veowyn on Sat Jul 18, 2020 10:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

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Arphen

As the judges entered the kitchens, Arphen bowed her head and smiled. They spoke kindly to the contestants, though it seemed one of the entrants had some...hidden items. She couldn't help but laugh, some were certainly taking this very seriously if they were willing to sew items into their clothing.

When they said they could choose a workstation, she found herself wondering which one to choose. They were all different sizes to accommodate all kinds of contestants. She found one that was near a window, she always liked the feeling of the sunlight on her while she worked. There was an apron waiting for her which she gladly put on to protect her blue dress. She had already pinned her hair out of the way before she had left home, a silver pin shining in her dark brown hair. It was her hope the pin would be sufficient, she hated the idea of wearing a hat in a warm kitchen that would only get warmer as they worked.

Finally they announced the first task, a dish that represented her homeland. She took a moment to consider what would be the best thing to make, what would be a dish she would love to eat. Her mind wandered to all the meals she had made at home for her family over her many years. At last it came to her, roast meat was always a favourite. But then what meat? She looked over the table of ingredients before her assessing each cut of meat displayed before she settled on it. Roast venison it was. Now she had to gather up all her ingredients as quickly as possible.
Haunch of venison, rosemary, oil, salt, potatoes, carrots, red wine, shallots, butter, flour, stock, pepper. Was that all she needed? She could always come back if she had forgotten something she was sure. First was to prepare her meat, finely chopping the rosemary before mixing it with some oil, salt and pepper, before rubbing it over the venison. She set a large pot on the fire, waiting for it to get as hot as possible. As it heated, she chopped up her shallots, carrots, and potatoes before coating them with oil, salt, and pepper as well. There was nothing worse than an under seasoned meal, though she was sure on over seasoned meal wouldn't be much better. It was fine, everyone liked salt and pepper. Now that the pot was up to temperature, she began to sear her venison. She turned it over and over, making sure each side was browned. The smell was already enough to set her mouth watering, she should have had a bigger breakfast.

With the searing done, she removed the meat for a moment before adding in her vegetables to the bottom of the pot. She gave them a shake and a stir, they all needed space to cook evenly, before placing the venison back on top. Finally a lid went on and Arphen could relax for a while. She had set the pot to one side of the fire so it would cook nice and slowly. She would have to check it every so often, but really, she was done for a while until the roast was ready. Carefully, she took a sneaky look around to see what everyone else was doing. A lot of fine dishes were being created it seemed, the smell was really wonderful. Taking a wander back over the middle table, she noticed a stick of celery looking rather lonely. It would be a shame to waste it, so she picked it up with every intention of adding it to her gravy. She already eaten half the stick before she realised what she was doing. Hopefully no one had noticed as she quickly finished it off.

After a while, she checked her roast and was pleased to find it was done. She found a large tray and placed the meat on it, it would need to rest before serving. How awful it would look if she served meat still oozing on the plate. Next she found a large ceramic bowl she could put her vegetables in, leaving them near enough to the fire to keep them warm. Now, the gravy. Into the pot went stock and red wine, stirring hard to scrape up the meat juices left over from her roast. A little more rosemary, some salt, butter, all to flavour it up. Then flour, after all you needed a nice thick gravy. It took a lot of stirring but at last she had a beautiful, glossy, thick gravy. Just the way she liked it.

Presentation wasn't exactly her strong point, after all she usually just cooked for her children, but she tried her best. Carefully she carved the roast into slices, placing them down on the plate overlapping each other. Then she spooned on the roasted vegetables next to the meat. So far so good, but what about the gravy? Just pouring it on might look messy. What if they didn't like gravy? She dashed over to the extra equipment, hands hovering over the items until she found what she wanted. A small white jug, perfect to decant her gravy into and then let the judges decide for themselves how much they wanted. It was finished and she was already tired. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to start with a big dish, but she was happy. And hungry. She gnawed on one the venison ends while she waited for the judges.

OOC: 6 sided dice please.

New Soul
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OOC reminder: you have slightly over 24 hours left to post your response to the first task.
@Frostbite
@KingODuckingham
@Aerlinn
@Elarith
@Tarawen
She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor

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Starbreeze, a wizzie...continued

Starbreeze had taken the opportunity while her chicken marinated to firstly inspect all the available ingredients, and secondly to watch the other contestants do their dishes. She was quite impressed with some of the skills she had seen so far; it looked like the competition would be stiff. After the best part of an hour had passed, with her stirring the marinade and chicken together once or twice, she was ready to move to the next stage of her dish.

Firstly, she set a pan of water to boil, lightly salted, tipped in a generous portion of rice and let it come back to the boil. Then, placing a lid firmly on the pan she took the pan off the heat and let the rice steam for the rest of its cooking time. She found this was the best way to make tender grains of fluffy rice, which held their shape.

The dish would not be complete without plenty of vegetables, and she selected plenty of bright colours from the ingredients table - bright red and yellow sweet peppers, tiny ears of baby corn, bright green sugar snap peas, red onion, spring onion, red cabbage which had a wonderful deep purple colour...it was a rainbow of taste and colour. She also picked up some more green chillies, a lime, more oil and small dish of sesame seeds.

She set to work, slicing the onions into fat rings, the peppers in to long slices and the baby corn into halves, and shredding the red cabbage into, well, shreds. The sugar snap peas were simply trimmed, and would be cooked and served whole. These she piled together, then she sliced the spring onions and chillies into rings at an angle and halved the lime. One half of the lime was cut into wedges to serve, and the other was juiced.

Finally, to bring it all together. She heated the oil in a large wide pan until the oil was smoking, then chucked in the chicken, marinade and all. This she browned off, then allowed to cook through until she was happy that the chicken wouldn't poison anyone, but not yet at the point of being fully cooked. To unstick the marinade from the sides of the pan she added the lime juice, causing a loud hiss as it turned to lime steam, but the sauce was loosened and she could now add her vegetables. In they went, all cut so that they would cook at the same rate so no need to worry about which one went in first. The pan sizzled and hissed as she stir fried the fresh vegetables, coating them in the sauce until they were al dente but cooked.

Turning off the heat, she went to work with her presentation. First, she took the lid off the rice - all the water was absorbed and her rice was nice and fluffy. Taking care not to disturb it too much and release the starches which would make it sticky, she scooped the rice into a small bowl, pressing it down until the bowl was full and compact. Then, she took her presentation plate and up-ended the bowl into it, letting the little dome of rice slide out to land on the plate.

Next she took spoonfuls of the vegetables and chicken and added them to the plate around the dome of rice, taking care not to splash the sauce onto the perfect white rice which sat like an island on the plate. Finally she sprinkled the fresh slices of chilli, spring onions and sesame seeds over the top of the dish, and placed a wedge of lime to one side. Beautiful! (And spicy, but then it is firecracker chicken!)

There were even some left overs in the pan, so she took a spoon and helped herself to a mouthful...her face may have gone a little pink, these elvish chillies are stronger than the average chilli!
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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"Recovered or not, I suppose it's time to get to work, isn't it?" Tara replied to Artanis before walking to an empty workstation to prepare for the first task.

Tara set a small bundle of dried herbs on the counter and pulled from her bag her very small set of personal cooking utensils: one large measuring cup, three spoons of varying sizes, and a bowl. The elves would have fancier and more varied equipment, to be sure, but she'd use what she was used to as much as she could.

The third judge (Lindariel) called out to the gathered participants that their task was to create something representative of their home. This made Tara stir a bit uncomfortably where she stood. Where was home? It wasn't a question she'd asked herself often or deeply. Half her heritage came from the land of the Rohirrim, but she hadn't visited the Mark since childhood. All that she knew, though, came from bedtime stories her mother used to tell. She'd grown up in Gondor, but it had been well over a decade since she'd set foot there. Minas Tirith, with its cold stone levels, had never felt like home. Stalking through the wild of the Lone Lands was about as comfortable as she'd ever felt. What, though, would represent her wanderings? She certainly had never had provisions lavish enough for the halls of Elrond while on the move.

Tarawen bit her lip and looked around the kitchen. Knives chopped and spoons stirred and fires blazed as the other participants busied themselves. Meanwhile, she'd just been standing here, thinking. With a sigh, she walked over to the table laden with ingredients, hoping for some inspiration.

She let a finger trail idly along the edge of the table as she walked around it to look at the potential elements of her dish. Raisins and oats were common, simple snacks. Flour, of course, for bread or pastry or cake (she shuddered at the memory of the bird cake she'd encountered in the Shire). A bowl of gooey peanut butter. Small orbs of chocolate, dark and light, walnuts, and pecans all caught her eye as well. She found herself rethinking the use of the herbs she'd brought. Something sweet might be in order.

Tara rushed back to her station, grabbed her measuring cup and two bowls, and returned to the table of ingredients. Into one bowl she added butter, peanut butter, brown and white sugar, and two eggs. The other, she filled with dry ingredients: oatmeal, chocolate chips, raisins, some of each kind of nut, and flour. She used her trusty measuring cup to ensure everything was in the same proportion: one scoop of each. Balancing them carefully (she was very aware that she'd already established herself as a clumsy mortal in Artanis' eyes, at least), she returned to her spot and began mixing the ingredients together to form a sticky batter.

She adjusted the wood in her fire pit so that the flames burned low. She grabbed two cast iron skillets and greased one with butter. Onto it, she dolloped twelve blobs of batter, then set it into the fire pit, covering it with the second skillet.

While she waited for her invention to bake, Tara craned her neck to see what the others were up to. One elf (Aduchil) was creating bright yogurt confections with a flourish. Another (Veowyn) was using a pungent spice to bake something. Others were making savory dishes. She wrapped a towel around her hand at one point, lifting the top pan to check on her work. No disasters met her eyes, so she set it back down and waited for another few minutes before lifting both pans from the fire carefully and placing them on her countertop. She lifted each cookie carefully with a wide wooden spatula, placing them in a circle on a plate. They weren't the most beautiful things (they were actually a bit lumpy since she'd neglected to chop the nuts), but they had turned out uniform in size and shape, so that had to count for something.

She followed the others to present her creation to the judges. "My ladies," she said when her turn came, "I give you . . . Ranger cookies! Sweet, handheld treats for the Dúnadan on the go! Dry, nonperishable snacks are a Ranger's friend while scouting in the Lone Lands, especially in between hunts. This is my sweet take on combining such things. And to represent our minimal cookware, these cookies include each ingredient in equal measure - except the eggs, that is." She offered her plate of cookies, hoping that they were palatable.

OOC: 12-sided die, please
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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Viola set about organising her work station to her liking. She wouldn’t have bothered but it seemed like a cheffy thing to do, and cooking was about confidence, after all. Well, besides flavour, texture, presentation, and technique. She looked over at Daisy again, who gave her a double thumbs up. Never had confidence been more misplaced.

A very flamboyant elf swished in, catching her eye, and was immediately stripped of various culinary accessories. Viola was impressed. He would be one to watch. She also tried to watch where exactly they stored the confiscated goods in case she could sneak some for herself, but disappointingly the elves whisked it away out of sight. Spoilsports.

The first task was assigned - a dish from home, that she loved. A dish that represented Bree? Viola tapped her chin. When she went by the Prancing Pony this time of year when she was in the town for the market, or catching up with friends, or any other flimsy excuse to get out of Staddle, they were always serving a delicious blackberry tart. She had sometimes even bought a couple extra to take home (and pass off as her own). Blackberries were plentiful round Bree-hill, and she often went picking them to give to others for them to turn into tasty treats for her to enjoy. It seemed quite straight forward... surely she could do it in an hour and a half?

The hobbit hopped from her stool and went to the produce tables. Pastry, that was flour and butter and sugar and maybe an egg or two? And - yes! - a bowl full of plump blackberries. Viola grabbed the lot and carried it to her table, then came back for the pastry ingredients, then a third time for some apples, almonds, raisins. The almonds and raisins were purely for snacking on, mostly to stop her eating all the blackberries.

Viola rubbed the butter into the flour until it went like breadcrumbs, then stirred in some fine sugar. Then she cracked in an egg, and mixed it into a dough. Dumping it on the bench, she took a rolling pin and flattened it out to a rough circle, then lined a pie tin with it. There were patches where the dough broke off, but the hobbit just stuck new bits in to plug the gaps until the tin was completely covered. Speaking of completely covered, her hands and apron were already caked in flour and dough, reminding her why she preferred other people to do her cooking for her. It was all just so messy.

Now the pastry was sorted, Viola washed her hands and started work on the filling. She picked three apples that were a similar shade of red to her cheeks, if she could’ve seen them, and sliced them thinly to form the bottom layer of the tart. Maybe she should've peeled them? Too late now. She poured the blackberries on top until the pie tart was full, then sprinkled more sugar on top. A pleasant spicy smell wafted over from another workstation. She sniffed. What was it? Nutmeg? Ginger? She peered over to another bench where one of the elves was working. Cinnamon! She scuttled back to the produce table and hunted a jar of it out, then hurried back, curly locks bouncing, to sprinkle a generous amount on top of the pie.

Finished at last! Viola carefully placed her pie in the flame pit and stood back to let it cook. She was about half way through their allotted time. Hmm. She could make a cup of tea and have a sit down, but she should maybe do something more productive. The other contestants were still hard at work. She drummed her fingers on the counter top. The blackberry tart on its own was tasty, but at the 'Pony they normally offered custard.

Viola was completely winging it now. She thought she knew what went into custard but wasn't sure of the method. She warmed up some milk in a pan with some vanilla, then mixed some eggs and sugar in another bowl. When the milk looked pretty hot, the hobbit started adding it gradually to the eggs and sugar, stirring it in until her little arms ached. Eventually she had some pale liquid that looked sort of custardy if you squinted at it and didn't get too close. It had a few lumps that refused to be squashed, but tasted OK to her when she slurped it on a spoon.

Time was running out, so she pulled the pie from the fire. It was looking decidedly crispy. Crisp was good wasn't it? She scattered some flaked almonds on top of of the tart to help disguise some burnt patches. The hobbit slid it out on to a plate, with the little jug of possibly custard on the side.

Viola walked to the judges table and set her plate before them. "I have made a blackberry and apple tart, with what is unmistakably custard to accompany it. We get some grand blackberries in Bree, and the 'Pony cooks are always making a tart like this out of 'em," she explained.

OOC: 12 sided die please!

Balrog
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Eldûrien (Elf) she/her, Doing the Cooking

The onyx skinned elf smiled with wicked delight as she swayed over to her table. It was quaint and simple, but it was by far better than anything she’d ever have in Umbar, or on the Grand Conjuration. She began looking over the ingredients she had when the announcement was made: “A Dish From Your Homeland” was the theme of the first round. Eldûrien scoffed at that. There was absolutely no way she was going to be cooking anything from Mordor, mostly because that had all been Krakzun in Mordor and Eldûrien had no desire to make steamed horse guts. No, she needed something with a bit more of an aesthetic appeal. Elves were like that, they liked pretty things, and she was most definitely an elf. As the rest of the contestants began to clamor of ingredients, she busied herself with tying the apron around her waist and arranging the little white chef at the perfect angle. She would as much on display as her food.

Once the cavalcade of chefs and dabblers made their way back to their respective tables, Eldûrien made her way to the middle table, still unsure of where her “homeland” was and what sort of dish she was going to cook. Then she laid her eyes on the lamb. She was rather shocked it was even there, most Elves not belonging to the carnivorous persuasion. It was perfect though, there was an entire loin here for her to use. Quickly she grabbed it, and as she did so the idea came into her mind. She had told one of contest runners she was from the south and while that was entirely true, it was vague enough that she could point to anywhere and say that was her homeland. The lamb loin pointed for her: she was from Haradwaith and she was going to make a lamb stew. Her black eyes twinkled with delight as she began looking for other ingredients to compliment the lamb: cumin, chickpeas, coriander, pepper (lots of that!), some salt, an onion or two, olive oil, tomatoes, some broth (likely vegetable given this was Imladris), garlic (her favorite), and spinach. With the skill and grace one acquires from having a very long life, Eldûrien swept all her ingredients into a basket and carried them to her table, not before popping one of the garlic cloves in her mouth and snagging a nice bottle of white wine. A quick rinse of her hands and she was all set.

First, because it would take the longest, she cleaned the chickpeas and set them to boil in a cast iron pot of water at the back of the stove top. She placed a lid on the heavy black pot and let it be while she focused on the rest of the ingredients

Eldûrien twirled the knives around her fingers in a dramatic show of skill and precision, once satisfied she had impressed someone she began trimming the loin, carving off the fatty layers and tossing them aside. In a bowl, she tossed the now cubed pieces of meat with the coriander, cumin, pepper (more than was required as she liked her food fiery), olive oil, and salt. With dexterous fingers, she mixed the ingredients, making sure the meat was evenly coated. She transferred the mixture into a large pot and adjusted the heat of the stove.

Next, she found a new cutting board (safety first) and washed her hands once more, then began to slice the vegetables, again after a flurry of twirling sharp bladed objects. Tomatoes, onions, and garlic (not before another clove was consumed) all fell under the blade, peeled, chopped, and diced. The onions went in the pot with the lamb, spices, and peppers while the tomatoes, garlic, and vegetable broth (a quick sampling confirmed this) went into a third where they simmered and comingled. Once the smells were blended, Eldûrien tested the mixture. The garlic was strong and pungent, the slightly sulfurous taste melded perfectly with the sweetness of the tomatoes. With a satisfied grin on her face, she poured the concoction over the lamb. She washed her hands once again and turned the heat up, waiting until a few bubbles began to appear to lower the heat to a bubbling simmer.

She watched the pots cook, checking them often to prevent burning or overheating. She spun the ladle through her fingers in a lazy manner in between checks. Miraculously, she had forgotten all about the other competitors. Finally, after several more minutes of checking, the chickpeas were ready. She took the cast iron pot off the stove and began to mashing them until they were nice and nice and smooth, she transferred the mashed chickpeas to the stew and stirred it all together. The wisps of steam billowing off the top of the stew was divine, as blasphemous as that was for her to say. She let the stew cook longer, tasting it at odd intervals, adding salt here, a little more broth there, an extra pepper every once in a while until finally the last step was up, adding the spinach. It was a simple step, all she had to do was wash the leaves trim a few of them and transfer them into the pot. The spinach wilted quickly under the heat of the stew and once Eldûrien stirred them in the stew was ready.

She took the pot off the heat and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Nothin’ to it! Just hope it's not too hot for the pretty darlings.”

OOC: a d6 roll if you please
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Ducky stood looking at his station in shock and horror (after he had waved at his good friend Veowyn of course!) There was more than one kind of fork? And there were chef hats as well as wizard hats? Maybe he could sell the judges on his hat being a chef's hat if he put some sort of marking on it, temporarily, that said chef? He grabbed a tube of some unknown sticky liquid and squeezed, pointing it at his hat. He grabbed his pocket mirror out of, well, his pocket with the other hand and angled it to check on his progress. He ended up with a mistake or two, so he had to repeat a letter. It looked like the end result said
Cheef

but he had no way to erase or strike through letters effectively with his food-paint. It would have to do. And speaking of doing, um...what were they doing? He snuck a peek around the hall.

Oh! Cooking right now!

Ducky perused his fellow contestants for a few minutes, trying to figure out what other rules he had missed while he had been attempting to stop his brain from melting, overwhelmed with the knowledge that people cooked in ways other than "set a pinecone on fire and hold near food for X amount of minutes". He was guessing that would not fly here. Ducky eventually gathered that each person was making a dish related to their homeland. His was currently Fangorn, but had been Isengard before....Aha!

"The first thing we need!" he shouted, "is some fuel to stoke the fire, and there on the border of Isengard and Fangorn, we know how to make fire! Excuse me for a little while!" And Ducky ran out of the hall.

It was a long time before he returned, nearly the entire time allotted for the round. When he reappeared, he was sweating and hauling a sledge, weighed down with quite a large tree for only one person to haul. He dragged it over to his station, then began hacking it apart enthusiastically with an axe, tossing the personal-fire-sized logs onto a heap which he set ablaze with the tip of his staff. His eyes glowed, first from the fire, but also from enthusiasm.

"I come with fire! I come with axe! You know the drill!" he shrieked with glee, tossing another log onto the blaze. "The fires of industry are alive and growing! It shall fuel my greatest creation!" Ducky cried, but was cut short by a warning about time. Well then. The fire was ready, but nothing was actually cooked yet. He would have to improvise. He scrambled through his pack, and pulled out a flask, containing the last Entdraught he had saved, which had been aging for years. Between the Fires of Industry and the Entdraught, Ducky figured he actually had pretty good homeland representation. He leaned on his axe, standing next to his station-sized fire, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

OOC: Um...12 sided die? I guess?

Healer of Imladris
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Aerlinn set the apron to one side with a laugh, why bother when Yávië would cover her in mud and fur at the earliest opportunity? and settled a towering chef's hat over her braids at a jaunty angle. A surreptitious glance at the shining surface of a spatula confirmed that she looked suitably chef-ish, and not like herself at all. She shifted it a little to the left and made an officious sort of face as she went to claim a workstation near the entrance, where her wolfhound was watching the proceedings attentively. "You! The grey stuff is undersalted and the onions unchopped! Snap to it!" she commanded the dog with another tug on the hat. He stared at her in mild horror.

They were settled against he wall sharing a handful of blueberries Aerlinn had nicked from the ingredients table when the first task was announced. It was the elf's turn to stare. "Homeland is a bit of a weighty word, after a thousand years or so," she muttered in disbelief. One was unreachable and inimitable, two were drowned, another forever darkened at the fall of its king, and this one--here and now, the stones under feet. She gulped down a tingle of nerves as several of the others immediately set to gathering ingredients with all the confidence and aplomb in the world.

Eggs, garlic, butter, a bit of every cheese she could see. Aerlinn finally decided to start by collecting the staples of just about every meal she had ever cooked and hoping for inspiration. Onions, cream, blackberries for the dog, blackberries for her...she stopped in front of the flour. Perfect.

In a rush, she pulled vinegar, olive oil, sugar, salt, and smoked peppers from the pantry before running back to the middle table and sweeping a whole pile of summer vegetables into her basket. Yávië gave disgruntled woof when she deposited it all on her workstation. "Huh? Oh," she went back with a laugh and picked up a tray of bacon and a promising-looking sausage.

Aerlinn put her packet of butter on top of the ice bucket and dug flour, sugar, and salt out from the small mountain of provender she had acquired. She found space for a pair of bowls and added the dry ingredients to one and whisked one egg, water, and a dash of vinegar--that was her secret--together in the other. The next part was tricky and she wasn't sure the butter was cold enough, but there was no time to wait. She cut it into the flour mixture, hoping for the best, then gradually added the egg and water to the crumbly results. At least it looked like pastry dough, in the end, though she was more accustomed to eating pie crusts than making them. She set the whole thing on ice to cool and turned to the waiting vegetables.

Chopping, at least, she was confident about. Orange and red bell peppers, zucchini, and miniature tomato halves were all deposited on a large baking pan. She added an onion and twice the cloves of minced garlic that any respectable recipe called for, drizzled over the whole tray with olive oil and finished with a generous handful of seasoning. It went into the oven and to Yávië's delight, she finally reached for the bacon.

One soft whine and a wet nose was all it took for Aerlinn to split the meat evenly between the wolfhound and the frying pan where it sizzled away in its own fat. She already had an over-abundance of filling, anyways.

Her timing had been good, so far, if she could just pull off these last and most important steps. With the bacon crispy, crispier than her preference, actually, but you never knew with judges, and the vegetables almost done, the elf shoved the plates and knives and cutting boards precariously aside to the edge of the counter and rolled out her pie crust. She cracked six more eggs into a large bowl with a cup and a half of cream and at least half a cup too much grated cheese. But the last was inevitable, with so many delicious choices. She couldn't resist the white cheddar, or the gruyere, or a crumble of feta, or a chunk of goat cheese or even a hint of blue. She retrieved her roasted vegetables from the oven and folded them in, there was no time to cool them!, and she had her filling.

The quiche needed nearly an hour to bake and Aerlinn rushed the whole thing into the oven just in time. She peered anxiously between it and the judges as the minutes plodded by until sudden SHRIEKING stole her attention away completely. One of the wizards was yelling about industrial fires and appeared to be quite mad.

Aerlinn was so distracted by Ducky and his ever-growing fire that her own food nearly burned to a crisp. It might be for the best, she thought distantly, as she promptly scorched her hand on the side of the oven while trying to withdraw the quiche and keep an eye on the wizard at the same time. I can't possibly be as entertaining, and I'm not sure I want to turn my back on that one.

But her creation had survived, and in better shape than her reddening left hand. She left it sitting until the last minute and then cut three generous slices just as it had cooled enough to set. "Well, wish me luck, she requested of her now-contented dog, and stepped forward to the judges' table.

"I find that home, eventually, is not a place, but the things you bring with you from place to place. Be they people or mementos, memories or, indeed, food. A dish like this might be native to any land with a few chickens, a cow, and a bit of flour. Today it is enhanced with the bounty of our valley. That is home enough for me."

OOC: 12 sided, please!

Arien
Arien
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Silarien, Judging

Silarien heaved a big sigh - both of relief, because her fellow judges were here, quietly and competently managing the competition, and to breathe in the delicious aromas that were beginning to flood the kitchen. She'd had to stifle her gasps earlier, when Chef Aduchil had arrived, and been promptly - and efficiently - patted down by Artanis. Silarien had no idea what Incident Artanis was referring to, but clearly the Elf had had good cause: a truly alarming number of illicit items were produced out of various places. Silarien silently noted the location of the mysterious white powder packages (For later, just in case; wouldn't want to accidentally mix them up with the flour).

She drifted around the kitchen as the competition went on, enjoying the busy atmosphere and the sweet and savoury scents. Wisely, she had forgone the hobbitish habit of Second Breakfast, as there would be plenty to eat: and hopefully, it would all be edible...



SCORING: Silarien's Taste Tests: OOC - These Taste Tests are based on your Dice Rolls! @Almarëa Mordollwen will coordinate the RP tests for us and deliver these with the added up final scores once we've all judged.
Silarien had decided on an order for her tasting: it made sense to start with the savoury foods, and leave the sweets to finish; but the dishes that looked the spiciest she would leave until the end. After all, she did not want to burn her tongue so severely as to prevent her delicate palate from properly savouring the rest of the foods - some of these cooks looked like they were getting enthusiastic with the chillies and the peppers...

And so Silarien began with:

@Aethelu Arphen: who had produced a sizzling venison roast, with crisply seared meat and a glossy gravy dripping with meat juices and sauce. Vegetables were served on the side. Silarien delicately produced a large silver tasting spoon from her voluminous pockets to taste the gravy, before using a steak knife to slice off a piece of the meat. Scooping it all up with a fork she tasted. She closed her eyes. She sighed. "Beautiful," she said, resisting the urge to eat it all: there was much left to come.
Taste Score: 4/6

@Aerlinn's dish - ably assisted by her wolfhound - (was it really hygienic to be feeding a hound at table with the same meats you were cooking with? Eh, Silarien no care, Elves are hard to sicken) was a crumbly quiche, with buttery pastry rich with cheese, vegetables and nice, crispy bacon. It was light and fluffy and homely - Silarien was transported to Aerlinn's homeland, whatever that might have been…
Taste Score: 12/12

@FrostbiteEldurien had gone for a spicy dish, a lamb stew redolent of garlic and a lot of pepper. Silarien tasted it with the wiped-clean spoon and was pleasantly surprised - she had expected it to be a forceful hit of too-strong flavours, but somehow they married together with the sweet tomatoes, and the creaminess of the mashed chickpeas evened it out. "I have no idea where you're really from, but I think I like it," she murmured.
Taste Score: 6/6

@Fairy Nuff/'Starbreeze's dish was the last of the savoury ones. Silarien had admired how the chicken breasts were properly cooked without being dry, and the neat little mound of rice; the vegetables glistening like jewels on the dish. But as she took a bite her eyes popped open wide. "A little too spicy for me, but still tasty," she explained.
Taste Score: 2/12

Now onto the desserts!

It made sense for a cooling yoghurt parfait to be the one to taste next, so Silarien attempted @Aduchil's parfait. It was glorious to her burned tongue and incredibly moreish, the sweetness of it cut by - was that white powder? No… no.. It was chocolate and caramel crunch. Well, that’s all right then. "Excellent," she said in a subdued voice, refusing to meet his eye. Did he know about her habit??
Taste score: 5/6

@Veowyn's cinnamon rolls were the next - Silarien practically snatched them out of the pan, delicious and steaming, the aroma of fresh bread - irresistible. And they were GOOD FOR YOU, which fully justified Silarien snitching a second one. They broke open in her hands, the dough faintly sticky and clinging, to release hot, cinnamon steam. "Yum," declared Silarien.
Taste Score: 5/6

@Elarith Now to Violet. The blackberry and apple tart with custard was next. Silarien always loved tarts. Especially slathered in custard. Hobbits were renowned bakers, too, and the scent of hot, baked apples tickled Silarien's nose (already full of cinnamon). But *alas* - there was a large lump of flour in the custard. Silarien bit down on it and winced. "Oh dear," she said, sadly.
Taste score: -1/12! You have activated the penalty!

@Tarawen had baked Ranger Cookies, something that truly fit the brief. Nutty and wholesome, with a lovely peanut butter gooeyness, but a little homely in shape -not quite enough to stop the show for Silarien. "They're yummy, but I think you’re capable of more," Silarien said encouragingly to Tara, squirrelling another cookie into her apron skirts for later.
Taste Score: 6/12

The final piece had been presented by @KingODuckingham. Could it even be called a dish? Silarien stared in disbelief that turned to horror as Ducky's … creation…. Set fire to a tablecloth. In horror, she swigged the Entdraught without even tasting it. "Do something!" she suggested to him helplessly.
Taste Score: -5/12! You have massively activated the penalty!
cave anserem
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Artanis, judging.

Aduchil certainly had a fair amount of spices his all over his person, but that shouldn't have surprised Artanis. She had heard many stories about him and his cooking escapades over the years. Resolving to keep a close eye on him and the ingredients he chose to use, Artanis put all the illicit items in a safe place and made her way throughout the kitchen, checking to make certain everyone had all that they needed for the first task.

After Lindariel announced that it was time to begin to the first task, the kitchen suddenly became filled with the noises and smells of a multitude of individuals all cooking different dishes. Some of the scents went together, others decidedly did not. Artanis watched the various contestants as they prepared their choice of food.

One by one the contestants brought up their dishes that represented their homeland or culture. Now it was time to judge them - both on the presentation of the dish and on its taste. It was hard to decide on the order to try them, but Artanis decided it would be wise to try the main dishes first and then the various side dishes and desserts. And that odd thing that Ducky was attempting to call "food".


Scoring: Artanis' taste results. Once again, based on the Dice Rolls! RP scores will be consolidated when Alma (Lindariel) posts.

The first dish Artanis chose to taste was the delishing smelling venison that @Aethelu brought forward. The roast was cooked, not quite to perfection, but quite palatable. The gravy and vegetables complimented the dish very well. "This is an excellent start," Artanis said, "but I know you have better dishes up your sleeve."
Taste Score: 3/6

@Frostbite/Eldurien. The lamb stew that the elf brought up smelled delightful, and looked to be full of delicious meat and vegetables. Artanis took her spoon and gently scooped some up to taste. But unfortunately the stew did not quite appeal to her tastebuds."A bit too many flavours for me," she said, putting the spoon down.
Taste Score: 1/6

@Aerlinn brought up a delightful looking quiche dish. It smelled rather good and Artanis eagerly took her fork to try a bite. But a few seconds after the food went down her throat, Artanis wretched. Something in the dish was clearly not meant to be consumed by her. "Excuse me!" she cried and dashed into the garden, where she received her stomach of the offending dish. Coming back, she said to the elf, "That clearly was not meant for me."
Taste Score: -5/12 - you have activated the penalty!

@Fairy Nuff/Starbreeze brought over a dish she called Firecracker Chicken. Artanis took a long look at the dish. Presentation wise, it looked quite appetizing. There was a dome of rice sitting in the centre of the plate with beautifully done chicken and vegetables poured over the top with slices of chillies, spring onions and sesame seeds and a slice of decorative lime on the side. "Well done on the presentation," Artanis told the wizard, "now to see if taste holds up to looks." With that, she took her fork and tried a bite of the firecracker chicken. Almost immediately she felt a burning on her tongue and down her throat. "What is this?" she gasped, trying to get the taste from her mouth. It's a firecracker, I'll give you that, but I must get this taste out of my mouth."
Taste Score: -3/12 - You have activated the penalty!

@KingODuckingham Looking around for something to drink to get the fiery taste out of her mouth, Artanis spotted the concoction that Ducky had brought to the table (which had lit the tablecloth on fire!). But, in order to even think about the fire, she needed to quench the fire in her mouth. Taking a swig of the Entdraught relieved her mouth just enough that she was able to think once again. "Someone put the fire out!" she cried.
Taste Score: 2/12

Moving on to the desserts, Artanis first chose to taste @Aduchil's yoghurt and fruit parfait. It too did a delightful job at cooling the still slight burning of her tongue. The yoghurt and fruit had just the right amount of sweetness and tartness. It was certainly a dish Artanis' would be interested in obtaining the recipe for.
Taste Score: 4/6

Next up on the list were the delicious smelling cinnamon buns that @Veowyn brought forward. The looked and smelled of a wonderful amount of sticky sweetness. Artanis took a bite and smiled. They were quite good, but not as good as the ones she had had back in Mirkwood. Perhaps there was something in the air or ingredients in Imladris that changed the flavour. Not terribly, but enough.
Taste Score: 4/6

@Tarawen had approached the judges with a plate of what she triumphantly described as Ranger Cookies. Artanis looked at them with interest. From the description of the recipe, they did seem to be an easy dish to cook when travelling. But, they were also human. And could humans create a dish that could compete with lembus? She tentatively took a bite and as she crunched down on the cookie, an interesting combination of taste filled her mouth. It was good, but not great. "Interesting choice. I wonder what you will choose next," she told the woman.
Taste Score: 6/12

@Elarith The final dish Artanis chose to taste was the tart. It was … interesting to stay the least. The tart itself tasted alright, but the "custard" should probably have been left out. Something about the ingredients didn't quite go well with the rest of the dish.
Taste Score: 2/12
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

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Lindariel, judging.

She hovered in the background as the contestants began their preparations, quietly observing their process and making mental notes. There were definitely a range of approaches to the kitchen; not that there was anything wrong with that, but she did hope there would not be too many outright catastrophes from all the disorganization! At any rate, the whole room began to rapidly smell delicious, and the time flew by until the moment that the contestants were ready to present their dishes.


OOC: Lindariel’s taste results. All based on die rolls! RP (‘presentation’) scores and and final standings will appear at the end of this post.
Mains first, desserts and assorted other things second. That was the only sensible order to do things in, after all, and it seemed her fellow judges concurred.

@Aethelu - Arphen’s roast venison smelled delicious, and it looked like it had been carefully seasoned. There was not quite as much depth of flavour to the sauce as Lindariel would have liked, but of course it was perfectly understandable that the competitors had not had much time to make their sauces. It was also a little safe, and she wondered if Arphen would show a more adventurous side later in the competition. But it was good - not quite perfect, not quite exceptional - but very good, particularly for a first effort. “I really enjoyed this one, thank you. You’ve cooked the meat very well. It seems a bit safe, as a first choice, but I look forward to seeing what else you can do!”
Taste Score: 3/6

@Frostbite - Eldurien’s dish also promised strong flavours from the smell, but Lindariel was a bit disappointed not to find more of those flavours when she tasted it. She glanced curiously between Silarien and Artanis. “I think you’ve definitely split the judging panel on this one. It’s promising - for me, personally, I’d like a bit more spice, a bit more flavour. But you’ve done well - good work!”
Taste Score: 3/6

@Aerlinn - It was cooked well, the bacon was crispy, the egg was set, and there was a good amount of cheese. All very promising. The pastry, on the other hand, seemed like it need a bit of work - it was a bit on the crumbly side. But it tasted good, and that was the main thing that counted. “I think you can be proud of this one! It was definitely ambitious to try and get it cooked in time; I think your pastry would have benefited from a bit more attention and finesse. But well done!”
Taste Score: 4/12

@Fairy Nuff / Starbreeze - Then there was the firecracker chicken from Starbreeze. It was … hot. Very hot. Judges were not supposed to cry in front of the contestants, were they? She managed to keep her composure (she hoped), but she was sure her face was a bright red. “I think you might have overdone it on the spice a little bit! Or at least, this particular bite seems to have be doused in chilies.”
Taste Score: -3/12 You have activated the penalty!

@KingofDuckingham - The wizard’s … presentation … was certainly dramatic, and while she was not sure the Entdraught could be called a dish, she was happy to try it, and in fact she reached for it eagerly when Artanis passed it to her, hoping it would alleviate some of the burning from the chicken. Unfortunately her first sip included several large flakes of ash from the fire, and then while she was coughing, trying to regain her composure, and not eat the ash … the tablecloth caught fire. This, at least, Lindariel had some practice dealing with, since her childhood friend Almarëa also had a notorious habit of setting kitchens on fire. With a single swift and practiced throw, she tossed the nearest liquid to hand onto the tablecloth … which, she belatedly realized, had been the remaining Entdraught. Oops? “Ah, sorry about that. At least the tablecloth is no longer on fire. But I think we might need to sort out this blaze before we do too much else - were you planning on using it for a later round?”
Taste Score: -3/12 You have activated the penalty!

@Aduchil - Yoghurt. Yoghurt sounded like a truly excellent idea. With the tablecloth, at least, no longer demanding her attention, Lindariel turned to the Silvan Parfait. She was not entirely sure if it was good because the last two things she had tasted had been … so dramatic … and this was refreshingly normal? But she liked it. It was good. It was not a disaster. And right now, normal and not-a-disaster was becoming more and more attractive to Lindariel. “Thank you - this is elegantly done. I look forward to seeing what else you have in store for us!”
Taste Score: 3/6

@Veowyn - At this point, Lindariel’s expectations had fallen substantially. But she was very pleasantly surprised indeed by the cinnamon buns, which looked and smelled and tasted absolutely sublime. A perfect amount of frosting, a perfect amount of spices; perhaps they could have been a bit neater but Lindariel was not sure she cared. “These are delicious, Veowyn. Really, really delicious.” She took a second bite, and then a third, and then finally stopped herself - there were four rounds left to go!
Taste Score: 5/6

@Elarith / Viola - The custard, oh the custard. It had split, and there were lumps in it, and she was pretty sure some of it had burned at the bottom of the pot as well. It was not pleasant. And when she cut into the tart, the bottom was soggy too. “I’m really sorry Viola, I don’t think this is my favourite. I like the idea, though - and the fruits are very good. But I think the pastry and the custard need a bit of work. If you cook your pastry case for a little while before you put the filling in, it won’t end up quite so soggy.”
Taste Score: -5/12 You have activated the penalty!

@Tarawen - She bit into a large cookie, and then had to try very hard not to spit it back out again. It seemed with the irregular shapes, that the batch had not cooked evenly all the way through. This large one was still raw in the centre! She took the remnants of the cookie and split it in half, to show Tarawen. “This one’s a bit raw, I’m afraid. If you make them all the same size, then they’ll bake more evenly.”
Taste Score: -3/6 You have activated the penalty!

Taking what she hoped did not look like a desperate sip of water to wash the taste of raw cookie and burnt custard out of her mouth, Lindariel took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Thank you very much for your dishes! We are going to take a moment to confer amongst ourselves, and then we will announce the standings.”

A whispered discussion followed. They were obliged to score the dishes not only on taste, but also on presentation, and then they had to agree on a ranking - and it had already become apparently that they definitely did not agree on some of the dishes! However, some wrangling later, they had a list.

“Here are the standings after round one!”


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“And now I’m going to pass things over to Silarien, who has set the second task for today. A word of warning, though: there will be five rounds, but not all of you will make it to the finals. After the second task, we will begin eliminating the lowest-scoring contestants, so make this next dish count!”
She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor

Arien
Arien
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Silarien Announcing Round 2


After some general kerfuffle, smoke, and screaming (all perfectly ordinary for a kitchen, for sure), Silarien was almost ready to announce the second task. She had put out some stray flames with her floral chef’s hat, which would never be the same again, and was displaying a smear of soot across her otherwise pristine face. Her hands had been shaking slightly until she had quietly glugged down some port. Strictly medicinal of course.

“Thank you everyone for your efforts so far! For Round 2, we are asking you to create a showstopper piece. Wow us with your wedding wizardry (NOT LITERALLY DUCKY; I don’t need to tell you Starbreeze) as you create and design for us, from scratch, a WEDDING CAKE!

For this round we will also have a mystery guest judge so do your best to impress!

You have 3 hours to do your work!”



OOC: Round will finish 72 hours from now, more or less
cave anserem
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Chef Aduchil, here to wed your tastebuds to your dreams

Aduchil inhaled slowly through his nose. Along with the aromas of the kitchens came the scent of victory. Too early to savour, but the first skirmish had been fought, and fought well. But this was not the time to grow complacent! Complete culinary discipline was called for. Tranquil as a forest, but with a gastrointestinal fire. Swift as laxatives with all the force of whipped cream, and mysterious as the deepest part of a fondue.

The next challenge came. A wedding cake. Aduchil was reminded of his sister’s wedding; the last time he had baked such a thing. What a happy occasion! The thought brought a tear to his eye. Every last bit of the cake had been eaten with great delight and only minor digestion issues. Seeing that cake go down was his happiest moment of that day.

But stagnation was the ally of complacency, and he could not rely on old tricks. He would have to make something new. Something unforeseen. Something that would shake and shatter the bedrock of the baking establishment. “Give me cake, or give me death!” he exclaimed before remembering his surroundings. Not to mention the clock was ticking.

He closed his eyes, and a dream vision appeared before him. The tower of Tirion, Mindon Eldaliéva, the seat of the high kings with its silver lantern on top. And the symbol of monarchism, of course, in need of being toppled. Without doubt, the tastiest looking building in Elvendom. As a child, Aduchil had in fact tasted it. Sadly, looks deceived him. The stone was very dry, enough to make him choke. Granted, it was crunchy, but far too much. In fact, it cost him most of his milk teeth to chew on the stonework, shattering the lot of them. Seizing opportunity, Aduchil had extorted the Tooth Fairy by demanding silver for every tooth fragment, placing them individually under his pillow. The extortion had ended when his father had, with curious exasperation since one would assume his finances were unaffiliated with those of said dental lady, declared the Tooth Fairy to be financially insolvent. Something about back taxes owed, apparently.

Enough! No more getting lost in hazy recollections. Time was a-ticking. Aduchil had a tower to bake. Ideally, it would have been life-size, but this was clearly not practical. People would be eating the foundation long before he had finished the top floor. A smaller one made for scale would have to do.

He needed three layers. Cake, chocolate nut crème, and jam. Each layer would have to be repeated, but with subtle differences. The jam would take the longest to make – Aduchil did not trust the jams on offer. Some of them looked suspicious, like raisins hiding among chocolate chip cookies. Setting to work, Aduchil stoked a great fire. The fires of passion, but also an actual one for cooking. Both stove and oven would be needed at great heat.

Three pots with water in them to boil and create a steam bath. But which fruits to choose? Something with a little bite to them, to compliment the nutty chocolate. Orange was obvious, and Aduchil quickly chose mango to keep it company. But for the third? The third? Aduchil was anguished. None came to mind. Was this the end? Would his project of towering ambition falter? Would the ship of his passions strike the reefs of bitterness and sink?

Aduchil felt a good brood coming on and almost began reciting poetry when the answer came. Passionfruit! What more could be fitting? With maniacal laughter, he gathered his chosen fruits. “I’ll show them,” he muttered, staring with intense eyes. “I’ll show them all!”

He chopped up the fruits and mashed sugar and a bit of lemon juice into each separate, individual chopping before placing them in their respective steam baths. Now, the tendrils of mist would coax the moisture from the fruits, and they would bend to Aduchil’s will. His jammy, jammy will.

No time for rest! The next layer awaited. Cake. Almond flour, a few eggs, bit of sugar. Aduchil noticed some left-over kernels of vanilla from his first project – why not? In they went. Bit of this, bit of that, and the dough was ready. Aduchil shaped them into circles so perfect, Fëanor would have wept with envy. And probably tried to stab Aduchil. That guy was seriously unhinged.

With three layers of jam and three from chocolate nut, nearly a dozen was needed to be made from cake to lie in between. The oven could, at best, bake three at a time. Nothing to do but bake them in shifts, swapping them in and out, like Dwarves trimming the hairs in one nostril only to find the other overgrown. Or something like that. Aduchil baked cakes, not analogies.

The first set of cake layers went into the oven. The chocolate crème still had to be made. Wiping sweat from his brow, Aduchil glanced around the room to see how his many nemeses (for surely they had all come solely with the intention to defeat him) fared. He quickly realised he did not actually care and looked away, but not before he saw something to offend his sensibilities. The horror.

He grabbed a clean towel and held it over a steam bath, catching the pure vapours to dampen the cloth. Marching through the room with the determination of Fingolfin crossing the Helcaraxë, Aduchil stopped in front of the judge known as Silarien. Towering over her with fury in his eyes, he gently placed his hand under her chin and cleaned the soot from her face. He sighed in relief. “Better.”

His side quest done, Aduchil turned on his heel and marched back to his kitchen. He realised he had not fetched any of the ingredients for his next task and promptly turned on his heel, marching to the table with supplies. Large blocks of chocolate, more gatherings of nuts, and he was ready. The final heating circle on the stove was brought into play, steaming it up to melt the chocolate.

Once more, it was time to get nutty. Hazelnut, walnut, almond… nut. Whatever. Chop chop. With experienced hand, Aduchil decimated the little tree fruits, relishing their squeals. He destroyed them like anarcho-culinary ideas would some day destroy the chains of Big Grocer. Big Grocer of course being how anarcho-cooks described the forge in Mordor that supplied sixty-two percent of eastern Middle-Earth with chains, shackles, and manacles. The nickname came from the convenient supermarket that lay annexed, selling unethically sourced produce from the fields of Nurnen.

Pulling out three cake layers from the oven, Aduchil inserted three new ones. He took a deep sniff. Baked to perfection. Glorious!

Melted chocolate was whisked together with cream with such speed, it broke the sound barrier. A few more ingredients to make it thicken, and the crème was divided into three parts, each receiving its own nutty addition. Letting it cool, Aduchil set it aside.

The jam was nearly ready, except it also needed to cool. Removing his work from the stove, Aduchil checked the texture of each, stirring with a spoon. He took a taste of the orange jam. Good, especially once it cooled. He had another taste. Still good. He took a third spoonful. Yep. Still good. As he dug in his spoon for a fourth time, he noticed something alarming. There was much less of the orange jam than planned! Given how many oranges he had used, there should be much more than this! Thankfully he noticed it before he started eating it. With a solemn look, he emptied his spoon back into the jam. It would have to do.

Marzipan. How could he have left that out? Crucial to the tower! He needed more almond… nuts. Lots of them. Sugar, other ingredients… wait, how did one make marzipan? Aduchil searched his memory. Sadly, in his mind, he had replaced the recipe for marzipan with the entire music catalogue played by the minstrels of the Golden Ball in Edoras, the most popular discotheque in Rohan.

Never mind, store bought would have to do. Aduchil searched the pantry and scooped up a big pile.

Alright, marzipan ready. Chocolate crème, ready. Jam nearly cooled and ready. Cake layers, ready… Cake layers! Argh! Aduchil pulled his oven open and grabbed the plate inside with his bare fingers. He pulled it out and threw it on the now vacant stove. The layers had been in the oven for approximately three minutes, thirty-two seconds and three quarters too long. They would not be quite as soft as planned, but the taste was not ruined.

With the fear of calamity abolished, Aduchil noticed that his hands were in agonising pain. He looked down to find great burns across his fingertips. Well, not a big issue. He routinely scorched his fingertips to remove all fingerprints anyway – damn Elven regeneration, always bringing them back. The rangers of Gondor had almost been able to trace that bakery explosion in Pelargir back to him that one time, thanks to a partial print; ever since, Aduchil had not taken chances. He adjusted his mental calendar, setting a note that he could postpone his next fingerprint burning another year.

The next three cake layers went in the oven, it was time to start assembly. Always Aduchil’s favourite part; he loved it when a plan came together. First, cake to make the foundation. Orange jam on top – curious, there was not as much of this as anticipated. Strange. Anyway! Another layer of cake. Hazelnut chocolate crème. Cake. Mango jam. Cake. Walnut chocolate crème. Cake. Passionfruit jam. Cake. Almond chocolate crème. Cake – ah, none left. The remaining ones were still in the oven.

Was this cake shortage a cunning attempt of sabotage made by his enemies? Regardless, it would fail. Aduchil only had to wait, and his oven would produce the remaining cake layers. He almost broke into laughter at how easily he would vanquish this foolhardy, vainglorious attempt to stop him.

The marzipan! Damnation, he still needed to sculpt that. Woe be Aduchil, the chef of chefs. Endlessly beset by trials. Was it even worth continuing, beset on all sides by troubles and tribulations?

Yes. He had a duty to the gastronomers of the world. Also the astronomers, if nothing else for the sake of the rhyme. The tower must be built.

Aduchil clad the unfinished work with marzipan, which went easy enough; the sugary jam soaked it together like glue. The real challenge lay in the knife work. With careful hand and a scalpel, Aduchil set to task. He cut the carvings, ornaments, statues, and every little bit upon the original tower in Tirion from memory. Granted, his memory was leakier than an incontinent wizard, but imagination filled out the gaps nicely.

The cake! Aduchil had been so absorbed in his sculpting, he forgot about the cake layers in the oven! Who could have predicted that? Nobody! He tore the oven open, grabbed his oven mitts – only a fool would grab something so hot with bare hands – and pulled out the plates. The cakes were… baked. More baked than a high Elf. A little extra crunchy. Nobody would notice once the music started playing.

Final assembly. Cake. It was in this moment, Aduchil realised he could not really count. He had baked way more layers than he needed. Oh well. Who needed math anyway. In fact, he only needed this last one to serve as the top, giving a solid ceiling to the tower. A plating of marzipan, and the tower stood ready in its form. Only the final touches remained.

The sculpting continued. “Bend to knife, come to life,” he whispered, carving the ornaments into the marzipan. “Crème and jam, thank you ma’am, this tower erect shall power reflect.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, feeling the creative juices flowing. Only the silver lantern on top remained. With fruit colour, Aduchil painted a little marzipan lantern white and carefully placed it as the pièce de résistance. “Shine bright, little light,” he mumbled with fevered gaze. “Like siren call, bring them all, and in the flavour bind them!”

Clearing his throat, Aduchil straightened up. The moment had passed. The work was done. He slid his tower onto a plate suitable for serving, arranged four spoons, and approached the judges. The tower stood maybe ten inches tall, but as it also stood for monarchism, it was, in Aduchil's mind, tall enough to reach the stars. The astronomers would be pleased. “Take your arms,” he commanded them, “and let the iconoclasm begin!”

OOC: Get the 6 sides and let the good cakes roll
Last edited by Aduchil on Wed Jul 22, 2020 4:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Doorwarden of The Mark
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Arphen ready to bake a cake

The first round had gone well, the judges had liked her food. There was more to do though, she needed to do something more spectacular if she could. Setting aside her dishes, with a couple of quick forkfuls of leftover roast, she prepared herself for the next task. A wedding cake. She did love to bake cakes, but she hadn't made a wedding cake before. What would a wedding cake need? More than one tier for a start. And some beautiful decoration. But what flavour? Her eyes scanned the ingredients table. She knew what to do.

Grabbing a basket she set about to grab what she needed. Most important was going to be the fruit. This was to be a three tier cake with each tier a different citrus flavour. One of lemon, one of lime, one of orange. Then she was going to make a curd of each flavour to sandwich the cakes together with cream. Finally she was going to need enough fondant to cover half the room she suspected to cover the cake and make flowers. Could she do it all in 3 hours? Well, she was going to try!

First, cakes. She needed three tins of three different sizes and three large mixing bowls. With a clatter, she waddled back to her bench her tower of metal clanking as he went. Butter and sugar creamed together, eggs, flour, all mixed together to make three bowls of batter. She needed three hands at this point. Then into each bowl went the zest and juice of their respective fruits. The smell was heavenly, a blast of bright, zingy citrus to awaken her senses. Now she needed to carefully pour the batter into each cake tin. Arphen was not the strongest elf, there was only so much muscle you could build through whisking and mixing. Thankfully she didn't drop any bowls and now she had three cakes ready to bake.

While they sat in the heat, she needed three arms once again to make her three curds. Three pans on the heat, butter, sugar, and citrus zest in each. It was like a dance as she tried to stir each pan equally to make sure the butter melted but didn't burn. Butter melted, she needed to add eggs and whisk until thick. Like a woman possessed, she added and whisked, moving from each pan as quickly as possible. "Don't turn into scrambled eggs, don't turn into scrambled eggs!" She sang as she worked until at last she had three thick citrus curds. With a sieve she strained each one into another bowl to leave a smooth, creamy curd.

Now cakes were baking, curds were made, what was next. The decoration! Foolishly she had decided to decorate it with beautiful fondant flowers, cascading down the cake. First she needed to dye some of the fondant until she had pale pink, lilac, and cornflower blue. Then she began to roll it out as thin as she could, before carefully cutting out the flowers in different sizes. A single strand of hair was falling from where she had pinned it up and she tried desperately to blow it back over her ear. With a sigh, she had to take a break and push it back from her face. Thankfully, it gave her a chance to check her cakes and she was relieved to find they were done. Now they needed to cool though, nothing worse than putting curd, cream, and fondant on a hot cake and watching it melt off. She found some large, flat bottomed, bowls she could put them in and place them on top of the ice to cool faster.

It didn't take long for her entire bench to be almost completely covered with fondant flowers of different colours and sizes. Each had been cut out, gently pressed in just the right places to look like real flowers, and set aside. It was now or never to start putting it all together. Her last bit of preparation was to whip up some cream, set it on the ice as well, before starting her grandest task. Each cake was cut in half, cream and curd sandwiched between the two layers, then each cake was coated in white fondant. She had found a nice flat tool so she could smooth the fondant out over each cake, like she was massaging the cakes. She wished someone would massage her shoulders, being hunched over making flowers was starting to take its toll. Stacking the cakes one on top of another had her holding her breath out of fear, but thankfully they didn't collapse or lean. Someone was smiling down on her today.

Putting all the flowers on was taking what felt like an age, she was working as fast as she could without making it messy. She began at the top of the cake, the flowers falling down the side and curving around the cake. It made for a beautiful effect but as the minutes ticked down she was starting to regret several decision.

At last, with seconds to spare, she had finished it all. Stepping back she was pleased with how it looked, something beautiful and elegant. She was relieved it was done though. She set it down and smiled. "A three tier citrus wedding cake," she said. "Bottom tier is orange, middle is lemon, top is lime. Each cake as a matching citrus curd in it, along with some cream. Then it is finished with fondant and fondant flowers." Now she was done, she sat down on the floor. She needed to rest. Just for a moment. Or two.

OOC: Let's risk it with a 12 side die today.

Doorwarden of The Mark
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Viola, dismayed hobbit

Viola was dismayed. Her cheeks had never flushed as red. The judges had tried her tart and encountered not only lumpy and burned custard but (horror of horrors) a soggy bottom. The shame! She hadn't been accused of a soggy bottom since Jay Mugwort had made a comment in the marketplace one day some years earlier, and earned himself the back of her hand. Her fingers still twitched when she saw him round and about; for his part, he disappeared into shops or round stable doors or behind water troughs when she was in the vicinity.

Over with the other spectators, Daisy was still smiling and waving at her. "You were unlucky! You've got this!" she called encouragingly. Viola smiled wanly. She just wanted to be put out of her misery now, but there was still at least one more challenge before her.

A wedding cake? The hobbit suppressed a scream. Given that she'd just had an absolute disaster making a dessert, she had really wanted to avoid sweet things. Maybe she could make them some toast. Could she make a wedding cake out of toast? Probably wouldn't count as a 'cake', alas.

Viola went to the produce table, hoping to get some inspiration. There were lots of lovely fruits but she'd had her fill of fruit. The booze looked good though. And there was some chocolate... She wasn't sure if elves could even get drunk, but she could.

She dumped a lot of butter and a lot of sugar in a big bowl, and mixed until her arms ached. Then she cracked in some eggs, a good number, and mixed those in too, followed by a quantity of flour. Her arms were killing her by this point but she had something that looked like a plain cake batter. Now to flavour it.

To give herself a break from all the hard work, Viola decided to sample the various alcohols on offer. The rum was nice and warming, spicy too, even if it did make her cough. The whisky was too harsh for her tastes, but she gave it a thorough go just to be sure. The stout was delicious, unctuous and somehow creamy. She would chuck a load of that in and hope for the best along with a big pile of chocolate.

Weaving slightly, the hobbit returned to her bench with bottles and a bowl of chocolate. Her arms felt lots better now. She popped the bowl by the fire pit so the chocolate could melt, and poured in two decent bottles of stout to the cake mix. The melted chocolate swiftly followed, after another tasting, naturally. That would about do, she thought, so she filled three cake tins and whacked them in the fire pits to cook.

She had spied a nice jug of thick cream, and thought she would whip that to stick the cake together with. But first Viola wanted a sit down. She wasn't used to all this exertion. She took a seat, propped her feet up on a sack of flour near the fire pit, and watched the other contestants hard at work. All she needed now was a cup of tea, but it was probably a cheek to ask one of the elves. The fire was warming her toes, the stout / rum / whisky combination was coursing through her veins, the clatter of pots and pans was somehow soothing... Her head drooped down on to her chest for what felt like a few seconds.

The smell of scorched toe hair seeped up her nostrils. With a muffled yelp, Viola pulled her smouldering feet away from the fire pit and batted at them with her hands. They weren't aflame but some of the hairs looked decidedly blackened. There was still a lingering smell too, but it was slightly different, more like.... the cake! Only just remembering to put some oven gloves on, she grabbed the three tins and pulled them from the pit. Definitely no soggy bottoms here.

Leaving the cakes to cool, she went to find the jug of cream, plus another bottle of stout. Viola poured it into yet another bowl - she was hoping Lord Elrond wasn't going to make them do the washing up - and whisked it fiercely until it thickened up. She added a dose of stout for good measure, and whipped that in too.

The cakes were somewhat cooler now, so she pushed them from their tins and sandwiched them together with the cream. She dolloped more cream on the top, and swirled it about to try to make it a bit fancy. It was lacking something. Drumming her fingers on her chin, Viola tried to think what she could put on a wedding cake. She'd heard there was a dove around here somewhere but she didn't think it would be impressed with being stuck on her creation. With time running out, the hobbit lady found a pen and drew a bow tie, waistcoat and a happy face on one of the bottles, and the outline of a dress below a smiley face on another. She stuck them besides each other on top of the cake, where they sank slightly.

Viola stood back to get a better overall view of it. Grace, beauty, soppish... soffess...sop... refinement. None of these were words that could be accurately applied to her cake. Might taste all right though, and she was going to eat it if no one else was.

OOC: 12 sided die please! Live by the cake knife, die by the cake knife.

Arien
Arien
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OOC: as I forgot to give the 24 hour warning, I’ll give it now with an extension. You have 24 hours to submit some sort of cake.

@Fairy Nuff
@Veowyn
@Frostbite
@KingODuckingham
@Aerlinn
@Tarawen
cave anserem
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New Soul
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Veowyn - more cinnamon?

Veowyn simply smiled, but inside her own head she was cheering. Her children were actually cheering, though. She waved at them then shooed them out as fire clean up happened around Ducky's fantastic fire. She chuckled. That wizard was always up to something dangerous and silly. Ent drought, at a cooking competition? She looked around at all the other works as well. Some looked amazing, and she kinda wished she had the opportunity to taste test them herself. However, now was not the time. She now had a cake to bake!

Hmm. Well, the first question was the flavors. Buttercream was her personal favorite wedding cake frosting. It was traditional, and it works so well with so many flavors! She noticed several folks were using fruits, so she decided against that. She wanted to use cinnamon again, but what other flavors when well with cinnamon? Vanilla. Simple. Chocolate did too! So, she gathered the ingredients to make 3 different flavored cake batters. She mixed and mixed. Her arms were mostly used to this sort of work out, but maybe they had not done it at such as scale in much too long.

She then selected several square, and rectangular, cake pans. Sure these were mostly traditional flavors, but that did not mean she had to stick with round cake. She started with 3 narrow sheet pans, making one cake in each flavor, 2 layers each, with a thin layer of the frosting in between. She then frosted them side by side together, like they were 1 big cake. The second tier was a beautiful, squared, marbled layer. All 3 flavors gently swirled together! She added the supports to the bottom layer, and gently placed this new layer onto the cake after frosting it. Now, the last tier took a little more finesse. She baked 3 small square cakes. The chocolate and cinnamon ones she cut into smaller cubes. She then exchanged the pieces out, in an alternating pattern. Then, she cut the vanilla into square "rings" and cut the matching rings out of the cinnamon and chocolate checker, and fitted these square rings of vanilla cake into place.

Once she had the 3rd tier frosted, supported and in place, she started to decorate, She took left over bits of cake crumbs, and made what looked like a path that looked like it went spiraling around the cake from bottom to top. She used a stencil and left cinnamon sugar flowers randomly all over the tiers. Now it was time for the topper. She quickly made up some cinnamon roll dough, but instead of rolling it up and slicing it, she twisted strands of it, then took that rope and shaped it into 2 hearts. (ok she made extra just in case, but 2 successful ones were what she needed). She also made 2 small rings, intertwined with each other. and she baked it all up. She then dipped them into a bit of icing. Once they were cool enough that the icing was not going to drip off, she took the 2 hearts, points down in the frosting, leaning to where they propped each other up. She then added tiny dollops of frosting to the top of the hearts, where the rings were then set on top of the hearts.

She stepped back. "Done" She had playfully shooed away folks that kept dipping their fingers into her batters and frostings, throughout the whole process. She had also seen some of the other amazing cakes get finished as well. She sucked her own finger into her mouth, savoring the buttercream, now that she was done with her master piece. She presented it to the judges. "For the most possible flavor in one bite, I suggest the middle tier." She volunteered. Then she asked "Are we allowed to sample some other others as well? They all look so different and tasty!" Before the could answer, she had produced her own utensil and scooped it full of Aduchil's entry.

6 sided die please
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

Healer of Imladris
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Aerlinn Mordagnir
"Oh d-d-dear!"


"I'm sorry," Aerlinn said quickly. "Did you perhaps say 'red herring make'? Breaded shake? Cede the wake? No? You're sure? You do seem very certain. Um well, right, of course. No problem! No, there's nothing wrong, nothing at all. Send for a grinding wheel and I'll top the whole thing off with a silmaril, ahahaha ha."

The walk back to her workstation felt a bit like walking a plank, except the latter presumably provided a beautiful ocean view.

"What are we going to do?" she wailed at Yávië as a flurry of activity erupted around them. "They couldn't have asked for brownies or lemon bars or--or pancakes? Donuts? I can do donuts." In fact, Aerlinn suspected the list of desserts she was more qualified to make than wedding cake could conveniently be summed up as 'all of them'. She hadn't made a layered cake in--was this the Third Age? no matter--at least four ages, possibly five, quite probably never.

She looked plaintively at the other tables. Was that the remains of three eggs or four? How much flour were they using? Was that a passion fruit? Who was least likely to notice if she just borrowed a layer or two? Desperate for insight, she sidled up near one of the less...concerning...participants, who seemed to be constantly enveloped in a heavenly-smelling russet haze. The elleth (@Veowyn) was busy making frosting and Aerlinn took the opportunity to dip her finger into one of the waiting cake pans. The batter tasted like autumn and hugs. She snagged a little more and couldn't stifle an appreciative sigh. "Thig ib amashing!" she mumbled around a third mouthful, and was finally shooed away towards the ingredients table.

Flour, eggs, sugar, butter, vanilla--she grabbed twice as much as she thought she could possibly need of each and took it back to her own table to stare at. Cookies, she thought longingly as she stared at the pile, if only the tradition was wedding cookies! She froze suddenly, and the egg she had been absentmindedly tossing from hand to hand hit the ground with a smash. Her waiting wolfhound pounced on it with a delighted yip and Aerlinn began to grin. A cookie was a bit like a stodgy cake, after all. And no one had ever told her they couldn't be ten inches across and baked in a round pan.

She ran back across the room with and nearly collided with Veowyn. "Could you spare a bit of whatever that is? It's magical. Please! I'll do your laundry for a week." Aerlinn scooped a heaping spoonful of the cinnamon into a small packet before she could be told no and hurried off towards the pantry.

She made one giant batch of...very thick cake batter...her arms burning with the effort mixing in all that flour, and split it into four smaller bowls. She added the cinnamon to one, molasses and powdered ginger to another, coconut and white chocolate chips to the third, and, at a bit of a loss, chunks of dark chocolate and orange zest to the last. It all looked a bit of a mess, and on second thought, perhaps coconut and molasses in the same cake was--but no! Doubts were for orcs.

~~~

By the time all four cookies cake layers were baked and cooled and the icing was made, Aerlinn was sorely tempted to pile all the pans and bowls on the judges table and call it a 'deconstructed' wedding cake. Pre-constructed? The beginnings of a new trend, surely. But she put it together dutifully; and if there was a cracked layer here or a lump in the frosting there, well, she ignored it with the same stubborn ferocity with which she regarded crack of dawn puppy eyes and her adoptive mother's chatter about perfumes.

Her final touch was a heart-shaped line of chocolate chips. Yávië gave it a disdainful sniff. "I'd like to see you do any better!" Aerlinn snapped in exasperation. She barely snatched the whole thing away before the wolfhound took up the challenge and closed his jaws over the top of it.

The elf finally approached the judges with a certain amount of trepidation a generous helping of guilt. "Erm, I'm very sorry about the quiche," she addressed Artanis (@Dimcairien Luiniel) first. " I hope these cooki--I mean, this cake! definitely a cake! no resemblance to another well-known and beloved dessert, none at all--is much better suited to you. The four layers are meant to represent the seasons. A summery coconut on top, cinnamon for autumn, gingerbread for winter, citrus for spring. A, heh, sweet testament, as it were, to the lasting nature of love, through the seasons and the years."

12 sided die of DOOM
Last edited by Yávië on Thu Jul 23, 2020 6:52 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Istari Steward
Points: 2 032 
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Joined: Thu May 21, 2020 3:10 pm
The words echoed inside Ducky's head. "Do something!" He had not actually been able to do anything, but fortunately Lindariel, one of the other judges, had stepped in with some quick thinking. Thinking had never particularly been a strong suit of the wizard's. If it had been, he probably would never have set a large fire up in the first place. For that matter, he probably would never have entered into this contest in the first place.

You know, since he had no idea how to cook. "Do something!"

Let us not trouble ourselves with an exact play-by-play of how Ducky created his "wedding cake". It would be an exercise in tedious tooth-pulling. Instead, let us consider the cake-baking in its various aspects, separately:

The Ingredients
Ducky did not know what ingredients went into a wedding cake, but he was not above pretending. He stared at all the various granular looking white stuffs on his station, as well as all the sauces (or liquids, or whatever they were). They appeared to be labeled in some sort of Elvish. He couldn't read it. No doubt there were few who could. Soooo....he just sort of guessed. He maybe should have done some taste tests, but he was a bit paranoid they might be trying to poison him for placing too well in archery.

4 BIG cups of some thick fluffy looking white stuff.
2 BIG cups of some sandy looking white stuff, hopefully it wasn't actually sand.
1 big spoon of some even smaller sandy looking white stuff.
6 eggs, obviously he cracked them and dumped the contents in, he didn't put them in with shell, he wasn't an idiot, although some shell bits got in here and there, couldn't help that.
1 big spoon of some dark sweet smelling liquid.
A stick of butter, he knew what butter was naturally. In fact, make it two sticks, why not.
1 BIG cup of some brown looking granules, tasted sweet who knew, cakes were supposed to be sweet though. Also, was there supposed to be an order to this stuff?
He grabbed some stuff Veo was calling cinnamon and sprinkled that liberally over the bowl. Didn't really measure it.
He grabbed two other liquids at random and poured a spoonful in each. One was kind of a yucky looking yellow, the other was white.

The "Method"
Ducky just had grabbed the biggest bowl he could find and dumped it all together in the above order, then noticed people were using something called an "of-in" instead of setting huge fires. Yeah, let's do that. He turned a knob or something and waited a while, wasn't really sure how long, just had to leave himself some time to do the frosting.

When he took the cake from the of-in he realized there was no pre-made frosting around. Hm.

The Decorating
First Ducky sliced the cake into the shape of a figure 8. Then, since he had no real frosting, he grabbed more sticks of butter and slathered them on top of the cooked cake. Then he squirted a bunch of chocolate sauce on top of that. Then he grabbed whatever on the station looked like it came in the biggest flakes and shook that all over to spice it up.

The Interpretation
Ducky wrote up (in chocolate sauce, on the tablecloth, since he couldn't find any spare paper quickly) an explanation of what he was going for.

"As you can see, this cake is baked in the shape of the symbol infinity, because marriage is forever. Until you dig into it, and you cut each other apart when you try to share. This is what happens to ideals in the real world."

"P.S.", (he had to switch to a different colored sauce at this point, he'd used all the chocolate sauce) "I'm definitely not bitter and," (he had to start dribbling the sauce on the floor, because he had run out of table space) "projecting what happened to my own marriage to Helekwen onto this art piece. This is purely hypo" (he couldn't finish the word because he had run out of this other sauce too, whatever it was).

Ducky stood back and admired his work. Wait, were they going to taste test this too?

OOC: 12 sided die all the way

Esquire of The Mark
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Starbreeze, a wizzie

Somewhat chagrined that her cake had been too spicy for the judges, and she had to agree that this was a particularly potent one, she listened with interest as the next task was described....a wedding cake. Well, that posed a challenge and no mistake, but the biggest question was...whose wedding? Starbreeze felt that something as significant as a wedding cake should be tailored to the bride and groom, from what flavour cakes to feature, to the decoration on the outside. Why, she remembered a number of years ago when she had attended the wedding of some young hobbit friends, and their cake was made of vegetables, and decorated with vegetables...maybe she could draw on that for inspiration now!

She hurried over to the table grabbing beetroots, lemons, an orange, carrots and courgettes, as well as spices, oil, eggs, cocoa, flour, sugar, butter, baking powder, icing/powdered sugar, chocolate, cream, dried fruit and some natural food dyes. Her arms full, she staggered back to the workstation and set them down with a sigh of relief. First...the beetroot chocolate cake.

It seems like an odd mixture at first, but beetroot is a sweet vegetable, full of natural starches and sugars, and serves to keep the cake moist. It also lends a fantastic deep colour, comparable to red velvet. She began by peeling then very, very, very finely chopping the beetroot, almost to a puree, which she scraped into a large bowl. This cake would form the base of her triple-layer cake so would be the largest. She added flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, sugar and three eggs to the bowl and stirred well, the mixture turning a deep pink-purple (no foo here!), increasing in richness as she slowly drizzled oil into the mixture, stirring all the time. When well combined but not over worked, she poured the mixture into a large round springform tin, and then into the oven to start cooking.

Next, the lemon courgette cake. This would be the second layer of the cake, lighter in both flavour and density than the base layer, but again using the courgette, naturally quite a wet vegetable in its own right, to make a light but moist cake. She began by grating the courgettes, skin and all, into a bowl, then adding sugar, an egg and oil to the bowl before combining them together. In a separate bowl she grated the zest of the lemons, then added the flour, baking powder and some cinnamon, stirring well, then folding the flour mixture into the courgette mixture. The resulting mixture was added to a second, smaller round cake tin and also placed into the oven, with a quick glance at the beetroot cake which was rising steadily.

Thirdly, the carrot cake and third tier. Such a classic - another sweet vegetable combines its unique flavour with spices to form a distinctive and beloved cake. She began by again grating the carrots, then in a large bowl she tipped in brown sugar, oil and three eggs. She mixed well to combine the whites and yolks of the eggs, then added carrots and sultanas, and grated the zest of the orange in. In a separate bowl she combined flour, baking powder, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg, then folded this into the carrot mixture. This was a very pourable batter which she deftly poured out into the third, smallest cake tin, which then went in the oven with the others. As the smallest it would take the least time.

While they were baking she could prepare the decoration. She planned to do each layer differently, to complement the type of cake. For the beetroot cake, a rich chocolate ganache. She began by pouring cream and sugar into a pan on the hob, and bringing them to a simmer, watching the sugar melt. Once melted, she let it come to the boil, then quickly poured the hot cream over chunks of chocolate in a separate bowl, whisking the mixture as the chocolate melted and only stopping when it became glossy. She would let it cool a little, then whip it up again to be light and fluffy once the cake was cool.

For the lemon courgette cake, she felt a drizzle suited it best, leaving the cake itself largely 'naked' but adding flavour and richness. She grated the zest of two more lemons and added the zest to a bowl of powdered sugar, then slowly added a squirt of fresh lemon juice topped up with warm water until it formed a thick, unctuous paste, then she added a little more lemon juice to loosen it. This would be ready to pour over the cake while it was still warm from the oven.

Speaking of oven...she hurried over to check the cakes, and found they had all risen...mostly evenly...and were light brown on the top. A knife stuck into the centre of each one came out clean, so they were ready. She prised open the springform tins and placed the cakes on wire racks to cool.

Finally, butter cream for the carrot cake. To make this she simply beat powdered sugar into softened butter until it was light and fluffy. Not content to leave this the end of the decorating, she decided to make some little hobbits out of sugar paste. She took more powdered sugar, oil and sugar syrup made by heating regluar sugar, and combined them to make a thick paste, which was then divided into smaller balls, and each one coloured with the food dyes. While the cakes cooled she sculpted rough likenesses of two hobbits - curly hair on their heads and on their toes created by grating the fondant on the zest grater, and little waistcoats and breeches given shape with the tip of a knife. She left the faces simple, large eyes and large smiles with a little button nose each.

Finally the cakes were cool enough to decorate. Taking the base, the chocolate beetroot, she first suck four wooden dowls in a square in the centre of the cake. This would support the weight of the cake above. Then she smothered the whole thing, and her hands, face and apron, in chocolate ganache. "Its ok, I'll lick that off later" she muttered to herself as she worked.

Next, she poked holes using a (clean) toothpick all over the top of the courgette lemon cake, and poured the sill-warm drizzle over the top. Lemony sugary syrup sank down into the cake, and ran over the edges to give a rustic look. She placed the courgette cake on top of the beetroot chocolate cake, and inserted another single wooden dowl into the middle of this cake to support the top layer.

Finally, she liberally applied buttercream to the top and sides of the carrot cake, placing it carefully on top of the courgette lemon cake, and then proudly placing her two little fondant hobbits on the top. There..a marriage of sweet and savoury, vegetables wedded to cake, a delicious combination!

6 sided die please
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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Eldûrien, cooking and being fabulous

What. The. Hell. Was. A. Wedding. Cake.

Never in all her years of living, had Eldûrien ever heard of anything so droll as a wedding cake. What was cake anyway? She became so flustered and annoyed, the elf nearly let something (or rather someone) out to go on a rampage. Of all the things to ask an elf! A Wedding Cake?! She stewed at her work station for several minutes while all around her the other contestant giggled with impish glee at their tasks. Sauron’s black earth! She entered this culinary contest because she thought it was a good way to build up a system of contacts, and have fun showing off how hot she could make her food. Neither of these two things were happening. She watched as the wizard somehow sat near her in the standings, despite having done no actual cooking. The gall of these elves! She bit down on one of the left over peppers from the lamb stew and grimaced. No wonder that judge had complained so much about the lack of flavor! This little green wimp had no heat to it. Sure it tasted alright, but if you’re someone who eats peppers for flavor, you’re already half insane. No. No. This would not due. Whatever this wedding cake monstrosity was going to end up being, she was damn sure it was going to have a lot of fire in it, metaphorically speaking of course, setting fire to the hall right now would not be conducive to her plans. Yet.

She continued to watch the other contestant go about their business, gathering up eggs, flour, milk, none of which made any sense to Eldûrien so she simply sat back and watched them go about it. It was the strangest thing she’d ever seen, and she’d once seen Frost hit on a tree. Baking was weird.

Bored, the elf began to poke about her work station, trying to find something to do to occupy her time. In the bottom drawer, underneath rolling pins and potato mashers, she found a book “Figwit’s Guide to Pancakes”. She wasn’t sure if this was promising or an invitation to disaster, but Eldûrien was irked and willing to try anything. She read the first chapter, a typical display of elven condescension, but it did giver her an idea. Were pancakes the same as cakes? Just made in a pan? The name was so simple and ridiculous there could be no other explanation. The second chapter, how many chapters were in this stupid book, was all about this Figwit’s love of pancakes, a treatise on the superiority of pancakes over other forms of cake. Hmmm, okay, this might be worth looking into. If a snooty, uppity elf can make such a bold claim, then why shouldn’t she give it a chance, if the judges complained she could point to the book that they left in her workstation.

With just over an hour left (the rest of the book was interesting leave Eldûrien alone) she gathered up her ingredients: flour, eggs, milk , butter, salt, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and her secret ingredient (the ground up seeds of three Lindon Reapers because she was going to make very sure the judges they were there).

In a large bowl she mixed the flour, brown sugar, salt, egg, and milk, whipping it frenziedly just the way the book told her to, until all the lumps were gone and the mixture was smooth. She melted the butter next, skimming off the top portion so only the clarified remains were poured into the pancake mix. She threw in the ground pepper seeds, cinnamon, and nutmeg next, whisking them all slowly in until the whole mixture was a blended. It smelled like cinnamon fire. She was pleased.

Following the directions from the book, she poured a large dollop of the mixture onto a seethingly hot pan. The mixture roiled and bubbled. She felt like she was a witch in one of the old stories. How delightful! With the same dexterity she had shown earlier with the knives, she used the spatula to flip the single, massive cake, letting it roil and bubble on the other side. She repeated the same process six times, until she had acquired a large enough stake of them to look suitable for a wedding, because she remembered half way through creating her dish that it was supposed to be a for a wedding.

Something was missing though. The pancakes smelled amazing, the nutmeg really accentuated the pepper and the cinnamon, but it lacked her flair. The clock was winding down though. If she didn’t think of something quickly she was going to have to forfeit this round and that would send her into a fit of rage. What to do! AHH! She looked frantically around at the other contestants but of course they had all gone for the lesser of the two cakes, gigantic monstrosities of sugar confection and flowers. Ugh! That was not going to help at all.

Ah! Oh wait. What was that now? She was glancing anxiously (not that she would ever show being anxious of course) when her eyes fell on an orange. A final idea popped into her head then. She grabbed the oranges and yes, yes! They were blood oranges. Perfect. She peeled half of them and quartered them, the other half she squeezed into a pan, added some sugar, and made a quick syrup with them. She poured the evil bloody looking syrup salaciously over the pancakes, then used the remaining blood orange slices to write out… what was she going to write out? Time! Time was almost up. Ah! Oh, that was an idea. She wrote out “WEDDING” with orange slices and ran the dish, dodging a few of her fellows along the way and placed the cake in front of them with a smirk.

“There you are. A wedding cake.”

OOC: another d6, por favor
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Tara flushed first with pride at the very reasonable amounts of praise from Silarien and Lindariel, then with irritation at her cookfire as Artanis bit into a gooey cookie. "Ooops!" she blurted. "I thought I spooned them all out the same size, but I suppose one never knows what's going to happen."

She shook her head as she returned to her station. Now they wanted her to make a wedding cake?! Who would ever expect a Ranger to turn up at a wedding at which they served cake?? No one, that's who. A wedding in the woods with some beef jerky for a quick snack? Sure. But never a proper wedding in a hall with a dress and a cake and fancy dancing. So how was she supposed to know what frilly things people liked on their cakes? The only true cake she'd seen in the last decade had been blue, bird-shaped, and full of tricks. Sighing, Tara walked to the table of ingredients. At the very least, she knew how to make cake, which she could not necessarily say for the elf she passed (Eldûrien) on her way.

She plucked a tray from the table for ease of carrying the metric fredegarton of ingredients she assumed she'd need. Flour, sugar, oil, eggs, cream, blah blah. All kinds of frivolous things that she rarely had occasion to eat. She also grabbed some things that would hopefully turn into lovely, sculptable frosting when she mixed them together well enough: more sugar, butter, heavy whipping cream, and vanilla extract. Her tray laden, she whisked back to her station. An egg rolled off the tray and burst on the kitchen floor with a splat. (She had grabbed an extra one in anticipation of just this moment.) Unsure of how to clean it up and panicking a little under the pressure, she decided to leave it there, shell and all.

Egg be damned! It was time now to focus on the cake itself. "Okay, if I were to get married," she mumbled, "What kind of cake would I want?" This seemed a bit of a silly question, for Tarawen was happiest in solitude (again, why she had entered contest after contest amid crowds of people, she had no idea). She settled on making something both grand and recognizable - perchance a winning combination, if she could pull it off. Into a large bowl went the flour, sugar, oil, cream, eggs (she made sure to crack them first). As she mixed, her forehead beaded with sweat both from the effort and the stress. Why had she decided it was a good idea to try cooking for elves?

Batter mixed, Tara raced to one end of the kitchen where she'd seen others retrieving supplies. She opened a cabinet door and lifted three cake tins from the shelf. Before she could react, a cascade of pots and lids slid out and fell with a CLANG to the ground. The pots bounced in all directions and Tara scrambled about to stop them bouncing around so she could put them back. She carefully replaced the items in the cabinet and backed away slowly, hands held up as if to pacify them. Her hip bumped a nearby counter and she winced, then turned and fled from the scene.

Back at her station with the necessary cake tins, she poured her batter in. The future cakes went straight to the oven. (She decided to use a real oven this time due to the disastrous not-cooked-through cookies of the previous round. The elves couldn't say she didn't learn from her mistakes, anyway.)

While she waited, Tara looked around nervously. The wizard Ducky was flourishing chocolate about, and others had crafted little sculptures and decor for theirs. She mixed together her frosting ingredients in a new bowl and soon found herself faced with quite a large quantity of white, fluffy stuff. She had absolutely no idea how the other wizard (Starbreeze) had molded figurines of hobbits, but she aimed to try something similar. Two figures for the two parties entering their union. And maybe some other elemental things as well. People liked flowers, right?

She began with the figures. As thick and pliable as the frosting was, it would not hold delicate shapes such as arms or legs. She molded a few spheres with her hands (deeply messy work) and stacked them. Where she had intended to have two humanoid figures, she now had . . . snowmen. They really could only be described as such. Tara's heart raced with panic. SNOWMEN?! Was this the best she could do?!?

Before she could think of a way to remedy this situation, it was time for her cakes to come out . . . She wiped her frosting-coated hands on her shirt and rushed to pull the cakes from the oven (putting frosting-covered hands into oven mitts not recommended). The large and small cakes had turned out fine, but her medium one was burned along the edges. Perhaps she could salvage it. She took each cake out of its tin, then unsheathed her dagger - old ranger habits die hard - to cut away the burned portions of the middle cake. As she picked it up to flip it over and cut away more burned edges, though, the cake crumbled in her hands. "Oh, Shire!" she swore.

Two cakes left and not a lot of time. She caaaarefullllllyyyy put the larger cake onto a massive plate, then perched the smaller one on top. Using mainly her hands in her haste, Tara next slathered the cakes with frosting. It was not quite the layered, Minas Tirith-inspired look she had intended. She had no time to be troubled by this, though. She was now faced with transporting her snowmen without accidentally beheading them. Slowly, she slid a spatula beneath one and then the other, placing them onto the smaller cake. With the remaining frosting, she made several small snowballs and what she thought might look like a snowflake or two. If you closed one eye and squinted, it kind of resembled two snowmen in a winter wonderland.

"Um, well," she began, as she placed her cake before the judges. There was nothing for it. Fake it till you make it and all that, and she'd have to do so with her monochromatic mess. "The scene, my ladies, is winter in Forochel! The occasion, a wedding of two great snowmen! They float away on an iceberg to a destination celebration - a snowball fight!" She licked the frosting that coated one hand while awaiting her marks.

OOC: 12 sided die please
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Elven Enchanter
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Artanis, judging.

The choice of baking and creating a wedding cake as one of the tasks was certainly an interesting one, Artanis thought. But, the impending success or failure of the creations would show some of the strengths and weaknesses of the contestants. At least this time the chances of dangerous flavours were greatly diminished, or so Artanis hoped. She supposed there was a little more control over a wedding cake, but the mix of different looking creations began to cause her to doubt. One by one, the bakers approached the table carrying their various desserts with them. Some of which looked much more appetizing than others. Of course, since they were all cakes this time, it was harder to settle on an order to taste the food in, so Artanis simply decided to choose a random order.


OOC: Artanis' taste results. All based on die rolls, as per usual!
@Fairy Nuff/Starbreeze: The choice of vegetable flavourings for a wedding cake surprised Artanis, but it looked alright. She took a small bite of each layer, her face growing more and more amazed. "I say, this is quite delightful! The vegetable flavours adds a unique touch and keeps it from being overly sweet, unlike many cakes."
Taste Score: 6/6

The elf @Veowyn brought forward yet another creation made with cinnamon. Knowing Veowyn's knack for integrating the ingredient into practically everything imaginable Artanis eagerly took a bite. But, it wasn't quite up to par as the previous cinnamon dish. "Tasty, but I think the cinnamon is a bit overpowering in this case."
Taste Score: 3/6

@Frostbite/Eldûrien came up to the judges' table with something that was decidedly not a traditional wedding cake. The physical presentation of the pancakes was a surprise, not to mention the decorative oranges that garnished the plate. Keeping an eye on the suspicious looking elf, Artanis carefully took a bite, but was greatly surprised by the flavour. It was perhaps a bit on the spicy side, but the combination of ordinary pancake, spicy pepper, and the orange syrup was unique to say the least. "An improvement from the previous round," Artanis said, after taking a long sip of water. "I think you may have found your niche."
Taste Score: 5/6

@KingODuckingham brought up another very questionable item, but at least this one looked mostly like food. Artanis tentatively reached out to take a bite of the interesting creation. As she bit down on the bite of the so-called cake, her face puckered up. The texture was all wrong, not to mention she had gotten a mouth full of breadcrumbs! "I'm afraid you mistook breadcrumbs for brown sugar," she told the wizard. "Apparently culinary skills are not quite your thing. Do you even know how to follow a recipe?"
Taste Score: -1/12 - You have activated the penalty!

The hobbit @Elarith/Viola approached the judges' table. It was evident that she was somewhat distressed after the events of the previous round. "I hope the alcohol is up to your taste," Artanis said with a smile when the cake was placed in front of them. "Did you use any of it in your baking?" She eyed the decorative use of two bottles on the top of the cake, which by now had certainly settled into the top layer. With her fork and carefully took a bite. She paused for a brief moment and coughed as she swallowed. "That certainly is an adventurous choice, though next time I would recommend measuring the alcohol content and perhaps not use quite so much."
Taste Score: 4/12

@Aethelu/Arphen brought forward a cake and announced it as a citrus cake, with each tier having a different flavour. "That sounds delicious," said Artanis, "I do love citrus." The cake itself looked very impressive with its fondant flowers. She took a small bite of one of the layers, and her eyes nearly popped out. "This is the best thing I've tasted yet today!"
Taste Score: 10/12

The next dish she tasted was @Silmarë(Tarawen): While the cake itself tastes alright, when you brought it up to present to the judges, one of your "snowmen" fell off the cake and splattered all over Artanis' apron. "Oh dear," sighed Artanis, looking down at her apron before trying a bite of the cake. While the cake itself looked alright (despite the fallen "snowman"), the flavour was a little off. "I'm afraid your cake is a bit burned and crumbly, but your presentation was excellent, despite the mishap at the end."
Taste Score: -1/12 - You have activated the penalty!

As @Aduchil approached the table, Artanis stifled a long sigh. Once again his ostentatious presentation was staring them in the face. It was a bit excessive to say the least, though the multi-tiered cake impressive to look at and somehow managed to stay upright. Artanis took her fork to sample the treat. She rolled the bite around in her mouth for a moment before saying, "A bit on the dry side. It would be tolerable dunked in a cup of tea."
Taste Score: 2/6

@Aerlinn approached the table rather nervously, likely due to the rather adventures results of the quiche. "It's quite alright," Artanis replied "that's one of the hazards of this job. But nothing can damage an elf's stomach for long." Aerlinn placed a plate of what appeared to be four large cookies stacked on top of each other, decorated with an assortment of chocolate chips shaped into a heart. Artanis took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "It's edible at any rate," she thought, and then said aloud, "Very creative use of materials and presentation. The flavour is a bit off, but nothing a strong cup of tea won't be able to fix."
Taste Score 4/12


After tasting all the dishes, and thankfully there were no major adverse reactions this time, Artanis stood up and said, "Once the other judges and our guest judge have shared their scores, I will announce the third task. Eliminations will begin during this round."
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Melkor
Melkor
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Ohtarien
Near an Adventurer's Job Board Somewhere

Ohtarien stood up on her tiptoes, trying once, trying twice and successfully grabbing the paper on the job board.


Job: Wedding Cake Tester Judge
Location: A Hidden Valley
Rewards: Free cake and (a reasonable amount of money)


She held the paper with bare hands, then frowned as she looked at the rest of the job advertisement


Preferred Race: Elf, or tall enough to look like one to grab this notice
Note: May have to get past maze
Requested Attire: Dress as a normal person in the Hidden Valley. Do not draw unnecessary attention


It was moreso the requested attire that irked her. She was an elf, after all. Neither was she worried about the maze; Ohtarien once served Imladris since the fall of Eregion, defended the region since its founding, conducted countless patrols killing countless enemies during the Siege of Imladris. She probably was one of the traps herself in that maze in the second age, and already knew of the secret bypass route that was a shortcut through it. She just needed to arrive at the correct times when the Sun or Moon was at certain places in the sky.

But even Ohtarien knew that her current attire, full plate armor with a two-handed sword at her back and a sword-and-a-half at her side, was not considered normal regular attire in the Hidden Valley. She did not know exactly why, moving in full armor was good training after all. Perhaps Ohtarien needed to ask Nariel about appropriate clothing. Yes, Nariel would know, though Ohtarien was not looking forward at the attempts of "dress-up."

She tilted her head at the side, squinting and trying to figure out the calligraphy on the rest of the note:


After contest, send report to.... Aelorco?


Ohtarien was unsure if that was how the name was supposed to be spelt. She had no idea who he was, to be honest. But the cake and the money was worth it, and gave her a good excuse to visit Imladris again. The rest of the note detailed the address she was supposed to send it to, along with a bunch of other unimportant details at this time. With that, Ohtarien signed her name with a bunch of squiggles, printing her name at the bottom. She then went off to let the job board person know about her intention to fulfill the request.

~~~

Imladris: The Great Elvish Culinary Contest
GUEST JUDGE: OHTARIEN

Her face greatly contrasted to what she looked like. For the entire duration of her entering as a judge Ohtarien had a permanent glower on her face. Her hair was braided like a waterfall to the middle of her back. Instead of her full plate armor, she wore a dark green dress with her favorite star embroidered in silver and light blue thread surrounding the waistline. Attached to her back was a broadsword. A long sparkling silver skirt would have billowed each time she took a footstep, though the sword-and-a-half attached at her side provided stability to half of the skirt. While a dark green sheer fabric covered her rounded shoulders and arms, barely concealing the visible proof of wiry muscles in her biceps and triceps. Attached to her head was a steel tiara studded with diamonds.

Ohtarien hated all of her attire, for reasons that she would not like to think about right now, but she could not refuse the delighted gleam in her sister's eyes.

Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, she missed the process of how the various contestants baked their wedding cakes. Ohtarien; veteran of the Fall of Gondolin, the assault on Sirion, the Sack of Eregion, the Siege of Imladris, the Last Alliance, and the whole Angmar conflict; chose to... practice her stealth for the hours of their preparation. Now, she appeared before the contestants and the judges, eyes focused on the floor.

"Let's get this over with," Ohtarien said in a resigned tone, glaring at any who stared at her, "I'm Ohtarien, I don't know or remember any of you. I'm the guest judge and will judge your cake. If you stare, I'll slash your points like I did to countless other enemies. Don't test me."

With that she pulled out a large cake spatula that she nabbed from the kitchens, throwing it in the air ahead of her as she calmly walked a few steps, then catching it as it flew straight into her outstretched hand without even batting an eye.

GUEST JUDGE OHTARIEN WILL NOT BE SCORING BASED ON DIE. SHE WILL JUDGE YOUR CAKE OUT OF FIVE.


@Aduchil Ohtarien spent a few seconds merely staring at the 10-inch tower, her glower slightly receding. Then she looked up, slightly leaning her head back as she looked at Aduchil's face, furrowing her brow.

"You seem... familiar. My father talked about this place. This tower of Tirion. My grandmother hated this thing, though." With that, she veered her eyes towards the four spoons. She raised one of her brows, then lightly poked her spatula at around the 8 inch mark of the cake.

"Baked how long?" muttered Ohtarien. She then, with her other hand, grabbed the marzipan lantern, plucking it from the ceiling, and promptly ate it.

As she chewed, she placed her free hand on top of the cake, then with a few swift calculated thrusts from the spatula with the other, she began the process of eating part of the tower. By the end of her tasting she effectively decapitated it, removing two inches, so that now the shortened ceiling revealed all of the manifold layers composing the wedding cake.

"5" Ohtarien said, her face with a thoughtful expression slightly covered in the potpourri of flavors within the cake. She then moved on to the next cake...


@Aethelu

Ohtarien looked at the elf (Arphen) who clearly was fatigued.

"Tired over a cake?" Ohtarien scoffed, "Nariel would outlast you easily in endurance. Be thankful for the maze that guards our borders."

With that, Ohtarien looked at the three-tiered cake of orange, lemon, and lime. She took a small slice using his spatula of each tier. Ohtarien silently chewed, eating each cake slice as she looked again at Arphen.

"4. If you were not fatigued, you would have gotten a 5."


@Elarith

Ohtarien liked hobbits; they noticed how tall she was. So Ohtarien was not glowering as she approached the cream-covered cake.

"A gift?" Ohtarien asked as she plucked one of the bottles from the top of the cake. She then inspected it, frowning, "no Dorwinion wine...."

She audibly sighed, looking now, recognizing that the wedding cake did not look like a prototypical one, not particularly "refined." Fine by her.

Using her spatula, she sliced a piece of the cake, eating the slice.

Soon afterwards she took another slice. And another slice.... And another slice.... and another slice.

Ohtarien only stopped eating it a third of the way through, realizing that maybe she should save some of the alcoholic cake for the other judges.

"Your spirits' cake tastes good, hobbit," Ohtarien told Viola, "but where is the Dorwinion wine? 4."


@Veowyn

Ohtarien glared at Veowyn's wedding cake, particularly at the two hearts and the two rings.

"This is a Nariel cake. It best not taste like one though," Ohtarien muttered, accepting the suggestion to eat part of the middle cake. With that, Ohtarien tasted all the flavors of the... something... the other something... and the brown something that she thought was going to taste worse.

"4. Try using swords or spears in place of those hearts."


@Aerlinn

Ohtarien looked at the wolfhound Yávië with her eyes softly narrowed, a wistful expression on her face as she quickly looked around herself, blinking rapidly. Then she focused her gaze on the... "wedding cake." Using her spatula she took a "slice" out of each layer, each season. After Ohtarien ate her portion, she looked at Aerlinn

"Do I know you? You get a 3. I was expecting cake. Nariel at least makes cake and not cookies when she makes cake. Next time, put a mini-wolfhound on top of your cookies."


@KingODuckingham

Ohtarien looked quizzically at the sideways 8.

"...What is this again?" Ohtarien asked Ducky, still confused over what exactly the word 'infinity' meant, "whatever, I'll just eat it."

With that, Ohtarien took a slice of the cake, chewing and eating it. She tilted her head, as if in deep thought.

"I think I understand now, 4 for your thinking. Tastes weird though, like a crusty book. Nariel would make a better cake."


@Fairy Nuff

Ohtarien paused as she looked at the cake covered in a mixture of brown creamy-like thing and a yellow drizzle. Atop were two hobbits. Her eyes twitched, wondering if she was being mocked for being an adventurer as well as not being tall.

"If this taste as it looks, you best run... you" Ohtarien told Starbreeze, unsure of the latter's name.

With that, Ohtarien stabbed her metal spatula into each layer, taking irregular shaped pieces out of each. She left the hobbits on top alone. Ohtarien then promptly chewed each slice, glaring at Starbreeze throughout the entire process.

"5," Ohtarien muttered as she moved on to the next cake.


@Frostbite

Ohtarien merely blinked at Eldûrien, shifting her eyes repeatedly at the pancakes and the other elf.

Ohtarien at last shrugged, slamming her spatula down twice through the 6 pancakes to get one section of the entire 'wedding cake.' Stabbing at all 6 'layers,' of the piece, she chewed and swallowed the 'dessert.'

"3. Not a wedding cake. I'd eat this in the morning though."


@Silmarë

Her eyes widened as she saw the snowmen on top. Ohtarien smiled, but then the smiled quickly was covered up with a frown as she coughed a few times. Even though one of the snowmen fell off, Ohtarien still had eyes that gleamed in the sun triumphantly.

"As I thought, the snowmen of Forochel are snowmen! 5!" Ohtarien stated triumphantly. Then she promptly ate a small piece of the cake, nodding her head in confirmation of the score without really taking the time to ponder exactly how it tasted.

~~~

When she was done, Ohtarien patted her stomach, having enjoyed her fill, but wondering if she could eat just a bit more cake. Her smile turned into a scowl as she remembered where she was and just what she was wearing. She continued glaring at anyone who was staring, then walked somewhere away, sitting on a chair, scribbling away at a piece of parchment to create her report.

Arien
Arien
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Silarien, judging


The very air was rich with fragrance, redolent of spices and warm dough. And it was warm, with the ovens roaring away and the baking coals glowing fiercely. Silarien had asked for the great doors to be thrown open, so a breeze wafted through, carrying the scent of cake right the way through Rivendell, but it was still getting hot. She was fanning herself ineffectually with a fish slice when Åduchil appeared suddenly in front of her and cleaned her face of soot. Too surprised to thank him, Silarien at least blessed the coolness of the wet cloth.

It seemed their guest judge had arrived! Silarien had put out an advert for someone experienced in wedding business, or hoping to be married soon, and had received a very peculiar response from an “Aelorco”, but the elf who strode in looked surely nothing like an Aelorco. She was dressed incredibly, at any rate. Silarien had just opened her mouth to greet Ohtarien after her introduction but it was too late - the guest judge was tearing through the assembled cakes at an incredible speed. Both metaphorically and literally.

“Er... right,” said Silarien vaguely, after Ohtarien’s Lightning-fast breakdown of her thoughts (and the cakes). “Best get to it...”

Your Dice Scores!
Starbreeze/Fairy Nuff: The cakes are wonderfully moist, but not to Silarien’s liking.
1/6

Veowyn: Silarien likes the cinnamon, but not the vanilla or chocolate!
2/6

Eldûrien/Frostbite: Silarien is confused, she likes pancakes but not as wedding cake.
2/6

Ducky: Silarien doesn’t hate it, but she doesn’t love it. Mediocre, as only marriage can be.
2/6

Aerlinn: Oh No! Silarien has somehow found a FLY instead of a chocolate chip in your cookie! How could this happen?! You’ve activated the penalty!
-5/12

Viola/Elarith: Is this a singed toe hair that Silarien’s just found stuck in her slice? Ew. You’ve activated the penalty!
-3/12

Arphen/Aethelu: Silarien loves the citrus! Zingy and refreshing, just what you need for a wedding.
8/12

Tarawen: Still a bit too crumbly. Part of the snowmen are disintegrating as Silarien’s staring at them. Not a good omen for marriage. You activated the penalty!
-1/12

Aduchil: With so many flavours on the plate, you’d think the palate would be muddled. Fortunately, Silarien’s into it.
5/6
cave anserem
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New Soul
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Lindariel, judging

There were cakes, and then there were ... a variety of things that were not cake. It seemed the contestants had truly taken to heart their requests for creativity. Lindariel was re-evaluating her previous feedback with that in mind, now that she was in fact faced with the prospect of eating some of these creative attempts at wedding cakes. However, at least some of them did also smell delicious, which was encouraging. Hopefully it would all balance itself out ...


@Fairy Nuff/ Starbreeze - "These layers are delicious! And they complement each other so well - very well done indeed. Such a good use of vegetables, and the decoration is lovely too."
6/6

@Veowyn - "This is very intricate work inside - and it tastes good too. The exterior decoration could use a bit more polish, but I'm impressed."
4/6

@Frostbite/Eldurien - "Well, this is certainly not cake, and I was prepared to be very disappointed. But actually they taste very good. There is a little bit of spice, but not too much, and the sweetness from the oranges is a welcome counterpart."
4/6

@KingODuckingham - It looked a sight, but it tasted divine. She was astonished. "This is a good example of why judging on appearances would be a dreadful idea. It is a mess, but it tastes absolutely delightful. I'm honestly not sure how you've done it, but well done!"
12/12

@Aerlinn - "I'm not sure they're cake. But they are amazing, and I want your recipes for these, because I might just have to try making some myself."
12/12

@Elarith/Viola - "Oh my. I'm very sorry Viola, but this is much too much alcohol for my taste. And the cake itself seems to be burnt somehow - there's a rather unpleasant aftertaste, I'm afraid."
-5/12 (you have activated the penalty!)

@Aethelu/Arphen - "Classic, good choice of flavours, well executed. You've been remarkably consistent thus far; good work!"
4/12

@Silmarë/Tarawen - She really wasn't sure if she and her fellow judges were tasting the same cake. It was a bit rustic, perhaps, in the design, but the slice Lindariel had was tasty! "I must disagree with my fellow judges; this slice, at any rate, is delicious, and the frosting is superb. And I think you recovered well from the difficulties you had in the process."
10/12

@Aduchil - "This is nice enough. I am not wowed by it this time, I'm afraid, but it's a solid effort. A classic combination, and you've done a good job."
3/6


Round 2 - table of scores
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She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
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Artanis

After the scores for the second round were announced, Artanis found herself doing some quick scribbling of numbers across one of the pieces of parchment, totalling up the scores from the first and second rounds. After determining that her numbers were correct, she stood up.

"Thank you all for your delicious wedding cakes. I have a feeling that some of you may be requested to bake one of your creations for a wedding in the near future, but that is all I am permitted to say. And now, I would like to announce our third task. But before I do, I would like to remind you that after the scores from round three have been totaled, whichever contestant (or two if we're feeling particularly vicious) that is in last place will be eliminated from the contest. So, make this round count!

For our third round, we have chosen three ingredients that must feature in your dish. You are permitted to use other items, but these three must be prominent ingredients, no using just a pinch. The three required ingredients are honey, kale, and bacon. We look forward to seeing your creations. You have three hours to do your work."

Cumulative Scores So Far
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OOC: Round 3 will finish in ~72 hours.

Edit: Math in the cumulative table was a bit messed up. Thank you Alma for pointing out my clerical errors.
Last edited by Dimcairien Luiniel on Sun Jul 26, 2020 4:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Istari Steward
Points: 2 032 
Posts: 1089
Joined: Thu May 21, 2020 3:10 pm
Entirely OOC: @Silarien I'm sorry only to pop in and notice this after the scores have been tallied, but you rated 2/6 on a dice roll. Now that may be a sort of clerical error where you meant to write 2/12 but if it's not and you rolled a six sided die I believe I must request a re-roll because I signed up for a 12 sided die so hit me with that -11 if you need to.

New Soul
Points: 799 
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Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:26 am
OOC: @KingODuckingham I rolled the dice for this round, so can verify it was indeed 2 on a 12-sided die originally! So no need to worry about a -11 ..at least not this time. :lol:
She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
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Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Also OOC: I think maybe a couple people's scores (like mine) in the most recent table do not include round 1 points, unless I'm doing math very poorly?
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
OOC: All math should be correct by now, but if you think something doesn't look right, by all means hit me up, either in an OOC comment here or send a message my way on Discord. Math isn't my strong suite, and doing math at midnight is even worse. There were quite a few negative numbers, so that might explain why some totals look on the lower end.
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

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