Eldûrien, in the Final Stages
That could have gone better. It could have gone worse too, no, no that was a lie, it could not have gone worse. That was the biggest disaster Eldûrien had unintentionally been a part of. She blamed the kitchen aides that were supposed to de needle the cactus fruits, she blamed the wizard for being so freaking weird, and she blamed herself for coming up with such foolish ingredients. Cactus, skirt steak, and olives? What was she thinking? She was lucky to still be in the competition at all. She also blamed the judges, it was naturally, their fault for the whole fiasco. If any of the three had had any semblance of taste and adventure she would be so far up the leaderboard that no one could catch her. Ugh! Figwit save us! If she didn’t meet this magical iconoclast of the kitchen, she was going to be sorely disappointed. He would probably disdain this contest though, the elves running it seemed to be focused on mediocrity and blandness and he was all about shaking things up. If he were a judge, she was certain beyond any reasonable doubt that she would be at the top of the leaderboard rather than the bottom. He, at least, would appreciate her attempts at expanding the palates of his fellow elves. Eldûrien had never admired anyone (beyond herself of course) but this Figwit was something special. He was different. He was a role model.
Now, with the final stage of the competition upon her, she needed to think. What would Figwit do? With Lord Elrond appearing (supposedly), the pressure was on. Well it wasn’t for her, she didn’t feel the need to impress some ancient, stuffy headed, aristocrat with dead taste buds, but everyone else seemed in a tizzy over it. If only Figwit were here to judge. If only…
Dammit woman focus!
A three course meal. That was easy. She could do that. Briefly, she thought about making a safe, unequivocally dull meal like steak and potatoes but that was too easy. She was going to do something to make them remember her.
Her first course would be menudo, a soup dish that would be easy to make (and make spicy), her second would be Lengua en Salsa (with a joke about swallowing their tongues), and finally, she’d wow them with flan as a dessert.
“Hey!” she shouted at the kitchen aide nearest her. Of course it would be that same gormless nobody that she’d threatened with heart extraction a day earlier. “Get me tripe, the good kind. I don’t want tripe from some weak cow thing that couldn’t stand, and veal knuckle. And get me tongue! And don’t make me threaten you!”
She waggled a finger threateningly at him. He blanched and raced off out of sight. She smiled smugly; it was nice to know she could still be intimidating to these puerile sycophants.
While the aides were off getting her organ meats, she collected all the extra ingredients she would need. It took two trips get it all (she very glad none of her Umbar associates saw her trying to carry everything balanced like a circus performer) but with her table laden with spices, herbs, veggies, and grains, she could get to work.
First was the stock for the menudo. She still had the order for the lamb stock and used that instead of water. She threw in herbs and veggies: coriander, cumin, red and black pepper flake, pink peppercorns, oregano, garlic, onions, hominy, and lemon wedges and let the mixture simmer until the aide brought her the tripe and veal knuckle. She trimmed the organ meat quickly, chopped it up into cubes, and threw it in. The whole thing smelled amazing. The meat was melding perfectly with the spices. It made her nose itch, which meant it was just spicy enough. She fished the veal knuckle out, which she had thrown in the soup whole, cut the meat off the bone and threw the meat back in. Now it just needed to simmer until it was ready to serve.
Eldûrien then began the main course: Lengua en Salsa. She knew how to make it… in theory. She’d never actually made the dish before but had seen the recipe written out before and had eaten it enough to know what it was supposed to taste. Go big or go home, that’s what Figwit would say (she assumed).
She washed the tongue in cold water, trimmed it, and placed it in a large black pot with lamb stock, onions, garlic, pink peppercorns, and a bay leaf. She covered the pot and let the mixture simmer alongside the menudo. It was time to start on the dessert.
Flan. Such an easy word to say and such an easy thing to eat. Not such a simple thing to make. She fired the wood burning stove up and let it warm up before she began her collection of ingredients. She melted down sugar in a sauce pan until it was golden brown in color and poured it into a baking dish. Next she mixed eggs, condensed and evaporated milk (how in Middle-Earth she did that is just a Jorgian mystery) and vanilla. She poured that into the baking dish on top of the melted sugar, covered the whole thing in another, larger baking dish, and tossed it in the oven to bake for an hour.
The menudo was done first. She poured the soup into large, fancy bowls and set it aside.
Next, the tongue was done. She trimmed the skin off the tongue, sliced it into cubes and then began working on the salsa. She began sautéing onions, peppers, garlic, tomatoes, and raisins while setting rice to cook as well. When it was all finished, she spooned out the rice, placed the tongue on top with the salsa mixture on the side.
Finally, the flan was ready. Or at least it was in theory. Again, flan was not an easy dish to make, mostly because getting it out of the bloody baking dish was a nightmare. It required a delicate touch which Eldûrien possessed (despite having never made the dish sober). She flipped the baking dish onto a serving platter and, with lace delicate vibrations, pulled the baking dish up off the platter. Perfect!
It was all done now. It was up to the judges now. “Salud, amor, y dinero. ¡Y tiempo para gastarlo!” She placed the dished down at the table with a final bit of flourish. She nearly walked away before she realized she had one more thing to say. “Don’t swallow your tongues now, I’m sure you still have a few uses for them.”
OOC: Gimme a d6!
The Great Elvish Culinary Contest: Ån RP Game
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Balrog
Posts: 3682
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
"We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes have yet to open... Fear the Old Blood..."
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Black Númenórean
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Three courses?! It had been enough to collaborate with someone to make TWO courses, but THREE?! Tara shook her head incredulously at the audacity of these elves. Such fanciness! Such pretension! Where would it end? Oh, right, this was the final round. Tara weighed her options. She could either try really really hard or somehow subvert the fanciness with simplicity. She chose the latter.
She wandered to the great kitchen's pantry in search of a few things for her plan. Upon opening the door, Tara jumped back in surprise. Aerlinn the elf was sitting in here already, but with the doors soundly shut and worry written on her face.
"Hi there," Tara began. "Um, is it okay for me to come in? I need some things." Before the elf could reply, she stepped forward and rummaged on a shelf in the hope that the elves had stored some encased meats within. She found the block of cheese from which Aerlinn had taken a chunk, some day-old bread, a withered pepper that seemed to have been forgotten, and, aha! the sausages she'd been looking for.
"Excellent!" she exclaimed. These would do perfectly; she'd show these elves how casual a three-course summer meal could truly be. She cut three of the beef links away, stepping over Aerlinn's outstretched legs so as not to trip.
"My apologies for intruding!" she said as she stepped out of the pantry. "I'm glad to see our canine friends are getting along, though. Well, um, see you later?" She closed the pantry door almost all the way, thinking that Aerlinn probably wanted some privacy but might not appreciate having the door shut in her face.
From the ingredient table, Tara fetched the fixings for some bread: milk, water, butter, flour, yeast, sugar, salt, poppy seeds, and an egg. She also brought back two plain (NOT PURPLE) potatoes, a large quantity of oil, tomatoes, an onion, mustard, pickles, sweet pickle relish, celery salt, and some pickled sport peppers. Her tray was truly laden for this round. (The combination may seem a little random and weird, but as this was to be a particular kind of casual meal, one can rest assured that she did indeed get the exact right things.) Oh, and for the third course . . . ingredients for something delightful and sweet.
First, in a twist, she'd make the last course! Flour, baking soda, salt, butter, sugar (both white and brown), vanilla extract, some eggs, and chocolate drops all mixed into a bowl. She had had a bad time of it with the ranger cookies being uneven, so once the dough was properly mixed, she stuck a baking sheet of cookies into an oven rather than use a simple cookfire.
Next, the chips! She tossed the potatoes (peeled and finely chopped, of course) into a bowl with water and salt. Mmm, savory chips. She drained and rinsed them after a while and fried them up in a deep pot of hot oil. She was proud of herself for not splattering herself or any other competitors with the scalding stuff. She tasted one golden brown chip as it emerged from frying, smiling with pleasure. The chips sat on a towel to rid the excess oil while she next moved onto . . .
. . . the buns! Oh, but wait! The cookies needed to come out of the oven now! Oven mitts on (and still a bit sticky from yesterday's snowmen), she removed them - golden brown at the edges but not too overdone. Ah, well. Better than underdone like her last attempt.
Anyway, whatever. Cookies were the least of her troubles. The buns, the buns!! Water, milk, and butter went into a pan to heat until the butter melted down. A small amount of flour, yeast, sugar, and salt went into a bowl, and she slowly added in the lactose-heavy liquid. Carefully, carefully she added the rest of the flour a bit at a time and mixed well.
She had only ever watched her mother make bread, and the details of those memories were long gone in the sands of time, so she was going to have to improvise a little bit when it came to the kneading. She pictured the smacking she'd like to give whoever had devised that cunning maze outside of Imladris as she pummeled the dough into form.
After several minutes of venting her frustration at the maze, her arms ached and her ire had run out. It was time to shape the buns. She divided the dough and molded them into long rectangles, then sat them on a baking sheet slick with butter. Each was sprinkled with a healthy number of poppy seeds for good measure. The dough then went into the oven to transform into baked bread.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before moving on to the toppings and sausages themselves. Sliced tomatoes? Check. Diced onions? Check. Sweet pickle relish? (Why yes, it was conveniently pre-made!) Check. Sport peppers? (Also conveniently pre-pickled, shhh.) Check. Mustard? Check. Celery salt? Check.
Now it was time for the franks to fry. She oiled another pan (none crashed down from that cabinet on her this time, thank you very much) and plopped in the sausages. They were sizzling in no time. "Mmmmm," she murmured, not noticing how much she'd begun to salivate as their aroma rose into her face. Tarawen was lucky to catch the small bit of drool that began to leak from her mouth before it hit any of her food. "Oh dear," she mumbled, and ran off to wash her hands while the sausages finished up.
When all was said and done, she presented to the judges a bowl of chips, three sausages (or hot dogs, as she'd decided to call them in honor of the canines running around the steamy kitchen) each wrapped in a poppyseed bun and topped with all the fixings for a proper (Chicago-style) feast, and some chocolate chip cookies for dessert. A bit specific and oddly casual, yes. Oh well. It was the last round anyway, so really, what could go wrong?
. . . Um, well. The answer to this had eight legs, two heads, two tails, lots of fur, and a general air of combined mischief. Yávië had gathered quite the arsenal of training equipment to show the wolf, who watched with solemn amber eyes as the dog dragged random items into a back corner of the kitchen. "We train like this," the wolfhound had said, shaking a pelt.
"In the wild, we call that killing our prey. We shake them to break their necks. We eat the flesh and leave the pelts." The wolf was not impressed. Yávië tried again. He picked up a stick and cantered proudly with it around the kitchen. The wolf cocked his head. "We do not chew on sticks. We gnaw the stripped bones of our kills. Anything else?"
Yávië was a bit perplexed but did not give up. The wolf had to give the hound credit for trying to show him the ways of people-pleasers. The ancient dogs had done what they needed to get by, after all. And now the wolf, in following Tarawen around, was imitating their forebears without fully realizing it.
The wolfhound next seized a heavy sack and dragged it forward. What was that falling out of it? White sand? The wolf sniffed the air and smelled something sweet. This was most unlike anything he had experienced before. He padded over to the trail and gave it another sniff, then a lick. His great eyes grew wide and his tail wagged fiercely.
"You did not say training involved such sweetness, dog," he howled. "This is good. I must have more." With the enthusiasm of a young pup at play, he leapt into the air (borne no doubt on a sugar high) and pounced on the sack. The rip from which sugar had been leaking expanded and a jet of granules exploded into the air, raining pure sweet goodness down on a flourishing elf (Aduchil) and his steaks and bowls of soup. The wolf paid this potentially unfortunate event no mind, however. He was too busy eagerly licking the floor clean of sugar.
OOC: 6 sided die and sabotage Chilly. And minor godmoding of Yávië done with Linny's permission.
She wandered to the great kitchen's pantry in search of a few things for her plan. Upon opening the door, Tara jumped back in surprise. Aerlinn the elf was sitting in here already, but with the doors soundly shut and worry written on her face.
"Hi there," Tara began. "Um, is it okay for me to come in? I need some things." Before the elf could reply, she stepped forward and rummaged on a shelf in the hope that the elves had stored some encased meats within. She found the block of cheese from which Aerlinn had taken a chunk, some day-old bread, a withered pepper that seemed to have been forgotten, and, aha! the sausages she'd been looking for.
"Excellent!" she exclaimed. These would do perfectly; she'd show these elves how casual a three-course summer meal could truly be. She cut three of the beef links away, stepping over Aerlinn's outstretched legs so as not to trip.
"My apologies for intruding!" she said as she stepped out of the pantry. "I'm glad to see our canine friends are getting along, though. Well, um, see you later?" She closed the pantry door almost all the way, thinking that Aerlinn probably wanted some privacy but might not appreciate having the door shut in her face.
From the ingredient table, Tara fetched the fixings for some bread: milk, water, butter, flour, yeast, sugar, salt, poppy seeds, and an egg. She also brought back two plain (NOT PURPLE) potatoes, a large quantity of oil, tomatoes, an onion, mustard, pickles, sweet pickle relish, celery salt, and some pickled sport peppers. Her tray was truly laden for this round. (The combination may seem a little random and weird, but as this was to be a particular kind of casual meal, one can rest assured that she did indeed get the exact right things.) Oh, and for the third course . . . ingredients for something delightful and sweet.
First, in a twist, she'd make the last course! Flour, baking soda, salt, butter, sugar (both white and brown), vanilla extract, some eggs, and chocolate drops all mixed into a bowl. She had had a bad time of it with the ranger cookies being uneven, so once the dough was properly mixed, she stuck a baking sheet of cookies into an oven rather than use a simple cookfire.
Next, the chips! She tossed the potatoes (peeled and finely chopped, of course) into a bowl with water and salt. Mmm, savory chips. She drained and rinsed them after a while and fried them up in a deep pot of hot oil. She was proud of herself for not splattering herself or any other competitors with the scalding stuff. She tasted one golden brown chip as it emerged from frying, smiling with pleasure. The chips sat on a towel to rid the excess oil while she next moved onto . . .
. . . the buns! Oh, but wait! The cookies needed to come out of the oven now! Oven mitts on (and still a bit sticky from yesterday's snowmen), she removed them - golden brown at the edges but not too overdone. Ah, well. Better than underdone like her last attempt.
Anyway, whatever. Cookies were the least of her troubles. The buns, the buns!! Water, milk, and butter went into a pan to heat until the butter melted down. A small amount of flour, yeast, sugar, and salt went into a bowl, and she slowly added in the lactose-heavy liquid. Carefully, carefully she added the rest of the flour a bit at a time and mixed well.
She had only ever watched her mother make bread, and the details of those memories were long gone in the sands of time, so she was going to have to improvise a little bit when it came to the kneading. She pictured the smacking she'd like to give whoever had devised that cunning maze outside of Imladris as she pummeled the dough into form.
After several minutes of venting her frustration at the maze, her arms ached and her ire had run out. It was time to shape the buns. She divided the dough and molded them into long rectangles, then sat them on a baking sheet slick with butter. Each was sprinkled with a healthy number of poppy seeds for good measure. The dough then went into the oven to transform into baked bread.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before moving on to the toppings and sausages themselves. Sliced tomatoes? Check. Diced onions? Check. Sweet pickle relish? (Why yes, it was conveniently pre-made!) Check. Sport peppers? (Also conveniently pre-pickled, shhh.) Check. Mustard? Check. Celery salt? Check.
Now it was time for the franks to fry. She oiled another pan (none crashed down from that cabinet on her this time, thank you very much) and plopped in the sausages. They were sizzling in no time. "Mmmmm," she murmured, not noticing how much she'd begun to salivate as their aroma rose into her face. Tarawen was lucky to catch the small bit of drool that began to leak from her mouth before it hit any of her food. "Oh dear," she mumbled, and ran off to wash her hands while the sausages finished up.
When all was said and done, she presented to the judges a bowl of chips, three sausages (or hot dogs, as she'd decided to call them in honor of the canines running around the steamy kitchen) each wrapped in a poppyseed bun and topped with all the fixings for a proper (Chicago-style) feast, and some chocolate chip cookies for dessert. A bit specific and oddly casual, yes. Oh well. It was the last round anyway, so really, what could go wrong?
. . . Um, well. The answer to this had eight legs, two heads, two tails, lots of fur, and a general air of combined mischief. Yávië had gathered quite the arsenal of training equipment to show the wolf, who watched with solemn amber eyes as the dog dragged random items into a back corner of the kitchen. "We train like this," the wolfhound had said, shaking a pelt.
"In the wild, we call that killing our prey. We shake them to break their necks. We eat the flesh and leave the pelts." The wolf was not impressed. Yávië tried again. He picked up a stick and cantered proudly with it around the kitchen. The wolf cocked his head. "We do not chew on sticks. We gnaw the stripped bones of our kills. Anything else?"
Yávië was a bit perplexed but did not give up. The wolf had to give the hound credit for trying to show him the ways of people-pleasers. The ancient dogs had done what they needed to get by, after all. And now the wolf, in following Tarawen around, was imitating their forebears without fully realizing it.
The wolfhound next seized a heavy sack and dragged it forward. What was that falling out of it? White sand? The wolf sniffed the air and smelled something sweet. This was most unlike anything he had experienced before. He padded over to the trail and gave it another sniff, then a lick. His great eyes grew wide and his tail wagged fiercely.
"You did not say training involved such sweetness, dog," he howled. "This is good. I must have more." With the enthusiasm of a young pup at play, he leapt into the air (borne no doubt on a sugar high) and pounced on the sack. The rip from which sugar had been leaking expanded and a jet of granules exploded into the air, raining pure sweet goodness down on a flourishing elf (Aduchil) and his steaks and bowls of soup. The wolf paid this potentially unfortunate event no mind, however. He was too busy eagerly licking the floor clean of sugar.
OOC: 6 sided die and sabotage Chilly. And minor godmoding of Yávië done with Linny's permission.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.
- Points: 1 089
Bard of Imladris
Posts: 682
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:38 am
"Hmmm, wha?" Aerlinn started blearily as someone entered the pantry, but the ranger seemed to be harmless enough. If a wolf was willing to trot around Imladris with the woman, who was she to gainsay her? "Oh, is that where Yávië has gotten to? Yes, very good. We'll have to..." she yawned hugely, "...get them together again later. Hunting or...something..."
The ranger left and Aerlinn tilted her head back against the wall. Surely battling a surprise army of trolls had been less exhausting than all of this cooking. She supposed she should be relieved they didn't have to feed an army of trolls. Her heavy eyelids fluttered and fell...open.
She dreamed of curry.
...Cubes of beef were sizzling with butter--why did the butter seem especially important? she couldn't put her finger on it--in a large pot that she stirred in between chopping onions, carrots, potatoes, and garlic. She minced an apple and a stick of celery and grated a bit of ginger. From a number of small jars to her right came the enticing fragrances of coriander and cumin, cardamon and cloves. Her eyes had been watering outrageously since the onions.
This and that began to find its way into the pot. Onions, check. Garlic, check. Apple bits, check. Some flour, some red wine, a lot more red wine, turmeric and fennel. A spoonful of tomato paste hit the wine with a splash and splattered tiny red droplets all over her clothes. A dash of sugar, a pour of soy sauce, and it was all simmering away beautifully.
Then she was carrying her dish up to the judges' table where Yávië and the wolf sat in long formal robes with circlets of silver on their heads. "I do hope she hasn't overcooked the bacon," one of them muttered out of the side of his mouth.
"Bacon?" Aerlinn looked down and found that she was holding a platter of thick-sliced bacon. Her lovely curry was still in the pot at her workstation and the other judges had gathered around and were staring at it curiously. "Smells good," she heard one of them say, "but looks a bit like mud..."
"It's not mud! she snapped indignantly and sat up abruptly. Her head hit the lowest shelf with a eye-watering crack and she came fully awake. There were voices coming from outside the pantry now. One of them spoke a strange language but the others...were they presenting food to the judges?
"OOOOOOOOH NO!" she wailed, it couldn't be time already! Had she really fallen asleep? Unheard of! She hadn't taken a nap in at least a thousand years, arrrrrgh!
The panicking elf swept everything she could reach on the nearest shelf into her outer tunic and stumbled out of the pantry with all the dignity of a punch-drunk dwarf. A bottle of something oily spilled down her front. She dumped it all at her workstation and frantically tore into the paper wrapping and various bags.
Eventually, she had something like this--one plate of cheese and crackers that contained an unfortunate amount of overly-pungent gorgonzola, one bowl of orangey-red soup that had come out of a strange can marked "Campbell's," and a small basket of strawberries. In a flash of inspiration--too little, far too late--she smashed the remains of her bucket of ice with a rolling pin and swept it all into a towering pile on the closest available dish. She sliced the strawberries with a speed that would have impressed a Gondolindrim arms master and slid them on top of the crushed ice. She would call it...shaved ice? No, weird name that. A snow cone? Nah, a...a strawberry snow mountain!
~~~
Meanwhile...
Yávië barked in happy surprise as the stolid wolf leapt suddenly into the air, howling in delight. "Yes! Yes! Exactly! That is training, isn't it wonderful?" He sampled a bit of the sugar himself and bounded around eagerly. "The thrill of the hunt! The rush of battle!" He butted his head happily against the wolf's, his tongue lolling out in a big doggy grin and his tail wagging madly.
Unnoticed to all, that same wildly wagging tail knocked against a pepper grinder, which rolled down the table into a precariously balanced ladle, that skittered into a bottle of Elrond's Best Super Extra Tremendously Hot Chili Oil, that tottered and tipped over ever so precisely onto Arphen's yakisoba.
Aerlinn dug in her things and produced an emergency flask of apple whiskey. She took a long pull and offered it to Aduchil who was covered in sugar. "Erm, sorry about that. Drink?"
OOC: 12 sided die to the death and sabotage Arphen/Aethelu (sorry!)
The ranger left and Aerlinn tilted her head back against the wall. Surely battling a surprise army of trolls had been less exhausting than all of this cooking. She supposed she should be relieved they didn't have to feed an army of trolls. Her heavy eyelids fluttered and fell...open.
She dreamed of curry.
...Cubes of beef were sizzling with butter--why did the butter seem especially important? she couldn't put her finger on it--in a large pot that she stirred in between chopping onions, carrots, potatoes, and garlic. She minced an apple and a stick of celery and grated a bit of ginger. From a number of small jars to her right came the enticing fragrances of coriander and cumin, cardamon and cloves. Her eyes had been watering outrageously since the onions.
This and that began to find its way into the pot. Onions, check. Garlic, check. Apple bits, check. Some flour, some red wine, a lot more red wine, turmeric and fennel. A spoonful of tomato paste hit the wine with a splash and splattered tiny red droplets all over her clothes. A dash of sugar, a pour of soy sauce, and it was all simmering away beautifully.
Then she was carrying her dish up to the judges' table where Yávië and the wolf sat in long formal robes with circlets of silver on their heads. "I do hope she hasn't overcooked the bacon," one of them muttered out of the side of his mouth.
"Bacon?" Aerlinn looked down and found that she was holding a platter of thick-sliced bacon. Her lovely curry was still in the pot at her workstation and the other judges had gathered around and were staring at it curiously. "Smells good," she heard one of them say, "but looks a bit like mud..."
"It's not mud! she snapped indignantly and sat up abruptly. Her head hit the lowest shelf with a eye-watering crack and she came fully awake. There were voices coming from outside the pantry now. One of them spoke a strange language but the others...were they presenting food to the judges?
"OOOOOOOOH NO!" she wailed, it couldn't be time already! Had she really fallen asleep? Unheard of! She hadn't taken a nap in at least a thousand years, arrrrrgh!
The panicking elf swept everything she could reach on the nearest shelf into her outer tunic and stumbled out of the pantry with all the dignity of a punch-drunk dwarf. A bottle of something oily spilled down her front. She dumped it all at her workstation and frantically tore into the paper wrapping and various bags.
Eventually, she had something like this--one plate of cheese and crackers that contained an unfortunate amount of overly-pungent gorgonzola, one bowl of orangey-red soup that had come out of a strange can marked "Campbell's," and a small basket of strawberries. In a flash of inspiration--too little, far too late--she smashed the remains of her bucket of ice with a rolling pin and swept it all into a towering pile on the closest available dish. She sliced the strawberries with a speed that would have impressed a Gondolindrim arms master and slid them on top of the crushed ice. She would call it...shaved ice? No, weird name that. A snow cone? Nah, a...a strawberry snow mountain!
~~~
Meanwhile...
Yávië barked in happy surprise as the stolid wolf leapt suddenly into the air, howling in delight. "Yes! Yes! Exactly! That is training, isn't it wonderful?" He sampled a bit of the sugar himself and bounded around eagerly. "The thrill of the hunt! The rush of battle!" He butted his head happily against the wolf's, his tongue lolling out in a big doggy grin and his tail wagging madly.
Unnoticed to all, that same wildly wagging tail knocked against a pepper grinder, which rolled down the table into a precariously balanced ladle, that skittered into a bottle of Elrond's Best Super Extra Tremendously Hot Chili Oil, that tottered and tipped over ever so precisely onto Arphen's yakisoba.
Aerlinn dug in her things and produced an emergency flask of apple whiskey. She took a long pull and offered it to Aduchil who was covered in sugar. "Erm, sorry about that. Drink?"
OOC: 12 sided die to the death and sabotage Arphen/Aethelu (sorry!)
- Points: 366
Esquire of The Mark
Posts: 258
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:38 am
Starbreeze, a wizzie
Three courses hmm, that would be a challenge for any cook in a short space of time. She decided very quickly that she would once again draw her inspiration from her friends in the Shire, for who knew feasting better than a hobbit!
She bustled around, preheating ovens, greasing dishes, collecting ingredients, assisted by a little innocent magic to make her feet faster, or perhaps she was just putting on an act to make her seem frail and doddery but was really quite lithe?
She picked up a beautiful looking chuck steak, perfect for slow cooking. A slow cooked dish that she could stick in the oven and forget about would allow her to concentrate on the other dishes. To go in the stew she grabbed onions, carrots, celery stalks, garlic, tomato puree, a handful of small potatoes, herbs including thyme, parsley and bay leaves, plus a jug of beef stock, and took these back to the workstation where she began feverishly chopping the vegetables, garlic and soft herbs. Next she heated some oil in a large frying pan, and once hot enough she browned off the meat, adding a little of the stock to loosen the caramelised bits from the pan. Beef and bits went into the casserole dish sitting ready for them, and then vegetables were tossed into the frying pan to soften, shortly after they followed the beef into the casserole. The remaining stock, plus wine, chopped thyme, tomato paste, bay leaves, potatoes and seasoning all went into the casserole, and then it all went into the oven. "A few hours in there will do nicely" she said to herself as she dusted off her hands, trying to think what to do next.
The next longest dish to cook would be her favourite, which she had promised to do if given the chance - rhubarb crumble! She selected long, deep pink stalks of rhubarb from the table, as well as butter, flour, brown sugar, a small bottle of port and some rolled oats. She began by cutting the rhubarb into thumb-length pieces (she wondered absently how different this would be if a troll were making this compared to a hobbit. At least her thumbs were average sized). This she put into a pan on the hob with two thirds of the sugar and a satisfying large glug of port. She popped a cover on the pan and set it to simmer while she prepared the topping.
For the topping she rubbed two parts flour to one part butter between her fingers until it looked rather like breadcrumbs, to which she stirred in the rest of the sugar and a handful of rolled oats. The oats and the sugar would make a nice crunchy topping. By this time the fruit in the pan had softened but retained its shape when prodded with a wooden spoon, so she decided it was ready - it would continue to cook in the oven after all.
The fruit was tipped into a second smaller casserole dish and then the topping was scattered over the top. This went into the oven where the beef stew was bubbling nicely.
You simply could not serve a crumble without custard - practically a crime - so she assembled the ingredients to make a sumptuous custard - thick cream, eggs (separated, only keeping the yolks), sugar, cornflour and vanilla. The cream was heated until hot but not boiling, she did not want it to separate, and the yolks, sugar, cornflour and vanilla were combined in a separate bowl. As soon as the cream reached the desired temperature she poured it over the egg mixture, stirring all the time. Then she tipped it back into the sauce pan to heat and thicken. She stirred it briskly - you'd never find a lump in her custard! She poured the finished custard through a sieve into a jug for serving.
"I think a nice salad for a starter, nothing too heavy as we are having a rich stew" she muttered as she once again perused the ingredients table. She deliberated between peaches, avocado and grapefruit, and settled on peaches. For contrast she also picked up salty goats cheese and a red chilli pepper, along with sherry vinegar and runny honey. Finally she gathered up a selection of salad leaves from peppery rocket (arugula) to red oak leaf, dandelion, sorrel, and lamb's lettuce (corn salad).
First she sliced the peaches into quarters, and set them face down on to a greased and preheated griddle. While they sizzled she mixed together some oil, vinegar, honey, black pepper and chopped red chilli to make a dressing. It was almost time to plate up now, so she dressed the salad leaves, and arranged them on a plate. She arranged the grilled peach quarters on the plate, showing off their lovely dark griddle lines, then crumbled the salty goats cheese over the top.
With the starter plated up, she grabbed a cloth to protect her hands, tutting as she realised she didn't have a clean one as she had used them all at some point, then pulled out first the stew, and then the crumble.
She ladled a generous helping of rich stew into a bowl, then garnished it with a sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley. Then she sliced through the golden crumble topping to get a portion of the crumble, and set it on a deep plate with the jug (yes, the whole jug, you cannot have too much custard) next to it.
There. It might not be glamorous food, it might not look fancy, but it was bursting with flavours and good for the soul, just what an old wizzie needed in her dotage..
6 sided please
Three courses hmm, that would be a challenge for any cook in a short space of time. She decided very quickly that she would once again draw her inspiration from her friends in the Shire, for who knew feasting better than a hobbit!
She bustled around, preheating ovens, greasing dishes, collecting ingredients, assisted by a little innocent magic to make her feet faster, or perhaps she was just putting on an act to make her seem frail and doddery but was really quite lithe?
She picked up a beautiful looking chuck steak, perfect for slow cooking. A slow cooked dish that she could stick in the oven and forget about would allow her to concentrate on the other dishes. To go in the stew she grabbed onions, carrots, celery stalks, garlic, tomato puree, a handful of small potatoes, herbs including thyme, parsley and bay leaves, plus a jug of beef stock, and took these back to the workstation where she began feverishly chopping the vegetables, garlic and soft herbs. Next she heated some oil in a large frying pan, and once hot enough she browned off the meat, adding a little of the stock to loosen the caramelised bits from the pan. Beef and bits went into the casserole dish sitting ready for them, and then vegetables were tossed into the frying pan to soften, shortly after they followed the beef into the casserole. The remaining stock, plus wine, chopped thyme, tomato paste, bay leaves, potatoes and seasoning all went into the casserole, and then it all went into the oven. "A few hours in there will do nicely" she said to herself as she dusted off her hands, trying to think what to do next.
The next longest dish to cook would be her favourite, which she had promised to do if given the chance - rhubarb crumble! She selected long, deep pink stalks of rhubarb from the table, as well as butter, flour, brown sugar, a small bottle of port and some rolled oats. She began by cutting the rhubarb into thumb-length pieces (she wondered absently how different this would be if a troll were making this compared to a hobbit. At least her thumbs were average sized). This she put into a pan on the hob with two thirds of the sugar and a satisfying large glug of port. She popped a cover on the pan and set it to simmer while she prepared the topping.
For the topping she rubbed two parts flour to one part butter between her fingers until it looked rather like breadcrumbs, to which she stirred in the rest of the sugar and a handful of rolled oats. The oats and the sugar would make a nice crunchy topping. By this time the fruit in the pan had softened but retained its shape when prodded with a wooden spoon, so she decided it was ready - it would continue to cook in the oven after all.
The fruit was tipped into a second smaller casserole dish and then the topping was scattered over the top. This went into the oven where the beef stew was bubbling nicely.
You simply could not serve a crumble without custard - practically a crime - so she assembled the ingredients to make a sumptuous custard - thick cream, eggs (separated, only keeping the yolks), sugar, cornflour and vanilla. The cream was heated until hot but not boiling, she did not want it to separate, and the yolks, sugar, cornflour and vanilla were combined in a separate bowl. As soon as the cream reached the desired temperature she poured it over the egg mixture, stirring all the time. Then she tipped it back into the sauce pan to heat and thicken. She stirred it briskly - you'd never find a lump in her custard! She poured the finished custard through a sieve into a jug for serving.
"I think a nice salad for a starter, nothing too heavy as we are having a rich stew" she muttered as she once again perused the ingredients table. She deliberated between peaches, avocado and grapefruit, and settled on peaches. For contrast she also picked up salty goats cheese and a red chilli pepper, along with sherry vinegar and runny honey. Finally she gathered up a selection of salad leaves from peppery rocket (arugula) to red oak leaf, dandelion, sorrel, and lamb's lettuce (corn salad).
First she sliced the peaches into quarters, and set them face down on to a greased and preheated griddle. While they sizzled she mixed together some oil, vinegar, honey, black pepper and chopped red chilli to make a dressing. It was almost time to plate up now, so she dressed the salad leaves, and arranged them on a plate. She arranged the grilled peach quarters on the plate, showing off their lovely dark griddle lines, then crumbled the salty goats cheese over the top.
With the starter plated up, she grabbed a cloth to protect her hands, tutting as she realised she didn't have a clean one as she had used them all at some point, then pulled out first the stew, and then the crumble.
She ladled a generous helping of rich stew into a bowl, then garnished it with a sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley. Then she sliced through the golden crumble topping to get a portion of the crumble, and set it on a deep plate with the jug (yes, the whole jug, you cannot have too much custard) next to it.
There. It might not be glamorous food, it might not look fancy, but it was bursting with flavours and good for the soul, just what an old wizzie needed in her dotage..
6 sided please
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead
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New Soul
Posts: 769
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:30 am
"I enjoyed the tasting, Aigronding," Lord Elrond thanked Mordagnir. He walked with him along the arching lanterned bridge over the deep reflective pool of the Herald's picturesque estate. The sprawling manor located in the wooded north corner of Imladris was built of white and pink marble in a vibrant botanical garden. Crystalpool, not only was it the majestic home of the Mordagnirs but many businesses of the family relating to its mining and quarrying affairs, alcohol production and fruit harvesting, Airien Mereniel's spa and cosmetics guild were centered here.
"You are welcome at our vineyard any time, milord!" Aigronding replied cheerfully. He felt at ease, relaxing at his palatial residence this warm summer day in the river valley. Elrond and Aigronding went golfing on the lush scenic property then enjoyed a delectable wine tasting featuring his bottles and Telkelion Hender's from Lindon. "Now you must attend a different kind of tasting as I understand it?"
"I am a judge at a culinary contest in the Last Homely House!" answered Elrond with a rare excitement he exhibited to few Elves. Now outside, Elrond put on his black Mr. Smith sunglasses. "This is why I...in my wisdom...I suggested Apsatári take an extended holiday..."
"So she wouldn't throw cooks in the Bruinen?" supposed Aigronding then tossed his head back with a merry laugh.
Elrond chuckled. They both knew his moody red-headed High Elf cook well. She set the bar high. "Yes," he replied, "and gives us days to clean the kitchen so thoroughly she will not expect any of the competing cooks to have sullied her domain."
"Melindo!"
Aigronding whirled about, hearing his wife shout at him. Roina Mordagnir, dressed in a colorfully embroidered caftan, shook a scrap of parchment paper in her beringed hand. "Your sister took the last two apple whiskeys of my sideboard!" The ginger-haired Elf-lady was in a tempestuous rage.
"Veowyn?"
"Linny!" whined Roina. "And our kitchen cellars are in disarray, Eilianthel and Deren have told me!"
"Linny might need some of our ingredients to win the contest!" Aigronding called out.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Roina yelled at her husband.
"Because I knew you'd act hysterical!"
"I'M NOT ACTING HYSTERICAL!" Roina shrieked hysterically, wisps of fiery hair escaping her intricate braids. Fëapoldië would have been proud of her emotional outburst for sure.
"Melissë, just walk to the cider mill!"
"THAT WAS NOT ON TODAY'S AGENDA!" She declared, stomping the immaculate lawn with her glittering Dwarvish slipper. "I want that cabinet fully stocked by the time I return with Nariel from Airien's nail salon! And I intend to have the Tingdain forge a lock and key this time! If it's not Linny stealing my cider, it's Aewrusca. Varda's stars!"
"I will see you later, milord, unless she hangs me from the nearest beech," joked Aigronding.
"I would need to choose a new Herald," Elrond guessed and heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Edan. Taurina. Maybe Gellam."
"All the more reason for me to smooth this over...Don't forget Airien needs to see you tomorrow."
"I will not miss my Brows of Doom appointment," Elrond promised. Laughing, he ventured toward the Last Homely House along a brick pathway through a grove of odorous pines.
*
Erestor, High Councillor, dramatically swung open the kitchen's doors. Lord Elrond of Rivendell arrived with great fanfare. His coming was announced by the music of golden horns blown by Anarondo and Caramírië, the small elven twins of Tharmáras and @Ercassie of Lindon, riding Nimlos the Snow White (Yávië's pale sister). Elrond grinned at Aduchil who was covered in sugar and laughing maniacally. He had known him for many years and had never seen him arrayed in such fashion or behaving this silly. Elrond was sure Aduchil hadn't ever seen Elrond wearing black shades, shorts and sandals, and a "Agent Brows of Mordor" T-shirt (autographed by @Moriel, sold domestically and at inter-region markets for $25.99) featuring himself armored in silver mail and black shades on his stern face with Orodruin blazing in the shadowy background either.
He handed his golf club to Erestor. "Ah, one of the missing apple whiskeys from Linyamaril," he observed, watching Aerlinn down the contents of Roina Mordagnir's missing flask which she shared with Aduchil. "Aerlinn, please tell me you haven't used all of my Best Super Extra Tremendously Hot Chili Oil," he demanded sharply, raising his celebrated Eyebrows of Doom (which needed Airien's trimming since she hadn't been able to groom them since the Old Plaza Shut Down). "Would you care to explain why Yávië and a Wolf are at peace with each other and wearing circlets which, I hope, have not been borrowed from my chambers?" Elrond bowed with hand over heart before a blonde, blue-eyed elleth from Mirkwood. "Artanis Laegiel, my friend, I hope this visit to the valley is entertaining for you. Please tell me when it's time for me to judge the food."
*courtesy of Moriel*
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I
- Points: 2 417
Arien
Posts: 1982
Joined: Thu May 07, 2020 8:56 pm
Silarien: Judging the Final Round!
Silarien was fanning herself with a piece of greased baking paper. It was only after a few minutes that she realised that the piece had been used, and she was tipping crumbs into the bodice of her dress. Oh well, at least they smelled delightful.
It had been a long task for the contestants, asked to prepare three whole courses, and the kitchen was simmering both with heat and delightful smells that tickled and teased the nose. And now: at last - it was time for the Final Tasting... there was so much food! Why had they specified three courses each?!Silarien stared at the mumakil task ahead of her and swallowed panic. Well, there was more swallowing to be done before this was over.
Silarien polished her silver tasting spoon on her pristine apron (after all, *she* hadn’t been doing any cooking) with purpose, and strode forth...
First up was Arphen who had finished promptly, with two pork concoctions that looked wonderfully crispy and a squishy dessert. “This is really delicious,” said Silarien, wiping her fingers. “Perhaps a touch less salt and oil though - I like my food slightly less greasy, and the number of sauces made it confused. But I loved your strawberries”
4/12
The next meal was Aduchil’s. Silarien delicately took a spoonful of mushroom soup. Her eyes widened. EVERYTHING ON THESE PLATES WAS DELICIOUS. She also felt very calm. Or was she alert? Hungry, definitely hungry. She blitzed through the salad and laughed as one of the potatoes flew away. Did potatoes normally do that?
6/6
Aerlinn was unfortunate enough to be next after the mushrooms. “Mmbrlr flrrghll” complained Silarien, as she shamefully used Aerlinn’s food just as a palate cleanser from the mushrooms, barely even tasting the lovely dishes. Had she been *drugged* in some way?!
-1/12, penalty!!
Eldûrien was next! Silarien couldn’t pronounce any of the food but she could taste it. Which she did, gingerly. Spicy, as usual... but it was organ meats again. “Tripe and tongue have to be treated very carefully to get the flavour without it being tough or overpowering,” Silarien suggested. “I’m not sure with only three hours, it worked as well as a classic cut of meat would have. Still, not bad, and the dessert was a nice cool finish.”
3/6
Tara was up next. Silarien’s eyes popped at the unusually prepared food, but she crammed it into her mouth anyway. It was so... moreish! “I’ve no idea where you get these ideas from, but this is exactly what I wanted after a long day. I now also have the urge to watch a ball game, for some reason?”
6/6
And finally, Starbreeze who had made something comfortingly familiar. Silarien dug in. “It’s all quite tasty but not a showstopper,” she said thoughtfully: “More delicacy on the presentation, but it tastes good, especially this custard!”
2/6
Silarien was fanning herself with a piece of greased baking paper. It was only after a few minutes that she realised that the piece had been used, and she was tipping crumbs into the bodice of her dress. Oh well, at least they smelled delightful.
It had been a long task for the contestants, asked to prepare three whole courses, and the kitchen was simmering both with heat and delightful smells that tickled and teased the nose. And now: at last - it was time for the Final Tasting... there was so much food! Why had they specified three courses each?!Silarien stared at the mumakil task ahead of her and swallowed panic. Well, there was more swallowing to be done before this was over.
Silarien polished her silver tasting spoon on her pristine apron (after all, *she* hadn’t been doing any cooking) with purpose, and strode forth...
First up was Arphen who had finished promptly, with two pork concoctions that looked wonderfully crispy and a squishy dessert. “This is really delicious,” said Silarien, wiping her fingers. “Perhaps a touch less salt and oil though - I like my food slightly less greasy, and the number of sauces made it confused. But I loved your strawberries”
4/12
The next meal was Aduchil’s. Silarien delicately took a spoonful of mushroom soup. Her eyes widened. EVERYTHING ON THESE PLATES WAS DELICIOUS. She also felt very calm. Or was she alert? Hungry, definitely hungry. She blitzed through the salad and laughed as one of the potatoes flew away. Did potatoes normally do that?
6/6
Aerlinn was unfortunate enough to be next after the mushrooms. “Mmbrlr flrrghll” complained Silarien, as she shamefully used Aerlinn’s food just as a palate cleanser from the mushrooms, barely even tasting the lovely dishes. Had she been *drugged* in some way?!
-1/12, penalty!!
Eldûrien was next! Silarien couldn’t pronounce any of the food but she could taste it. Which she did, gingerly. Spicy, as usual... but it was organ meats again. “Tripe and tongue have to be treated very carefully to get the flavour without it being tough or overpowering,” Silarien suggested. “I’m not sure with only three hours, it worked as well as a classic cut of meat would have. Still, not bad, and the dessert was a nice cool finish.”
3/6
Tara was up next. Silarien’s eyes popped at the unusually prepared food, but she crammed it into her mouth anyway. It was so... moreish! “I’ve no idea where you get these ideas from, but this is exactly what I wanted after a long day. I now also have the urge to watch a ball game, for some reason?”
6/6
And finally, Starbreeze who had made something comfortingly familiar. Silarien dug in. “It’s all quite tasty but not a showstopper,” she said thoughtfully: “More delicacy on the presentation, but it tastes good, especially this custard!”
2/6
cave anserem
- Points: 2 265
Elven Enchanter
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Artanis: Judging the final round!
Artanis turned to smile as the doors opened to let Lord Elrond in, but her mouth momentarily dropped open in astonishment at the Lord of Imladris wearing black shades, shorts, sandals, and an "Agent Brows" t-shirt. She had known that Elrond could be a bit peculiar from time to time, but she hadn't expected this. But then, hardly anything about the last two days had been expected.
"This visit has indeed been an adventure," Artanis answered, "I do need to remember to visit more often." She looked around at the various contests as the finished their tasks. "They will be bringing the food to the judges' table shortly. You may join us there and give your verdict on the items."
With that, Artanis turned and took her seat once again at the table. She was grateful that this was the last day as she wasn't certain if she could handle any more interesting flavour combinations. And the courses for this round looked … interesting.
OOC: results determined by dice as usual!
@Fairy Nuff(Starbreeze) brought forward a delicious smelling series of dishes. The chuck steak was cooked to perfection and the vegetables added just enough extra flavours. The salad was a bit different, but the peaches were heavenly. For the first time during the cooking contest, Artanis tasted a delicious custard that was smooth.
Taste Score: 6/6
The strange elf @Frostbite (Eldûrien) brought forward her dish. Artanis eyed it with a bit of suspicion as this elf seemed a bit too obsessed with Figwit for her liking. She also had no idea what to expect from this individual. Like usual, the meat involved a strange part of an animal. Artanis took a wary bite, and found herself agreeing with Silarien. The meat was lacking a bit of flavour, but the flan tasted great, so at least part of the meal was redeemable.
Taste Score: 3/6
@Aerlinn Artanis pursed her lips with Aerlinn presented her dish. It didn't look like a proper dish at all. "Did you even cook?" she asked, taking a bite of the soup. "And even if you did, this soup is stone cold. I am afraid you are not cut out to be a cook." With a slight grimace, Artanis pushed the odd assortment of dishes away from her.
Taste Score:-3/12 - You have unlocked a penalty!
@Aethelu(Arphen) had clearly hit her stride during this final round. Artanis could not say a negative word about the dish, other than that the dipping sauce appeared have been made a bit hastily, but it still tasted excellent. And the strawberries had a lovely summer feel about them. "I do believe this is your best dish of the contest!" Artanis exclaimed as she used a napkin to wipe some sauce from her lips.
Taste Score: 10/12
As @Aduchil approached, Artanis looked up warrily. This dish involved mushrooms, which greatly worried her. Thankfully the elf hadn't been too dangerous in his cooking yet, but this was the last round. And it looked like it might be the Dish. Of course he would make it when Lord Elrond was present. Well, it was his life at stake. But, when Artanis reached out to take a bite of the soup and next the steak, a strange auor of delishness filled her mouth. "What is this?" she asked in astonishment.
5/6
@Tarawen apparently had gone for simplicity on this last round, which Artanis could not fault her for. The sausage served with bread was a unique choice, but quite tasty and easy to eat. Overall, Artanis greatly enjoyed the simple food and stuffed another chip into her mouth. It could have done with a little more salt, but otherwise was quite good.
3/6
OOC: @Aigronding Mordagnir Our two previous guest judges have simply done a score out of 5 that they decide on and is not determined by dice. Have fun!
Artanis turned to smile as the doors opened to let Lord Elrond in, but her mouth momentarily dropped open in astonishment at the Lord of Imladris wearing black shades, shorts, sandals, and an "Agent Brows" t-shirt. She had known that Elrond could be a bit peculiar from time to time, but she hadn't expected this. But then, hardly anything about the last two days had been expected.
"This visit has indeed been an adventure," Artanis answered, "I do need to remember to visit more often." She looked around at the various contests as the finished their tasks. "They will be bringing the food to the judges' table shortly. You may join us there and give your verdict on the items."
With that, Artanis turned and took her seat once again at the table. She was grateful that this was the last day as she wasn't certain if she could handle any more interesting flavour combinations. And the courses for this round looked … interesting.
OOC: results determined by dice as usual!
@Fairy Nuff(Starbreeze) brought forward a delicious smelling series of dishes. The chuck steak was cooked to perfection and the vegetables added just enough extra flavours. The salad was a bit different, but the peaches were heavenly. For the first time during the cooking contest, Artanis tasted a delicious custard that was smooth.
Taste Score: 6/6
The strange elf @Frostbite (Eldûrien) brought forward her dish. Artanis eyed it with a bit of suspicion as this elf seemed a bit too obsessed with Figwit for her liking. She also had no idea what to expect from this individual. Like usual, the meat involved a strange part of an animal. Artanis took a wary bite, and found herself agreeing with Silarien. The meat was lacking a bit of flavour, but the flan tasted great, so at least part of the meal was redeemable.
Taste Score: 3/6
@Aerlinn Artanis pursed her lips with Aerlinn presented her dish. It didn't look like a proper dish at all. "Did you even cook?" she asked, taking a bite of the soup. "And even if you did, this soup is stone cold. I am afraid you are not cut out to be a cook." With a slight grimace, Artanis pushed the odd assortment of dishes away from her.
Taste Score:-3/12 - You have unlocked a penalty!
@Aethelu(Arphen) had clearly hit her stride during this final round. Artanis could not say a negative word about the dish, other than that the dipping sauce appeared have been made a bit hastily, but it still tasted excellent. And the strawberries had a lovely summer feel about them. "I do believe this is your best dish of the contest!" Artanis exclaimed as she used a napkin to wipe some sauce from her lips.
Taste Score: 10/12
As @Aduchil approached, Artanis looked up warrily. This dish involved mushrooms, which greatly worried her. Thankfully the elf hadn't been too dangerous in his cooking yet, but this was the last round. And it looked like it might be the Dish. Of course he would make it when Lord Elrond was present. Well, it was his life at stake. But, when Artanis reached out to take a bite of the soup and next the steak, a strange auor of delishness filled her mouth. "What is this?" she asked in astonishment.
5/6
@Tarawen apparently had gone for simplicity on this last round, which Artanis could not fault her for. The sausage served with bread was a unique choice, but quite tasty and easy to eat. Overall, Artanis greatly enjoyed the simple food and stuffed another chip into her mouth. It could have done with a little more salt, but otherwise was quite good.
3/6
OOC: @Aigronding Mordagnir Our two previous guest judges have simply done a score out of 5 that they decide on and is not determined by dice. Have fun!
- Points: 799
New Soul
Posts: 762
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:26 am
Lindariel, judging
It had all come down to this - and they'd been joined by none other than Lord Elrond himself, who seemed to have embraced fully the insanity of the last two days. It was time to crown a champion ...
OOC: taste scores determined by the dice as usual!
@Fairy Nuff/Starbreeze - "This is delicious! All three courses go really well together, and you've executed them very well. I'd love your recipe for the salad!"
6/6
@Frostbite/Eldûrien - "Good effort. I agree with Silarien - I think it could have used a bit more time and finesse. But not bad at all!"
2/6
@Aerlinn - "Strawberries and ice go very well together, but I'm not sure you've done enough cooking ... and yes, the soup is rather cold, unfortunately."
-1/12 (penalty!)
@Aethelu/Arphen - "This is incredible! I think these are the best dishes you've given us - and you've presented some very good ones over the last two days. Very well done - you should be proud."
8/12
@Tarawen - "Creative, and tasty. There's a lot of salt and sugar involved in this meal, which is not always a bad thing, but maybe it could have used at least one lighter course somewhere in the menu. It does taste good, though."
3/6
@Aduchil - "Well. I"m not quite sure what to say. This is ... certainly an experience!"
4/6
It had all come down to this - and they'd been joined by none other than Lord Elrond himself, who seemed to have embraced fully the insanity of the last two days. It was time to crown a champion ...
OOC: taste scores determined by the dice as usual!
@Fairy Nuff/Starbreeze - "This is delicious! All three courses go really well together, and you've executed them very well. I'd love your recipe for the salad!"
6/6
@Frostbite/Eldûrien - "Good effort. I agree with Silarien - I think it could have used a bit more time and finesse. But not bad at all!"
2/6
@Aerlinn - "Strawberries and ice go very well together, but I'm not sure you've done enough cooking ... and yes, the soup is rather cold, unfortunately."
-1/12 (penalty!)
@Aethelu/Arphen - "This is incredible! I think these are the best dishes you've given us - and you've presented some very good ones over the last two days. Very well done - you should be proud."
8/12
@Tarawen - "Creative, and tasty. There's a lot of salt and sugar involved in this meal, which is not always a bad thing, but maybe it could have used at least one lighter course somewhere in the menu. It does taste good, though."
3/6
@Aduchil - "Well. I"m not quite sure what to say. This is ... certainly an experience!"
4/6
She/her. Almarëa - Rivendell / Jaena - Lone Lands (T.A.) and Gondor (F.A.) / Layna - Mordor
- Points: 1 396
New Soul
Posts: 769
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:30 am
@Aerlinn - 4/6 Had me almost salivating over curry and cumin. Great humor.
@Tarawen - 5/6 Impressive use of step by step procedure. Was disappointed you didn't refer to taters as PO-TAY-TOs. Nearly had me drooling as I imagined the smell of bread baking.
@Fairy Nuff 5/6 Loved your detailed post and descriptive language like runny honey .
@Frostbite 5/6 Excellent process described for preparing a succulent post and thanks for making me laugh.
@Aduchil 6/6 For elan and hilarity.
@Aethelu 5/6 Good use of ingredients and for emotional writing. Loved the subtle reference to Japan!
@Tarawen - 5/6 Impressive use of step by step procedure. Was disappointed you didn't refer to taters as PO-TAY-TOs. Nearly had me drooling as I imagined the smell of bread baking.
@Fairy Nuff 5/6 Loved your detailed post and descriptive language like runny honey .
@Frostbite 5/6 Excellent process described for preparing a succulent post and thanks for making me laugh.
@Aduchil 6/6 For elan and hilarity.
@Aethelu 5/6 Good use of ingredients and for emotional writing. Loved the subtle reference to Japan!
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I
- Points: 2 265
Elven Enchanter
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Artanis - announcing the winners
Artanis wiped some sweat off her forehead as she examined the final score cards. Like usual, there had been some surprising results this round. It was very curious to see how different strategies had paid off. But now it was time to announce the winners. Once everyone had gathered, and it appeared that many of the chefs were a bit tired and hot after so many hours cooking, she stood up. With a glance at her fellow judges, she began to speak. "Thank you all for participating in this contest. And a huge a thank you to Lord Elrond for allowing the use of his kitchens." She turned towards the Lord of Imladris and continued, "And I am deeply sorry about the animals. They were entirely unexpected.
"There were two attempts of sabotage during this final round, but unfortunately neither of them were successful and the culprits were caught in the act. Tarawen and Aerlinn, you have received a penalty due to your failure to sneakily sabotage your fellow contestants.
"All of the meals produced over the last two days were interesting to say the least. And some were clearly better than others. But with any contest, some individuals produced food that was far superior to others. And I would like to announce our winners."
"In third place, we have Starbreeze (@Fairy Nuff) with 114 points. In second place we have @Aduchil with 141 points. And in first place, the winner of the Great Elvish Culinary Contest is Arphen (@Aethelu) with 148 points.
Thank you all for participating. You are welcome to consume any of the leftovers (though I would advice to steer clear of the tomato soup) and to congratulate the winners."
OOC: Thank you everyone for participating! It's been great fun judging and I hope you all had fun cooking! This thread will stay open for a few more days for you to congratulate winners, enjoy some snacks, or bemone your lack of cooking skills
Artanis wiped some sweat off her forehead as she examined the final score cards. Like usual, there had been some surprising results this round. It was very curious to see how different strategies had paid off. But now it was time to announce the winners. Once everyone had gathered, and it appeared that many of the chefs were a bit tired and hot after so many hours cooking, she stood up. With a glance at her fellow judges, she began to speak. "Thank you all for participating in this contest. And a huge a thank you to Lord Elrond for allowing the use of his kitchens." She turned towards the Lord of Imladris and continued, "And I am deeply sorry about the animals. They were entirely unexpected.
"There were two attempts of sabotage during this final round, but unfortunately neither of them were successful and the culprits were caught in the act. Tarawen and Aerlinn, you have received a penalty due to your failure to sneakily sabotage your fellow contestants.
"All of the meals produced over the last two days were interesting to say the least. And some were clearly better than others. But with any contest, some individuals produced food that was far superior to others. And I would like to announce our winners."
"In third place, we have Starbreeze (@Fairy Nuff) with 114 points. In second place we have @Aduchil with 141 points. And in first place, the winner of the Great Elvish Culinary Contest is Arphen (@Aethelu) with 148 points.
Thank you all for participating. You are welcome to consume any of the leftovers (though I would advice to steer clear of the tomato soup) and to congratulate the winners."
OOC: Thank you everyone for participating! It's been great fun judging and I hope you all had fun cooking! This thread will stay open for a few more days for you to congratulate winners, enjoy some snacks, or bemone your lack of cooking skills
