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shire_kitchenTitle: Cooking Lessons
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
surgicalsteel
Characters: Halbarad, Serindё (OFC healer), Barliman Butterbur, Polly Butterbur (OFC, Barliman’s wife)
Summary: Halbarad wants to surprise his wife with a slightly belated birthday breakfast-in-bed, and seeks the Butterburs’ help.
Rating: PG
Follows Serindё’s Birthday in my series The King's Surgeon – although that particular story is definitely R-rated for smut between a married couple. No warnings on this one.
COOKING LESSONS
“Love?” Halbarad murmured.
Serindё shifted in her sleep, unconsciously snuggling deeper under the covers and rolling away from him, granting him an opportunity for escape.
He’d joked earlier that he was her birthday present this year, her first birthday since their wedding – but he’d meant to be back in Bree yesterday or even the day before, and to either speak with Mel Underhill about some small something for her. He’d thought of a locket, perhaps, because he knew she wouldn’t wear rings other than her marriage ring. Or a cloak-pin, although how he’d have paid for one, he didn’t know. But he wanted to do something for her other than simply being home. She’d even had Yule presents for him and he’d had none for her, and it was her birthday and he’d had nothing for her other than being home.
The thought occurred to him that he could perhaps cook breakfast for her tomorrow morning – she was usually the one who cooked for him, after all, so perhaps a gift of one morning of not having to cook would work in a pinch. He unfortunately hadn’t had a chance to ask Polly or Barliman if they knew any of her favorite breakfast dishes earlier because they’d both been in such a hurry to get him over to Serindё – and he hadn’t really been home long enough during the brief time they’d been married to make note of favorite breakfasts. She usually seemed to content herself with a slice of toast and a cup of tea and then she was off doing something.
Halbarad cautiously slid out of bed, hesitating for a moment to make certain that she was still asleep, and then quietly pulled on his clothes. He tucked the blankets around Serindё, and she sighed happily in her sleep. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead gently, and then quietly padded down the stairs. As silently as he could, he made his way out through the kitchen, and then around the house, and over to the Pony. The common room wasn’t particularly busy – the weather had been too nasty recently for many people to be travelling – but Barliman gave Halbarad a look of deep suspicion as he approached. “Serindё’s birthday, I thought you said – shouldn’t you be with your wife?” Barliman asked.
Halbarad could feel himself flush, remembering that Barliman had once threatened to make sausage of him if he made Serindё unhappy. “I’m not staying long,” he protested.
Barliman snorted at that, continuing to wipe down the counter at the bar.
“I simply needed a bit of advice,” Halbarad continued.
“Best advice I can give you is to go back home to your wife and…” Barliman began.
“I left her sleeping,” Halbarad said.
Polly gave such an earthy cackle from the kitchen door that Barliman flushed. Halbarad swallowed and resolutely said nothing.
“What advice did you need, Halbarad?” Polly asked.
“I’d thought I could make breakfast for Serindё in the morning,” Halbarad began.
“Oh, that’s quite a good idea,” Barliman said with a nod.
“But I’ve been away so often – and I know she’s over here often enough – I was wondering if you knew…” Halbarad said, and why he was stammering so much, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was the realization that these people actually did know his wife better than he did, in some ways. “I thought you might know her favorites.”
“Oh, Shire toast, without a doubt,” Polly said. “Bacon. Those mushroom omelets of Barley’s…”
“How well can you cook, Ranger?” Barliman asked.
“Well enough that I don’t starve to death in the Wild,” Halbarad said, feeling just a bit defensive.
Barliman and Polly traded a look with one another, and before Halbarad quite realized what was happening, he’d been whisked back into the kitchen of the Pony. “There’s a trick with those omelets – bacon and Shire toast should be safe enough, though,” Polly said. “Have you made Shire toast before?”
Halbarad was forced to admit that he hadn’t, and Polly just patted his hand gently. “We’ll just do a small portion, then, so you get the trick of it – and I’ll make certain to send you home with the ingredients you’ll need,” she said, and began pulling ingredients out of a cold pantry.
He didn’t do too badly with cracking the two eggs that Polly handed him into a small bowl, although he felt a bit clumsy beating them together with a fork. “Now the milk,” she instructed, handing him a cup full of milk, which he poured into the eggs – and he was starting to feel a bit less clumsy beating the milk into the eggs. While Polly sliced bread, Halbarad continued to add to that batter at her instruction – a bare splash of rum, a pinch (“No, a pinch more, Halbarad!”) of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg. That mixture was then poured into a shallow square pan, so that they could dip the slices of bread into it. “Day-old bread is best,” Polly said. “It’s dried out just enough to soak up more of your batter, but not so much that it’ll taste stale. Now, the griddle – you don’t want it too hot,” Polly continued. “You’ll melt a little butter into it, but you want to watch it carefully. Don’t let the butter burn.”
Don’t let the butter burn, Halbarad was mentally noting, as well as the proportions. Two eggs, a cup of milk, perhaps a tablespoonful of rum, about a teaspoon of cinnamon, half that of nutmeg. Dip the bread in, let it soak up the batter, make sure that excess batter drips back into the square dish. Onto the griddle where the butter’s melted, but not browning or smoking, cook until nicely golden brown on one side, then the other.
It actually tasted rather wonderful, and he was amazed to realize that he’d cooked that, and it had turned out quite well, and it was with a sense of satisfaction that he made his way back across the street with bread and eggs and milk. He tried to be quiet putting things away in the pantry, but banged his foot into a chair leg which made a perfectly awful clatter, and he swore.
He swore again as he heard limping footsteps on the stairs and coming through the sitting room. A pause, and then the limping steps resumed, and the door between sitting room and kitchen swung open to reveal Serindё clad in a flannel nightshirt and brandishing her amputation knife. “Hello, Serindё-love,” Halbarad said, smiling and hoping to brazen this out.
“Halbarad?” she said incredulously.
“No one else,” he replied, still smiling.
Her eyebrows crinkled together, and then she shook her head as if thinking better of whatever she was about to say and went back into the sitting room. She came back with empty hands, so at least she’d put the knife away. “Where…?” she began, and then shook her head again. “Why?” she asked.
“I just went over to the Pony for a bit,” Halbarad said.
Her eyebrows crinkled together again, and her lower lip started trembling. “You haven’t been home in six weeks, and you just had to go over to the Pony?” she asked.
She sounded so hurt that he moved toward her, raising a hand to her face, and she struck it away angrily. Barliman was right with his first bit of advice, I probably should have stayed home, now I truly am in a pinch, Halbarad thought. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said.
“What am I thinking, then?” Serindё asked in tones that were all-too-carefully level.
Oh, I know better than to actually answer that, Halbarad thought – between the fact that his brother was well-known for tomcatting after young women and the fact that Serindё had described her father as ‘militantly promiscuous,’ there wasn’t much doubt in Halbarad’s mind what she was actually thinking. Better to just tell her. He’d have liked for it to be a surprise, but better to tell her. “I can’t be certain, but I’m betting that you’re not thinking I went over for a cooking lesson,” he said.
She blinked. “A cooking lesson?” she said incredulously.
“From Polly Butterbur – so that I could make you Shire toast for breakfast in the morning,” Halbarad said.
Serindё blinked again.
“She and Barliman told me that it’s one of your favorites – I thought to bring you breakfast in bed as a belated birthday surprise…”
“A cooking lesson?” Serindё said again, and then she collapsed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, banged her head down onto the table, and then her shoulders began shaking.
“I’m sorry, love,” Halbarad said, moving to put a hand on her shoulder, thinking that she was weeping.
She raised her head, and he realized that she was laughing. “When I heard the clattering down here, and realized you were gone – well, I didn’t know what to think. I was half-afraid that someone had broken in and you were injured,” Serindё said.
“Well, I…” Halbarad began.
“And then when I realized you were here and uninjured and sneaking back into the house? I won’t say what I thought,” she continued. “And now, to realize you snuck out, and then snuck back in to surprise me with breakfast?” Serindё shook her head. “I am such a colossal fool.”
“I’m sorry to have frightened you,” Halbarad said, trying to convey that he was sorry both sorry for the initial moments of panic as well as for causing her to worry that he might have been less than faithful.
“I am such a colossal fool,” she repeated, as if to herself.
“You were frightened,” he said. “I’m glad to know you’d come defend me in a pinch.”
She shook her head and laughed again. “I’m going back to bed,” she announced, and stood back up, limping back over to the door that connected into the sitting room. She turned, facing him, and asked, “You are joining me? Not sneaking out anywhere else tonight?”
Well, the best answer to that was to follow Serindё back up the stairs and climb back into bed with her.
When he snuck back downstairs the next morning, he realized Serindё had already beat him to one thing – tea was already prepared, and he laughed quietly. She was fond of likening his tea to something poisonous, so she’d prepared that – but she’d clearly then crept back upstairs and back into bed without disturbing him.
And when he brought Shire toast up to her in bed, she made a great show of pretending to be surprised.
Her delight with the meal, though, was clearly not just for show, as she gobbled down every bite.
And when she kissed him with lips tasting of maple syrup and butter and just faintly of cinnamon and rum, he realized that her delight with him was not for show, either.
Author:
surgicalsteelCharacters: Halbarad, Serindё (OFC healer), Barliman Butterbur, Polly Butterbur (OFC, Barliman’s wife)
Summary: Halbarad wants to surprise his wife with a slightly belated birthday breakfast-in-bed, and seeks the Butterburs’ help.
Rating: PG
Follows Serindё’s Birthday in my series The King's Surgeon – although that particular story is definitely R-rated for smut between a married couple. No warnings on this one.
COOKING LESSONS
“Love?” Halbarad murmured.
Serindё shifted in her sleep, unconsciously snuggling deeper under the covers and rolling away from him, granting him an opportunity for escape.
He’d joked earlier that he was her birthday present this year, her first birthday since their wedding – but he’d meant to be back in Bree yesterday or even the day before, and to either speak with Mel Underhill about some small something for her. He’d thought of a locket, perhaps, because he knew she wouldn’t wear rings other than her marriage ring. Or a cloak-pin, although how he’d have paid for one, he didn’t know. But he wanted to do something for her other than simply being home. She’d even had Yule presents for him and he’d had none for her, and it was her birthday and he’d had nothing for her other than being home.
The thought occurred to him that he could perhaps cook breakfast for her tomorrow morning – she was usually the one who cooked for him, after all, so perhaps a gift of one morning of not having to cook would work in a pinch. He unfortunately hadn’t had a chance to ask Polly or Barliman if they knew any of her favorite breakfast dishes earlier because they’d both been in such a hurry to get him over to Serindё – and he hadn’t really been home long enough during the brief time they’d been married to make note of favorite breakfasts. She usually seemed to content herself with a slice of toast and a cup of tea and then she was off doing something.
Halbarad cautiously slid out of bed, hesitating for a moment to make certain that she was still asleep, and then quietly pulled on his clothes. He tucked the blankets around Serindё, and she sighed happily in her sleep. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead gently, and then quietly padded down the stairs. As silently as he could, he made his way out through the kitchen, and then around the house, and over to the Pony. The common room wasn’t particularly busy – the weather had been too nasty recently for many people to be travelling – but Barliman gave Halbarad a look of deep suspicion as he approached. “Serindё’s birthday, I thought you said – shouldn’t you be with your wife?” Barliman asked.
Halbarad could feel himself flush, remembering that Barliman had once threatened to make sausage of him if he made Serindё unhappy. “I’m not staying long,” he protested.
Barliman snorted at that, continuing to wipe down the counter at the bar.
“I simply needed a bit of advice,” Halbarad continued.
“Best advice I can give you is to go back home to your wife and…” Barliman began.
“I left her sleeping,” Halbarad said.
Polly gave such an earthy cackle from the kitchen door that Barliman flushed. Halbarad swallowed and resolutely said nothing.
“What advice did you need, Halbarad?” Polly asked.
“I’d thought I could make breakfast for Serindё in the morning,” Halbarad began.
“Oh, that’s quite a good idea,” Barliman said with a nod.
“But I’ve been away so often – and I know she’s over here often enough – I was wondering if you knew…” Halbarad said, and why he was stammering so much, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was the realization that these people actually did know his wife better than he did, in some ways. “I thought you might know her favorites.”
“Oh, Shire toast, without a doubt,” Polly said. “Bacon. Those mushroom omelets of Barley’s…”
“How well can you cook, Ranger?” Barliman asked.
“Well enough that I don’t starve to death in the Wild,” Halbarad said, feeling just a bit defensive.
Barliman and Polly traded a look with one another, and before Halbarad quite realized what was happening, he’d been whisked back into the kitchen of the Pony. “There’s a trick with those omelets – bacon and Shire toast should be safe enough, though,” Polly said. “Have you made Shire toast before?”
Halbarad was forced to admit that he hadn’t, and Polly just patted his hand gently. “We’ll just do a small portion, then, so you get the trick of it – and I’ll make certain to send you home with the ingredients you’ll need,” she said, and began pulling ingredients out of a cold pantry.
He didn’t do too badly with cracking the two eggs that Polly handed him into a small bowl, although he felt a bit clumsy beating them together with a fork. “Now the milk,” she instructed, handing him a cup full of milk, which he poured into the eggs – and he was starting to feel a bit less clumsy beating the milk into the eggs. While Polly sliced bread, Halbarad continued to add to that batter at her instruction – a bare splash of rum, a pinch (“No, a pinch more, Halbarad!”) of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg. That mixture was then poured into a shallow square pan, so that they could dip the slices of bread into it. “Day-old bread is best,” Polly said. “It’s dried out just enough to soak up more of your batter, but not so much that it’ll taste stale. Now, the griddle – you don’t want it too hot,” Polly continued. “You’ll melt a little butter into it, but you want to watch it carefully. Don’t let the butter burn.”
Don’t let the butter burn, Halbarad was mentally noting, as well as the proportions. Two eggs, a cup of milk, perhaps a tablespoonful of rum, about a teaspoon of cinnamon, half that of nutmeg. Dip the bread in, let it soak up the batter, make sure that excess batter drips back into the square dish. Onto the griddle where the butter’s melted, but not browning or smoking, cook until nicely golden brown on one side, then the other.
It actually tasted rather wonderful, and he was amazed to realize that he’d cooked that, and it had turned out quite well, and it was with a sense of satisfaction that he made his way back across the street with bread and eggs and milk. He tried to be quiet putting things away in the pantry, but banged his foot into a chair leg which made a perfectly awful clatter, and he swore.
He swore again as he heard limping footsteps on the stairs and coming through the sitting room. A pause, and then the limping steps resumed, and the door between sitting room and kitchen swung open to reveal Serindё clad in a flannel nightshirt and brandishing her amputation knife. “Hello, Serindё-love,” Halbarad said, smiling and hoping to brazen this out.
“Halbarad?” she said incredulously.
“No one else,” he replied, still smiling.
Her eyebrows crinkled together, and then she shook her head as if thinking better of whatever she was about to say and went back into the sitting room. She came back with empty hands, so at least she’d put the knife away. “Where…?” she began, and then shook her head again. “Why?” she asked.
“I just went over to the Pony for a bit,” Halbarad said.
Her eyebrows crinkled together again, and her lower lip started trembling. “You haven’t been home in six weeks, and you just had to go over to the Pony?” she asked.
She sounded so hurt that he moved toward her, raising a hand to her face, and she struck it away angrily. Barliman was right with his first bit of advice, I probably should have stayed home, now I truly am in a pinch, Halbarad thought. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said.
“What am I thinking, then?” Serindё asked in tones that were all-too-carefully level.
Oh, I know better than to actually answer that, Halbarad thought – between the fact that his brother was well-known for tomcatting after young women and the fact that Serindё had described her father as ‘militantly promiscuous,’ there wasn’t much doubt in Halbarad’s mind what she was actually thinking. Better to just tell her. He’d have liked for it to be a surprise, but better to tell her. “I can’t be certain, but I’m betting that you’re not thinking I went over for a cooking lesson,” he said.
She blinked. “A cooking lesson?” she said incredulously.
“From Polly Butterbur – so that I could make you Shire toast for breakfast in the morning,” Halbarad said.
Serindё blinked again.
“She and Barliman told me that it’s one of your favorites – I thought to bring you breakfast in bed as a belated birthday surprise…”
“A cooking lesson?” Serindё said again, and then she collapsed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, banged her head down onto the table, and then her shoulders began shaking.
“I’m sorry, love,” Halbarad said, moving to put a hand on her shoulder, thinking that she was weeping.
She raised her head, and he realized that she was laughing. “When I heard the clattering down here, and realized you were gone – well, I didn’t know what to think. I was half-afraid that someone had broken in and you were injured,” Serindё said.
“Well, I…” Halbarad began.
“And then when I realized you were here and uninjured and sneaking back into the house? I won’t say what I thought,” she continued. “And now, to realize you snuck out, and then snuck back in to surprise me with breakfast?” Serindё shook her head. “I am such a colossal fool.”
“I’m sorry to have frightened you,” Halbarad said, trying to convey that he was sorry both sorry for the initial moments of panic as well as for causing her to worry that he might have been less than faithful.
“I am such a colossal fool,” she repeated, as if to herself.
“You were frightened,” he said. “I’m glad to know you’d come defend me in a pinch.”
She shook her head and laughed again. “I’m going back to bed,” she announced, and stood back up, limping back over to the door that connected into the sitting room. She turned, facing him, and asked, “You are joining me? Not sneaking out anywhere else tonight?”
Well, the best answer to that was to follow Serindё back up the stairs and climb back into bed with her.
When he snuck back downstairs the next morning, he realized Serindё had already beat him to one thing – tea was already prepared, and he laughed quietly. She was fond of likening his tea to something poisonous, so she’d prepared that – but she’d clearly then crept back upstairs and back into bed without disturbing him.
And when he brought Shire toast up to her in bed, she made a great show of pretending to be surprised.
Her delight with the meal, though, was clearly not just for show, as she gobbled down every bite.
And when she kissed him with lips tasting of maple syrup and butter and just faintly of cinnamon and rum, he realized that her delight with him was not for show, either.
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