Cooking Advice

Posted on 15 Jul 2012 @ 2:26pm by Ensign Rhett Brubwick & Ansen Pawlak

1,531 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 01 - Project Sienna
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 2, Mess Hall
Timeline: MD09 - 1330 hrs

ON

Rhett, thus far, had only eaten replicated food from the mess hall. Now that he learned there was an actual chef on staff, he couldn't help but try some of his cooking. As he looked around the mess hall's counters, he saw a deep basin of stew filled with mushrooms, chunks of sausage, spare ribs, smoked pork, cabbage, and onions. Beside that was a tray of a wide variety of pierogie - those were there every day by rote. Other offerings were: grilled jumbo mollusks, vilm steak with plum ketchup or mushroom sauce, and a dish of sauteed kale, chard, and spinach mixed with some sort of reddish dressing. He grabbed a plate and a fork and dished up a small portion of two of the dishes.

As he popped the first bite into his mouth he couldn't help but smile. It was good. Very good. The second, wasn't something he liked as much. He could see why most people would, but it wasn't his favorite. Regardless, he would have to get the recipe for the first.

He looked over the counter and crept back toward the actual kitchen area. "Excuse me," he said somewhat timidly as he peeked around the corner of the open doorway.

"Yes, come," Ansen called over his shoulder as he flipped the last of the newest batch of vilm steaks on the grill and reinitiated the thermal dampeners. "Welcome, what can I do for you?"

Rhett rounded the corner, plate in hand. "Hi, I'm Rhett Brubwick. I was wondering, um," he felt incredibly awkward asking this, and he didn't feel awkward about most things, "I was wondering if you'd be willing to teach me how to make this steak."

The chef looked curiously at the steak in question. "Easy," he proclaimed, because it was, then turned back to the grill and plated the thirteen steaks he'd just cooked onto a tray and shoved the tray out the window to replace the other just as it emptied and dropped down into the bin below. "You take the raw vilm, sear for a minute on each side, then lower the temperature and grill another eight minutes on each side." He clapped and spread his hands apart, "Finis. The flavor is all in the meat. That is the hard part: finding good cuts. Replicator vilm is..." his nostrils flared a bit, "gowno. Yes?"

The diplomat looked quizzically at the man. "Yeah, I guess." He liked languages, but he'd never actually learned any others. "How do you come across fresh vilm?" Most people relied on replicated food, even if only for the most basic ingredients. Rhett had never found out how to find truly fresh ingredients.

"When I'm on a planet, I usually just ask if they harvest the particular kinds of animals or plants that I'm interested in dealing with. Stations are similar, although you can't speak to the quartermaster about it; they'll just turn you down. There, you go to the chefs or traders, and you barter. That's why I always keep a large supply of redspice with me and grow my own herbs. Spices and herbs are very difficult to replicate properly. Good thing to remember," he added, tapping his own temple. "For good vilm, you have to check the veins. Come," he waved Rhett over to a stasis chamber. "Even in a stasis chamber, the veins begin to wilt after about a month. You check here," he pointed to a thick red vein in the meat. "Red is good, the meat is still alive, bursting with vitality. Maroon, it is still good, but won't be as flavorful. Pink is what you tend to get from replicators. Blue... kills." Ansen smiled. "Really. It breaks down into a toxin that kills the heart. Never eat blue veined vilm."

"Okay." Rhett filed that away for future reference. "So how is it you meet all of these people? And where do you store all of this food?" He looked around the kitchen area. It wasn't a closet, but there weren't any walk-in freezers either. "This place isn't that large."

Ansen smiled. "Things we don't need immediately I keep stored in stasis bins in the cargo bay. And the rest," he waved around the kitchen. There were cabinets on almost every surface. "They give me quite a bit of storage. As far as the people go," he laughed, "I go find them. How else do you meet anyone?"

The diplomat shrugged his agreement. "I guess so, but where? Maybe I could join you the next time you go out for supplies, if that would be okay with you. I'm guessing it's mostly a matter of getting in with the right circles." He sounded hesitant. He had been all over the Federation, but hadn't ever gotten to know anyone who actually cooked, and didn't use replicated ingredients.

"Of course, of course. Next station, we'll take a walk together, you and I. But first, you need to show me what you can do." He grinned. "Well, all right. You don't 'need' to, but I'd like to know. If you're interested in the art, I'm happy to help you improve. And perhaps learn as well."

Rhett began to sweat a bit, and not just because of the searing flame on the steaks. "Uh, okay." He opened up one of the cupboards at random. "Where can I find eggs, the cayenne pepper, black pepper, salt, milk, bread, nutmeg, and cinnamon?"

Ansen tapped a panel beside the grill and all the cabinets and drawers lit with full inventories for the other man to reference while he went looking.

Rhett pulled out a bowl he'd seen briefly, cracked a couple of eggs into it, poured a modest helping of milk, added some nutmeg and cinnamon. He dipped the toast in, pulled a pan off of the rack above the counter and set it on the burner. He tossed the soaked bread on the pan and proceeded to drop a smaller pan on the stove. He cracked a couple of eggs, dropped the peppers, salt and a dash of cinnamon on top, and flipped everything at around the same time.

The Pole watched out of the corner of his eye as he continued to prepare the lunch selections. The diplomat didn't measure as he went, going by smell and rhythm. That was a good sign.

Grabbing two plates from the chef, the diplomat tossed four perfectly browned slices of toast onto the plates, followed by over medium eggs. He held one out to Ansen and took the pans off of the heat. "I don't know how to make syrup, but I usually have fruit and whipped cream on top anyway." He smiled, almost embarrassed. He loved breakfast at almost any time of the day, except morning, and he hoped this would measure up to the chef's standards.

Racking out another portion for the buffet, Ansen returned with a fork and cut off a bite of the toast and eggs, eating both together. The taste was measured, although the black pepper was a bit heavy with the lightness of the eggs. Still. It was a solid exposition. "White pepper, instead of black," he said, cutting off a second bite. "And I need to teach you how to crack eggs. Ah," he snapped his fingers and went to a shelf, scooping some black currant preserves into a tiny mixing bowl and tapping a little cayenne and white pepper into it, mixing it, then bringing it over to to Rhett. "With this, yes. Sweet and spice. You want to balance them carefully, especially with the french toast, co?"

Rhett smiled a bit sheepishly. "White pepper, right." He had only ever used white pepper when making General Tso's chicken, and he rarely worked on that. Although the diplomat did feel humbled in the presence of the master chef, he couldn't help but agree with him.

"I'm on alpha shift, and I temp in Research, but would you mind if I came by after my shift and helped out?" The young man figured that the best way to learn would be by experience and watching a master. "I don't want to get in the way, though, so if something else would work better, that's okay too."

Ansen grinned at him. "I'd welcome the company. And the extra hands," he added, eyes shining at the prospect.

Rhett smiled in return. "Do you mind if I stick around today?"

Ansen reached into a cabinet and tugged an apron out, tossing it across to the diplomat. "How do you feel about chopping onions?"

"Not a problem, so long as you don't want them chopped too finely." Rhett pulled the apron over his head and found a knife.

"Computer, a little Mario Matko for my new sous." As the Polish rock music began to play, Ansen placed a large basket of onions on the counter beside Rhett and then poured a couple shots of bimber, nudging one of the glasses towards Rhett. "To new friendship," he said, raising his glass. "Na zdrowie!"

Rhett downed the glass and coughed. "What you said."

[OFF]
-----

Ansen Pawlak
Chef
USS Galileo

&

Ensign Rhett Brubwick
Chief Diplomatic Officer
USS Galileo

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