Month: February 2015

A Celebratory Meal, Part II: Small stuffed things

This cuisine appears to feature many dishes based on the principle of the sofa cushion. Take this one, for example.

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Soft, pillowy dough outside and some sort of savory filling. The human female calls these Charred Shoe Buns. Surely burnt footgear is not actually among the ingredients? Sigyn, I think I’d give this one a miss, unless you need something squishy to nap on.

Here are two more dumpling-thingies.

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The Midgardians ordered some shrimp-stuffed tidbits and some pork-filled nibbles. I can’t tell which is which, can you? Perhaps I should consult the Tarot Ball…

Oh, my. What is this? <poke, poke.> It’s covered with seeds and is piping hot. Great Gungnir! It is full of red paste. I did not expect that. I can think of not a few unsettling things that would make a paste that color. Raw liver. Mashed crayons. Beets.

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The humans seem to be suffering no ill effects from eating these weird things, so maybe I will try it. <Nibble, nibble.>

I still can’t tell.

The human female says it is a red bean paste. But it’s sweet! Beans, really? Bean-beans, not jelly beans? Bizarre.

Shoes, mystery stuffing, beans. I think I will never understand Midgardian food. But it tastes good!

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A Celebratory Meal, Part I: You want to eat what?

The humans and their friends are celebrating this lunar Year of the Ram/Sheep/Goat by eating dishes native to the culture.

Sigyn and I are looking at the menu. Even with pictures, I don’t recognize a single dish. This is food?

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Chicken feet?! Surely this is an elaborate practical joke. Gwat? What is Gwat?

The dishes have started to arrive. They smell very good, which is reassuring.

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The human female calls this “Wu Gok.” She says this translates to “Tarot Ball.” I have studied Midgardian methods of fortune-telling, so I surmise that is both a comestible and a method of divination. That makes sense for a new year— bite into this crispy, wispy fried thing and examine its innards to determine one’s fortune for the coming months. I have used it to make the prediction that the human female will end up with crumbs of this airy, fragile dough all down the front of her sweater.

Sigyn is not so much interested in delicious, bite-size predictatory morsels, or even these tasty roast pork bits, as she is in going around and around on the rotating centerpiece of the table. It’s a meal! It’s a ride! It’s gastromancy!

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What a difference a year makes

This time last year, I was healing up from a horse bite, and on this day in 2014, I caught my first glimpse of the lovely Sigyn. Truly, this is an auspicious day for a New Year, Chinese or otherwise.

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p.s. All four returned cases of apothecary bottles have reached their destination.  I was so distracted by New Year’s festivities that I forgot to have one go astray. I will have to redouble my efforts to bungle up the refund.

A new New Year

It has come to my attention that some cultures of Midgard utilize a lunar calendar and reckon this as the first day of the new year. Different animals have been carefully chosen to represent each of the years in the twelve year cycle. This year is the Year of the Sheep or Ram.

Sigyn is celebrating by making friends with this fluffy sheep. It is an odd pale yellow color and has a strange, rattling baa and beady little eyes, but she loves it.

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Animals dote on Sigyn and Sigyn will ride anything.

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This year is also known as the Year of the Goat. I think that is a better name and most auspicious for me! Note the glorious sweeping horns, if you will. I can identify with this magnificent animal. (Except perhaps for the neck ribbons, which should be black and green.) Forgive me, Sigyn, but the Goat is a much nobler beast.

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All honor to the hoofstock of your choice, and 新年快樂 !

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Light ’em up

After yesterday’s diary post about cake and kings and sacrificial, inedible babies, the human female sat me down and gave me some long-winded lecture about being sensitive to the religious beliefs of others and how I might try to be helpful rather than scoffing. There was probably more than that, but to be honest, I stopped listening about halfway through. Blah, blah, blah.

She explained some more about what’s going on today. Turns out it’s not about me, which is probably just as well. (I didn’t want an inedible-baby-flavored cake with purple sugar anyway.)

Today’s activities involve burning palm trees so that the resultant ashes can be daubed on people.

Botanical pyromania! Sounds like fun! In the spirit of ecumenical cooperation, I’d love to help. Where could I find…? Well, well, well. Now isn’t that lucky? Look at what’s part of the set-up for some of the labs at the human female’s workplace this week! And as it happens, I am well-prepared for just such an eventuality…

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Bon voyage! (A lesson in villainy)

In villainy, as in comedy, timing is everything. It’s crucial to know when a joke has been played out, when it’s time to move on to the next thing.

I have, therefore, waved my powerful hand and allowed the return tags for the apothecary bottles to finally arrive in the human female’s in-box.

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Truth be told, I shall miss them a bit. I’ve had such fun with them. I am contenting myself by thinking of the enjoyment I will have messing with the refund process once they reach their destination–which is (get this!) a town only about 100 miles away. The human female could have driven them there herself some morning and been back in time for lunch.

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A cake just for me

Some of the Midgardians are gearing up for something religious, but I’m not sure I understand it completely. Something about forty days and forty nights and fasting and sacrifices and repentance. They plan to start the observance off by feasting and partying and perpetrating misdemeanors so that they have something of which to repent… Sounds like my kind of shindig.

Every Midgardian holiday seems to have its own suite of culinary peculiarities, and this one’s no exception. The human female has been going on and on about King Cake for a week now, and she has located one in the market. Would you look at this handsome thing!

And the cake looks good, too. >|; ]

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It is indeed a cake fit for a king. You know what? I think it must have been made in my honor! Maybe this holiday is all about ME! My fame has spread and the populace is on the very brink of rising up en masse and declaring me god and/or king! It is about time! I adore feasting and sacrifices– as long as I’m the one doing the feasting and everyone else is doing the sacrificing. And “Mardi Gras” must mean “everybody kneel” in one of the local dialects. Well done!

However, they do need to make more of an effort to get the colors right. I approve of the green and the gold, but why did they add all the purple? I don’t “do” purple.

Mmmm. Caaaake. I wonder what it tastes like…

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Apple! Apples are good. I like apples. But what’s this about an inedible baby inside? I don’t think I like the sound of that. I can be ruthless, but I have yet to stoop to the slaughter of infants and their inclusion in any sort of patisserie.

Maybe I don’t want this holiday…

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