One of the best parts of being away from home for Yule is the distinct lack of the human female’s cooking. Not that she can’t come up with usually-edible victuals, but by the crumbs in Volstagg’ beard, that woman cannot cook without making a horrific mess! She never finishes meal preparation without the kitchen looking like Ragnarok has occurred. Not that I feel any particular guilt about skiving off without helping with the washing up, but I am weary unto death of manufacturing excuses not to. Even I can run out of lies on occasion.
So, happy me and joyful Sigyn, we are sampling the very best this town has to offer by way of comestibles.
This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef…
And the other two piggies were similarly made out of marzipan and I nommed them while no one was looking.
By Odin’s monocular vision! Come here, Sigyn and look at this mold for cooking eggs!
How’d you like that staring at you of a morning? The pup is cute, too, and you’d get to eat the bacon that didn’t end up in the ears. The idea is very clever, but I wonder if the actual results would be as perfect? Never mind, though. With my magic, I can make your morning eggs into any shape you please.
Oooo! I have discovered the hoard of a lifetime!
These may be gold or they may be chocolate–either way, I win!
Look, Sigyn! They made a drink just for me!
But I bet it’s false advertising. I’ll wager my remaining uneaten chocolate gelt that it isn’t made with freshly-squeezed red pandas.
All of this wandering around and tasting and snacking on bits and pieces of things is making me cross and a little hangry for a real meal.
Yes, yes, Sigyn. I see the chocolate “just for me.” Very funny.
Ah. Sigyn has chosen where we shall have lunch today.
That looks like a splendid place to have lunch. And it appears they have two free seats at the counter. I could certainly wrap myself around a waffle or two, and a mug of hot cider would hit the spot perfectly.
And someone else will be doing the dishes.