Mise en place is all important. Be sure to assemble your ingredients before beginning.
(Don’t you just hate it when you light up the stove and there’s an odd, burning smell and you can’t tell whether there’s something in the stove or something wrong with the food and you have to stop what you’re doing and take the pot off and take the stovetop half to pieces and go fishing for whatever might be down there and what in the Nine Realms is all that charred stuff and Ow! the burner’s still hot and dammit and why can no one can find the burn cream?)
We may *never* get to eat! Ehehehehehe…
I didn’t have time to finish my preparations yesterday. So much to do!
Here is the lemon (I think it was a lemon.)
No platter would be perfect without a little parsley garnish!
The berries are ready for the pie.
That’s the produce sorted. Time to start cubing the bread for the stuffing. This year we are having a special furry stuffing…
I think Sigyn and I will be eating out.
The humans are gearing up to some sort of festival. I must admit I do not yet fully understand what they are celebrating. I thought at first it was a harvest festival, although crops throughout the realm have been gathered for quite some time. Indeed, most of this country has already had snow. (Ehehehehe. You’re welcome, Buffalo.)
The holiday seems to feature parades, sporting contests, and a frenzy of market-going.
However, the main event seems to be a massive feast of Asgardian proportions. (You know, this whole thing sounds like just the sort of holiday Thor loves best. I shan’t invite him.)
I’ve been doing my best to make sure the vegetables are ready the big meal.
The celery is nearly ready for the stuffing.
The lettuce is ready for the salad…
…so is this tomato…
…aaaand the cucumber.
The human female suffers terribly from dry eyes. (If she’d just get to bed at a decent hour, she wouldn’t feel like someone had put sand under her eyelids all the time, but she’s not very bright…)
She has these computer glasses just for middle-near work. Without them, her computer screen is blurry.
With them, things are still a little blurry. Mostly because I lick the lenses when she isn’t looking. (And lens cleaner is surprisingly ineffective on Jotun spit.)
On bad days, she has to keep putting in these wetting drops with the ingredients I can’t pronounce. You should see the faces she makes while she’s doing it. Horrible.
Mostly they help, but lately they’ve been making things worse. I’m not saying I have or haven’t been spitting in them, but there are several studies in peer-reviewed journals that suggest that Frost Giant saliva can cause a burning sensation on contact…
I will admit it. I have caused a lot of aggravation for the human female lately. She’s still on my *&#$! list for not rescuing Sigyn and me when we were lost in that other realm.
But maybe, just to be nice (or just to lull her into a false sense of security!) I will buy her a little present and leave it in her office for her to find. While I was fossicking about on her desktop yesterday, I found some discount codes for a couple of the places she orders from.
I’ve hacked her purchasing software, so price is not an issue. I wonder how many of these little guys you get for $500.00 (now $400)???
And here we are in the room in the basement room with all the dead things.
Urrr. What the heck kind of place does the human female work in, anyway?! But I must admit—the tidy person in me can appreciate the fact that at least the offal is neatly labeled for convenience and date-tagged for freshness. No stale brains here!
The human female is notoriously clumsy and accident-prone. Here she is with yet another minor injury. No doubt she will meech and moan about this for days. Such a fuss over such a tiny amount of blood! Be quiet and go get yourself a bandage.
These bandages are guaranteed sterile "unless the package is opened or damaged." Oh, my. Will you look at that. They all appear to have been opened. Looks like you will be dying of sepsis.
Since your visit to the dentist, you’ve been even more vigilant about your tooth brushing. Commendable, I’m sure.
Don’t be grossed out because there’s a hair on your toothbrush. It is, after all, your own long, silver hair.
No, be grossed out because I pulled that hair out of the drain.
The hygienist has let me peek in the human female’s mouth. Urrrr. What a maloccluded mess.
I may have nightmares.
The human female can be a true slattern. She says they’re dining out to spend time with friends, but the truth is, she’s just too lazy to cook.
So here we all are at a place called the House of Burger, a small establishment run by a family who looks as if they might be Hogun’s kin. At first, I thought their surname was "Burger," which would make sense, you must admit. However, I have learned that a "burger" is a sort of Midgardian dish, one constructed of bread and grilled ground meat.
Thor would probably love it.
While we are waiting for our food, I am examining what’s on the table. There are a number of mysterious pink packages.
Despite the packaging, they apparently have nothing to do with music. Let us see… What does the label say?
By Fenrir’s whiskers! Are you sure this is meant to be eaten?