Around the Flames that Burn Bright

With a nod, the younger Hunter picked up the containers of rosemary and thyme and looked at them for a second, mentally measuring. Half and half might work? She normally didn't spice her foods, but just put the meats on spits with maybe some herbs or vegetables she'd gathered from a forest or a field and then roasted them over the fire. It was really that simple, and still very delicious. Most of the girls weren't really chefs or anything.

Turning to Manouchka as she poured out some of the thyme into her hand, she asked her: "How much of each would you recommend? Half and half? One teaspoon thyme and two rosemary? I don't normally do this, sorry."

After smearing the oil on the stag, she went to get the potatoes that she had gotten earlier in the day and brought them back to the prepping area where Ellie was. She got a silver knife and started to peel the starch vegetable, sliding the dagger gracefully underneath the skin of the potato. "Don't apologize, just sprinkle a little bit more rosemary on the stag than you do with the stag."

"You know, this reminds me when I used to serve in the kitchen in Master George's kitchen." She told Ellie smiled a bit. It was the only thing that kept her happy when she was in New Orleans.

Well, very unspecific advice -- but Ellie did it anyway, taking pinches of either spice and sprinkling it onto the oily areas of the carcass. It wasn't a large sprinkling, but she supposed it was enough to enhance the flavor and all that. Would she be able to tell? Maybe, maybe not. That would have to wait until they were done.

When Manouchka started speaking again, she looked up curiously at her: something about a George man? She had no idea about many of the other Hunters' mortal pasts, so it was always interesting to hear about them firsthand rather than as idle pieces of almost-gossip when they were shooting the breeze. "Oh, that sounds... pleasant. When was this?"

Manouchka frowned a bit and continued to season the male deer. She sighed and stopped after she finished the first round of herbs and spices. Her hands were coated with oil, having a greasy texture. "This was after a month before I came to America, they put in my charge of preparing, cooking, and serving the food. Three times a day, seven days a week." She closed her eyes and took a moment before starting back up.

"Aah. Oh." Ellie looked away for a second, then back at Manouchka who had started working again after a weird lull in the conversation. She must have hit a nerve by asking that -- she usually did for some reason. She felt guilty for asking that now -- and had a resurgence of memory back to the '20s when she was still growing up with her grandparents, which had been great for white people but... terrible for African Americans. She couldn't even say she had never been racist in her entire life, but she had learned at least and gotten over all those old prejudices with the Hunters. "Er, are you okay? I might have been a bit insensitive asking that, sorry."

Life was rough, more than rough for others during that time. Manouchka continued to season the stagg until it was ready to go over the fire. African Americans had come a long way in the past few centuries in the nation's history. Inventions made, rights introduced, and freedoms released.

"No, no. It's fine, Ellie, I'm just thinking, that's all." She gave her a smile before standing up. "Now if you will help me put it on the spits please.." She took in a deep breath and hosted up the stag all on her own.

When the two had finished spicing and oiling the carcass for cooking, Ellie stood with Manouchka as she lifted the staf, brushing off extra spices from her hands and noting that they felt a little oily -- had she touched the stag by accident? Hopefully not, oil was such a bother to get off of her hands -- but she was sure Manouchka would have a bit more of an issue with the stag's oils and spices getting all over her.

"I'll grab the spits," she said to her, and then retrieved some very quickly from a nearby campfire where some of the Hunters had been cooking before (clean now, at least).

"Thank you." The stag was pretty slippery with the oil coated on it, but she didn't let it escape her grip. The stag was a bit heavy for her liking, but decided to just deal with it. She moved over closer to thefire, watching the flames dance in the dimly lit night sky.

"Put it down so it'll be easier for you?" Ellie suggested politely, still holding the several long metal spits in her hands. They were blessed to be indestructible from fire thanks to one Hephaestus or Hecate girl many years ago, God bless her soul; they had saved the Hunters from a bit more work than they normally did. "We could cut it into see pieces rather than roast it whole -- but you're the cook."

She thought for a moment, before agreeing with Ellie's suggestion. "Yeah, that's probably gonna be better."Manouchka put the well seasoned stag down. "Do you mind doing that while I go work on the potatoes?" She asked as she started to slice up the starchy vegetable into thin pieces.

Shaking her head, the other Hunter knelt down beside the seasoned carcass and, using her knife, began to slice off pieces of meat and stabbing the spit through several, creating a sort of weird kebab. The meat was slippery and, combined with the oil, definitely not the best thing to be holding: several times Ellie had to blow hair out of her eyes and rub her forearms against her knees to pull up her jacket sleeves. Cooking -- ugh. She hated it. Hunting was more her speed than anything else.

When three spits were done, still leaving a substantial portion of meat on the deer's bones, she glanced over at Manouchka as she placed them over the crackling fire to let them begin to cook. "You wanna switch after a bit, or are you fine peeling potatoes?"

And so Ellie shifted herself over to the pile of potatoes, wiping her kmife clean of blood and oil with a small cloth that she tossed aside to wash later. Manoucka had already done most of the cutting, but there were still a few that needed to be cut smaller -- so the daughter of Dionysus picked up those and began to finely slice them in half with the silver knife, taking care not to cut herself with it because the damned things were so darned... crunchy? Was that the adjective?

"How long did it take for you to find that thing?" Ellie asked her casually, crossing her legs as she tossed two eights of a potato into the pile.

Manoucka was about two thirds down with the stag when Ellie asked her how she found it. "Uh, It took me around...an hour? hour and a half, tops." She answered, wiping the corner of her own eyes with the back of her hand.

"Give you much trouble?" Ellie gave the pile of potatoes a once-over to pick out any ones that looked too large. Picking another one up she sliced it in half with her knife and frowned at the two pieces she held, gauging their size in comparison to the others. Good enough, she supposed as she tossed them back into the pile.