Cooking for a Party

This isn’t a guide for making cute little appetizers or finger sandwiches for a celebration. No. This is how I cook a campfire meal for an adventure party. My party, Quixote Hex. My name is Zebedee. I am a Bardic Sprite and the cook for this rag-a-tag band of misfits I’ve come to call family.

We’ve stopped in the Nettlewood Forest on our way to the capital to set up camp for the night. The first thing I do to prepare our supper is build three separate fires around my prep table. As they heat up, I send Solaris, my contracted Kimat, to fill my cauldron with fresh water from the nearby waterfall. While waiting for his return, I lay out all my utensils and the few ingredients I carry in my rucksack. By the time I finish, I hear a sloshing sound behind me.

“Thank you, Sol!” I greet when he set the cumbersome thing beneath my feet. He gave a yip in response and smiled when he saw me fetch a blossom cookie for him as a reward. The treat was nearly half my size but was barely larger than one of his fangs. It was his favorite snack.

“Mmm.” I heard through our mind link. “Another.” I chuckled and pulled out a second one for him. Satisfied, he stretched out in the shade of a tree on the edge of the camp.

“Overgrown puppy.” I smirk. He chuffed back.

Going back to my prep work, I separate out some of the water and hang the cauldron over one of the fires to start warming up. When I turned around, the Vixhan sisters, Oblina and Edwina, stood with their prey shouldered between them. These two are Rogues, masters of stealth, with enhanced fox senses. Don’t let their short stature fool you. Being an assassin and an archer makes them spectacular hunters.

“What did you bring me today?” I ask excitedly, flying over to them immediately to inspect the large creature they set on the ground.

“A Roosam!” declared Edwina proudly. “I got it with one arrow.”

“Perfect.” I respond.

“That’s not all.” Oblina added. She opened the sack she carried to reveal two Burrowing Moaceans. “These gents were more amusing than a challenge.”

I cheered, trilling a note with my delight. “Wonderful! I’ve got it from here! Thanks for your hard work.”

Time to dress these beautiful beasts. With a hum of appreciation, I start with the Roosam. The beak, spiral horns, hooves, and long colorful tail feathers could be useful to the group’s craftswoman. She’s a Cyorc with unique parentage. Getting her size from her Cyclops mother and her Fighter prowess from her Orc father. The other skills she developed out of necessity since she didn’t quite fit in with either race, and needed to forge her own way. “Torpin can make some nice weapons and tools with these.” I say to myself as I set them aside for her. Next, I pluck the wings and skin the legs. They’re placed on a spit over the second fire to start roasting. I take three of the ribs, crack them open, and toss them in the heated water to make a bone marrow base for my broth. Then, I cube the breast and flank meat that’s left and set it to the side to add later.

Moving on to the two Moaceans. I carefully remove their green, fuzzy shells and hang them on either side of the cauldron to dry out and burn off the hairs. I’ll give these to Brisbin, the Tiefling Wizard in charge of our group, despite the many prejudices everyone outside of our party hold against him. Maybe he can grind them into a powder to use in one of his potions. After removing the claws from each of the legs, all twelve of them are set aside with the cubed Roosam. Then the torsos are added to the ends of the spit for lighter roasting.

My mouth starts to salivate. Cooking brings me such immense joy. My humming intensifies as I add dried ginger and coriander to the cauldron to infuse their bold flavors with the broth. Just when I was contemplating what I needed to do next, Kavi lumbered out of the trees carrying a basket in each hand brimming with fresh vegetations they foraged. As a Shoom Druid, they proliferate through a process called sporing making them a genderless being. They are capable of shifting into various shapes. However, this is their true, preferred form. An anthropomorphic fungi with a bulbous cap and a thick stalk. Their connection with the earth makes their search a simple task. I can rest assured that everything they bring me is safe for consumption… and delicious!

“Kavi! Right on time!” I shout. I can smell some of the herbs they found before I reach them. I inhale the sweet scent. “Is that… Lemon grass?!” Kavi nodded. The aged wrinkles around their mouth squished together as their smile grew wider with each exclamation that followed as I examined the contents of the baskets. “I know just what to do! Thank you!”

Before I do anything with these treasures, I drop the cubed Roosam and Moacean legs in the broth and clean my table. My glee turns into humming again. Then I clean and sort what Kavi brought me. Sharpening a few young reeds, I alternate skewering button mushrooms, cattail shoots, and thinly sliced wild parsnips. These are suspended above the third fire to be smoked. On my way back to the table, I grab a large basin to mix the mustard greens, dandelion leaves, baby clover, lemon grass, and shredded chive flowers in a salad. Finally, I add quartered burdock root and the parsley to the cauldron and cover it so it can stew.

“In the distance, before the setting sun… two shadows are not seen, but one…” I start singing. I can’t hold back anymore. “A shady mass, against evening sky… oblivious to any, passing by…” The distinct aroma of each dish is wafting skyward and mingling harmoniously in the middle. It’s intoxicating! “The earth around, turns into night… the mass remaining, out of sight…” The fragrances dance with me while I flitter back and forth, stirring, rotating, and stoking. My glass-like wings warm with my song and I know they’re glowing. “The moon reveals, the mass in true… not just one shadow, but two…” My special restorative magic, activated through the melody, emanates from them and drifts over the meal.

Everything is nearly ready. Wild berry wine and thistle milk tea have been warmed on a griddle beneath the smoked skewers. Steam from them finish the vegetables nicely. I just need to toss the salad with the fig imbued nectar dressing I made before we left our hometown and top it with arrowroot croutons.

“There!” I declare, hands on hips, admiring my work. “Done. I’ll just tell the oth…” I turned to get my companions, only to find them standing in a line already. Anticipation was etched in their gazes. Each had a plate, a bowl, and utensils in hand. Except Solaris. He didn’t use those things. “Hungry?” I smiled.

“Yes!” Their unanimous cheer resonated through the camp. I laughed. One by one I filled each of their vessels with slices of roasted meats, ladles of stew, a skewer, and a pinch of salad. Except Solaris. He got a whole wing and happily paraded around with it. The others chuckled at his youthful joy.

“Overgrown puppy.” I whispered.

“Hmph.” Solaris grunted while plopping down to chew on his prize. I smiled again.

Once the others took their seats, I filled cups with the drink of their choice and brought it to them. Cooking for a party requires passion and flexibility, understanding and balance. It’s a challenge I thoroughly enjoy facing every day. But the most satisfying, and most rewarding part is this… watching the others discover the flavors of my creations with fervor. And witnessing their imbued healing effects.

Yawwwn… I’m exhausted. I’m no longer hungry. So, I nestle into the fur on Solaris’s side and fall asleep to the soft appreciative tones of everyone eating, mixed with the crackle of the three fires, and the chorus of the night around us.