Reddit Recipes

"Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt and toe of frog–"

"Are you quoting the Scottish Play?" Lizzie asked, peering over Isabelle’s shoulder into the large pot she was chanting in front of. Isa spun around, surprised. She hadn't heard her friend enter her house. 

"You scared me!” said Isa. “What are you even here for anyway?" 

"You're hosting Writing Club this week, remember?" Lizzie said, rolling her eyes. 

"Oh, yes, Writing Club! I'd totally forgotten–lost track of the time," Isa replied. "Where's Tricia? She's usually the early bird. Now, where-" Isa reached for her chopsticks to stir her makeshift cauldron. Lizzie took her hand out from behind her back to present Isa's chopsticks. Isa took the chopsticks, and kept stirring. 

"Tricia's on vacation in the Bahamas. Didn't you see her pictures? Oh, right, you don't use social media except YouTube and Reddit," Lizzie muttered.  Isa suddenly remembered Tricia singing 'Ba-hamas' excitedly during their last meeting, waving around the wine glasses she carried around with her. 

Isa looked down at her stew and frowned. "I was planning on finishing this recipe before Writing Club," Isa sighed. "I'm not even close to being done. Oh–Lizzie, you could help me with this! User u/theatreKidMakesGoodFood said this was the perfect recipe for a stew that gives you a spark of creativity!" Isa waved around her chopsticks with her left hand, whipping around to face Lizzie. "It's going to be great!"

Lizzie winced and quickly turned off the stove. "The smell of burning hair is going to extinguish that creative spark," she said by way of explanation when Isa turned to her, confused. Lizzie made a face, but rolled up her sleeves and sighed. Isa politely ignored it and used her mittens to pick up the pot. 

"User u/i_correct_stupid_stuff_on_reddit98 said the fire had to be going the whole time for it to work," Isa explained. She dumped out the contents of the pot into the sink. She started to gather a few ingredients from her cabinets. "There's a rhyme we have to chant,”  said Isa. “We usually need three people, but we can just alternate the third person's lines."

Lizzie nodded, a slight grimace on her face. "What're the ingredients?" she asked. Looking at Isa's counter, Lizzie didn't see anything from the scene in the Scottish Play, like 'tongue of dog' or 'wool of bat'. All she saw were a large variety of ingredients sitting on the counter. 

"Normal stuff," Isa replied, waving a hand at her. "Um, I'll do the first person's part, I guess. Come on, let's start!" They focused on the computer screen with the recipe.

Lizzie didn’t know what to expect, but was surprised anyway. Isa opened a new tab on the computer and opened YouTube. She clicked on one of her playlists called 'Animal Sounds'. There were eight videos, called 'mew', 'pigggggggg', and 'WHO?!?!?!?', each video being saved a various amount of times. Isa rubbed her hands together and clicked 'play'.

'Mew, mew mew. Oink, oink, oink, oink. Who?"

Isa started pouring broth and water in as the playlist played. She turned the stove on low and waited a few minutes, just as the recipe instructed. Lizzie tried to start a conversation a few times, but Isa needed absolute quiet for this recipe, with the exception of the required sounds, so she quickly shushed Lizzie. 

As the broth started to boil, Isa placed ground beef in the pot. "Round about the cauldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone; Days and nights has thirty-one." With the last two lines were an addition of diced chicken. Well, frog legs are said to taste like chicken, Lizzie reasoned, grimacing at the unrhythmic delivery. Maybe that's where this Redditor got this idea?

Isa hurriedly gestured at the chopped-up carrots. Lizzie gave her the carrots, wondering how  "Sweltered venom sleeping got" had anything at all to do with carrots. 

Lizzie knew the next line by heart. "Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble," they said together. 

Lizzie now realized it was her turn to stir and put in ingredients. Isa positioned herself at the counter, having a bowl at the ready. Isa leaned over and adjusted the heat slightly as the recipe instructed. Isa then gave Lizzie a bowl of diced onions and Lizzie started to chant.

Lizzie loved theater and cooking, so she was actually having a lot of fun. She continued chanting, delivering her lines with enthusiasm as Isa kept handing her dishes. She noticed the strange combination of ingredients–completely different kinds of food for the ingredients in the play.  

Lizzie turned up the heat to medium-high. Isa threw in ingredients from the counter for her lines and gave them to Lizzie when it was Lizzie's turn for the third witch's part. There were a few minor hiccups, but everything seemed to be going great.

By the time they got to the third verse, Lizzie was seriously enjoying herself. Then she looked down at the strange mishmash of ingredients and wondered, What the hell have we made? The smell was okay, but it had occurred to Lizzie that you eat the stuff that comes out of recipes, and she didn't want to eat this strange stew. 

They were nearly done. Isa turned the fire up to high and they let it sit for a minute or two, one of the very last steps. Once it was done, Lizzie went to go turn off the fire. Isa fetched a few ice cubes and Lizzie tossed them in, double-checking her next line: "Cool it with a baboon's blood,

Then the charm is firm and good."

Isa smiled and used her mittens to put the stew on a mat that was on a table. Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but Isa shushed her again. 'We can't speak until we're finished eating," Isa mouthed. Lizzie nodded to show she understood and fetched two extra bowls for them to eat from.

Isa ladled a few generous scoops into each bowl, much to Lizzie's disappointment. As they waited for the stew to cool, Isa and Lizzie played charades. They came close to laughing a few times, but they managed to smother the noise.

Finally, it was time to actually eat the stew. Lizzie was mildly intrigued as to how the stew would taste. She was hoping it would be safe to eat–the stew had cooked for an appropriately long time, and none of the ingredients seemed dangerous, but knowing her forgetful friend, maybe a few of them had expired. 

Lizzie picked up a spoonful of the stew, gave Isa a grimacing smile, and took a bite. It didn't taste terrible, but the explosion of flavors could use some toning down–THUNK. As soon as Lizzie swallowed, her head hit the table and she was out like a light. 

The doctors would call it a dream, but Lizzie awoke in a strange, blurry mindscape. She couldn't see anything past the white fog. She watched as she saw a figure make its way, ever so slowly, toward Lizzie. 

"Um. Hello?" Lizzie called out to the figure, uncertain of where she was and hoping she could ask for help. Lizzie couldn't quite see their face past all the fog, but the figure simply emanated power. Hopefully they were feeling benevolent. 

"You are here for… a creative spark?" The figure drifted toward Lizzie, and Lizzie wondered for a moment if the figure had actually spoken. Then the figure came closer, and repeated: "Creative spark, is that right, Eliz…Lizzie, is it?"

"Uh, yes," Lizzie answered. "And…yes again. So, yes on both counts." 

The figure sighed deeply. "People of all eras have asked similar questions, Lizzie. They summon me and ask, 'Where is inspiration?' I am never able to answer this question. I cannot tell you to go to a specific place and you will be able to write a masterpiece. I cannot give you a stew recipe that will magically awaken the creativity in your mind."

"So, everything is useless?" Lizzie asked. "Not even you, a god or whoever you are, can tell me where to find inspiration? I can't just sit tight and wait for inspiration to come find me. I'll never finish anything that way." 

"I'm not asking you to 'sit tight'. I'm asking you to consider the world around you," the figure replied. As Lizzie opened her mouth, they held up a finger. "'Not nature', you say, 'that's been done a thousand times.' If not nature, consider the things that are unique to you. Maybe the trinkets you've saved  can help you tell your story. Maybe this experience itself will be useful. Inspiration is in everything around us, Lizzie. All you have to do is look."

Lizzie thought about the figure's words. She wanted to say there was nothing unique about her, but that wasn't true. She was the only one she knew who could recite Harry Potter front to back. Only she had the unique collection of souvenirs she did. "Where do I find inspiration in that?" she wondered aloud, noticing she could hardly see anything anymore. She could feel her grasp on the realm slipping away.

"Another question I cannot straightforwardly answer," the figure remarked. "I can tell you this: start looking for inspiration today. It will be easier tomorrow." The realm kept fading, and Lizzie could hear footsteps from wherever she was outside. 

The moment Lizzie couldn't see the fog and the figure anymore, she woke up on a hospital cot, startled. "It's just food poisoning," a nurse was explaining to Isa, who was clearly worried. "Just don't make the recipe again, I guess." Lizzie snorted, drawing the attention of the nurse. Lizzie was then hurriedly discharged from the hospital, with a promise that 'your bill will be mailed to you later'. 

As Isa was dropping Lizzie off at her house, Lizzie thought about her friend that had set this whole adventure in motion. I could even write about Writing Club and Isa and Tricia. They've got their own little quirks too. Oh, and I could write about my house and my backyard…

Lizzie found inspiration everywhere, even if the only stories she could produce from them were terrible. "Inspiration really is everywhere," she said out loud as she plopped down in her armchair, computer in hand. "I suppose I should start looking more."