Secret Manslaying Arts
Hanna curiously tilted her head when she heard a light knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting any guests, and her relatives wouldn’t do her the honor of asking for permission to enter. She mused over her peculiar visitor as she opened the door to a young girl carrying a basket.
“Oh, if it isn’t Margit!”
“How do you do, Mother Dearest?” the arachne said, playfully curtsying like a noblewoman.
Hanna quickly recognized her son’s friend; in truth, she held the girl in high regard—everything from her spider legs to her adorable chestnut hair and hazel eyes.
The countryside saw little traffic and thus oft fell short on entertainment. Prosaic human drama stood as its foremost pastime, and no conversation could pluck at a mother’s heartstrings like the love lives of her children. Fourth-born sons generally had great difficulty finding partners given the slim pickings of their inheritance, so seeing Erich tied up in young romance left Hanna overjoyed.
Furthermore, not only was Margit a well-mannered hard worker who had everything she needed to succeed in the countryside, but it was obvious from the outside that she was madly in love with Erich. Perhaps members of the less emotionally capable sex wouldn’t have noticed, but Hanna had once been a maiden in love herself.
“This is from my own mother, to repay you for lending us oil the other day.”
Margit’s basket contained a neatly processed cut of venison. The huntsmen made their livings protecting the preserve’s saplings from deer, and the meat they provided to the canton was a big-ticket item. They used a lot of oil: they needed it to maintain their tools, and many made a handy sum on the side rendering soap from surplus oil and the vast reserves of fat from their kills. Johannes’s farm had its own olive field, and his household often lent the huntsmen oil upon request. Today, it seemed the dues had been paid.
“My,” Hanna said, “this is a shoulder cut!”
“Yes, I’ve heard that you’re all fond of it.”
Trade within the canton was founded on the exchange of favors, to the point that it was rarer to settle an account in cash. Faithfully paying back one’s debt was key to living happily in the village, but this gift was extraordinary. The shoulder cut of a deer was very lean but flavorful, and its preparation largely depended on the culinary skill of the chef.
In some regions of the world, a woman’s beauty was evidenced by how well she could prepare her hometown’s dish. Hanna figured she’d marinate the meat in a wine-based sauce that her fourth son was particular to when she suddenly had a revelation.
“You know, Margit...Erich is out right now on a little errand.”
“Yes, I’m well aware,” the arachne replied. “I don’t mean to intrude, so I’ll be taking my leave—”
“I’m going to make one of his favorite dishes. Would you care to join me?”
“By all means!”
Hanna couldn’t stifle a full-blown grin at seeing Margit’s enthusiasm. The sight of this lovestruck maiden filled her with secondhand embarrassment as it reminded her of her youth. She, too, had once devoted countless hours cooking with a boy’s mother, tweaking this and that over an infinite number of trial runs that he would never eat. The bitter memories that melted over her tongue left her with a nagging urge to cheer the little arachne on however she could.
She couldn’t help but suspect she’d used up all of her luck as a mother. To think that there’s a girl who loves Erich not for his status or fortune, but for him!
“To start with the ingredients, we’re going to want to find the most sour wine we can.”
“Huh? But Erich likes sweet wine...”
“Hee hee, that’s right! But we can adjust the flavor with honey, and we don’t want it to taste too overbearing.”
Seeing Margit’s attention locked on like she was at one of the bishop’s sermons, Hanna happily taught the girl her secret manslaying arts.
[Tips] Sauerbraten is a dish made with heavily marinated meat, and a local classic in the Empire. Generally, pork or deer shoulder is steeped in wine-based sauce.
Lively voices bounced back and forth over the dining table. Eating a huge lunch to prepare oneself for the backbreaking work of the afternoon was a very Rhinian thing to do, and I felt blessed to be sitting at a table lined with steamed meats and bread.
“Man, this is as great as always.”
As I happily munched on one of my favorite dishes, a knowing smile crept onto my mother’s face as she began telling her story. She wove her tale like a sonorous poet, and I’m sure a lyre would have fit her quite nicely as she revealed that today’s dish had been made in tandem with Margit, who’d stopped by to drop off the meat in my absence.
“Ahh, so this is from that girl,” my father said. “I had a feeling this meat was softer than usual—maybe it’s because those huntsmen prep it properly.”
“Oh, right, Margit’s parents are huntsmen,” my eldest brother followed. “Hold up, does that mean we can eat all the meat we want if they’re our relatives?”
“Heinz, you’re a genius!” Michael exclaimed. “Do you think we’d get boar and fowl meat too?!”
“That’d be awesome,” Hans agreed. “Erich, when are you marrying into their family?”
My father’s sharp observation was immediately followed by my brothers jumping in saying whatever they pleased, leaving me pinching my furrowed brow. The way Margit sets her traps is so damn cunning!
“Mr. Brother, no!”
“Why not, Elisa?! It’s not every day you get to eat meat this good!”
I basked in the wholesomeness of the one member of my family who chose me over meat, and took another bite out of what was essentially a pit trap in culinary form. It tasted delicious, but the thought that this flavor might decide my life left me puckering my lips.
[Tips] Marriage is commonly decided by those around the couple being wed as opposed to the pair themselves.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login