Looking upon the little scene, one easily mistaken by an uninformed onlooker for a small outdoor neighborhood potluck, with people shuffling about, chatting with strangers and asking questions about spices and unfamiliar dishes, and fanning the flames of her little fire, with an assortment of utensils spread out before her on a cloth rag, is none other than Kino.
Hermes, having some familiar faces to go and see, had elected to go off on his own for the day, and she had been left to explore a little on her own, content to see what the day would bring rather than to go into it with any particular plans. For much of the morning, she had wandered around with no aim in particular, but, as she went about, snippets of the conversations of passersby had caught her attention.
The Lanterby woman people had been talking about this morning, who was at the center of the little informal event before Kino now, what kind of a person was she? She was a food critic, and a respected one, at that. That much, Kino had known for some time. Mariella had mentioned something a bit ago about a well-known, respected food critic planning to pay Agama a visit, a woman named Emilia Lanterby. By coincidence, Kino had found the woman, and, if the handful of eager faces in the crowd were any indication, those in the know certainly did respect her opinions - or, at least, they craved them.
But, who was she, really? Besides a respected critic, who was this woman? It’s the question that runs through the back of the traveler’s mind as she finishes frying up some noodles, withdrawing her pan from its seat just above the flames and assessing the components of the meal she had spent the past forty minutes or so preparing. Really, there was only one way she could answer that question, and that required meeting the woman.
A pot, a pan, and a plate, those and some utensils are what she works with, but it can’t be said she fails to make full use of the tools available to her! A bed of rice goes from pot to plate first, Kino taking a few grains in hand and rolling them between her fingers to ensure they’ve been boiled for just the right amount of time. Finding them softened enough to eat, she adds the noodles, maybe a little browner - or, well, blacker, even - on the underside than they could be, but still fine, in her eyes, and a little bit of fried garlic, peeled and torn by hand, on top of the rice. With most of the ingredients brought together, she gives the meal a little taste test. A good base, but still in need of most of its flavor, she concludes, reaching for the greatest tool in her arsenal, that being a small collection of pouches packed with spices. Crushed red pepper, ground black pepper, a little bit of paprika, she pours it liberally onto the dish, covering it, mixing it, tasting it, and repeating until she’s satisfied her creation has enough flavor.
It’s not long after that, after putting her fire out and packing up her makeshift kitchen, that Kino finds herself setting her dish down on a table, mixed in among a few others. Mingling in the crowds, answering questions and making conversation with some of the others who had come to meet Lanterby or to see if she would taste their creations, she finds herself, for the moment, in her element, talking about food at times but finding plenty of other topics to cover. All the while, she glances at her dish, watching and waiting, looking to see if Emilia Lanterby happens to come around to sample the meal she had made.
It doesn’t take all that long, really. The food critic hadn’t quite expected to get as much focus as she had, but when her impromptu visit turned into a small assembly of a bunch of foodies and restaurantiers, she had chosen to roll with it. And that’s why, after a bit of waiting, someone unassuming approaches Kino.
“Hmmm.” The woman says, looking over the food. She looks at it, turning her head a couple times, really thinking about it. She steps back. “...Is this yours?”
“It is,” comes a simple, matter-of-fact reply from Kino. “It’s a traveler’s breakfast,” she elaborates, unprompted, figuring she ought to explain a little about her dish, if she was being asked about it. “It’s easy to prepare, and doesn’t take much to make. Store-bought noodles and rice keep well, and they’re cheap. If you can make your spices last, it improves it, but you can use anything around you for flavor when you need to. The only ingredient that’s hard to keep enough of on-hand is the oil, but you can use it sparingly.”
“Hmmm.” With that, the woman sits down. She grabs a fork and takes a large bite out of the dish. She chews for a minute, swallows, and stares at Kino.
Then she holds out her hand. “Fifteen dollars.”
“Hmm?” It takes the traveler a moment to even register what she’s heard, Kino trying to puzzle out the meaning of the woman’s statement. “I’m sorry. What are you saying?” The woman had clearly said “fifteen dollars,” but what had she meant by that?
“I’m telling you how much you owe me. For subjecting me to eating that.” Emilia Lanterby - for that is who it is - looks very grumpy as she jabs her hand at Kino. “I’m not made of time, and my tastebuds aren’t invincible. And you made me eat that… hmmm. I’m not even sure what to call it.
Regardless. You owe me.”
That meal wasn’t… that bad, was it? It wasn’t her best, but it was far from her worst attempt, at least… Finding herself facing a woman demanding compensation, though, Kino doesn’t dwell on the question of her meal’s quality for long. Reduced to rubbing the back of her hand and looking away, she responds by digging into her pockets and pulling out a mixture of coins that, when converted, come out to a grand total of… $1.57. Nevertheless, she extends her hand to Lanterby, offering up what she has. “This is everything I have with me. I can come back with more, but it’s going to be a mix of more foreign currencies.” Still keeping her gaze averted, if only out of a sense of bashfulness stemming from the woman’s reaction, she does tack on a question, not sure where to begin, but interested in knowing where she had gone wrong all the same. “Did it have enough pepper? Was the taste the problem?”
“That’ll have to do for now.” Lanterby swipes the money out of Kino’s hands, pocketing it. “...You really don’t know?
Your noodles were burnt. Your spices were overwhelming. I couldn’t taste anything BUT char and pepper. You need to learn restraint and to cut back when you’re adding spices, or failing that, remember when you’re cooking for someone who doesn’t have your particular spice-loving tastes.
Admittedly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other issues that I just couldn’t taste under that either.”
“Right, I understand.” Finally raising her eyes to look at Lanterby again, since she was apparently content with the compensation, Kino nods as she listens to Lanterby’s critiques. Her points weren’t anything that usually mattered when the traveler was making a meal for herself, but they were fair nevertheless. Though, how exactly she could go about having a meal with any taste at all while cutting back on the spices, that, she’d have to figure out…
“You’ve made food a passion and a job, haven’t you?” While some awkwardness remains, Kino still speaking cautiously, unsure if she had entirely satisfied Lanterby, the traveler does relax a little. “Have you always been around rich meals? Did you grow up dining on a wide variety of meals?”
Lanterby looks slightly confused by the sudden questions. “What, never read a review of mine? Or at least more than one? Why are you even here, then? Yes, it’s a passion. Of course it is. Not caring about food is incredibly foolish. It’s the cornerstone of your whole life! You need to take pride in it!
But, fine, answers. Sicily. I’ve mentioned it in more than enough of my reviews. Growing up there gave me far more of an appreciation for cuisine than some people I could name.”
As strange as it might seem, Lanterby’s responses, curt as they may come across, make it easier for Kino to relax, any concerns about Lanterby’s demand for compensation fading from her mind altogether as she focuses on getting a sense of the woman standing before her. Lanterby’s comment about taking pride in food because it’s a cornerstone of a person’s life even earns a slight smile from the woman. She was refreshingly direct when it came to revealing what made her tick, what she prioritized, wasn’t she?
“I usually eat whatever locals recommend to me, or make my own meals. It’s rare for me to read a professional review.” A woman so direct deserved a direct and honest response, didn’t she? “The meals people make, when they’re passed down through families, they capture something about what those people think were important. A simple meal made with staple crops might come from a frugal family. Were they not spending on food because they didn’t have enough for richer dishes, or because they wanted to put their money towards something more important to them? I wouldn’t be able to tell you that if I ate the meals they made. I don’t know what to look for in a meal to know that.”
“You can tell those things, can’t you? I couldn’t miss the chance to meet someone who dedicates their time to understanding the meals people make. I’m not a chef,” just to be certain she hadn’t missed anything, the traveler rummages through her pockets one more time, “but I still wanted to hear what you had to say.” Lanterby wanted to know why Kino had come here, and she got her answer, a simple exchange, in the traveler’s eyes. “I’m sure you know what food is worth trying here already, but, if you stay in Agama, you should try the iyya.”
“Mmmmm.” It’s hard to tell what Lanterby’s reaction to Kino’s comments are. She’s keeping most of her thoughts to herself, though she’s not trying to rebut or push back at Kino’s descriptions, simply acknowledging she heard them. The mention of the iyya, though, gets her to nod. “I’ve been hearing that all day. I’ll need to go over there later.
Anyway. I have more food to try. I trust you’ll be fine on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” Kino affirms, regarding Lanterby not exactly warmly, but certainly cordially as she collects the plate on which she had set her dish. It was a shame she couldn’t talk to the woman a bit longer, but, well, perhaps she’d have another chance to see the food critic at some point.
There’s nothing more to say, Kino quietly departing as Lanterby goes on to try more dishes and talk to more people, but that doesn’t bother the traveler. After all, she has shopping to do, to replace the food she used making a meal for Lanterby. Luckily, Lanterby hadn’t wanted all of her funds, after all…
