experimentation

The cookbook that I picked up in Target City is surprisingly unhelpful, featuring absolutely no technical direction. Parts of it might as well be in one of the old dead Earth languages that I never took the time to learn.

Last night I tried to make "pancakes" because they looked simple enough, not as many ingredients as other recipies, no meat or impossible spices. I don't know what a cup is, or a tablespoon, Comweb took forever to load a metric conversion because no one has used the link in so long. Of course I had to use Eggsub, and the milk...I had to guess with the milk, and they didn't say what kind of grease to use. Its not as if I don't know how to cook, I can fry and boil and chop protein cakes until they're atleast passable. Space Age cooking is a far sight different than anything my grandparents ever did.

Con and Caban ate their portions without question or hesitation, like most men (and Runners) they tend to be efficient and grateful in regard to food. Pushing back his plate, Caban looked at me and said, "Well. I've never known you to do anything poorly, Scout."

Thinking back, I can't tell if that was a compliment or not. True, the pancakes were sort of crumbly, and slightly gritty, and unevenly cooked, but they weren't terrible. It was better than Con's attempts to disguise the gummies in his cooking. Its not as if either of them are any help in the kitchen at all. I'm not the mother of this ship, and just because I grew up old-fashioned doesn't mean that this sort of thing comes as instinct. I've just got to keep working at this, get better supplies and try again. If Caban doesn't like it, he can drink shakes every four hours until his liver gives out.

Pancakes. Men. Why bother?

I'm just glad they don't know about the first batch.