[Ranma][Fanfic] Flambe! Week 3

[bridget ellen engman]

Ranma 1/2: Flambe!
by bengman

Week 3: Blackened Crab Cakes

Akane stood in the dojo, breathing heavily as the last
bottle clattered to the floor. She brought her hands together in
front of her, bowed, and relaxed into a ready stance, trying to
gauge her own emotional state. Not good. She was still too
angry with Ranma; perhaps another run-through of tonight's kata
would calm her down.
She began to pick up the bottles and bowls she had flung
around the room, sighing. It was a good thing school wasn't in
session; her life had settled into a bitter cycle of calming
herself down enough to cook, then cooking in a relatively hopeful
state of mind -- and then succumbing to anger when Ranma once
again refused to say a single nice word about her cooking... She
had no time for school.
If it wasn't for Mrs. Murakami, she would have given up by
now. She smiled, setting a few bottles on the makeshift
"counter" she used to practice. Mrs. Murakami always had a
compliment for her, always kept her going in the face of Ranma's
stubbornness. A few days ago, she had even said that Akane would
soon be ready to "graduate," and had started her on a special
meal that would bring all her training to a culmination. A huge,
multiple-course meal made up of dishes perfect for Akane's own
particular idiom. Akane had already purchased most of the
ingredients; tonight was her last lesson, and then tomorrow would
be The Meal.
She paused, staring at the plastic bowl she held. When the
lessons ended, Mrs. Murakami would stop coming. Akane would be
cooking all by herself. It was thrilling, in a sense, but at the
same time it was frightening. Somehow, she didn't feel quite
ready. There was something missing in her cooking, she didn't
know what. Just a slight variation from perfection in everything
she made, that kept her food merely decent. The only truly
excellent dish she had prepared was that pecan pie, and she
thought sadly that that was only because chocolate was in and of
itself wonderful.
The door slid open behind her, just as she was about to
begin the kata again. It was Ranma, she could tell. She would
have to do the kata a few times more after this conversation, she
was sure of it. It worked much better if she didn't see him at
all before cooking. She jerked her head in something of a
greeting, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.
Which he didn't, of course. Ranma was never too good with
hints; he liked things spelled out for him. The problem with
that was, spelling things out generally disrupted her
concentration. He stood right behind her, not saying anything.
She waited for him to either leave or spit it out, but he just
stood. She sneaked a peek over her shoulder, and noticed that he
looked a bit worried. That was odd. Finally she relented, and
turned to face him.
"What do you want, Ranma?" Her voice was quite calm, she
noted proudly; she had gotten pretty darn good at controlling
her emotions of late. She looked at him squarely while he
fidgeted.
"I was wondering if that old lady is coming over again
tonight." His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he shrugged
his shoulders a bit, as if he really didn't care. Like he'd be
asking if he didn't want to know.
She frowned a bit. "She's got a name, you know. It's not
very polite to just call her an old lady, especially after all
she's done for me."
"All she's done to you, you mean." Ranma had tensed up, and
was frowning, peering at her intently under his knitted eyebrows.
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Akane asked a bit
hotly. Be zen, she cautioned herself. You've only got an hour
to calm yourself down before she gets here. She heaved a deep
breath.
"Well... what do you know about her anyway?"
"She runs a vegetable shop a few miles away from here. And
she's been teaching me to cook. She's wonderful." Her voice was
growing louder. She took in another deep breath, then spoke
calmly again. "It's not like she has any deep, dark secrets.
It's kinda nice to talk to someone *normal* for a change."
"Normal. Yeah, right." Ranma's look grew blacker. "She's
about as normal as Happousai."
Akane felt her carefully-crafted focus crumbling at this.
"How dare you compare her to that old lech? Mrs. Murakami is a
good, sweet, honest person, unlike some people I could mention."
"That's just it, she's not a person at all!" Ranma snapped.
"What?" Fury began to well up inside her. "What on earth
are you talking about?"
"I..." Ranma looked uncomfortable. "I followed her home
last week. I've followed her home every night since then..."
"That's pretty rude of you." Akane's hand clenched into a
fist.
Ranma waved his arms in the air. "No, listen. This is
important. She doesn't go home. I mean, she goes as far as that
vegetable shop, then she turns and goes into that shrine across
the street. Then she just vanishes. She's a spirit or
something, she's cast a spell on you..."
"Liar!" Akane screamed, her focus gone for good. "I've
been inside her house, I've seen where she lives. You just don't
want to admit that you're wrong!"
"Wrong about what?" Ranma huffed.
"Wrong about my cooking! Wrong about _me_! You just never
will get it in your thick head that I can cook now! There's no
spell on me -- I learned! I trained, I got better! Can't you
accept that? Can't you appreciate it?"
"Why should I appreciate your being under a spell? If it
wasn't for that old lady's magic, you'd still be chopping the
styrofoam along with the steak!" Tears came to Akane's eyes at
this; Ranma blinked, then went on in a slightly quieter voice.
"Akane, I want to help..."
*CRACK!*
She heard rather than felt the impact of her hand across
Ranma's cheek, watching as he flew into her practice counter,
sending bottles flying in slow motion. Her entire body was numb.
She didn't bother waiting to see if Ranma was still conscious.
There was a rushing sound in her ears, and her throat felt thick
and hot. She stalked out of the dojo, her aura flaring about
her.
So he didn't believe she could do it. He didn't believe it
was her. Well, she would show him. She had most of the
ingredients for her graduation meal, and an hour to prepare it
in. Ranma would eat his words all right. She would shove them
right down his throat.

Ranma pushed himself to his hands and knees, noticing a few
new bruises where he had impacted with the cinderblocks. His
cheek was red and swollen, and he poked it experimentally. It
hurt worse than usual; Akane was really mad.
He sighed. He had known talking to Akane about the old
woman would be hard. Akane was all starry-eyed with her success,
she was blinded to the spirit's true nature. Of course she
wouldn't be pleased to have her little fantasy taken away. It
was for her own good, but Akane was notoriously clueless when it
came to what was good for her. No, Ranma had done the right
thing.
Now all he had to do was confront the spirit who had caused
all this. The old woman would probably transform into a huge
demon, which he could then battle with all the skills at his
disposal. Akane would see the battle, of course, and know that
she had been mistaken, that Ranma had been right. She would rush
out of the dojo, stars in her eyes, and beg him to forgive her
for ever doubting him. Like a true man, he would brush aside her
compliments, graciously forgive her, and say, "it was naught but
my duty as a martial artist, and as the Man of this household."
(Genma and Soun didn't count, he reminded himself.) Then he
would gather her close to his side, just like on the covers of
all those sword-and-sorcery novels, strike a heroic pose, and...
A scream from the kitchen interrupted his vision of What
Would Be, and he sprang to his feet automatically, taking off at
a headlong run. Akane. The old woman must have sneaked in and,
seeing that her evil plan had been thwarted, attacked. He
skidded in the hallway and looked in the doorway of the kitchen.
Flames seemed to be everywhere. Climbing up the curtains,
licking the edges of the cabinets, turning the ceiling black with
soot. Akane stood before the pan that was the source of the
flames, unmoving. The flames licked towards her.
"Akane!" Ranma leapt towards her, snatching her away from
the stove. She felt limp, like a doll; he glanced at her and saw
that she was staring at the flames in shock. Ranma set her on
the ground and faced the conflagration. The curtains were easy;
he ripped them down and stomped on them, ignoring the feel of his
own hands being seared. The pan was another matter entirely; it
looked like a grease fire, so water was out. He had no idea
where Kasumi kept the baking soda. Looking around frantically,
he saw that Akane was clutching a lid in her fist that looked
like it might fit the pan. He snatched it from her, then
approached the pan, holding the lid out before him like a shield.
A few tendrils licked around the edges as he slammed the lid down
on the pan, cutting off the flames abruptly. Smoke curled out
around the edges of the lid, filling the room. He beat the few
remaining patches of fire with his hands until they were out,
then turned to Akane.
"Akane, are you okay?" She was still staring at the pan,
her eyes wide and blank. There was a smudge of soot on her left
cheek; her hair had been singed a bit in the very front. Ranma
knelt beside her, grabbing her shoulders, worry roughening his
voice. "What the hell were you doing?" Her eyes focused
slightly, and her brow furrowed.
"I was... cooking."
"Yeah, well, you almost cooked yourself. Not to mention the
rest of us. Honestly, when will you get it through your skull
that you should just stay out of the kitchen? You're a walking
bomb threat!"
Akane heard this with that slight frown on her face, then
stood, brushing Ranma's hands aside. She looked at the ruins of
the kitchen, her head swiveling slowly to take in all the
details. Then her arms wrapped around herself. In a small
voice, she said, "You're right, Ranma."
"Huh?" She wasn't supposed to say that, not yet.
"You're right. I'm just... not meant to cook. I've been
fooling myself all along." He could barely hear her.
"Uh..."
"But that's okay, I guess. When Kasumi gets back, I won't
ever cook again. It's probably for the best."
"But, Akane...."
"Didn't you hear me?" her voice finally rose above a whisper
on a hysterical note. "I'm never going to cook again!" She
walked slowly out of the room. Ranma stared after her
helplessly.
Then he heard a knock on the door. It was her. He clenched
a fist. The old woman was going to pay for doing this to Akane.
He opened the door, fisting one hand on his hip and glaring
down his nose at the little old lady outside. She looked at him
in mild surprise.
"May I come in?" Oh she was a crafty one, all right. So
very polite, so innocent-looking. He hoped she would hurry
up and change into a demon; he felt uncomfortable intimidating
a little old granny, even if he knew she was evil incarnate. He
narrowed his eyes.
"No." He knew the stories. If he didn't invite her in, she had
to stay outside. Well, that was vampires, but it wouldn't hurt
in this situation.
She blinked. "Is Akane not feeling well today?"
"You could say that."
The old woman shifted her bag slightly. "Well then, could I
come in and say hello to her? I've grown quite fond of her;
perhaps I could cheer her up."
"Nice try, but no. I'm not letting you near Akane again."
She looked at him curiously. "Is something wrong?"
"Let's just cut the crap and get on with the battle." He fell
into a ready stance. Now would come the demon change. He
would open with a Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken...
"Are you feeling all right? Perhaps you should go lie down."
She reached up a leathery hand to touch his forehead.
He stepped back quickly. "Oh, no you don't. I'm wise to
you."
"Wise to me?"
"Just drop the act. I followed you home. I saw you go
into that shrine. You're a spirit of nature, capriciously
wreaking havoc in my life, and I'm not letting you have
Akane."
"Shrine?" Her wrinkled brown face lit up. "You mean the
shrine across the street from my vegetable shop?"
"Of course I do!" Ranma snarled.
"Well..." she laughed merrily. "After my husband died,
I started taking care of that shrine -- sweeping the grounds,
rinsing down the walk with water..."
"Yeah, right. Try another one, evil spirit."
She laughed again. "Do you generally have a problem with
capricious spirits wreaking havoc in your life?"
Ranma was taken aback. "Well, yeah. It's happened
before."
"Poor thing. Well, I'll come by tomorrow and see how
Akane is doing." She bowed and began to walk away.
Ranma bowed back automatically, then stopped himself.
"Uh... well... no! don't come by tomorrow!" He clutched
at his resolution. He had to protect Akane.
"No?" She turned back, her eyes strangely sad. Now,
now she would change. Now she would attack. Ranma
was ready for it.
"No." He steeled himself. She looked so lonely all of
a sudden. "I don't want you to come back here ever again."
She looked steadily at him, her clear eyes unblinking.
After a moment, he looked away. Clever of it, not to
change shape after all. He was almost convinced that this
was just a harmless old lady. But he wasn't taking any
chances.
Into the silence, the old woman spoke, her voice low
and gentle. "Now I understand why Akane has had so much
trouble gaining her focus, why her cooking is not as good
as it should be after all her training. The problem lies not
in her, but in you."
"What the heck are you talking about?" Ranma barked.
She smiled sadly. "Akane is ready to graduate, but it
seems you are not." She turned away, beginning to walk.
"Don't worry, dear boy. I won't be back. But I would like
you to think about what it is that is really hurting Akane,
and what you can do to fix it."
"Ha!" he shouted after her. "I already have! You won't
be sinking your claws into her again!" Now Akane would
be back to normal, she would be safe. But as the woman
vanished around the corner, Ranma felt strangely hollow,
as if something had gone terribly wrong. The problem
was, he had no clue what it could possibly be.

ANYTHING-GOES MARTIAL ARTS COOKING TIP 3:
Garnishes

All right, let's just admit it. Garnishes are stupid.
Admittedly, there is no other real use for parsley or shredded
red cabbage (unless you like them on your okonomiyaki) but the
fact is, they're not going to make your food taste any better.
And they may not even make it *look* any better. Usually, you're
better off leaving them out. However, if you wish to add a
special martial arts flavor to your meal, here are some ideas:

--arrange the mashed potatoes in the shape of Kanji
characters. Simple ones, please.

--make little tiny mallets out of toothpicks and wine corks.
Place them atop the entree. Diners can have fun tapping
each other on the head with them (clean sauce off first)

--lollipops make cute bonbori, to decorate dessert plates
with.

KATA 3: Blackened Crab Cakes
(from Legends of Louisiana Cookbook by Sheila Ainbinder)

WEAPONS:

2 pounds redfish (*not* blue fish, old fish, or new fish)
(make sure there are no bones, please!)
1 tbsp. garlic, minced or whacked with mallet
1/4 pound butter, at room temperature. (note: change
the temperature of the *butter* to match the
*room*, not the other way around)
juice of 1 lemon (no, not *that* kind of lemon, you
hentai!)
1 pound claw crabmeat
1/2 green onion
Prudhomme's Blackened Redfish Seasoning (R)
(or substitute any cajun seasoning mixed with
extra black pepper)
melted butter
lemon wedges (NOT lemon wedgies, you hentai!)

TECHNIQUE:

1. Clean kitchen. Measure all ingredients and arrange in
proper order for kata. Set cast-iron skillet on stove. Turn
on heat. Do not touch skillet again during kata unless you
have mastered the Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken, or want
to try a lovely recipe for Blackened Hands. Make sure you
have sturdy potholders nearby.

2. Whack redfish with mallet repeatedly until it is fairly
well pulped. Gather pulp into bowl. Clean kitchen. Using
Big-Ass Spatula (tm) scrape bits of garlic into bowl, then
scoop up butter and add. Toss lemon into air, slice in half
with sharpened edge of Big-Ass Spatula (tm) and grab one
half in each hand, squeezing so that juice runs into bowl.
Clean kitchen again. Using favorite speed-striking technique
or food processor, blend these ingredients until they form
a smooth paste.

3. Throw green onions into air; with four swings of Big-Ass
Spatula (tm) chop onions into small pieces, which should
fall lightly into the bowl with the paste from step 2. Fling
crab meat into bowl. Fold until blended with Big-Ass
Spatula (tm).

4. Using bare fists, scoop up mixture in 4-ounce increments.
With each handful, first cup both hands in modified
ear-boxing technique to form mixture into ball, then toss
ball onto flat surface. Whack with mallet so ball is
flattened into patty. Don't whack too hard, or it will be
flattened into pancake; blackened crab pancakes just
aren't appetizing. Continue until all mix has been
converted.

5. Take cajun seasoning in left hand and bring around in
a sweeping motion so that tops of all patties are coated.
Use Big-Ass Spatula (tm) to flip all patties. Repeat
spice motion with right hand, so that patties are now
completely coated.

6. By now, the skillet should be white-hot. Yes, that's
hot. Don't touch it. Char each crab cake on both sides
in skillet. This should not take long. You want there to
be something left of each crab cake, thank you. As each
cake is charred, fling it with Big-Ass Spatula (not bare
hands! trust me!) to plates. When finished, turn off heat
and allow skillet to cool on its own. Don't touch it.

7. With ladle, fling melted butter to each crab cake so
that it pools gracefully around it. Garnish with a lemon
wedge; people may squeeze the juice on cakes at will.

8. Clean kitchen. Don't touch skillet yet. When it's
cooled down, *then* you can touch it. Though this
might be a good time to ask Happosai to help with KP...

End week 3
--
bengman *** "On the appointed day, I notice something amazing. When I take a
step outside the vacant lot, a meadow spreads out before my eyes. And there
are lots of horses and cows staring at me. Since when has there been a ranch
on
Akane's street? -- Where the heck am I?!" -- Ryouga, "Ittai koko wa
dokonanda?"