JP: Gy. Sgyt. Ilid Zakrem & Chef Rostil Niac - Secret Ingredients
Karrod Niac
((OOC: Got to help a friend over on Amity introduce a new character and add a bit to Rostil's backstory all at once!))
((Guest Quarters, Deck 4 - USS Marianne))
Ilid sat staring at the flame of the tall purple tapered candle on the table listening. The Song of the ship was smooth and well worn. They had a beat and measures that repeated so perfectly through their repetition that turned their daily lives into an unheard waltz among creation. Good for them.
It was also a good fit for the familiar little tune that he felt approaching his door. He licked his thumb and forefinger to extinguish the flame rising as the doors parted and the young woman in a smart engineering uniform stepped inside the door.
Vesse:The captain asked me to let you know that we will be reaching Amity by midday.
Zakrem: Can he spare you time to have breakfast?
She eyed the chronometer on the wall before nodding.
Vesse: But only something from the replicator this morning. I have to check on some variances in our QSD before we get to Amity. I want to pick the engineer’s brains about it.
Zakrem: If you insist. I will put my knives away then.
Vesse: ::teasingly:: Your folded Trill steel.
Zakrem: You laugh but those knives are one of my prizes from before I met your mother.
Vesse: I keep hearing that part but I don’t think I have ever heard that story.
((Outside Bistro Manev, Leran Manev - Trill))
((Circa Stardate 2308))
Ilid was wandering again. Considering he was on Ready Reserve he had updated local Federation officials on his location so that they knew where he was. Barring a war breaking out he was free and clear for a year or so.
Now he had a digital slate in the pocket on the side of his pants to translate some of the phrases and signage to Federation Standard until he picked up the local language. That was the primary goal. Everything he had heard about the place and people so far fascinated him. The script was fascinating as the letterforms were all triangular in shape with symbology inside them. He hadn’t heard much of anything spoken but hoped it wasn’t as rare as he had been told.
As it stood he found himself outside of…..Bistro Manev which the guidebook listed as a restaurant of some repute. The El-Aurian closed his eyes for a moment and did what he did best. He listened to the rhythm of the world that said he was exactly where he should be.
When he opened his eyes they landed on a word he could not -yet- place. So out came the slate. When he found the word he knocked on the door stowing the slate back in the kneeside pocket on his pants. They were not open yet but he had business anyway.
He heard the small chime on the door jingling as it opened and called out from the kitchen, annoyed at whoever was interrupting his most recent and so far unsuccessful attempt at fusion cuisine. Apparently Klingon and Romulan food was just as aggressively incompatible as the two people were.
Rostil: First seating is at six chimes, whoever you are. Come back later if you’re hungry.
Zakrem: I know you aren’t open yet but I see on the sign here you need an Entremetier?
Rostil Niac, master chef and owner of the Bistro Manev looked up from his less than revolutionary effort and tossed a hand towel over his left shoulder, setting the pan aside and turning the heat down before wiping his hands and stepping towards the serving window. He was a portly man who enjoyed having a good meal nearly as much as preparing one so he dabbed at some sweat around his spotted temples while he assessed this visitor.
Rostil: We do, last one left because she couldn’t accept that sautee’ing something doesn’t just mean throwing it in a pan with butter and hoping for the best. No matter what the Culinary Institute of Bolius says.
Zakrem: Bolian cuisine hasn't got the lifespan it thinks it does. I have had better in Fleeter mess halls.
Rostil considered as he stepped out of the kitchen and gestured to the low counter nearby. He took up his customary position behind it and withdrew a bottle of brandy, pouring himself a healthy snifter and taking a considerable drink.
Rostil: Well this might not be what you’re used to, there isn’t a single replicator anywhere in this building. Everything we serve is made to order, all our ingredients are real…nothing synthesized or resequenced or whatever technogibberish has gotten popular. Real food for people who can appreciate it. That sound like something you’d be interested in? Last three people I explained that to ran screaming towards the canals out there so I don’t want to waste your time…or mine.
Zakrem: That is the difference between a cafeteria and a restaurant then isn't it? Real chefs use real food.
Rostil gave the man a probing look but retrieved a second glass from below the counter and put it in front of him before filling it generously.
Rostil: Certainly not the worst answer I’ve heard. Got any training? Any practical experience?
Ilid squinted one eye watching the pour before nodding and taking the snifter swirling the drink around while speaking.
Zakrem: I am El-Aurian, all I am is practical experience and photographic memory
Rostil pursed his lips and considered.
Rostil: El-Aurian eh? Don’t suppose you’re a thousand years old and full of culinary secrets from across the quadrant? Or are you just one of the ones that likes big hats?
Zakrem: ::laughing now before taking a sip from the glass:: My mother loves her hats. As for a thousand years of secrets I will be a hundred and fifty-six later this year. ::sitting the glass down:: If you want secrets? Find a Romulan. When I was on the home world, I was a teacher but my region was big on communal help. One family took care of grains, one household did meat, another poultry, you can guess which family handled vegetables.
Rostil nodded encouragingly, refilling both their glasses.
Rostil: Well I guess I’ll mark that down under ‘can serve food for crowds’ and, since you’re still alive after doing it for a bunch of hungry people, I can probably assume you were reasonably competent about it. Hundred and fifty six, eh? Bit of a baby as functional immortals go…although I’m not one to talk.
He gestured towards his abdomen and the quiescent symbiote within.
Rostil: Was Joined a number of years ago but I received the somewhat…dubious honor…of being the first with this particular symbiote. Commission tells me that’s a big deal. Frankly I feel like training wheels…and I had hoped to get at least a few lost recipes out of the deal. Ah, alas.
He took another stiff drink as he bemoaned what could’ve been.
Rostil: Fine pair we make…infant immortal and the first link in what’s supposed to be a chain.
Zakrem: As for culinary secrets, why do you think I came here? You have to learn from the best now don't you?
Rostil laughed, a rich hearty sound from somewhere deep within his broad chest.
Rostil: I see you’re old enough to have learned the value of flattering an ego the size of mine. How about we start you off on something simple…see how things go. A lot of people aren’t ready for how intense the work in a real kitchen is and end up throwing in the dish towel after a week. But you’ve got the look of someone who has done a bit of real work in their time.
Ilid took up the glass again, taking a drink there was a level of smoke that needed to be blown in any interaction. Regardless of how serious it might actually be.
Zakrem: Or is that a lead in for me to volunteer to show you my skill set?
Rostil chuckled as he pushed himself off the counter and headed back towards the kitchen, gesturing with the towel he kept over his shoulder.
Rostil: I believe very strongly in learning to fly after jumping off the cliff…I told you our first seating is at six chimes. That gives us about three hours to figure out if you can get a pan hot without killing anybody or, more importantly, ruining my pans. Spare chefs whites are in a locker in the back, find yourself a jacket that fits well enough and lets get to it.
Zakrem: ::standing up with his glass:: Got a monogram machine back there too then? It will save you some time to just do it now.
Rostil laughed again as he began rummaging through a nearby pantry for a Romulan vegetable that looked like, but in no way tasted like, a yam.
Rostil: If you make it through tonight without poisoning one of my patrons we can talk about that…and about getting you your own jacket. Got a speciality? Something you love to cook for people?
Zakrem: I have a few but my personal favorite are apéro buns. A few bready rolls with savory fillings to stimulate the appetite for the rest of the meal.
Rostil nodded and pulled down a small signboard he kept in the kitchen. It would go out front before they opened to guests. He scribbled the name with several artistic flourishes and whorls before turning it so the man could see.
Rostil: We’ll be serving it tonight. People like it you’re hired. People start throwing up and passing out you go into that canal out there. What’s your name?
Zakrem: Ilid Zakrem.
Rostil thought about it for a moment and updated the board with one additional line.
Rostil: ‘Ilid’s Delight’ - has a good ring to it I think. Even makes me want to try some and this little bugger ::he gestured towards both his rotund belly and the symbiote within:: is always looking for new experiences.
Zakrem: Hold on to your symbiote and give me an apron.
Rostil laughed and clapped the man on the shoulders as they dug into the work, the heat and pleasant aromas competing with the back and forth of their conversation for the remainder of the evening.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Gy. Sgt. Ilid Zakrem
Marine At Large
O238506JO0
&
Rostil Niac
Restaurateur, Owner & Head Chef
Bistro Manev
V239509GT0
With
Lt. Cmdr. Vesse Zakrem
Chief Engineer
USS Marianne
O238506JO0