Ash 4, 121
It was early morning and Franky was pacing around his kitchen. He was aggravated, waiting on a delivery of goods. Ever since he'd heard last season about this chili fest, he'd been trying to get ahold of some ingredients needed in the Five Goblin Chili. He'd had to search wide and low to find any goblins that knew where to get them, and would. And strangely enough he did. One goblin per ingredient, strangely enough. Maybe he'd have to call it Six Goblin Chili now. That joke got a nervous chuckle out of him.
Then he heard the knock on the back door to the kitchen.
He strode over to it, yanking it open, looking down at the two goblins and three grackles standing there, each with a sack in hand. They all piped up in unison, "Hi Franky!" Franky glowered down at them, "Have you all been out here practicing that?"
They all fidgeted uncomfortably, and one spoke up, "Maybe..." Franky sighed loudly, "... for how long?" They all looked at each other, "An hour or so." Franky rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself for yelling at these idiots. "Did you get everything I asked for?"
Once more in unison, "Yup!"
Franky grabbed the five pouches of coins he'd set aside by the door. He inspected each of the contents and was pleased, then handing out the payments. Relieved, he stepped out the door, closing it behind him, "Y'all wanna smoke?"
Goblins never turn down free stuff.
Franky fetched out enough cigs from his smoke box, and soon they were all puffing out the purple goblin weed smoke. "Any issues getting my stuff?"
Blorgt butted in front of the others to speak, "I damn near got eated by a giant catfish gettin' the flomaters." Franky could only snort in laughter at this. Pilcky chimed in, "I think I set farm on fire tryin' to get the Fire Bloom ashes. I didn't stick around to see though." This got a glare from Franky. "Okay, no I didn't. Sorry... I stole the flower after some humans were dillying each other by campfire in the woods."
The stories continued for a bit until Franky flicked the roach of his cigarette away, "Well, just follow the crimson swirls to my chili today if you wanna try it." They all shared the same sentiment, Goblin chili was the best chili. Franky said his goodbyes, and slipped back inside and set about getting to work.
First he pulled the large Pep'rat out of the sack and began to clean it. Franky cooked plenty of rats in his time in the military, so this one was no different. Quick cut down the belly, removed the organs, loosened the skin. Then he carved out the meat. He repeated this across the multiple rats until he had all the meat stripped out. Then he ran the meat through his sausage grinder, mincing it up nicely. He salted the ball of mushy meat and doused in cooking oil, letting it sit for a bit.
While that set, he began chopping up all the vegetables and portioning out his spices. He had several types of peppers going into this, but the Mist Peppers were king. He also had two varieties of onion and garlic and a hefty showing from his spice cabinet. Once those were done, he began working on the Grack Wart Beans. He cracked the large pods by hand, the beans spilling out. He rinsed all of the beans of the sticky innards from the pod and set them aside.
Franky then stepped out into the kitchen. The tavern wasn't open for service unless you had rented a room and it didn't seem like anyone had come down yet. That was good, Franky wanted to focus on this task. He moved to the far end of his bar, grabbing a smaller cask of beer, hefting it up and carrying it back into the kitchen. It was Grackle Red Ale, and was not an amazing seller. However, Franky's father always swore that it was one of the most necessary ingredients in Five Goblin Chili.
Once back in the kitchen, Franky set the cask down, and grabbed the flomatoes out of their bag. A single cut followed by a squishing grip shlopped their paste onto the cutting table. Franky plucked out the seeds, setting them off to the side, then scooped the paste into a mortar. He added some of the milder peppers he was using, already cut up, a little bit of water, and began to work the mixture with his pestle. He ground it all up over and over until he got a sticky paste.
Finishing that, he got a large pan heating on the stove, some oil in the bottom. Once the oil began to smoke, he added the minced rat meat. He added in a little bit of spice, and worked at it all with the spatula as he browned it. Once it was cooked through, he drained the fat off into a bowl, setting aside to add into his nightly stew pot. He added a bit more oil back in with the meat, and began working in the Mist Peppers with their seeds as well as the onions. Once those were browning, he began adding in the seasonings he'd prepared ahead of time.
As the fragrance bloomed off of the mixture, Franky transferred the lot to his large, heated soup pot. Then he added in the cask of beer, the Grack Wart Beans, the mixture in his mortar, and stirred it all up. He brought it to a simmer, and stepped back smiling. Now it just had to cook down. Then he remembered the final ingredient he'd bought. He walked over, grabbing the last sack, and dumped the Fire Bloom ashes into the chili. This started to produce the crimson swirls from the dish, and would keep it warm all day, even after he took it off of the heat. It would stay warm in people's bellies and after. It was a great item for heading into winter.
Once that was done, Franky went and poured him a flagon of mead, and set about to getting the tavern ready for the day, as usual. He cleaned up all of his mess thoroughly in the kitchen. He scrubbed and wiped down everything, cleaned up and hand dried all the dishes, putting them away. And all the while, the intense spiciness of the chili filled the room with the red, steamy swirls. And it reminded Franky of home, reminded him of his dad. He smiled. He wondered if that old codger was still slaving away over the stove.
Probably.
Franky, finished, stepped out into the tavern, seeing a couple of people milling about, two renters from last night. He walked over to their table, "Whatchy'all in the mood for?"
It was a pair of elves, a couple. "Something with eggs please. And can I get some tea, just whatever kind you have. And a dark beer for Freder here."
Franky nodded, "Sure thing, did you all sleep well last night?"
The man grunted, but his partner smiled, "Yes, very. He's just a little hungover is all." Franky laughed heartily, causing the man to wince, "I would say so! Not many go toe to toe with a Moratallen bull in a drinking contest and come out alive. Been a long time since I saw one of those go under the table. Your ancestors should be proud."
The man looked surprised at this, and his partner hit him playfully on the arm, "See! I told you you won, and you didn't believe me."
The man's day was clearly brightened at the news, "Huh, I just don't remember much after those first few drinks."
Franky smirked, "The big guy was carried out of here by his friends. I'm sure he's gettin a lot of hecklin this morning."
The couple cozied up closer together. Franky turned toward the back, "I'll get your drinks going first, then your food. Want some bread to tide you over in the meantime?"
The woman nodded, "Yes please, that would be lovely, thank you."
Franky nodded once, and went to fetch the bread and put the kettle on. He went about carving up the daily delivery of bread, and then thought to himself. Maybe he should make some cornbread for the potluck. A pursing of lips and a nod of Franky agreeing with that thought. Would help to pass the morning. Franky found his flagon of mead from earlier, draining it out and now could hear the kettle going. He put the kettle and the cup with tea leaves, and some bread, on a tray, hefting it out to the bar to snag a stout for the champion.
It was going to be another good day.
