Draconian cuisine (fragment #1)

[chrispenycate]

Flambé is sort of traditional.

What's more, a fair percentage of your would-be heroes dowse themselves with alcohol before riding to face their doom; some even dose their steeds, to prevent these from showing more sense than the riders, and disappearing over the horizon.

Cleaning and descaling an armoured knight gives lots of insights into the usefulness of their opposable thumbs. Leather and splint is tolerable; if all else fails I can carry them back to be prepared by my tribute maidens (whose opinion on warriors is considerably more extreme than mine - no-one has ever tried to persuade me that the disposal of my virginity was the optimum technique of disqualification from a starring role in a dragon pacifying ceremony, after all); or, teeth and claws can eliminate the problem, even if the meat suffers a little. Plate is too heavy to fly with, leaving you the delicious odour of roasted knight issuing from a metal takeaway pack, and you without a can opener. Bashing it against a rock until bits fly off leaves something with the texture of corned beef; burning through the various leather attachment belts leaves the meat drastically overcooked, with the inner clothing charred into the skin. Ugh. It got to the point where I used to keep a halberd tucked into the back of the cave to remove the packaging.

Obviously, persuading these potential St. Georges to slather themselves with olive oil (after bathing! Some heroes seem to consider a good, strong body odour an extra, lightweight suit of armour) and use fragrant herbs to pad the potential friction points is not going to work very often.

Judging how much heat to use is very much a question of experience; all youngsters overcook one or two meals (if they survive long enough; the inexperienced are the favoured prey of the seasoned {no, unfortunately not salt and pepper} hero, just as older, worldwise dragons go for the first-time, strength as the strength of ten style herolings, and not only for the flavour) to inedibility; but this is preferable to an undercooked and angry metal box trying to stick unpleasant sharp things through you.

So, if the proposed dragon slayers give so many problems, why not go for peasants? Less capable of defending themselves, better ventilated and in greater supply? Apart from the sporting question (and when you have a caveful of squealing, hungry hatchlings, sport is not your primary consideration) they've just not got enough meat on them. Relative to the well-fed nobles, they're hardly worth chasing; all sinew and bone. And only by stealing their offspring can they be persuaded to auto-deliver, unlike their more flamboyant cousins.

Just occasionally, monks or similar religious figures will decide to trust to the protection of their deity and confront you. So far, said deities have proved to be as bored at hearing them as I got. Although in general religion feeds well, the type who go for this type of gesture tend towards the fanatical, the hermits; filthy, scrawny and far too loud. Still, if the gods care to send us snacks, who are we to complain? Just remember, they are not armoured, and only require half of the flame grilling.

 

[Erin99]

I'm not sure what type of critique you want, so I'll just give you my opinions!

Well, I won't comment on grammar, obviously, but on the whole I enjoyed this piece. It's a very unusual character you've chosen (a dragon!), and I loved his humourous outlook on life. One thing I did notice, though, was your repeat of the word "type" in the last paragraph. You used it twice in one sentence. Perhaps use "kind" or "sort" for the first one?

Anyway, as I've said before, I'm not usually a fan of first person novels. But because it was a dragon (which I'm always fond of!) I enjoyed this excerpt.

Is this part of a longer work? I assume, since you said "fragment" in the title, that it is. Wouldn't a book written in a dragon's perspective be fun to read?! My sister would certainly buy it -- she loves dragons more than me!

However, I think the writing is definitely for adults; I found myself reading through a couple of points twice -- though there are six people in my house at the moment, so I'm finding it hard to concentrate!

 

[dustinzgirl]

For what its worth, I think it is very charming, witty, and gives me grins.

This paragraph causes a stumble:

Judging how much heat to use is very much a question of experience; all youngsters overcook one or two meals (if they survive long enough; the inexperienced are the favoured prey of the seasoned {no, unfortunately not salt and pepper} hero, just as older, worldwise dragons go for the first-time, strength as the strength of ten style herolings, and not only for the flavour) to inedibility; but this is preferable to an undercooked and angry metal box trying to stick unpleasant sharp things through you.

It is too fragmented by the multiple parenthesis, at least from my humble opinion.

 

[chrispenycate]

Thanks to you both; and don't believe I can't make grammar mistakes (and avoid seeing errors in my own work that I would immediately leap on in anybody else's) Repetitions from he who pushes maximum synonyms - I hang my head in shame.
The story (yes, there's quite a lot more of it, but in fragments, individual recipes, not yet integrated into a continuous stream) is in two points of view ; a dragon explaining how to prepare and serve humans, and a human doing the same for dragons. (plus an introduction in third person omniscient) I thought of calling it "Mutually assured digestion"

But I don't expect to do anything with it; there's not much scope for roast suckling dragon, and how do you finish a cookbook? (with their just desserts of course, and neither of them are particularly nice beings)

And yes, I'll get rid of the nested brackets - bad joke, I know.

 

[Pyan]

LOL!
How about the man-at-arms, chris - easier to peel than a knight, usually well-fed and plump; and available at all convenient castles?

 

[dwndrgn]

I love this Chris (well, it is a dragon after all) and could see these little fragments as an 'amuse bouche' type of thing in between the chapters of a longer story. Perhaps the story of how said dragon has lived so long. Perhaps he's telling the story of his life and it is peppered (ha!) with these recipes. I imagine a book with two narrators, the dragon and the knight [the knight of course telling how he has survived the slaying of so many dragons]. I can't see the ending but I can just glimpse it out of the corner of my eye...

Ok, you have your mission, should you choose to accept it.

This post will self destruct in 30 seconds...

 

[Rosemary]

Braised or barbequed should be very nice as well! Probably just as well I am not a well-fed noble though...

Chris, it's delightful. Looking forward to the next instalment.

 

[chrispenycate]

Introduction

More than ten years have passed since the epic combat between lord Ralf Kerrick fon Vurmsbane (yes, one of those fon Vurmsbanes. Five generations of dragon hunters, even if some of those generations were a bit hurried) and the Deepgrahn dragon known as "Melchior" his true name being kept a secret, as well as being unpronounceable by humans,

The fight devastated woodland and mountain crag, left a sizeable village in ruins in its wake, and drew an audience of thousands, from all sapient species, leaving the villagers prosperous even after rebuilding.

The mighty peace oath sworn by the exhausted combatants in the aftermath of three days of fighting has been immortalised (and prettied up) in epic verse and song - but it is not generally that it had been prepared by a legal scribe some months before, nor that the battle had been choreographed as carefully as a Kung-fu movie: fon Vurmsbane had noticed that age was catching up on him, and that he was no longer as fast as in the past, while Melchior, still in the prime of his third century, had seen bazookas and armour-piercing ammunition pushing the sport outside the limits he was prepared to accept.

The abandoned monastery they obtained and converted into a hostelry had rooms big and rugged enough for dragons to feel at home, while the monks' cells were converted for human comfort. Despite its distance from the beaten track, from its opening the "Dragoninn" did not lack for clients, drawn not by the accommodations or the food (though excellent) nor by the selection of quaffables, but by its hero proprietors and the possibility of chatting with a member of the species planned as opponents in the near future.

fon Vurmsbane's wife and concubine got on well together, and with Melchior's tribute maidens, and extra staff were soon added, both human and monster, that left the proprietors with little to do outside their evening reminiscences, and occasional training sessions with rich hero wannabes (from both species) This unaccustomed free time led to them employing an out-of-work bard (two, actually; the first giving a new meaning to the word "ghost-writer") to take dictation - dictation because, while dragons frequently enjoy reading, the only writing they've mastered is runes (those claws are good at engraving straight scratches in a variety of materials, but less so at holding pen, or brush) and dragon hunters, while capable of telling a tale till the drink runs out, are rarely great with that which is mightier than their swords.

This co-operative venture is, to the best of my knowledge, the first of its kind to be attempted.

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For roast suckling dragon (a misnomer ; dragons, being of reptilian stock, do not suckle. It merely refers to a youngster still being fed by its parents) you can get yourself a farmed hatchling, or attempt to raid a nest. Dragons of Persian or Afghan origin frequently hatch more eggs than they can conveniently feed young, so taking one or two is, in fact, doing them a favour; unfortunately, the parents do not see it in this light. It is thus better to plan your expedition paying extreme attention to the comings and goings of the adults, since a high-flying dragon can see you from a great distance.
The hatchling chosen should weigh no more than 40-50 kilos, with scales that have not yet hardened. Two weeks before the planned meal it should nourished uniquely on mashed apple, ginger and bitter chocolate, this cleaning out it’s system and adding a touch of sweetness to the flesh. Killing should be done painlessly, at least two days before the meal, and cleaning done with the minimum damage to the skin; the idea is that the dragon look perfectly intact, almost sleeping. Even coiling the tail back on itself, finding a baking tray for a beast two to three meters long is not easy; in dragon-rich territories these are trequently heirlooms, held in common by the entire community and, since they are also used as serving dishes, richly decorated. If your village doesn’t have one (or a local branch of rentaplatta) this is a real problem; though potters have occasionally succeded in producing an earthenware substitute in time the smith normally requires more notice, and it’s important that the dish shouldn’t leak and waste the juices.
A mixture of honey and egg white is spread over the entire surface, using a yard broom or similar implement, not too stiff. This ensures a nice, crispy skin, one of the preferred delicacies of this dish. Different stuffings have been used in different regions, and indeed there is enough space to layer in several different stuffings in one dish (just try peeling enough chestnuts to fill that sort of space) but they all should contain enough fat to baste the interior; five or six kilos of butter or it’s equivalent in fatty pork or tallow.
Some villages have a communal bread oven big enough to hold the plate, and all that is required is to pump up the bellows a bit. Others have a pottery kiln, or an iron works. Still, lacking these facilities, there is usually enough time to build a “one off“ oven out of bricks and clay.
The first day or so of cooking is done at a relatively low temperature – barely enough to melt glass – and regularly basted. The final hour, to crisp off the outside, it’s all hands to the pumps; if the plate can be raised to a dull red heat, so much the better. Any side dishes (root vegetables, pastries, tureens or soup) should be taken out before this phase, as they would otherwise be reduce to charcoal, if that. (Normally, just placing them next to the oven is enough to keep them cooking, anyway.)
Serving is very important; pre-carving takes a lot of the charm out of the dish, but I consider bringing a chainsaw to dinner very uncultured (particularly if there are minstrels) Thus, a separate carving table is required, with enough space either side for those wielding the traditional, two-man carving saw to produce the succulent slices of roast.

 

[Erin99]

but I consider bringing a chainsaw to dinner very uncultured (particularly if there are minstrels) -- I like this line! But why not bring a chainsaw? -- if you look deranged enough, everyone would run away, thus leaving you with more meat.

Just a point to mention: You've got a paragraph starting with "fon Vurmsbane's wife and concubine..." -- wouldn't the "fon" be a capital since it's the beginning of a new line? I know you spelt it in lowercase the other times, but it just seems as if the capital is needed here.

I won't even comment about your use of hyphens in place of dashes (see I know the difference!), since it's a thing I see everyone doing these days. Is there a reason for this? I don't know, perhaps it's just easier for some people. To make dashes clearer, I always use two hyphens together (as opposed to Microsoft's automatic M-dash).

But good work once again. The narration is still quirky and vibrant, although I don't believe anyone should eat a dragon; they're too beautiful. In fact, I think I'd rather get toasted than fight one!

 

[chrispenycate]

I love this Chris (well, it is a dragon after all) and could see these little fragments as an 'amuse bouche' type of thing in between the chapters of a longer story. Perhaps the story of how said dragon has lived so long. Perhaps he's telling the story of his life and it is peppered (ha!) with these recipes. I imagine a book with two narrators, the dragon and the knight [the knight of course telling how he has survived the slaying of so many dragons]. I can't see the ending but I can just glimpse it out of the corner of my eye...

Ok, you have your mission, should you choose to accept it.

This post will self destruct in 30 seconds...

The trouble with sticking the fragments together into a more significant meal is the lack of a plot. A cookbook doesn't finish - it just fizzles out in repletion, coffee and liqueurs. Normally, I don't start writing something until I've visualised the ending, knowing my personal habit of building a universe, installing my characters, refining, refining - but nothing interesting happening (my characters are lazy. Put them into a crisis situation, they'll do a little as possible, and that only to avoid conflict; they rarely follow the actions I've laid out for them. No crisis - nine to fivers, to a monster. Oh, I've had a griffin nagged out of his lair by his unsatisfied mate and mewling offspring, but most are solitary, antisocial… well, they do say it's better to write about what you know (actually, if you avoid open air festivals, a rock tour would be an excellent environment for a number od daylight-avoiding species; no, Pratchett's already looked at that, and I would hate to be compared to him)
So, although dragons can live happily a fair chunk of ever after, before it's a story something really unpleasant (like income tax or Jehovah's witnesses) has to happen to them, something that can't be handled by the standard "rip it to pieces and burn the pieces" solution.
l've masses more descriptive, buccolic stuff but lack a good, civilisation-shattering catastrophe to bring them out of their retirement.