DO NOT MOCK THE DAMNED, for you yourself may be one of them someday.
— Old reporter’s proverb
Prosatio Silban and the Gourmet Gallivant
IT BEGAN, AS DO SO many seriously frivolous matters, with an impassioned tavern-boast.
“Outside of present company, the best cookery in the Uulian Commonwell is found not in epicurean Pormaris but in its provinces,” burly, wise-eyed Apista Thurtok said. “And the best meal is roasted fidget-hen basted in honeywine, made at The Bouncing Wench in Yellow Meadows. And that is the final word.”
“The Soup Demons it isn’t!” rejoined the wiry and emphatic Olto Grex. “It’s One in Silver’s inwards-stew in Crows’ Path.”
Re-Vision
LOVE adv. A DEDICATED SERIES OF related kindnesses and decisions.
Service (A Prosatio Silban Amuse Bouche)
“YOURS IS A NOBLE CALLING,” Prosatio Silban said. “Pray, what is its secret?”
The waiter from the acclaimed restaurant Tide & Time had just finished his breakfast of poached fidget-hen eggs, salt-cod-and-potato hash, and stone-rye toast. He took a last sip of hot yava, swallowed, set down his cup, and smiled.
I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ‘bizarre’ means anymore.”
— Anthony Bourdain
Prosatio Silban and the Friend’s Favor
“HIS NAME IS FIRENZO OOBAHR,” Firenzo Ebli said. “And he needs to find himself. Please – let it be in your employ.”
Prosatio Silban put on his most polite face. “I am honored that you thought of me, but I am not certain that I am the one to help your son,” he said. “I have always worked alone, and to be frank, there is little room in my galleywagon for more than one cook. I am afraid that we would get in each other’s way – the more so, since he won’t know what he or I am doing.”
It used to freak me out that I’d never see the back of my own head. Now that I’ve accepted it, I can move on to the house of mirrors.”
— Barbatus the Elder