“WHAT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT element of the Perfect Meal?” someone once asked Prosatio Silban. “The company,” came his reply. “But cannot one have a perfect meal by oneself?” his inquisitor persisted. The cook-errant thought for a moment. “Only if…
Tag: The Cook For Any Price
Culinary myths for the mystically inclined (with a few ancillaries).
Prosatio Silban and the Counting Time
IT WAS AS BEAUTIFUL, BREEZY, and otherwise uneventful a day as any in the Three Cities and Thousand Villages of the Uulian Commonwell, save for one particular: the long queues of people, in every settlement of any size, waiting their…
Brokedown Palate (A Prosatio Silban Tale)
SITTING ON THE SODDEN DRIVER’S bench of his tilted and storm-mired galleywagon, warm rain dribbling into crevices public and private, Prosatio Silban briefly flirted with his own demise. The impulse, though not its brevity, was the oldest of his three…
Prosatio Silban and the Amazing Replicator
SMALL KINDNESSES CAN OVERCOME GREAT cruelties, as Prosatio Silban discovered one day to his everlasting pleasure. The circumstances began with the beefy cook reflecting on yet another boisterous morning crowd surrounding his painted menu-board in the Itinerants’ Quarter of Pormaris’…
Prosatio Silban and the Centuried Stew
IF YOU’RE GOING TO STAKE your reputation on a single product, it had better be a good one. The large, one-eyed woman behind the food-stall counter was brusque but not unfriendly. “We have stew,” she told Prosatio Silban. “That’s all…
Prosatio Silban and the Awesome Spectacle
DESPITE A FERVENT BELIEF IN those of the Flickering Gods he felt had not been sanitized into irrelevance, it had been long since Prosatio Silban had thought of Them as answering Their adherents’ every prayer. Not that this stopped him…
Why (A Prosatio Silban Amuse-Bouche)
“WHY DO YOU DO WHAT you do?” asked the young woman sitting at one of Prosatio Silban’s tables-and-chairs. “Aside from earning a wage, I mean.” “Why does a painter paint, or a musician compose, or a sculptor bring to life…
Prosatio Silban and the Final Refection
THE “PURE CITY,” SO SAY the Sacreants, is the eternal home reserved for the souls of pious Uulians, where their earned rewards are consonant with their earthly deeds. Capital criminals, on the other hand, are a different matter.
Prosatio Silban and the Harnessless Dray-Beast
GIVEN SOMETHING AS ESSENTIAL AND ubiquitous as fatberry-oil, it was perhaps unsurprising how little thought people gave to its source and acquisition. Anyone in need of stove- and/or lamp-fuel could obtain it for themselves with little effort by mashing the…
Prosatio Silban and the Idol Cook
IT IS THE HARDEST THING in the world – any world – to escape a cage of one’s own making. And yet … Prosatio Silban strode through the swinging doors of Pelvhi’s Chopping-House and made straight for the long bar…
Prosatio Silban and the Sobering Desolation
(A sequel to the preceding story.) SOMETIMES, NOTHING CAN MAKE ONE feel younger than a good quest. “It is called the Wellspring of Lost Years,” said the Siddis with a characteristic smirk. “And one sip from its dancing waters will…
Prosatio Silban and the Sentinel’s Game
(First of two parts.) SKIRTING THE AZURE VOID IS not for the timid, and while Prosatio Silban did not possess that trait in great measure he did on occasion come close to experiencing it. “Easy, Onward,” he clucked to his…