Ozoni
"Nah man, you gotta use the soy broth."
"Salt."
"Miso."
Ikkaku, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin jostled by the cupboards shelving the ingredients for the stock needed for any soup, and especially needed for special New Year's ozoni.
Ikkaku peered down at Bepo's chicken-scrawl recipe, complete with pictures.
"And what's with the shape of that omochi? Why's the rice-cake all square?"
Bepo rolled his eyes and folded his arms against his coverall. There was a reason his was a different colour. That being that he was just about the only sane one on the sub, including Captain. Captain was a bit better than the others. He granted him that.
"What's up with that round piece of shit?" He pointed a claw toward the ripped out magazine page Ikkaku clutched. It had pencilled-in adjustments to the ingredients and method.
"Represents peace and harmony. How about boring old squares?"
"Dunno, but tastes good."
Shachi and Penguin were trying to get down the huge bag of mochi flour without spilling it all over the kitchen floor. They didn't know why captain got so pissed when it happened. All he had to do was use Takt or Shambles and everything was hunky dory. Screw his surgeon sensibilities about being wary of anything that'd been on the floor too long. They were in a sub. Where were they going to find replacements?
"Quit quibbling, they taste the same, either one will do," Shachi yelled over his shoulder.
"You gotta bake it too, to make the soup taste good. What's your take on that, bear?"
Ooh. Bepo sucked air behind his teeth, and Shachi and Penguin rested against the counter to watch the show, the sack of flour behind them.
"You what? Waste of time. Plus, it's delicious all gooey and hot in the broth."
Ikkaku walked to the basin to wash up. Shachi turned her recipe in his hands. "You use white miso? Ordinary stuff isn't good enough for you?"
"Your soup's just from seaweed and fish flakes? How's that mean to sustain you?" she threw back.
"And red bean paste soup?! Man, where are you from?" Penguin riled up Clione, who'd just walked in with Uni. "Don't like that sweet shit."
Clione picked up Bepo's recipe from the counter, trying to get some tips from his scribbles. He had worse handwriting than Law, and he wasn't a doctor, so he had no excuse, except that he didn't have opposable thumbs. "Can tell you came from somewhere well off. Roe and oysters in your soup? La-de-dah."
"I eat things that live in the ocean," Bepo growled. Came out like a squeak. Shachi rubbed his fur. See if Bepo would let Clione know where the azuki beans were.
"It's not easy gathering the mountain vegetables either, you know, and who doesn't love a hundred thousand varieties of mushroom?" Uni's two bits worth. Really, fern fronds and shimeji were the best. But he sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee rather than doing anything about seeing if they had some dried produce.
"Me. It's a clear, purifying time of the year. Vegetables easy to acquire without going on an alpine hike should be enough." Who was that captain wannabe? Must be one of the newer guys.
"They use walnuts in some places too." Jean Bart's voice was quieter than you'd expect, considering everyone had to move around him and he was in a far corner.
"Get outta here." It was probably the Celestial Dragons that had such an extravagant and dare they say imported kind of soup.
Law wandered into the kitchen. The ozoni from his region was simple. A soup with a miso base, the glutinous rice cake placed inside, and bonito fish flakes sprinkled over top. He preferred the salt based broths, but this kept everyone warm in the cold Flevance winters, and reminded him of sitting at the kitchen table on New Year's day with his family, eating all the foods that brought them good luck and a long life.
"Correct me if I'm wrong." He sat at the table, Kikoku to his side. The kitchen grew quiet, though Ikkaku and Bepu snatched their recipes from one another's hands. Clione, Uni, Shachi and Penguin knew the style from their regions off by heart.
Jean Bart let go of Shachi's collar. Shachi was grateful for that. The big guy knew his strength. He didn't know why he'd challenged him on the walnuts. The walls of the sub got a little close at times.
"We're twenty-one people, no?"
"Is a Mink a person, Cap?"
Law and Bepo both nodded.
"The question is, is a person a hairless Mink?" Bepo shot back.
Law had just got them to quiet over New Year food. He wasn't going to let them get into their biological determinism debate. He spoke quickly, shutting Penguin down.
"The question is how many days of the New Year do we eat ozoni?"
"Three," everyone, everyone replied. At least they could agree on that.
"Three different recipes and broths and shapes and styles for each three days. More if you like. We've got the mochi flour, right?"
Jean Bart nodded. After eating only bread and water and a few eggs for sustenance as a slave, any form of ozoni was luxury for him, and also something that brought him back to happier moments of childhood. He'd just picked Shachi up because he was being annoying.
"We've got enough water to have a bit of a celebration, and to see us through to the next island? Enough rice?"
Uni did a few mental calculations. "Yup."
Law cast an eye over the kitchenware. Steamers, saucepans, kettles, pots and pans. They were set.
"What I'd give to have Katakuri on crew," Clione muttered, wondering how they'd shape all the different types of omochi. But, each pirate seemed to be an expert at the speciality from their region. Daifuku would be handy as well. He guessed he just produced the red bean omochi on order.
"Yeah, cos that family's so functional," Law said.
"Just saying, Cap. Not switching loyalties or anything."
Law kept a stare he didn't really feel, the curve of his lip betraying him. He guessed when Katakuri was in a good mood, he would be very handy to have around at New Year. He'd heard how Luffy had to eat his way out of most battles. It didn't surprise him. Whole Cake Island must have been heaven in many ways for that crew. He couldn't trust his own crew much more around sweet things, delicious dishes.
"Set up a roster. You all know how to feed a passel of people. Get to it."
They all exchanged glances when Ikkaku turned over her recipe to show the crew the picture of a group of people pounding omochi on the back. Oh, how they missed that, and they were twenty (plus one) strong. Perfect for a community event.
"Captain?"
"Bepo."
"We gotta do mochitsuki, then the mochi will be the freshest and everyone can join in."
Shachi and Penguin both raced over, arms braced on the table, in Law's face. "Yeah, yeah. We can use the empty sake barrel as a mortar. We'll fill it with rocks or something, and reinforce the top."
"Or we could just use the usu, the wooden mortar, we use every year."
"Why didn't we use it last year?" Penguin pulled out a chair and sat opposite his friend.
"You all got shit-faced and decided the pounding in your head drove away the desire to thump rice into a glutinous mesh."
"You too, Cap."
Law tipped his hat a little. He might have done, otherwise they all would have kept up the tradition, hangover or no hangover.
"There's room in the sub?"
"So long as Jean Bart doesn't swing the mallet too high."
"There's a mallet in the sub?" the newest member asked. Everyone turned to look at him. They had clubs, cleavers, nodachi and machetes. Finding a mallet would not be a problem.
Penguin turned his attention back to Law. "You've gotta turn the dough."
With twenty pairs of eyes upon him, Law weighed up whether the goodwill of his crew outweighed the possibility of getting his hands crushed under the weight of a Jean Bart strike. Then again, no-one was a clumsy as Cora, and he'd survived him.
"It's the leader's job. Only a leader can do it."
"Okay." He turned his attention to the map he had in front of him.
The crew scrambled to get the steamers and kettles and mixtures ready for the morning. Measuring out just how much they needed to feed them all wasn't that hard. They were unlikely to have visitors on the sub. Once calculated, they soaked the rice to steam it in the morning. In the meantime, Bepo had got the soba and broth ready so they could have the soft noodles once the clock struck midnight in order to say goodbye to the hardships of last year, and to welcome in good fortune for the next. Maybe their next battles wouldn't have to be so hard fought.
oOOo
It wasn't a surprise that Law was pretty good at not getting his fingers pulverised, and no-one aimed to do so. He was just glad he wasn't attempting this with Luffy, though the rest of that crew would probably be fine. On each upswing of the mallet, held between Ikkaku and Clione, or Shachi and Penguin (there was a worry there they might get his thumb with all their squabbling), or individually by Jean Bart or Bepo, he turned the dough. They soon had enough mochi of the right consistency to throw onto the sweet rice flour coating the table. Uni pinched off bits of warm mochi for others to dance between their hands into round, rectangular, or Bepo-shaped, cakes (that one always got a quiet smile from Law) to use later.
The Hearts lined up outside the kitchen waiting their turn at the mallet, or at the stoves cooking up their version of ozoni. Toasting the mochi if that was their way, leaving it soft and ready to dunk into the soup as it cooked if not.
The thing they all had in common was soup, rice cake, and warmth. The sub was hot at most depths, unbearable when it was in tropical waters, but they kept an eye on the calendar as a way of marking their journeys across the ocean.
The crew tried one ozoni, and didn't necessarily rinse out their bowls, because water was a commodity, but tipped out the clam shells or inedible flavourings, and went back for another from another area. After all, leftover mochi went hard, signifying good health for their bones and teeth, and who didn't want that, considering how many they broke on a regular basis? And eating it encouraged them all to hold together, to stick together, to continue successfully as a crew under their captain into the coming year.
They were a smart bunch, and could understand the ingredients were hardy and grew in winter climes when vegetation was scarce on the ground. They were a group of survivors. They bitched about which version of New Year's soup was the best, but ate them all. To not do so would be a waste, a temptation of fate. Something they didn't need when they were only one day into a new year of adventure and exploration.
A/N: Happy early New Year! Hope you have a good one.