The Houses Competition
Ravenclaw
Charms
Drabble
[Action] Discovering a Secret
982 Words
AN Sadfic, themes of death and preparing for a funeral; also, I know little about cooking.
The familiar scent of Mum's spice cabinet brought Ginny back to a simpler time even as the dust reminded her of the present circumstances. Swallowing hard, she peered at the spice holders that Mum had collected over the years, trying to remember which were needed for Mum's Sad-Sack Stew.
Sad-Sack Stew had been Mum's go-to recipe on bad days for as long as Ginny could remember. Great-aunt Myrtle's funeral had been the first time she was exposed to it, but half the summer after her first year had involved eating the stuff after frequent trips to mind healers left her mum drained.
Ginny remembered asking Mum about it once.
"If you're too tired to make dinner, Mum, I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind sandwiches instead."
Mum had smiled gently.
"Oh, sweetheart… don't worry about me. Your old mum just needs something to keep her hands busy for a bit while the mind wanders. Few things are better for that than Nana's stew."
"Even better than chocolate cake?"
"Is that you hinting that supper needs something sweet after?" she'd asked then with a laugh that was painful to remember. Needless to say, they had had chocolate cake for dessert.
It was while they were visiting Bill that she learned that Nana's stew only made an appearance when something was wrong. Apparently, it had even been christened Sad-Sack Stew.
Fred's death and Dad's Muggle gun injury had also warranted Sad-Sack suppers, and Ginny knew that, for all that some of her siblings might have occasionally complained about it in the past, its absence after the funeral would be a hard blow to bear. Hence, why she was in the Burrow's ever-so-slightly dusty kitchen. Somebody had to make Sad-Sack Stew.
Bubbling from the pot brought Ginny back to the spice cabinet. It was almost time to add the secret ingredients.
Long ago, Mum had tried to teach her the recipe, and Ginny remembered it… mostly. She knew how to season the beef, and just what vegetables were to be used. She even knew that Mum always began adding the special spices that turned it from ordinary stew to Sad-Sack Stew five minutes after the bubbling began. What Ginny wasn't quite sure of, however, was which of the myriad of spices were used.
"Having any luck, Gin?" Harry called as he entered Mum's domain.
Ginny turned to him. "Unfortunately, nothing is labelled 'Secret Ingredient'. I'll get it though! I know I will. Thanks for watching the boys, dear," Ginny exclaimed resolutely.
"Not a problem, Gin. If you need any help, just yell." The sound of their children mid-fight brought him up short. "Yeah, just like that. You've got this!" he cried, jogging out of the room.
Ginny turned back to the cabinet. "These red flakes look familiar," she mused, peering at the paprika critically. Hesitantly, she added the barest hint of them to the pot and stirred it in. A taste test showed that, while it was on the right track, the stew still needed something. Another stir reminded her of the many times the twins had found a leaf in their stew and obnoxiously claimed it was a poisoning attempt.
Thankfully, even an incompetent cook would know that not just any leaf would do, and she knew just where to look for Mum's supply of bay leaves.
One was added, and another taste test brought Ginny back to the cabinet for just a little more paprika. While digging, however, she accidentally spilt three other containers, releasing a scent that reminded her of the meal she was recreating. Quickly gathering these, she added them to the pot as well, stirring all the while.
With butterflies in her stomach, Ginny tried another sip only to taste something that bore little resemblance to Sad-Sack Stew at all. While it wasn't bad, it was quite apparent that her efforts to discover the dish's secret ingredients had been in vain. Maybe she could...
"Dearest, it's time to go," Harry called. "Is the stew ready to simmer for a few hours?"
The sound of her boys running through the house forced Ginny to wipe away any stray tears.
There was nothing for it. She was out of time. With a flick of the wand, she calmed the flames. A second spell would keep the stew warm until supper.
Despite not being quite right, Dad and her brothers appreciated her efforts and tried to pretend nothing was amiss. George got the bay leaf and, with shining eyes, complained quite heartily over her efforts to kill her favourite brother. Meanwhile, Ron's face was screwed up in an exaggerated manner for much of the meal, and it was almost like old times… if one ignored the next generation eagerly taking notes or how it was her spoon rapping at knuckles instead of Mum's.
It didn't dull the sting from the lost recipe, however.
Ginny was still thinking about it a week later when an owl flew in, dropping off a letter with a too-familiar script on the envelope.
With disbelieving eyes, she tore it open.
Dearest Ginny,
If you're reading this, I've died, and you carried on a tradition that goes back generations. No doubt, you're angry at yourself for 'ruining' Sad-Sack Stew. My darling daughter, I promise you that nothing was ruined. Our special recipe is only special because its secret ingredients change every generation. Yes, you read that right. I messed up Nana's recipe my first time doing it too and felt all the pain you're feeling now. After her funeral, however, I received a letter like this one saying she had done the same thing. Sad-Sack Stew evolves with the family, and that is perfectly okay. The spices you threw in were the secret ingredient of your own special version. Congratulations. Hold them close my dear, knowing that when you pass on, the tradition will no doubt continue.
All my love,
Mum