Downstairs Malla had turned on the kitchen wall screen to pick up a cooking program that aired in the system. It was hosted by Chef Gormaanda, a large human woman with dark metallic gray hair, light metallic gray skin with pink rouge and lipstick, and today she wore a long flowing purple outfit along with an apron and gray gloves.
"Hello," she greeted the viewers, "Today we are going to be preparing a very succulent and traditional holiday dish, bantha surprise. We start by slicing the meat into bite-sized morsels. Now, we add enough liquid to cover, and then we begin treating the meat, first we stir the mixture, stir, stir, stir, and now we whip. Stir, whip, stir, whip, whip-whip-stir! Stir, whip, stir, whip, whip-whip-stir!"
"Boy Malla," Han commented, "you sure get some interesting exercise programs this side of the galaxy."
Malla snarled questioningly and turned to see what the smuggler was talking about. Behind him the cubs were mimicking her and Gormaanda's movements like an aerobics group. Malla growled at the kids to go find something else to do and stay out of trouble, then she pointed a large claw at Han.
"Me?" Han repeated. "What for?"
Malla growled and pointed towards the pot.
"What do you want me to do?" Han asked as he stepped over towards the stove.
Malla picked up a meat hammer and handed it to him, then gestured to the screen.
On the wall screen Gormaanda was getting more and more frantic and sped up the directions on every rotation, then she suddenly stopped and told the viewers, "Coming along nicely now, now for step three, we have to beat." A third hand reached for the meat hammer on her table and joined the other two hands that were pulverizing the bantha meat.
"It's beat-beat-beat, stir, whip, stir, whip, beat-beat-stir, that's not right," Gormaanda's hand with the spoon smacked the hand with the hammer. "I'm sorry, stir-whip, stir-whip, whip-whip-stir-beat! Coming along nicely, it's starting to have a fine aroma, ah-ha-ah..." Gormaanda's fourth hand emerged, placing a finger under her nose to prevent a sneeze.
Han managed to just barely hit the contents in the pot around Malla stirring and whipping.
"No wonder she's such a hit," Han commented, "she's one of the few women in the galaxy who really can do it all."
Malla grunted in response.
"Now," the woman on the wall screen announced as she put all three cooking implements down, "having treated the meat, now we marinade. I like to leisurely soak the meat in a very fine white wine...of course any alcohol will do."
"I think she's already been trying it on for size," Han commented as Malla stepped over to the cupboard and took out two bottles of wine and poured them both into the pot. Han watched this and let out an amused chuckle, "I have a feeling this is going to be one Life Day none of us will forget."
"Now we cover the meat, and let it sit for 12-24 hours before cooking," Gormaanda said as she slammed a giant lid on top of her own pot. "Then cook for 10 hours until nice and golden brown. Well that's all for today, dear friends, see you soon and until then, happy eating."
"The voice of experience," Han murmured as the screen went black.
Malla pushed the pot to the back burner and looked around the kitchen, fretting the whole time. She turned to Han and chattered as she pointed to another door, one the Imperial captain had missed during the search. In all fairness it blended in almost perfectly with the wall.
"The cellar? Okay," Han said.
Of course it wasn't a proper cellar, it was just a cold, dark room behind the kitchen that they kept their produce in to keep it fresh. Han opened the door and stepped into the dingy room that reminded him of a cave, it was big and cool and everything had a dark blue tint to it. It was big enough you didn't really have to worry about being claustrophobic, still, and Han could never put his finger on what it was, but every time he came into this room he had the strange feeling that he was being watched. He knew that was stupid, the only eyes in this room were in the tuber roots, and speaking of which. Working from memory because Malla was very meticulous about where everything went, all the vegetables were sorted and stored in separate bushel baskets, some on the floor, and some on two shelves running the span of the wall. He found the basket with the tuber roots, picked it up by the handles and carried it to the door. There must be a draft somewhere because he would've sworn he felt a breeze right by him as he turned the corner and pushed the door open.
"Here you go, Malla," he said with a grunt. "What is that, 30 pounds?"
Malla howled in response as she took the brown vegetables out one by one and looked them over.
"Well that should be enough for tomorrow," Han commented. "Do you need anything else?"
The female wookiee nodded and grunted.
"Pies, right, okay, hang on," Han went back into the cellar and made his way further into the room. Letting his nose guide him, he stepped past the baskets of stout bantha garlic and space onions, and found a bushel basket full of ripe red rheum stalks. With a pronounced grunt, Han heaved the basket in front of his abdomen and carried it out to the kitchen table.
"Ooh boy," he said as he all but dropped the basket, "we're gonna eat well tomorrow, Malla."
Chewie's wife nodded and let out a small roar in agreement. Then she did a double take and chattered at the smuggler.
"The kids? Hang on, I'll check," Han walked over to the door and looked out into the living room, "nope, they're not in there."
Malla howled in relief and told Han about the delivery they'd received earlier.
Han's eyebrows knotted together. "Where'd Saun Dann get hydramelons at this time of the year?"
Malla grunted in response.
"Lucky," Han remarked, "also lucky the kids haven't put any holotapes on yet. Hang on, I'll go get them."
The smuggler sauntered out to the living room where Itchy was fiddling with his camera again.
"Keep that thing away from me," he warned the oldest wookiee as he headed straight for the holotable.
Itchy snorted in response.
"I don't care if you got the flash adjusted," Han said, "the last thing I need is to be stumbling around here blind again."
Itchy scrunched up one side of his mouth as he made a jeering howl in reply. Han scowled at him and answered, "Now I know where Chewie gets it from."
The crate was too heavy to lift so Han pushed it along the floor into the kitchen.
"Here you go, Malla," Han said, "you want them in the cellar?"
The female wookiee waved that suggestion off.
"Good point," Han said. "That cellar's prime real estate when they start playing hide and seek."
A familiar noise of the cubs playing their instruments bounced through the walls again, Malla took the crate from the smuggler and shoved it under the kitchen table, she'd find a better hiding place for it when they went back upstairs.
A sudden and also familiar commotion drew both of their attention to the living room. Malla shook her head, somehow just knowing her kids were involved. The two of them went to see what was going on, and found the kids all huddled together howling to be heard over Itchy, who was snarling at all of them. Han forced his way to the center of it and tried to break it up and demanded to know, "What's going on?"
Thisny let out a mournful howl as he held up his drum that had been busted open. Han examined it and turned to the old white furred wookiee and commented, "Itchy, was that really necessary?"
Chewie's father responded by leaning over into Han's face and growling at him.
"Okay, kids, you heard your grandpa," Han said, "you'll have to find a quieter game to play."
The cubs chattered among themselves and Thisny made a very similar sounding suggestion to earlier, turned and let out an excited howl as he poked Han in the stomach and caused the Corellian to double over. One by one from Izaal down to Lumpy, all the cubs repeated the howl and poked him in the stomach and marched off.
Malla held her head back and howled in frustration.
"Oh they're good kids, Malla," Han said as he stood up straight, clutching the sore spot on his stomach, "just a little wiry."
Malla bobbed her head from side to side in uncertain agreement about it, then before Han could even realize what was happening, echoed her children's comments and poked Han in the stomach as well before taking huge bounding steps back to the kitchen.
"'Poke the bantha'? Indeed," Han grunted.