Night 49: Ebenholz, Czerny and Hibiscus, Leithanian Schweinshaxe with Sauerkraut and Mashed Potatoes
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
There were many among Rhodes Island's operators and patients who had a passion for creative works. For them, it was usually when midnight hit that their muse came out to play and inspire them with a burst of inspirations. As such, it was a common sight that some customers in the Diner typing frantically on the external keyboard set up for their tablet with a mug of hot coffee, or those who immersed themselves in the creation of art pieces and sketched tirelessly on paper.
Though tonight, there was a waft of sour scent in the kitchen air, and it has been spreading with alarming speed into the dining area. Many customers had been holding their breath from time to time, and frowned while looking towards the kitchen with confusion. Behind the window, they could see several figures running about increasingly frantic.
"Just take a look at what you've made with your accomplished hands." The young Caprini pinched his nose with disgust. He picked up a wooden lid from the floor and closed it firmly atop of a wooden bucket. "I have to say that this...this thing had reduced my headache by quite considerable degree. If its smell was not as...distinguished as it is, I'd bring a bucket to my dorm to ease my ailment."
"Oh, save your complaint, will you? I didn't call you down here to fuzz about the whole thing." The tall man beside him huffed and said. "T'was a mere setback. The road to great works of art was paved with countless failures. If all creation of excellency could just be made at whim, then the many gems of art through the ages should have never existed...ugh..."
"If you can't hold it, you can just...well...let it out." The young man opened another wooden bucket. The content inside gave out an even more pungent scent. "Confound it!...This one failed too. Do you really know how to make this stuff?"
"I'm a Leithanian, born and raised! The way of sauerkraut is deeply rooted within my...hurk...oww..." The man's face turned visibly green. In a mere moment he rushed to a trash can and heaved hard into it. "This must be an accident! An acci – urk..."
The Sarkaz girl who had been following them around went ahead and pat him gentally on the back. "Alright alright, you two should stop arguing for now. Mister Czemy only had good intentions, no? Although his result is...ouff...rather to be desired. We should at least be able to find a bucket of edible sauerkraut, yea?
"You should count yourself lucky that we had informed the Chef beforehand and told him about all the possible outcomes." Ebenholz held up his head and looked at the Chef at the other end of the Kitchen. Right now he watched the whole scene unfold with folded arms and an sour expression showed that if he could, he would devour all three of them alive, skin and bones and all. "Also, mister Czerny, when you asked the Chef about using the kitchen for sauerkraut, did you tell him these buckets could blow up by any chances?" Ebenholz said.
"Eyyy? Is it really that dangerous? I thought the smell was the worst of it!" Hibiscus covered her mouth with surprise.
"If there was large amount of gas from the bucket that could not be expelled in time, it would explode under raised temperature. " Ebonholz patted the lid of the bucket in his hand cautiously, then opened a sliver to let the gas out. "If that happens, the whole kitchen would be covered in the...hmm...debris of ripe cabbage. Well, at least we got one good bucket out of the whole thing. The rest...let's just decontaminate them then use them for compost."
"No, you can't do that! These are my hard-toiled labours!...urk..." Czemy protested weakly, then buried his head once more into the trash can.
Thanks to the handiwork of this famed Leithanian musician, many customers had fled the scene even before they could enter the Diner. By the end of the night, there were only the three still holding their ground in the Diner's kitchen beside the Chef himself. Even when the Chef turned ventilation to the max and worked it for an entire hour, there was still a sour scent lingering in the air. The Chef, with a sullen face, came to Czemy who was held by arms in-between Ebonholz and Hibiscus – by the look of it, he had been throwing up almost to the point of dehydration. "Looks like I had to trouble you three to make up for my losses tonight. How about some crispy Leithanian schweinshaxe? Though I'm afraid it'll come out of your dinner money, Mister Czemy."
High quality beast hocks were washed and scorched to rid the hair. The Chef then basted them with strong liqueur to rid the raw meat stink. He made a few cuts on the hocks, and stuffed a few cloves of garlic into the cuts. Afterwards he made cross-cuts on the thick, fatty skin and soon a series of cross cuts like a web were made. With sprinkles of salt and pepper, the Chef placed a layer of chopped carrot, onion and celery on the baking tray. Then he put in an entire sprig of rosemary and thyme before putting the hocks atop of the tray. Finally he poured a can of Leithanian schwarsbier before putting everything in the oven.
After an hour, the pleasant smell of baked meat came gradually out of the oven, overcoming the agitating sour scent in the air. The Chef took out the tray and put the fully cooked vegetables with juices from the meat aside, then brushed a layer of honey atop the hocks and sent them inside the oven again. When the skin of the hocks turned a tantalising gold with many bubbles forming on the skin, the Chef took them out. The juice flowed clear from the hocks – if one would scoop it up with a spoon, it would surely leave a shiny glaze coating the utensil thoroughly.
The Chef put the hocks into separate plates. With a ladle of sauerkraut and a large serving of mashed potatoes, every single dish looked so very tantalizingly delicious. He was also quite considerate and offered all three each with saucers full of gravy.
"To be honest Mr. Czemy." Hibiscus cast a sight of admiration towards him after a taste of the sauerkraut. "Your sauerkraut is delicious! Tasty and crispy! I would never imagined a pinch of salt and some time could turn common cabbage into a delicacy like this! It's definitely going into my 'Healthy Meal' menu. Giving people tasty yet nutritious meal item was a hard thing to do – can you teach me how to make it?"
"Um...well..." Czemy took a spoonful of mash with gravy. His empty stomach was direly in need of some carbohydrates to fill in the blanks. "I really don't want to smell that sour scent again for the time being...My apologies."
"I can teach you how to make it." Ebenholz gracefully cut off a piece of the hock in his plate. The sound of the silverware on the crispy baked skin was peasant to the ears. The well-roasted hock was crispy on the outside yet juicy and tender underneath. With heavily scented gravy, it was enough to rid one of their fatigue and headache for the day. "There was once a person who told me how to make sauerkraut. Though his method was rather...hasty, it was not that complicated."
"These food for peasants should not dwell freely in your head, my foolish and rebellious descendent." A voice rang out inside his head.
"Is that right, old geezer? Then I'd wish you choke on that fatty meat of schweinshaxe."
"Laughable, all of you! Do you really believe that shrewd words of yours you learned from these foolish peasants a good way to refute ME?! Pathetic, pathetic!"
*crisp*
"You old geezer, weren't you hungry?"