Treats and Traditions
Summary: It was a small and simple thing, but it was what she had to offer at the moment. And she would continue to offer it for as long as she could.
A/N: This OC-centric fic is a Christmas gift for my friend Ariel_of_Narnia. It's very much a slice-of-life installment, so there's not a whole lot going on, but if you're a SWW reader who's invested in Calico's subplot, this will fill in a little bit more of her backstory.
December 24, 1892
The soaring notes of a string quartet drifted from the parlor to the kitchen down the hall, and Gilbert G.A. Mesch stopped rolling out gingerbread dough long enough to listen. Music wasn't the sort of thing he truly understood (he was a cook, after all, not an instrumentalist), but the tunes of the Christmas season never failed to lift his spirits and make the winter days feel less dreary.
After several minutes, a smattering of applause marked the carol's conclusion, and Mesch returned to his rolling, coaxing the spice-scented dough into a thin, even rectangle. A glance at the clock told him that it was time to check on the cookies already baking in the oven, so he did, and was pleased to see that the first batch of gingerbread was turning out perfectly.
After a few more passes with the rolling pin and several presses of the cookie cutter, two more trays were ready to bake. Mesch set them aside and cleaned up his workspace, then turned his attention to the next task to be completed: making a batch of apple spiced popcorn, which would be offered hot and fresh to the parlor guests once the string quartet's performance had concluded. He was just about to start his preparations, when the back door of the kitchen suddenly opened, and a gust of cold air blew in, bringing with it two familiar, snow-dusted figures.
"Smells good, Gil!" came the cheerful but muffled voice of Lee, the under gardener. He loosened the thick scarf wrapped around his neck and peeled off his mittens, then turned to assist the smaller figure at his side. "I'm sure Miss Cora wouldn't mind something warm and toasty. It's colder than a penguin's ice box out there!"
"You ought to have trained in the solarium," Mesch chided. "It's far too cold for either of you to be outside in this weather."
Lee shrugged. "Once you get the blood flowing, it's not so bad. I made sure the little one wore her coat." He took his young companion's hat and scarf and hung them on the hooks by the door. "Besides, some of the Master's guests were in the solarium. Not likely they would have welcomed our intrusion, ah?"
Mesch silently conceded the point. It wasn't surprising that the solarium had been occupied, considering how many guests were currently staying on the premises, and in the absence of an unoccupied room that could be used for practice, going outside probably had been the only option.
"I've got eggnog warming up on the stove," Mesch said, going to get two cups from the cabinet. "Or there's coffee if you prefer that, Lee."
"Go and warm yourself by the fire, Miss Cora," Lee directed. "Gil will drive out the cold with his egg drink, and you'll be toasty again in no time."
"You're leaving?" Mesch raised an eyebrow as the other man pulled his gloves back on. "Hudson told me a storm's on the way, and you just got done telling me how cold it is."
"The Mistress wants her carriage decked out with holly and ivy for tomorrow's ice skating excursion," Lee said, wiggling his fingers to fit them into the glove. "It's going to be a stretch to get all that greenery onto the carriage before nightfall, and then I've got to finish sweeping the front garden walk - not that it'll last long with the storm coming, but those are her orders."
"Take some cookies with you at least," Mesch implored, checking on the gingerbread in the oven. "I'll have this gingerbread out in a few minutes. You can eat it while you walk."
"Later, my friend." Lee protested. "Later. I won't be back in time for dinner tonight, so my hungry belly will enjoy them more then."
"I'll set aside a bowl of stew for you," Mesch promised, a little disconcerted at the prospect of his friend going hungry, even if only for a night. "You need to keep up your strength, especially with all of the extra demands the Mistress has been placing on you."
"Too much for a simple under gardener," Lee lamented with a shake of his head. "I was hired to mow lawns and trim hedges, not gussy up carriages. But what can I say? It's too chilly this time of year to be tossed to the curb, so out I go." He adjusted his scarf more snugly around his neck. "Maybe I should learn to cook - then I wouldn't have to worry about the Mistress giving me the sack." Grinning at Mesch, he added, "You want an assistant, Gil? Even if he's only a silly old fool?"
"If you have this long to banter with me, you have enough time to wait for some gingerbread." Mesch picked up one of the empty mugs. "I'll pour you a cup of eggnog, too."
"Like I said, later, my friend." Lee backed towards the door. "I promise I'll eat. You save all the scraps of gingerbread for me, ah? And a bowl of your stew besides. I'll dream about it while I'm outside freezing my fingers off." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl warming herself by the stove and added, "You enjoy your egg drink and stay out of trouble, Miss Cora. Good work today!"
With a final wave, he headed out the door, squaring his shoulders as the cold hit before shutting the door firmly behind him.
Mesch set down the cup that he'd been holding with a sigh.
Lee was never one to turn down food, but he'd been getting busier and busier lately, and Mesch hadn't missed the strained look in his friend's eyes or the growing thinness of his cheeks. He'd caught whispers of the other servants' gossip and knew that Mistress Jamesima had threatened to fire the under gardener, but seeing the physical effects of that pressure hanging over Lee was even more sobering. He wasn't the only one whose job was in jeopardy, of course - Mesch knew that full well - but Lee seemed to be the lady of the house's favorite target for no reason at all.
It was a strange season that they were all in, surrounded by the revelry of others but unable to take part in the festivities or to rest in the season's promise of peace and goodwill. A collective trepedation hovered over the household like the storms that had threatened all week, and Mesch felt the weight of his colleagues' distress acutely.
Letting out a quiet sigh, he turned to the girl rubbing her hands together by the stove. Here was another one caught in a precarious position, someone whose meager favor with the powers that be hung by a thread. She shouldn't have been in any danger - if anything, she should have been one of the most secure members of the St. Clair household - but things hadn't turned out that way.
"Are you ready for a drink now, Miss Cora?" Mesch asked, setting aside his concerns in favor of focusing on what he could control.
The girl nodded, walking over to the breakfast nook on the other side of the kitchen. She pulled out a little stool, sat down, and waited expectantly, her drumming her fingers lightly on the table.
"Here's some eggnog." Mesch set the cup down in front of her. "I'll bring you gingerbread, too, once it's out of the oven."
"Hartley said that they're going to be decorating gingerbread houses tomorrow." Cora took a sip of eggnog, leaving a mustache of cream on her lip. "He invited me to join them, but Mama told me that I wasn't allowed to socialize with Hartley while the guests are here. I'll have to explain to him later. He doesn't understand."
Mesch wasn't sure he truly understood either, but he said nothing and went to get the gingerbread from the oven.
"Anyway, I'd rather practice with Lee than sit around decorating cookies," Cora declared, licking the nutmeg-speckled cream from her lip. "He taught me how to break a wrist grab today. Did you know that the thumb is the weak point?"
"I didn't."
Cora took another long sip of her eggnog.
"What are all those wrinkly things in the bowl for?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject and pointing at a dish on the counter.
"Those are dried apples. I'm going to be crushing them up soon to make a coating for some popcorn."
Cora's expression was unreadable, but Mesch didn't miss the way she perked up a little. She loved apples whether they were mulled in a cider or baked into a pie, and the thought of popcorn flavored with her favorite fruit clearly intrigued her.
"Would you like to help me?" he asked.
Cora slurped the last bit of her eggnog. "Why not?" She hopped off of her stool and carried her cup to the sink, washed her hands, then walked over to join Mesch at the counter.
"How do you pop the corn?" she asked curiously.
"With this." Mesch reached down to pull a long-handled saucepan out of the cabinet and set it on the stove. "Before we do that, let's prepare the seasonings. We'll need cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and cardamom from the spice cabinet."
Cora nodded and went to procure the spices. By the time she'd returned, Mesch had gotten out his mortar and pestle and had set them on the counter next to the dried apple slices.
"We'll divide the dried apples into two parts. One part will be broken into bite sized pieces, and the other part we'll crush into a powder."
"Can I use the stone bowl and club?"
Mesch nodded, filling the former with apple pieces. "It's called a mortar and pestle. Mind your fingers - the pestle is heavy."
Once he was satisfied that his young assistant was in no danger of injuring herself, he set about transferring the gingerbread to a cooling rack, then returned to the counter to start breaking the remaining apples into pieces. He'd hand-selected the fruit himself, sampling several apples at the grocer's before finding a variety with perfect balance of tart and sweet. They would have been good enough for a decadent trifle or even to eat out of hand, and perhaps it was foolish to waste them on a treat as simple as popcorn, but Mesch was the kind of cook who preferred to use the best ingredients if he could get them, and he knew that these crisp, perfect apples would be the difference between an impressive batch of popcorn and an easily-forgettable one.
For the next several minutes, the kitchen was filled with nothing but the crackle-snap of dried fruit pieces breaking and the dull thud of the pestle. Cora applied herself to her task with deliberation, her brow furrowed and her motions efficient and even, and Mesch watched her out of the corner of his eye, secretly proud of her natural aptitude with a tool that she'd never used before.
Perhaps his lessons were finally paying off. Lee wasn't the only one teaching Cora, after all, and while the kitchen know-how that Mesch had attempted to impart probably wouldn't be as useful as the self defense techniques that the under gardener had insisted on passing down, Mesch hoped that Cora would be able to apply the basic cooking skills that she'd learned one day. She'd shown only a passing interest at first and had been impatient the first few times Mesch had shown her how to handle a knife or cut an onion, but over time (and with consistent, gentle reminders), her skills and patience in the kitchen had improved.
"Have I ground the apples fine enough?" Cora's voice broke into his thoughts. "I made sure not to leave any big pieces."
Mesch examined the powder at the bottom of the mortar. "That will do nicely. Good work."
He set the apple pieces aside, then motioned for Cora to pass him the jars of spices. Cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and allspice went into a bowl, along with the crushed apple powder from the mortar.
"This is the mixture that we'll coat the popcorn with," Mesch explained, handing Cora a spoon so that she could stir the spices. "We'll add a light caramel coating to the popcorn, and it'll help everything stick more evenly. The aim is for a robust apple flavor with a dash of spice and a hint of buttery caramel - something familiar, but also a little surprising."
"How long did it take you to come up with this recipe?" Cora asked as she stirred.
"This is my fifth year making it." Mesch got out a pot to make the caramel. "It's changed a little from Christmas to Christmas. Originally the spice coating had a dash of ginger in it, but Master Hartley didn't like the flavor, so I've omitted it since."
He set to work, showing Cora how to oil the saucepan and add a few golden corn kernels, and together they listened until a smattering of rapid-fire pops filled the air. Then it was time to add the rest of the corn, just enough to start the popping process, but not so much that there would be unheated kernels left behind. Cora was overly-enthusiastic about shaking the pan at first, but eventually she got the hang of it, and Mesch whisked together the caramel coating while she made batch after batch of popcorn.
Half an hour later, they had three bowls heaped high with fluffy, fresh-smelling kernels. Mesch drizzled on the caramel, showing Cora how to gently toss the mixture so that everything was evenly coated. After the spices were added, another round of mixing commenced, and then the popcorn was poured onto a tray and put into the oven to crisp for a few minutes.
"Let's clean up while we wait," Mesch directed, taking the saucepan and bowls to the sink. "It's always better to tidy up as you go, especially when you have several recipes going at once."
Together, they washed the dishes and wiped down the counters, then went to take the popcorn out of the oven.
"Now for the final step: adding the broken up apple pieces." Mesch handed Cora the bowl of dried fruit and a pair of tongs. "These will add texture and visual interest, as well as an extra burst of apple flavor."
Cora stirred carefully, mixing the popcorn so that the crispy apple pieces intermingled with the caramel-covered kernels.
"It smells good," she said eagerly. "Can I try some?"
Mesch nodded. "Let's see how it turned out."
He scooped a generous bowlful of popcorn for Cora and a half-sized one for himself, and they both took a bite.
A surge of sweetness and spice unfurled in his mouth, and Mesch smiled in satisfaction. This was the best batch he had tasted to date, the popcorn perfectly crisp on the outside but fluffy on the inside, the caramel coating buttery-smooth, and the flavors and textures all harmonizing together as beautifully as the notes of the string quartet down the hall.
Once he had finished chewing, he looked at Cora, curious to see what she thought.
"Well?"
The girl swallowed the last of her mouthful of popcorn, then said very solemnly, "Mesch, I would prefer that you didn't tell anyone about this popcorn. If no one knows it's here, we can eat it all up ourselves."
Mesch laughed. "So you liked it, then!"
Cora nodded, taking another handful of popcorn and shoveling it into her mouth.
"Is there anything you'd add more or less of?"
"What about putting in some roasted walnuts?" she suggested, forgetting in her excitement not to talk with her mouth full. "That would add a different kind of crunch."
"Not a bad idea," Mesch agreed. "The nuts might sink to the bottom because they're so much heavier than the rest of the mixture, but the flavor profile would fit, especially if we candied the nuts beforehand. I'll make a small batch next time, and we'll see how it goes."
Cora's only response was more enthusiastic crunching, and Mesch left her to enjoy her snack in peace while he went to put his second batch of gingerbread into the oven. He was a bit behind schedule and would have to move quickly to make sure he got the popcorn ready to serve before the performance in the parlor ended, but he knew that letting Cora join him had been the right decision.
"I'll have to ask you to help me with this every year," he said as he shut the oven door and then went to refill her eggnog. "You handled the mortar and pestle very well, and we'll have to put your walnut suggestion to the test, too."
Cora didn't reply at first, seemingly engrossed in chewing, but Mesch saw her fingers fiddle with her popcorn bowl and her shoulders droop a little. Before he could investigate the reason for her seeming dejection, she looked up and said abruptly,
"Will you write down the recipe for me?"
Mesch barely hid his surprise. Cora had never requested written instructions for any of the dishes they'd worked on before, and while this out-of-character appeal wasn't necessarily surprising (for she did love apple-flavored foods), there was a soberness in her voice that gave him pause.
It was almost as though she didn't believe that the scenario he'd proposed would ever come to fruition, as though she knew that there wouldn't be another batch of popcorn to make together next year...
It was as though she had already resigned herself to what many of the servants feared would come to pass, and was now preparing herself accordingly.
Months ago, Mesch would have been apt to discourage that kind of outlook. He preferred to believe the best rather than fear the worst and had stubbornly held out hope that the tenuous relationship between the servants of the household and their relatively new mistress would improve. But as the weeks had gone by and the cold winter had crept in, things had only continued to get worse.
"Of course I can write the recipe down," he said aloud, giving Cora a halfhearted smile. "I'll take care of it tonight after I've finished cleaning up the dinner dishes."
Cora nodded, took a sip of eggnog, and returned to chewing her popcorn.
Mesch went to go prepare the rest of the batch for the guests down the hall, surprised to find his normally-steady hands shaking as he scooped the popcorn into individual glass bowls. Irritation was rising in his chest like the first tiny bubbles of a nearly-boiling pot, and for a moment he resented the delight of the parlor occupants so blithe and merry yet so conveniently removed from the hardship of those around them. He wasn't a man prone to judgement or to fits of temper…but something about the disparity - and his inability to rectify it - angered him.
Silently, he finished his task, making sure that the popcorn was portioned out evenly and that the apple pieces were attractively arranged before setting the glass dishes on a tray.
"I have to take these to the parlor, Miss Cora," he said, taking off his apron and picking up the refreshments, "but I left some popcorn behind. Help yourself if you're still hungry."
The girl nodded, chomping down what was left in her bowl before sliding off of her stool to attack the remaining spoils, and Mesch turned and left the kitchen, his ire softened a little by her eagerness. A second bowlful of apple popcorn wouldn't solve anything for Cora, but it might momentarily drive out just a bit of the season's chill, and at this point, it was all Mesch could hope to do.
That, and make sure she had a copy of the recipe to keep…for whatever might come next.
December 24, 1899
Calico untied the baker's twine on the brown paper package that she'd brought home hidden in her coat pocket, discarding the string and carefully opening up the paper wrapping. The dried apples inside had cost more than she'd expected, but she'd had enough to pay for them, and as their lightly-sweet scent reached her nose, she knew that the expense had been worth it.
Shaking the fruit into a bowl, she began to break the apples into pieces, half for the popcorn mixture and half for the coating. The kitchen at the lodging house had no mortar and pestle, but she'd discovered that she could achieve a similar effect by laying the apples on a cutting board, covering them with a cheese cloth, and using a rolling pin to crush them instead. The end result was more grit than powder, but it was close enough.
Once the apples had been prepared, Calico readied the spice blend, pausing every once in a while to glance at the tattered recipe card that she'd propped up on the counter to make sure that she was measuring out the correct amounts. Last year she'd ruined an entire batch of popcorn by accidentally tripling the cardamom, and she wasn't about to make that mistake again.
Having satisfied herself that the ratios were correct, set about popping the popcorn, thankful that Fern had taken the girls Christmas caroling so that they wouldn't be underfoot. A recipe involving fire and hot oil wasn't an ideal setup for eager but inexperienced hands, and though there hadn't been any accidents in years past, there had been some far-too-close calls.
Once the popcorn was ready, Calico added the caramel coating and spices, inhaling the sweet, cinnamony aroma as she gently mixed everything together. There was something comforting about the easy, repetitive task, and she found the cares on her mind soften and the tension in her shoulders easing a little.
She had just set the popcorn into the oven to crisp when footsteps sounded from down the hall, and Rina appeared, snow clinging to her coat and her curls.
"Sorry I'm late, Calico," she said, shedding her outer layer and sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. I had to take a detour on my way home. Skeet was prowling around the Square, and I didn't want to risk running into him."
"You did what you had to do." Calico filled a mug with cider and set it down on the table in front of her second-in-command. "I was able to finish selling early, so the extra help wasn't needed after all. Everything's nearly ready."
Rina sat forward and cupped her hands around the beverage. "Ohhh, that feels good. My fingers are nearly frozen!"
"I hope you asked Mrs. Sherwood for a new pair of gloves."
Rina nodded. "She was so insistent that I write something down on the wish list, so I did, even if I wanted the other girls to have a chance first."
"It sounds like everyone will get something on Christmas morning." Calico poured a mug of cider for herself. "Mrs. Sherwood told me her church is subsidizing the purchases."
"It's very kind of her to go out of her way for us like this - she already spends so much time on our tutoring lessons, and now she'll have to rush around buying Christmas gifts, too." Rina took a sip of cider. "I'm surprised that the members of her church would be willing to buy gifts for a group of girls that they don't even know. They must have children of their own to spend their hard-earned money on."
"Mrs. Sherwood has been a part of the congregation for over thirty years." Calico took a sip of her cider. "She said there are many wealthy families who like to send gifts to the poor at Christmas time. Apparently they deliver a big box of brand new toys and clothes to the Children's Aid Society every year, and this year there was funding left over, so she asked if she could use it to buy some things for us."
"Just imagine being that well off," Rina mused. "Having everything you ever wanted, living in a nice house with a beautiful Christmas tree and a fireplace in every room and so much money that you could just give it away…"
"Not everyone who's rich shares what they have," Calico couldn't help interjecting. "There are plenty of blue-bloods who don't care a cent about the poor, and living in a mansion is no better than living in a run-down boarding house unless the people there care about you."
Rina must have caught the sharpness underlying her words, for her expression became more solemn.
"You sound like you know something about that."
It was an invitation, not an accusation, but Calico didn't answer for a moment.
"I grew up on a sizeable property in Upper Manhattan," she said finally. "There were fireplaces in every room and Christmas trees and gift exchanges, but I couldn't take part in any of it. Christmas was just like any other day."
The words came out sounding more bitter than she'd intended, and she'd never disclosed so much to any of her girls, but what she'd spoken was the truth.
Finishing her cider, Calico walked over to the sink to wash out her mug, then went to check on the popcorn, her frigid anger thawing just a bit as the heat from the oven warmed her face. The caramel-covered kernels were perfectly crisp, and she removed the tray from the oven, setting it down on the counter to cool. Rina, by this time, had finished her cider as well and was rummaging around in the cupboards, setting mugs next to the pot of cider on the stove.
"I'll fill up the cups when the rest of the girls get back," Calico told her. "There's no point in them sitting out now and getting cold in the meantime."
Rina nodded. "I'll go start a fire in the antechamber."
She started towards the hallway, but paused for a moment as she passed, putting a hand on Calico's arm.
"Even if you never got to be a part of those Christmas traditions back home, you're giving us the chance to enjoy our own traditions now," she said quietly. "Maybe it doesn't make you feel any better…but it means a lot to me and the girls."
Dropping her hand, she left, padding down the hall, and Calico was left alone in the kitchen.
Slowly, she began scooping the popcorn into a big bowl, mixing in the dried apple pieces as she mulled over Rina's words. She hadn't considered the activities with the girls at Grahame proper Christmas traditions - more like ways of keeping them occupied while keeping her own feelings at bay - but if the practices meant something to Rina, who was next in line to lead, maybe they'd end up having a lasting significance after all.
Before Calico could think further on the matter, the sound of voices singing "Deck the Halls" was heard, and amidst the clomping of booted feet, the rest of the girls appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"We're back!" Fern announced. "Christmas caroling was a success!" She gently nudged the girl by her side. "What did the Arnolds give us for our troubles, Nellie?"
"Hot chocolate with cream and an orange apiece!" came the exuberant answer. "It was dee-licious! They even made me take second helpings 'cause they said I'm the thinnest-looking one of our lot."
"I hope you still have room for Calico's special popcorn," Fern smiled at the newest member of their company. "It's a Christmas tradition here at Grahame."
"The girls told me all about it." Nellie patted her stomach. "I made sure to save some space in my belly!"
"Everyone go and get warm around the fire," Calico directed. "I'll bring the refreshments over on the cart."
The girls obeyed, migrating down the hall and chattering enthusiastically while Fern did her best to corral all of the scarves and coats being shed in unison.
Calico waited until the last of them had disappeared before turning back to her work. She set the dishes into the sink to soak, put the spices back in their cabinet, and wiped the counters clean. Then she filled up the mugs with cider and set them on the cook's cart, along with the big bowl of popcorn. The girls liked to snack communal-style, and there would be storytelling and games to enjoy around the fire, followed by more singing and laughter until it was time to eat dinner. It would be a cozy time to simply be together…and something in Calico needed that time more now than ever before.
She was about to start pushing the cart down the hall when she remembered the recipe card. Tattered and yellow with age, it was beginning to fall apart, the writing faded and blurred, the edges torn and ratty, but she would never replace or let go of it.
Retrieving the card from the counter, she tucked it carefully into her pocket. Later, in the quiet of the evening when the girls had gone to bed, she would return the card to its place in the tea tin where she kept all of her important belongings, and she would think about the man who had given her what he could in the midst of a cold and uncertain season, remembering his kindness and hoping that he was well…
But for now, she would take the delicious popcorn that he had taught her to make to the hungry mouths that were waiting. It was a small and simple thing, but it was what she had to offer at the moment.
And she would continue to offer it for as long as she could.
A/N: Full disclosure: I struggled with this one for a number of reasons, and it shows (I also had to stick to a hard deadline, which usually isn't the case) so please forgive the subpar nature of this year's offering. All I can say is that an earnest attempt was made, even if the end result fell quite short.
Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate!