2019-02-03: Fish Taco

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  • Cutscene: Fish Taco
  • Cast: Lunata Croze
  • Where: Yggdrasil
  • Date: 3rd February 2019
  • Summary: Fish taco recipe, serves two. Sadness optional.

A bright, cheerful sign hangs at the centre of the Yggdrasil's lunchroom.

 TODAY'S LUNCH
   Lunata's Fish Tacos

Lunata Croze marches onward with a tense and pale face, fists balled as she hurries past the serving counter and yanks her hair back with a hairtie. She grimaces as she stares at herself on the dull reflection of the metal sink, red eyes glaring back towards her as she recalls the conversation that just happened.

As much as I'd like to say that's enough...
... defeating Mother only solved one problem.

The Death Waitress slaps a bandana on and ties it taught, lathering up the entire length of her arm as she soaps up.

Even now there's still a lot of things I've left undone.
Promises I've made that I still need to keep.

"Nothing's going back... ..." mumbles the littlest chef as she scrubs so vigorously she can feel even her dead skin sting a little. A pause, as she lets the running tap fill the noise.

She slumps her head back. Closes her eyes. A little 'ding' echoes as an order stub slides in, Lunata snatching it in a matter of moments, then sticks it on the wedge just by the hot lamp.

Service is on.

Fillet the fish; debone and ensure no pin bones remain. Season generously on both sides with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.

Lunata stares at the whitefish seated on the baking sheet-lined half-tray before her. Fish, as it always has been, since she learnt how to do this years ago.

Nothing has changed.

She turns to her skillet, roiling hot from a blaze underneath;

Pat of butter. Tablespoon of a neutral cooking oil to increase the smoke point. Fish in; lay away from you to prevent oil splatters.

She tilts the pan away so as to fry the fish faster; pan-frying, just like she learnt how to do this years ago.

Nothing has changed.

Two minutes on each side; take a half cut of lemon and squeeze freshly, cupping your palm to prevent seeds from dropping into the pan.

The flour tortilla. Home-made before service. Go with soft or hard; toast with a template depending on the order. And it's perfectly round. Round. A symbol of cycles without beginning or end. Much like the gimbals of Rujm el-Hiri...

She grabs a dowel and wraps the tortilla around it, before hoisting it over the open flame to toast.

A pause.

"... the hard tortilla shell... its ends come up on each other ..." she whispers with marked realisation.

A beginning coming to an end again. A transgression of the passage of time. Time, winding back to where it all began. Lunata stares at the hard tortilla shell, transfixed. If only she could go back in time...

If only she could capture that moment for all eternity...

... ...

"ogod"

Lunata jolts out of eternity and flails as the burnt cinders of the tortilla shell crumble from her dowel.

Assembly. Julienne red cabbage; slice cherry tomatoes, cucumber. Roll coriander and chop roughly. Split avocado in half, pit, then cut into slices. Rest fish ontop vegetables.

Lunata stares at the near-done hard-shell fish taco before her, on a hot serving plate. (Don't worry, she made a new one)

"Haven't changed the recipe... in years now..."

Nothing has changed.

A sprinkling of cotija cheese, and a generous squeeze of Lunata secret taco sauce.

The ex-waitress gazes as she pipes sauce from a three-pronged sauce bottle. She frowns for a moment. 'Secret'.

It's just a stupid mix of sour cream, mayo, lime juice, garlic powder and a dollop of sriracha. She came up with it when she was fourteen.

But everyone went crazy over it--

Nothing has changed.

There's a heavy sigh from the ex-waitress as she hits the bell to call out, "Service," as she slides the two tacos over under the hot lamp. She frowns deeply as she watches them go.

Nothing has changed about her. Not her body, eternally trapped in an undying decay as it is; not her soul, eternally trapped in the Wheel as it is. Not her taco recipes, not the way she prepares food...

Not the way she foolishly fights wishing things could go back to the way they were...

"'ey Lunata. Fish is good, but d'you ever think of making chicken taco?"

Lunata blinks a few times, snapped out of her reverie. There's a snarl that transforms into a crooked, angry grin, full of false bravado.

"You ungrateful jerkbags. You want sandshark taco? I'll make sandshark taco instead. Tons of 'em around the Aveh Desert."

And nothing will go back to the way they were.