†002 - Definitely not allergic to garlic.

[bucuresti]

[Mihail decided that he needed to get around to cooking something. Back at home, this time of year yields some of the best food his country has to offer. Lucky for him, he's got the blessing of being a pretty decent cook. However, this only really applies to food from his region (Romanian food is more like Turkish, Russian, Ukrainian, and German food combined) so things like hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and pizza aren't exactly within his...skills.

So he's going at making any number of things, specifically mamaliga (Romanian "peasant" cornbread that goes great with sour cream), frigarui (really spiced up kebabs), and of all things, baklava. There seems to be a cloud of garlic powder and any number of spices floating around him, and there's a gratuitous amount of pork, among other meat. Romanians like their meat, y'know.

This is more like stress relief for him, other than just traditional winter cooking time. He hasn't had the best month and he's just gotten over being sick for the umpteenth time, so cooking seems like an awesome stress reliever.

He's more than willing to share (his inner Romanian grandma will probably say you look too skinny and then shove some mamaliga in your mouth), but there is a degree of acquired taste to this stuff, except maybe the baklava.]

Comments

keyword relevancy again

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[]

Thank you.

Re: keyword relevancy again

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ tentatively smiling - should he? should he not? ]

You are welcome.

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[]

Are you mad at me? []

[gulags.livejournal.com]

Why would you think that?

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

Ah, well...

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ he had to bring that up, didn't he. ]

Ah, that. Oh.

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

So...

[gulags.livejournal.com]

I am not. Are --

[ quiet. ]

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[]

[gulags.livejournal.com]

Are you?

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[gulags.livejournal.com]

Because of that? I do not know.

[ ah, everything is getting - he's getting -



woozy. ]

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

You don't-- []

A-ah, Yuri.

[gulags.livejournal.com]

What - ? [ ...steadying himself with the countertop. that was weird. ]

Y-yes. My head hurts, is all.

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[]

Do you need to sit down?

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, it's not so bad that his head is spinning. inhale. exhale. ]

No, I can stand. What were you saying?

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

That... That doesn't matter at the moment. You probably should sit down. []

[gulags.livejournal.com]

I am fine. [ resisting like no one's business. ]

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[] No you are not. Sit down.

one of two.

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ oh for the love of - ]

I said -- !

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ throbbing in his head, ow. toning things down. ah, he's - he hasn't really snapped at someone like this in a while, has he? ]

I'm fine.

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[]

I'm very sorry... []

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ at first, he stands there, gripping at the edge of the counter, too stunned to speak. there's an itch on the inside of his throat --

clothes

**** *** your clothes. a bundle of clothes, wet, discarded on the snow and toes peeking

-- static. bzzzzzzt. ]

Mihail. [ pathetically, at first. ] Mihail...

I did not mean to.

[cenusa-lumina.livejournal.com]

[ I know it's not perfect but my hands are blistered and it's hard to breathe out here but--] It's fine. [--isn't it?]

[gulags.livejournal.com]

[ the smell of ********, bony hands groping out for meager ******, the unbearable ****. ]

No, I -

[ the ******* and their *******, pinpricks in exchange for more ****, the **********, *****; hand-prints on the wall, shuffling, crying, white noise in his head. knocked backwards, flinching and disgusted, the remainders of the ********.

the hand on the counter slips, rises, touches the side of his face the way he does when tracing the outlines of buildings in old, black & white pictures.

пачкаюсь я, подымаясь*. ]

*in reference to a poem called the last ravine (http://web.mmlc.northwestern.edu/~mdenner/Demo/texts/ravine.html). the line i used is "i am stained as i climb".