Emincé

It was one of Khera'Va'ss'io's stops at Jovan. Routine. Normal. It was a thing that she had come to enjoy in her so-far short stint aboard the Alliance warship. From family matriarch to refugee, to ship's cook. It was a strange path that the great wargod set her to, but one that she was more than happy to embark upon. After all, she did enjoy the old clan pit-smoking nights, and preparing the feast meals for groups of her extended family. She was never the one to go off in search of a glorious death or hunt; she left that to the younger boys. No, she much preferred to be ruler of the pit and spit.

'Queen of the kitchen', was what some of the ship's crew called her. It was an honorific, she had come to learn, and she embraced the title with gusto. She ruled over the galley with an iron knife, often using her cooking utensils to chase away the ship's first mate with an angry ladle or skewering fork. The man was relentless. Not to mention a bottomless pit.

But now, on Jovan, Idiri Su'ul Ahan'war was making her way through the docking umbilical to begin her exploratory journey through the wondrous markets. Many were run by the Cizerack, and she had a healthy appreciation of the felinoid aliens' tendencies toward live food. Apparently so did the captain, and Idiri always made sure to stock her larders with live sajoi and rabbit. The captain was a strange one; nothing like normal humans.

Passing through customs was easy. They knew here well enough.

The trips through the stations myriad of lifts was also easy. It was simply a waiting game.

The real excitement was had when those doors opened to disgorge the passengers onto the market level.

It was chaotic, load, and the smells... the smells reminded her of home.

Pushing her way through the mass of haggling Cizerack and the occasional human bystander, Idiri headed for her first stop - the Corellian butcher shop, A Cut Above. The butcher knew here, from her previous visits, and she hoped that he had a good stock of ronto, dewback, and eopie cutlets for her.

From his spot behind his counter, the butcher smiled as the old Kaleesh pushed her way through to the front of the pack. Past a few Cizerack women and a smattering of others, he watched like a Chandrilan grasshawk as Idiri shifted herself to the front of the group. She had become fast accustomed to the procedure, and as she moved to the counter, both hands came up to lay palms-down on the glass top.

"Old Kaleesh," the butcher gave her a sombre nod that was nearly betrayed by his smile, [/i]"... been expecting you."[/i]

"I am here now."

"That you are."

He wiped his knife on a white rag, watching her expectantly.

"I want cuts of the ronto - the muscle around the diaphragm, yes? And I want this dewback cutlets from the flank. You can do this, yes?"

With a knowing smile, the butcher took a step back as he began to pull slabs of meat from behind his counter.

"Whatever the Old Kaleesh wants," he whirled around to slap down a side of dewback, "... she gets."

Her trip to the butcher had been a success, and she'd made sure to have her choices sent directly to the porter responsible for Khera'Va'ss'io's foodstocks. She had been given well-wishes as she left, and true to form, offered only her normal grunted response of 'ajaya ko amani'. I will return.

Idiri was a creature of habit, even despite being a crewmember aboard an Alliance starship. Perhaps it helped that the captain of her ship was also of the same sort.

Making her way through the crowds, she continued on through the contained bazaar, her shrewd gaze sweeping over each stall. Fruits, vegetables, bakers even. It was a hodgepodge of culinary offerings. The bakeries often allowed patrons to use their large sonic ovens for cooking, many had set up small table seating so that passing merchants could sit and enjoy a meal. It was a far cry from the polished restaurants on the upper levels; here it was a kaleidoscope of individuals who had little time for lounging - and yet they still enjoying what small time they allowed themselves, with fragrant foods, fresh ingredients, and few utensils.

She paused then, her eye spying a placard that she'd not seen on her last visit, and allowing herself the time to stop, she decided to treat herself.

It was a small establishment, squeezed between two shops. But, there was a small section on the menu that boasted of Kaleesh stews, and Idiri set her eyes to an empty, single-top table. She sat, and it wasn't long before a head poked out of the door.

"Da ko aka?"

"Chikei dei. Sesi ata."

"Ta-cha."

The head disappeared, and left her alone to watch the passing bodies.

Only minutes later the head reappeared.

"Lusa oso?"

"Se pa."

"Aj."

Again the head disappeared, with another few moments passing before the chef himself stepped out. He was a burly Gran, his three eyestalks fully focused on the first Kaleesh he had ever served.

"Ota go ka kawakei."

"Su tei ka."

A plate was set before her, and Idiri nodded in appreciation.

Red ama beans, with shaak feet stewed for at least twelve hours to break down the tendons and cartilage. It turned the meat into the most tender of all, and the tendons into literal jelly. Spices of juuako and alalakas, with a few small sprigs of fresh tosamin. Three slices of toasted sar bread finished out the dish, and she gave her host a generous nod of appreciation.

"Tasa ko."

The Gran nodded, and returned back to the confines of his tiny kitchen to allow his patron to begin her meal.

There was something to be said for the food on the market level. It was hearty, it was cheap, and the ones who prepared it suffered no fools or air-wasters. One could spend twenty credits on a paltry tuber appetizer with crumbled meat flakes and melted cheese and a smattering of limited herb sprinkled over the top, or one could come to the working-people's market, spend five credits, and receive a plate with fire-grilled meat cutlets, some sort of par-boiled leafy green, a handful of some spice blend dashed over the top, and ale-battered tuber fries wrapped up and drizzled with whatever condiment concoction was on offer for the day.

And that was just one small stall's offering.

The uppers truly were missing out, and for Idiri that was all the better.

She had finished her meal, passing off her tray to a bustling server who was also tending to a handful of other quick-eating diners. Satisfied and ready to continue, the old Kaleesh left her perch and continued on into the morass of other shoppers.

A Cizerack female pushed past her, followed by a quick succession of others on their way to... something. The energy of the small stream of bodies hurrying to wherever was enough to pique her curiosity, and Idiri found herself sliding into the line and letting the current guide her.