IRON BAY CHEF 2

At long last, after braising, baking, frying, boiling, cutting, chopping, hacking, torching and burying (well, at least one thing), my esteemed co-judge and I have finally recovered enough to announce a winner. (The same can’t necessarily be said of our taste-testers.)

It was very difficult to narrow down our choices because the recipes were fun to read, an adventure to prepare and a joy to consume. Most of them. The fact that so many New Babbagers participated by contributing recipes proves that we are, indeed, a city of foodies–and that our cuisine is incomparable among the Steamlands.  

No one cooks it up quite like a Babbager.

Without further ado, here are the winners of this year’s Iron Bay Chef:

• 1st place – Arthur Serpente, for his Mummeh-wrapped Air Kraken with Cinderberry Garnish  
• 2nd place – Dee Wells, for her Braised Air Kraken Tentacle Suckers with Artichokes and Cinderberry Relish 
• 3rd place – Jedburgh Dagger, for her Air Kraken Boucanier Style with Cinderberry Chutney

Your prize money will be forthcoming shortly. We promise. Really.

And now, our humble critiques and kitchen tales of preparing the recipes from this year’s contest.

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“Every Planet Has a North” Fells Gagh by June Forsythe

 

CEEJAY: A brave dish for a brave cook! I’ve always been a ‘waste not, want not’ sort of girl, which makes this recipe so appealing.  Mr. Mornington’s cheap wine may not be drinkable, but it certainly does a number on those North Fells worms! I applaud this clever use of wine that might have otherwise been thrown out or used as weed-killer. A note: Have a second cast iron pan at the ready just in case the Babbage sewer water eats through the first one.

 JUNIE:   Baby giant Fells worms?  I love it.  Fewer of the damnable things that will grow to maturity and torment spring travelers.  This was a recipe that I enjoyed preparing and presenting to my hapless taste-testers, a joyful grin on my face.  Emerson fainted, Bert turned green and the Squire simply went down to the cellar.  He returned a short while later, however, with some guy in a hideous (and unconvincing) Morlock costume who seemed all too pleased to give the dish a try.  He pronounced it “delectable” and asked for a side of fava beans.  Such freaks come out at Halloween.

Smoked Wiggyfish à la rose by Myrtil Igaly

 

CEEJAY: While I applaud the complexity of this dish, as well as the variety of ingredients that go into creating the final product, I must draw the line at the actual digging of the campfire pit. The last time I dug a hole with those dimensions I ended up detained for many hours answering pointed questions about various missing local persons. I guess I just have that natural ‘I’m up to something’ expression. If you are able to assume a more innocent face, however, this may be the ideal recipe for your next weekend culinary adventure.

 JUNIE:  First, I have to say that this was a culinary stroke of genius.  New Babbage roses?  Who would have thought?  I wasn’t able to get Emerson to try this because he disappeared into the smoker with a big coffee can as soon as I pulled the fish out, but Bert and I had a delightful meal.  The next day I mixed the leftovers with a cup of cream cheese, a bit of lemon juice, some diced onions and chopped parsley, and served it on crackers.  The Squire said I had managed to cheapen an otherwise brilliant recipe, but I caught him eating it by the spoonful when he thought no one was looking.

Lutefisk with Boiled Potatoes and Cinderberry Puree by Bookworm Hienrichs

 

CEEJAY:  My goodness. I wanted to make absolutely sure I’d be able to completely use up this recipe, and so I took the time (well I HAD the time machine) to go out and make friends with ten Scandinavians beforehand. We ended up having a ‘mallet party’ and had the fish softened in no time at all! The rest of the preparations went well, and I was very glad for the warning about peeling paint. My neighbor’s are on a month’s holiday, and they had been complaining about their decor, so I think it was a kindness to them to use their kitchen rather than my own. They will thank me later, and perhaps re-think their habit of putting a spare door key under the mat. My ten Scandinavian friends enjoyed the lutefisk. I personally couldn’t bear more than a nibble, but that really was quite sufficient. Quite. For a lifetime.

 JUNIE:  What kind of lunatic… Okay.  Well.  Unlike Ceejay I did not have a time machine, because they don’t exist.  Victor.  But, I do happen to stockpile various preserved meats in cold storage—which is totally NOT the catacombs behind the Gangplank—so I had some dried wiggyfish. (I didn’t intend to have wiggyfish in there, it was sort of forgotten one time after a failed cross-swap barter arrangement with a seafood-loving airship captain and a carnival barker… details not important.) In any case, my favorite part of this recipe was not the bashing of the fish with a mallet as one might reasonably suspect, but working with the lye. That fire in the catacombs? Not my fault.  Eventually I got bored though and let the fish soak too long, resulting in fish soap just as I had predicted. My valiant attempt to reproduce this insane recipe was a total loss. Not even Martin’s weird friends would go near it.

Southern Fried Wiggyfish and Cinderberries by June Forsythe

 

CEEJAY: Be sure to allow for a half hour’s worth of eye-twitching at the extra “L” in wiggyfish. Once you have gotten over that, the recipe is quite simple and a pleasant enough task to complete. If you have no back issues of the New Babbage Free Press on hand, you could use The Daily Snitch, but be warned, the cheap ink in that publication may add a strange design to your fish breading. I did enjoy the cornmeal crunch in the batter – deep fried food is a favorite treat! The Port of Babbage Spices will be with me for a long, long time to come. *burp*

JUNIE:  As soon as I saw the instructions for deep-fried cinderberries, I almost stopped there and didn’t even bother with the wiggyfish. But, for the sake of art and science and Emerson’s growling stomach, I went ahead and made a big batch of the fish as well.  This is the kind of simple and satisfying recipe that goes over well with longshoremen who come into the bar after their long shifts at the Port, and it went over equally well in my kitchen.  I served this deep-fried, artery-clogging goodness with a bit of malt vinegar, and what Emerson and I couldn’t finish Martin polished off.  I’ve never enjoyed wiggyfish quite this much.

Braised Air Kraken Tentacle Suckers with Artichokes and Cinderberry Relish by Dee Wells

 

CEEJAY: In spite of Miss Well’s pleas that I not eat this, I take my duties as a judge seriously. After spending the morning with my solicitor making sure all my affairs were in order, I braced myself for the possibility that I’d be ending my day in the afterlife. I added a liberal amount of ale to my belly and then cooked up a literal storm. Sorry about that, picnickers. I’m a little worried that my grimp leaf wasn’t quite right, and will be spending the rest of the night on that stretcher by the door. Otherwise, tis a fine, fine recipe. Trust me. Don’t actually MAKE it, just trust me.

 JUNIE:  Cooking air kraken suckers is a seriously delightful experience that no one should miss.  You don’t even have to eat them, just cook them.  It’s like putting a grape in a microwavelengthometer – if you’re lucky they’ll spark before they pop out of the pan. Bert wasn’t fond of the “find me some grimp leaf” errand I sent him on given it had been raining all week prior, and honestly, judging by the smell I’m not sure he was entirely successful; I threw everything he brought back into the sewer. (Some people cook with that water, I hear…)  Because I had no grimp leaf, and to make this recipe extra fun, I used some overripe cinderberries. Not enough to poison anyone, mind you, just enough to… well, make the evening a bit more lively.  Emerson and I invented new words while enjoying a rousing match of rock-paper-hedgeclippers, the Squire was sullen (as usual) but couldn’t manage a proper sneer, and Bert wandered around the bar, apparently following a mysterious green dot that only he could see.  Good times.

Idiot Proof Supper by Mumsy Abigail

CEEJAY: I applaud Mumsy for her lazy laborsaving recipe. I do enjoy a good steak, hopefully not served with Mr. Mornington’s house red wine. And really, even the most ardent cook does need a night off now and then. I am certain that Mumsy returned to cooking spectacular meals after this brief break.

JUNIE:  I wasn’t able to reproduce this recipe because Victor kept throwing me out of the restaurant. He said I smelled like lutefisk.

Spurgan’s Tricarnal Delight by Thomas Morlock 

 

CEEJAY:  After I had a small dance of joy upon noticing that Mr. Morlock’s recipe dealt with normal proportions and portions, and did not seem dangerous or disgusting, I set about cooking, with plans to have this for my own supper. I did find the recommendation of both cabernet and pinot noir to be a delightful accompaniment. In fact, perhaps because I was dining alone that night and had two bottles to polish off, I don’t quite recall finishing my plate. What I do remember tasting was amazingly edible.

 JUNIE: Initially this recipe sounded promising until I got to the not-cooking the raw anything part. At that point it sounded like something to foist on the Squire, but true to form, he turned up his nose and brought in one of his gothy friends. What is it with these guys and their Morlock costumes?  Is it some kind of subculture?  (Emerson and I are starting to worry about the company he keeps… this can’t be healthy.)  Anyway, Martin’s frighteningly-pale friend erupted in a grisly baring-of-teeth that was probably intended to serve as a smile, before belching loudly (and odoriferously) and pronouncing the dish “genius.”  I really do not get these people.

Mummeh-wrapped Air Kraken with Cinderberry Garnish by Arthur Serpente 

 

CEEJAY: Clearly this is more than a recipe.  It’s also a murder mystery, medical manual, animal training guide, gynecology lesson and taxidermy instructions, all wrapped up like a… well, you know what it’s wrapped up like. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I deep-fried a mummeh for 19 minutes instead of the recommended 18, but I’ve always tended to be the curious sort. I promise I will actually attempt this recipe someday. Sure. Yep, that’s the ticket!  (when mummified pigs fly) 

JUNIE:  Well, everything was fine until Emerson and Martin saw what was going on, went pale and dragged me out of the catacombs before I had a chance to try out my new hatchet. Whatever.  I had to make some modifications to the recipe as a result but discovered that dried air kraken membrane, although a bit papery, does a bang-up job in a pinch as mummy-substitute.  The end result tasted delightful but didn’t have the same je ne sais quoi that is present in the recipe as written.  I’m putting this one away for another time.

Krakenberry Pasta by Vernden Jervil 

 

CEEJAY: One cannot resist a recipe that recommends being served in the clouds. Sadly, I did not have quick access to and airship, or an engine compartment, so I did the next best thing and had the neighbor’s boiler sawed in half, in the interest of culinary science. (They really are going to have stern words with me when they return from their tour abroad, I am sure. Especially since I’d used their home to test Miss Hienrichs lutefisk recipe, too.) But I digress. I found the glaze especially delightful, reminiscent of a festive tropical drink. The steaming process rendered the cinderberries almost edible, too!   

 JUNIE:  I found it difficult to get any red peppers this late in the year, so I had to substitute some dried red chili peppers.  Now, one might think that chili peppers would overwhelm the other flavors in a mild recipe like this, but the secret is to just use MORE OF EVERYTHING.  What I ended up with was a feisty kraken dish and a sudden craving for margaritas.  After the Squire finished crushing a sufficient amount of ice, the four of us had a bit of a “south of the border” party; this gave Emerson a convenient excuse to show off a lovely sombrero he’d bought in the Port.  It had sequins.  Even though Bert couldn’t feel his tongue after a few bites, I’m counting this one as a success.

Kraken en Nogada (Kraken in Chilies with Cinderberry Sauce) by Jimmy Branagh

 

CEEJAY: I am frankly surprised that young Jimmy was adept at such a complex, international recipe, or that he has the patience to wait overnight for a hot meal. I also wonder where an urchin gets a blender, but my money’s on some late night unauthorized cooking going on in Mornington’s kitchens. I carefully followed the instructions for all the day-before preparations, but then quite weary, I fell asleep – thus leaving the soaking cinderberries alone. To be honest, I was too frightened to re-enter the kitchen and finish the recipe. Jimmy’s always been honest with me though, so I will trust that the final product is tasty.

 JUNIE:   I simply love that urchins produce recipes that will feed the entire city.  Perhaps they naturally gravitate toward soup-kitchen volumes given how many of them there are to feed.  I was fortunate when preparing this because I had a barrel of chili peppers just waiting for a purpose, and there were plenty left over after testing Commander Jervil’s recipe.  Even so, I did cut down this recipe just a tad…about 99%.  There are only so many tons of air kraken meat that pass over the city every year, after all. In any case, this recipe was to die for.  All of the fruit and spice blended perfectly, and what’s not to love about air kraken-stuffed peppers?  My mouth waters just thinking about it.  I spirited the leftovers home to Wheatstone for a weekend supper with Em before the Squire could get his hands on it.

Wiggs Dinner by Cleetus O’Reatus

 

CEEJAY: This recipe took me a lot longer than expected. You see, there was the matter of the turnip. Every one I dug up was the wrong size, and I was kept very busy re-burying each one and digging up the next, measuring it, and re-burying it. Finally, I found one close enough to the right size. Whew! I think that really should have been discussed in the recipe. After that ordeal, everything else was a breeze. And I do believe I caught a few dinner guests sticking their fingers in the peas, so I did too. All in all, a tasty dish for a casual evening.

 JUNIE:  A great man once said that, if given a million pounds, he would buy himself a great big turnip in the country.  Fortunately I didn’t have to go to the country; there was a nice big one right on top of the root vegetable bin at the market (grown organically with grimp leaf).  This dish was a breeze to prepare – one dish for all ingredients, the flavors mingling gloriously.   In fact, this was one of my favorite recipes because it’s just the sort of “stick to your ribs” meal that the hardworking patrons of The Gangplank have come to expect.  Unfortunately, Mr. O’Reatus failed to include cinderberries in his recipe – a required ingredient – so his submission must be disqualified.  I hope he contributes a recipe again next year; until then perhaps he’ll visit us at the Plank sometime to see how well we’ve prepared his Wiggs Dinner.

Not A Real Entry by Petharic

 

CEEJAY: I, sir, am appalled that you would use a highly respected cooking contest as a platform to try to win the heart of one of our judges! This conduct is extremely unbecoming. In addition, as there are only two judges and you have chosen to go all smarmy-eyed at only one of them, I must completely disqualify you from all consideration. What am I, sir – chopped liver? Oh, there’s a good idea for another cooking contest, let me just write that down here. 

 JUNIE:  Mr. Petharic, I can honestly say that after I read your submission and subsequently stopped fanning myself (for the room was suddenly very warm), I prepared your not-recipe.  The scent of mulled cinderberry-apple cider wafting from the kitchen brought no fewer than five people through the pub door.  I separated the concoction so I could cook down half into the condiment you mentioned, and thinned out the other half with more apple cider to keep it liquid.  With a jigger of rum I think this could become The Gangplank’s winter drink of the year.  Since this isn’t a recipe, and also doesn’t contain meat, I’m not considering it for judging.  But, between you and me, the sauce itself is simply awesome.

  

Portside Wiggyfish Chowder by Jedburgh Dagger

 

CEEJAY:  Who doesn’t love a good chowder? Something to warm your innards on a clammy Winter’s night in New Babbage? The only drawback to this recipe is obtaining cinderberry puree. Those little demons are dry as, well, as cinders, and nearly caused me to give up in exasperation while trying to transform them. But after soaking them for three days in rum, then hammering them for an hour with a large mallet, soaking them again and finally throwing the mess into cheesecloth and running over that with a carriage, I did obtain my needful puree. Everything else seemed easy in comparison and the final results were tasty. 

JUNIE:  This was, perhaps, the mellowest chowder I’ve ever met.  It was set aside for 10 minutes to sit quietly, and then was allowed to rest again for 30 minutes.  I was sorely tempted to give it a massage too, but decided that being swallowed was probably good enough.  While I didn’t have the trouble with the cinderberry puree that Ceejay did, I found that splitting the wiggyfish’s head lengthwise for the stock was quite a chore. Who knew wiggyfish skulls were so thick?  Usually I just throw them in the canal.  Fortunately I have a brand new hatchet and it performed beautifully.  The recipe was delicious but there was a lot left over, so Bert and I loaded the pot onto a cart and walked it down to the Port.  Soon enough we were selling bowls for .50q each and made a tidy profit.  Enough to buy a dainty hat and a machete.

Air Kraken Boucanier Style with Cinderberry Chutney by Jedburgh Dagger

 

CEEJAY:  This pleasant recipe is enjoyable to prepare, as “Boucanier Style” uses a minimum of ingredients to a maximum of taste. After some pleading with various military-ish friends, I was able to borrow a cavalry lance, and only hurt myself minimally on it during the cooking process. The chutney is a fragrant accompaniment which filled the house with a spicy warmth as it simmered. (This may help placate the owners of the kitchen I have appropriated throughout my testing of all these recipes. I hope.)

JUNIE:  Now, while I have a goodly stash of meats and berries and peppers and fish eyes and other common ingredients, part of the fun of the Iron Bay Chef contest is being able to go out on an expedition in the name of culinary arts and sciences and kill something big.  Last year I tried the Tesla cannon and ended up peppering the Aeroworks with wayward electrons. (Oddly enough, it became an investment property soon after.)  This year I had access to a harpoon cannon, but given it is mounted on top of the house it didn’t have the necessary reach to bring down one of the beasts from altitude.  It was, however, able to reach Ahab’s Bane.  Just saying.  Not to be dissuaded, I did what most logical persons do and paid someone to do the slaying for me.  Fresh cephalopod in hand (well, on a cart), I prepared the dish while Emerson had a cigar and the Squire dug a marvelous firepit out on the Fells so we could all have a bit of a cookout.  Ten of his freaky heliophobic friends showed up, and one of them surprised me with an insightful comment — he remarked on the subtle flavors of the cinderberry chutney, and how the allspice gave it a delightfully piquant finish.  I was touched.  Then he ate a handful of raw air kraken and walked away, picking his teeth with a sliver of wood from a pike.

Classy.

 

 

Seriously? I mean, wow, the Serpente household of Lady Cavendish and myself are humbled and honored. Perhaps there was a bonus for the challenge in obtaining ingredients and the mummeh-sized fry cooker. Thanks to you both on behalf of all contestants because the idea was not only brilliant at the start, but inspired some really amazing creativity. I laughed at all the entries, and then ate really well. I continue to enjoy the healthful benefits of purging.

I regret I cannot share the winnings with the Punjabi who first set me on the path to creating the recipe, but only part of him is still alive, in a far-off place, and it’s a part that cannot enjoy funding.

I assure you all winnings will be re-invested in the community. As a start, might be time to add a pumpkin and something special for the urchins so they can enjoy their sweets in the cemetery. How cheery would that be?

 

Congratulations to all the winners. Mr. Serpente, I may be in possession of a mummeh or two, perhaps you and the lovely Lady Cavendish would care to join Spurgan and myself some evening over a few glasses of chardonnay – your meal is best served with a slightly chilled white I assume. 

Oh look! Ceejay’s reviving a two year old thread! She must be stealing nips from Emerson’s flask again. 

Anyway, there’s a method to my madness, and since it’s his town and his damnable flying/swimming/crawling local ingredients that went into most of these delictable (wow, I said that with a straight face) dishes, I’d need his permission too. 

New Babbage has Tales, both spoken and written, and a deep history as revealed through roleplay. What New Babbage doesn’t have is recipe books, which is troubling considering how much time Babbagers spend eating or stealing food or talking about food or falling in food.

I’ve got the entire Iron Bay Chef Two competition formatted up in a manuscript, and if everyone gives their blessing, I’d like to publish it as an eBook. Any proceeds can go in that tin can next to the clockwinder’s worktable, to help buy new springs and gears. 

So… weigh in, Cabbagers. I’ll defer to what’s decided by all, especially Tenk, Junie, and Emerson. 

 

 

 

I believe the esteemed Mister O’Reatus just wrote the preface.

I’m happy the notion is being well received! I like when creative projects like this are kept out in the daylight and not left to languish on a drive somewhere. You never know who might enjoy them – or decide to come visit Babbage because of them. 

I am still pausing for the Clockwinder’s blessing – as I mentioned, it’s his town and I defer to his rules. 

If he agrees though – there’s one aspect I won’t be doing. Creating a cover. I’m not an artist by any stretch. So, those of you who ARE, get ready for a cover competition!  And if you really want to do that, go poke Tenk for that blessing for me, willya?

 

 

Coming to an online bookstore soon, IRON BAY CHEF 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. (Joking. Possibly) With luck, before the weekend! A small clockwork girl has produced a fanciful cover for this long awaited book.

In September 2013, we had a recipe contest. The results were horrific, I mean, they were delicious. It’s taken me till NOW to recover from the effects of the recipes, but it’s time.

Iron Bay Chef 2
Krakens, Worms and Wiggyfish, Oh My!
(and the secret ingredient is…)

Challenge Thrown Down By
Junie Ginsburg & Ceejay Writer

Challenge Accepted By
The Chefs of New Babbage