I took a whiff of my drink, nostrils moving in and out, shrugged and took a sip from my mug, swishing the rich liquid around my mouth. As far as I could tell, it tasted the same as it always had, but something about it was different.
“Sky, does this taste funny to you?” I asked, sticking the mug deliberately in her face. She recoiled slightly, mostly because of the proximity of the object to her nose.
“You remember what happened the last time someone was putting something into your cocoa?” She mentioned, pushing the drink back to me with her hands.
I nodded slightly, letting the steam from the mug warm my face. “That thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I had simply thought that some urchin was putting vole juice in my drink as a prank.” I looked down into the swirling depths, imagining a baby wiggyfish or vole poking it’s head up from the darkness.
“Where have you been getting that stuff anyway?” Sky asked.
“Uhh… er…” I paused trying to think of something to divert her mind from the possible answer.
She turned her head and looked at me, fixating her eyes directly on my face. I mumbled something down into my drink. “I couldn’t quite hear, it sounded like ‘Moldy Underpants’.
“Mr Underby,” I repeated, this time only slightly louder.
“Your Boyfriend?” She smirked.
“He is not! You know I never even gave him a glance until recently.” I looked inquisitively at her and then back at my drink. “It’s a new recipe for pocket cocoa. It’s quite convenient… although a bit strange.”
“You trust HIM with your drinks?” Sky gave me a look crossed between disgust and horror.
“What? He’s not all that bad,” I responded.
“Not all that bad? Are we talking about the same Underby? Since when has it been ok to trust him! That man has always been shady, and I know you’ve always despised practices of the occult,” Sky sat fuming.
I set my cocoa down and nodded. “Maybe it’s best that I stay away from the cocoa for a while, at least until my next shipment comes. I wouldn’t want to be poisoned from it. Again. It was a nightmare seeing my mother die, and then experiencing it all to a lesser degree myself.” I paused. “Not that I think Mr Underby could at all be doing such a thing, but I suppose it is better to be safe.”
I found my favorite entry on Pocket Soup, if that helps…
“Portable Soup,” from The Lady’s Companion (1753)
sometimes i wonder if these old recipes were a product of living in places that required a lot of heating to survive.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130536078
http://www.fannieslastsupper.com/
*looks at his pocketwatch*
“She is usually so punctual.”
hmmmm…. wonder if there would be a market for chocolate covered vole…?