After cleaning up, the Medicine Seller pulled on his many layers of clothes to ward off the chill. He was well-prepared for winter, used to how harsh they could be in Hokkaido, and it was no different here.
Breakfast was a salmon soup, cooked in a fish broth mixed with miso. He'd added pumpkin, sweet potato, garlic and ginger, along with an assortment of dried herbs.
When Arthur returned from tending to Buell, the Medicine Seller was cutting up the salmon and roasting pumpkin seeds with a sprinkle of sugar, salt and cinnamon in a pan as the vegetables softened in the steadily simmering broth.
"Yes. It is not often but... every century or so, there is someone I find myself developing a fondness for," he admitted, offering over the plate of sliced, raw salmon before the rest went in the soup. It was rich and fatty and the cold air had kept it nice and fresh and the Medicine Seller had already helped himself to a few slices.
"Very rarely do I act on those feelings, however."
no subject
Breakfast was a salmon soup, cooked in a fish broth mixed with miso. He'd added pumpkin, sweet potato, garlic and ginger, along with an assortment of dried herbs.
When Arthur returned from tending to Buell, the Medicine Seller was cutting up the salmon and roasting pumpkin seeds with a sprinkle of sugar, salt and cinnamon in a pan as the vegetables softened in the steadily simmering broth.
"Yes. It is not often but... every century or so, there is someone I find myself developing a fondness for," he admitted, offering over the plate of sliced, raw salmon before the rest went in the soup. It was rich and fatty and the cold air had kept it nice and fresh and the Medicine Seller had already helped himself to a few slices.
"Very rarely do I act on those feelings, however."