awake!”
She rushed to hug him tightly to her and rocked him in her arms like a baby.
“I’m awake. I’m alive and I’m starving!”
“Oh, yes, of course. Here is a bowl. Eat, eat!”
The porridge was hearty and it filled him up as quickly as he could eat it. Irelli fussed and fawned over her baking until the scullery maids came in to start working for the day. They all stopped and made quick little curtsies to Irelli and Rhys. Feeling better, Rhys jumped up from his chair to bow in return, sending his stool tipping over on the floor. The girls giggled uncontrollably, blushing bright red until Irelli clucked at them and they exited to the maids’ closets to change into their aprons.
Rhys sipped a mug of tea that Irelli had given him as he watched the goings on around him unfold. Mornings were always the busiest time of day in an estate’s kitchen; this was also true at Avalon where he spent some of his mornings with Amarelle. It was not just time to prepare the breakfast, but also the time of day when all the food deliveries and the supplies for days to come would arrive. The milkmaid brought in two buckets of fresh milk followed by her younger sister who carried a huge basket on her head containing a large pot of butter, a jug of cream, one heavy slab of cheese and a cloth full of soft, salted cheese curds. One of the scullery maids checked the contents of the basket and paid the girls for their wares. She then turned to pour a bucket of the new milk into a large pot which was already on the stove. She covered the other and took it into the pantry along with the basket of goods. Not long after, one of the maids came in with a basket full of eggs which she placed beside the stove and then went to wash her hands. Another maid immediately came to stir the simmering pot of boiling water and vinegar and then started breaking the eggs into the swirl she had created.
Just then, the egg-fetching maid had the breads out on the table, slicing them with a large, sharp knife and arranging the slices along with the buns into a cloth-lined basket. The milk-scalding maid returned to the kitchen and took the milk pot from the fire just as the froth began to rise to the top. She ladled some of the hot milk into a jug and left the rest to cool in the pot. The egg-poaching maid was now slicing a slab of salt-cured bacon, while milk-scalding maid had started to fry some sausages.
The work took on a symphony-like precision and Rhys watched in amazement as the breakfast dishes rapidly assembled on the kitchen table. He turned to look at his grandmother and saw that she had stopped what she was doing to imitate him with both her hands on her chin and eyes wide open. He burst into laughter and she smiled back at him.
“Rhys! You are staring!” his grandmother called at him. “Your eyes will become stuck like that.”
She was spooning the tea leaves into the tea pots she used at breakfast every morning. She always served three different types of tea. She had put some mint leaves into one and black tea into another before pausing and putting everything down on the counter. She seemed to be thinking.
Rhys got up from his stool and picked up his grandmother’s herb basket and her tiny knife which she used for picking things in the garden.
“Let us have a look at your garden, Grandmother. It has been a long time since we picked food for the table together.”
“Aye!” she replied softly, taking his outstretched arm and letting him lead her out of the kitchen into the fresh, crisp air. “But we have not a lot of time, dear. The meal is almost ready to be served.”
They strolled easily down the paths between the rows of herbs and flowers and vegetables. Instinctively, they paused at intervals to pick spring onions, cherry tomatoes, thyme and rosemary before they turned around and walked along the outer ring of the garden. Rhys stooped close to the ground to pick fiddleheads from the fern plants and then gathered a bouquet of
She rushed to hug him tightly to her and rocked him in her arms like a baby.
“I’m awake. I’m alive and I’m starving!”
“Oh, yes, of course. Here is a bowl. Eat, eat!”
The porridge was hearty and it filled him up as quickly as he could eat it. Irelli fussed and fawned over her baking until the scullery maids came in to start working for the day. They all stopped and made quick little curtsies to Irelli and Rhys. Feeling better, Rhys jumped up from his chair to bow in return, sending his stool tipping over on the floor. The girls giggled uncontrollably, blushing bright red until Irelli clucked at them and they exited to the maids’ closets to change into their aprons.
Rhys sipped a mug of tea that Irelli had given him as he watched the goings on around him unfold. Mornings were always the busiest time of day in an estate’s kitchen; this was also true at Avalon where he spent some of his mornings with Amarelle. It was not just time to prepare the breakfast, but also the time of day when all the food deliveries and the supplies for days to come would arrive. The milkmaid brought in two buckets of fresh milk followed by her younger sister who carried a huge basket on her head containing a large pot of butter, a jug of cream, one heavy slab of cheese and a cloth full of soft, salted cheese curds. One of the scullery maids checked the contents of the basket and paid the girls for their wares. She then turned to pour a bucket of the new milk into a large pot which was already on the stove. She covered the other and took it into the pantry along with the basket of goods. Not long after, one of the maids came in with a basket full of eggs which she placed beside the stove and then went to wash her hands. Another maid immediately came to stir the simmering pot of boiling water and vinegar and then started breaking the eggs into the swirl she had created.
Just then, the egg-fetching maid had the breads out on the table, slicing them with a large, sharp knife and arranging the slices along with the buns into a cloth-lined basket. The milk-scalding maid returned to the kitchen and took the milk pot from the fire just as the froth began to rise to the top. She ladled some of the hot milk into a jug and left the rest to cool in the pot. The egg-poaching maid was now slicing a slab of salt-cured bacon, while milk-scalding maid had started to fry some sausages.
The work took on a symphony-like precision and Rhys watched in amazement as the breakfast dishes rapidly assembled on the kitchen table. He turned to look at his grandmother and saw that she had stopped what she was doing to imitate him with both her hands on her chin and eyes wide open. He burst into laughter and she smiled back at him.
“Rhys! You are staring!” his grandmother called at him. “Your eyes will become stuck like that.”
She was spooning the tea leaves into the tea pots she used at breakfast every morning. She always served three different types of tea. She had put some mint leaves into one and black tea into another before pausing and putting everything down on the counter. She seemed to be thinking.
Rhys got up from his stool and picked up his grandmother’s herb basket and her tiny knife which she used for picking things in the garden.
“Let us have a look at your garden, Grandmother. It has been a long time since we picked food for the table together.”
“Aye!” she replied softly, taking his outstretched arm and letting him lead her out of the kitchen into the fresh, crisp air. “But we have not a lot of time, dear. The meal is almost ready to be served.”
They strolled easily down the paths between the rows of herbs and flowers and vegetables. Instinctively, they paused at intervals to pick spring onions, cherry tomatoes, thyme and rosemary before they turned around and walked along the outer ring of the garden. Rhys stooped close to the ground to pick fiddleheads from the fern plants and then gathered a bouquet of
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