Iron Chef

Most exhibits in the natural history wing of the museum had assembled quite a crowd by the time the sun set on the first day of the Lunar Festival. Unlike the aviation wing, there were no pre-assembled stands and games to keep the attendees occupied, instead the halls had been filled by performers the day before, staking their claim on various places that suited their needs. By the time the trio arrived, most places had already been taken by extremely enthusiastic go-getters. The showy and elegant geode displays were occupied by richly decorated feathery performers, their long trailing robes covered in gleaming false gems to mimic their background. The rigid stuffed bodies of various animals became a stage for smaller performers, balancing on the backs of bison and elks frozen in time. The false aquariums had been filled, sending their exhibits floating to the surface and bobbing along with the waves created by the reptiles that had staked their claim within the glass walls. Even the impressive enormous skeletons that hung from the ceiling were hosting flocks of fliers waiting to execute extravagant displays of aerial agility. The props of each group were strewn about, despite the best efforts of the festival staff to keep control. Some props you could only hazard a guess at what they could be used for, as Raspberry contemplated what seemed to be a large plaster human face resting against the wall, covered in hand and wing prints of the various performers that had claimed it for their act. In comparison, the glass wall of preserved plants was quite quaint, underwhelming even. In terms of botany it was incredibly impressive, an entire wall with dried samples of plants from all over the world. Some of them were entirely foreign to even the most astute botanists across the Kiama Islands. For the enterprising trio that set up their counter in front of this wall, the most important plants in there were those that they had brought with them.

Alkonost had been uncharacteristically quiet from the moment they had entered the museum early that morning. Her preparations had been made in meditative silence, almost religious in its stoicism. Kaiwi couldn't help but send worried glances her way, but Raspberry had shrugged it off, merely saying that the Theri was entering 'the zone'. Zone or not, it was disconcerting to see the normally shy wallflower of a Theri being so grim and stern in her movements, like she was being driven by some outer force. Kaiwi had known her since they were both youngsters, one of the reasons why he had agreed to partake in this human pageantry with her. Raspberry was never short of work, but she always found room for one more task, hence she was monitoring her friend Poppy's performance after their own performance here was finished. Kaiwi had no idea how she did it, but any time he had encountered the Para when she was idle she had been at her wit's end, so perhaps being occupied all hours of the day was good for her.

As he helped the Para arrange the crowd barrier, he noted a familiar face making his way towards them.

“Ah, the ringmaster, I thought you'd be at something a little more extravagant,” he noted drily.

“More than extravagance, I am a fan of curiosity, dear boy,” Cheron declared, eyeing him.

“Stand clear of the griddle then, you don't want to be in the splash zone for this one,” Raspberry ordered sternly, uncaring on the status of whoever threatened the sanctity of the rules. Cheron obliged, staying on the correct side of their makeshift barriers. They had just tied branches together with vines but it was enough of a visual deterrent to keep most folk away.

“Line cooks!” Alkonost barked suddenly, making both of them jump.

“Yes chef!” They answered in unison, hurrying back to stand behind the cooking station and awaited further orders. The Theri shut her eyes, raising her arms up and holding a strip of cloth in her claws. She lowered her head into the cloth and Kaiwi tied it, making the bandana snug around her forehead as she rose back up. Cheron watched on with his claws folded together, his curiosity piqued even more at the strange display. Alkonost’s grim expression never faltered as she drew her claws across a patterned sheet of metal, a whetstone to those familiar with the term, and inspected the newly sharpened edge with a firm nod.

There were no more words spoken, she turned her back to the slowly gathering crowd. They seemed to have been pulled in by the ringmaster taking his place in the front row and all watched on expectantly through the wavering heat lines that rose from the rapidly heating griddle. With a loud cry, Alkonost threw a chunk of meat to the grill, a flat fillet of some kind of fish, salmon judging by the pink colour. It sizzled as it hit the metal, making the crowd jump at both its sudden appearance and the exclamation of the head chef. Putting her claws to use, Alkonost performed three rapid cuts across the flesh, creating four strips of fish that continued to cook on the hot surface. She raised her arm with a grand flourish before delivering another three cuts, cubing the meat.

She snatched an onion from the basket and held it towards Kaiwi, who raised his leg and held steady as she spun it against his claw. The skin peeled off in one piece and Alkonost threw it into the crowd as she took the onion to cut in half. She discarded one half and dropped the other to sizzle on the grill, the flat side flush with the surface. Her claws julienned the onion into strips that browned in the blink of an eye, sending the smell of frying onion into the air and pulling even more curious noses over. The strips reached a level of brown and gooey that satisfied the head chef and she swept it to the side along with the whitened cubes of fish. Raspberry was loaded, holding various vegetables at the ready until Alkonost turned to her and raised both of her arms. The Para fired the first one, a carrot, directly into the waiting claws. A single swipe cut the carrot to pieces and the eviscerated orange strips fell onto the grill. Raspberry continued her barrage, sending the rest of the stir fry to the grill with the kind of precision only she could manage. Finally, her eye for the minute details had come to the fore, her calculations had been perfect and not a single slice missed the griddle. Where possible, she would gesture to a preserved example on the wall behind her that matched the ingredients they were using, mostly the mushrooms and leafy greens. When the chopped salad was frying, Alkonost added a bed of rice and then swept both to the back of the grill, leaving room for the next ingredient.

Two eggs entered the blackened arena, spinning fast on their sides as Kaiwi sent them across the griddle with a flick of his wrists. He waited for Alkonost's signal, her stern face watching the eggs without a hint of her gaze wavering, not even to the frying vegetables. She raised a claw, then another, then another and on the last one Kaiwi leaned over, keeping his chest feathers flat to his body and lifted and cracked the egg with one swift movement. He avoided cheering out loud when it happened again, both of his eggs cracking smoothly and spilling out their contents, the clear liquid turning white instantly as it made contact with the heat. They were allowed to take a semi-solid form before Alkonost began dicing them as well, ending up with a scrambled egg type consistency that she mixed with the rice and veggies. Finally, the mixture was swept into a bowl, topped with the nearly caramelised onions and finished with the lush chunks of fish. The bowl was presented to Cheron, and the three chefs watched him eagerly.

The ringmaster gingerly lifted the bowl to his mouth, blowing on it a little to cool it down before taking a mouthful. His eyes widened as flavours danced across his tongue, nearly overwhelming him to the point of overstimulation. The undercurrent of the taste was familiar, but cooked and mixed together like this presented a brand new experience. He nodded, humming loudly, his eyes wide and began to pass the bowl around to the waiting crowd to try. He could hear their noises of approval and it wasn’t long before an empty bowl returned to the chefs and the audience began to applaud.

“You think this is it?” Alkonost asked darkly, making silence fall over the loudly cheering crowd. “Line cooks! Dessert!”