<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=151678.msg6924800#msg6924800">Quote from: Stannous on 15-09-2012, 00:25:55</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">(transferring this from the big thread with appropriate edits)<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/>(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lecvs2vhxl1qbyk5qo1_500.jpg)<br/>Who: Armando Zavieta Torres<br/>Where: The Kitchen<br/>With: Mrs. Rogers, Miss Stevens, Alice and Lord Andrew Henshaw<br/>When: Day 1<br/>What: Preparing dinner<br/><br/>Armando had a simple enough life as the cook for the Henshaw household. They were a big enough family, but with the duties afforded to those of their station, the culinary workload was manageable. Then, the parties started. They were very fun parties, indeed, but the work to get it started was work that could be tackled only by Armando Zavieta Torres, cocinero magnífico! Or, so he told himself. Of course, in truth there were other people that helped with the cooking.<br/><br/>And it was "heavy" work that he was doing, as he busied himself with a cleaver and a thick slab of raw beef, hacking at it like a Viking possessed. The good Lady Henshaw demanded cuts of various sizes: from finger food for the guests to take off of the "special platters", to the more traditionally sized cuts for eating with a fork and knife. And it was not just beef that they craved; there was fowl to be cut, be it chicken or turkey or quail or otherwise. Beyond that, there were exotic meats to be prepared; he had heard talk of the Henshaws importing what they called "elafont" meat from British India. The "elafont", Armando learned, was basically a horse that was the height of three men and had ears the size of a desk. What a creature!<br/><br/>The Henshaws' purview of all things exotic didn't stop at the foods. They also had a gas oven; turn a knob, and fire was instantly made. ("That's it?" he had asked when the Henshaws brought it in. "Yes, that's it! Now get to cooking!" they had responded.) At that moment, Armando arranged all the finger-meats he had cut to that moment onto a platter and overheard Dahlia speak of the roast that was still in the oven. Snapping his fingers, he brought his platter of finger meats over to the less spectacular coal oven, lighting the fire inside and putting the platter in. After that, he shuffled over to the veritable mountain of fruit that the good Lady Henshaw had requested, began transporting them to one of the other sinks not occupied by the potatoes and when that deed was done, he started dutifully cleaning the fruit.<br/><br/><em>"That girl will never learn, I think."</em> thought the Spaniard as he did his work, occasionally looking at the wall on which the punishment on the other side had taken place. "The fruit will be washed here very soon, Mrs. Rogers!" he called out. <br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa266/afi_hottie/tumblr_loh53zO4c91qfd1mco1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Lady Willow<br/>Kitchen<br/>Armando</strong><br/><hr/>Willow knew where she was headed. The kitchen. All the staff there liked her. At least, that's what she believed. Willow was always nice to them, and had been since she was little.<br/><br/>She entered the kitchen and the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables invaded her senses. She smiled. "Something smells good in here." Willow made her way over to the table the cook was working at. It always amazed her how fast he worked.