Chương 36: Chapter 33 ~ Loach's Secret Sauce

11/11/1111 EotTS 19: 00 From all the clocks within Wyohla's house came nineteen tolls, notifying the three women that it was dinner-time, and the quiet ringing of bells in the distance confirmed this. Wyohla glanced towards the clock and plucked her pipe from her mouth.

"Well," she said, her voice distorted by the smoke pouring from her mouth in a soft greyish-yellow cloud, "What do you guys say to dinner?"

"Sure," said Lyma.

"Bwouker's?" asked Gysel; this was a stupid question; it was always Bwouker's, and if it was not Bwouker's, it was the cafeteria. Wyohla shook her head.

"Bwoukers doesn't do take-out. So how about something different?" Everywhere had eggs, meat, bread, and cheese; thus, any establishment could make the sandwich.

"All right."

"How about the fish place?" suggested Lyma.

"The Loach's Log House?" asked Wyohla.

"It's the one by the tunnel to the wharf. I'm not sure what the name is, but that seems about right. It is a log house."

"Well, that's the one." Wyohla looked to Gysel, pointing with her pipe.

"The Loach's Log House; does that sound good to you?"

"No," answered Gysel.

"I think 'the Loach's Log House' is a really stupid name."

"Everyone does," Wyohla paused, putting the pipe in her mouth, and taking a puff, "but their baked potatoes are amazing and really, really cheap. So nobody complains about the name. So, yes or no."

"That is fine. I am all right with going to the Loach's Log House."

"Well, then let's go." Wyohla stood up from the couch and headed for the door, pipe in her mouth. Gysel and Lyma followed, and when they got to the antechamber, Wyohla already had her boots on. She held her pipe out to Gysel, and said: "Be a sweetheart and hold this for me, Gysel. I need to get my coat." Gysel took the pipe, and watched as Wyohla removed her long, black overcoat from the closet.

She put it on quickly and did not do up the hasps at the front, then she removed Gysel and Lyma's coats, exchanging Gysel's long-coat for the pipe. Wyohla puffed on her pipe as Gysel and Lyma put on their jackets and shoes, then, as always, she led the way out of her house, along the sidewalk of the court, and onto the main street, heading down the hill. The streetlights cast the shadows of the three along the street in pools of warm orange light and along the sides of passing coaches.

Gysel frequently glanced towards Wyohla while they walked; the blonde was doing tricks with the smoke: blowing it out in perfectly round circles, and occasionally, if they were stopped, blowing smoke through the center of the ring, or even another ring; sometimes she would let the smoke drift out of her mouth, only to breathe it back in through her nose; or just sending it out through the corners of her mouth, like illustrations of the long-dead dragons of old, letting the smoke curl up and away into the foggy night.

"Do you want to try, Gysel?" Wyohla said, holding out the pipe.

"I want to try to make the circles," said Gysel; well, all of the tricks were interesting, they seemed like an excellent way to keep the body busy while the mind thought.

"Oh, oh, oh," she chuckled.

"From the side-eye you were giving me, I wasn't sure if you wanted to try the pipe or something else."

"I do want to try something else."

"Really, now? And what would that be?"

"I want to try to make the circles," said Gysel—it is less than a twenty-centimeter height difference; is the air really that thin up there? By the Gods, there is no reason to need to repeat the question.

"I just told you this." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Well, maybe another time then. It is not something you can learn while you walk." Lyma rubbed her eyes, ran her hand down her face, and sighed.

"Loach's is across the street and a little bit further; we should just cross here."

"Sure, sure," said Wyohla. The three crossed, and did, in fact, walk only a little bit further along the sidewalk before coming to a two-story log house, nestled on a side street to the east of the bridge of the Strait. There was a sign hanging above the single wooden door made from split logs; expectedly, it read 'the Loach's Log House' in gold and blue letters, alternating with each word, and had a painted depiction of a blue loach inside one of the half-cylinder wooden shelters they sold for paludariums.

Lyma opened the door and held it for Wyohla and Gysel, letting the scent of ale, cheese, bread, and most notably fish, drift out into the cool night air, and letting every stray cat in the city know where the easy food was. The three went inside, and stopped in the antechamber, waiting under a chandelier made from a repurposed ship's wheel, atop a tile mosaic depicting waves crashing on the beach.

The dining area of Loach's was visible behind a helm-turned-waiter's-podium, and was maritime themed, decorated in a palette of browns, blues, whites, and warm metals. Ornate ship's wheels of old sun-bleached oak with handles of patinated copper or brass hung alongside rusted iron anchors, and other nautical memorabilia, from both the log outer walls and the blue stucco walls which had been used to create serving sections.

A whale skeleton hung from the ceiling, dangling from chains with its jaw level to the railing of the second-floor balcony; its ribs had been used to hang lighting fixtures—it has such funny flipper bones. A young man in the uniform of a dockworker hurried out from the dining area to the podium. He dressed the part, but did not look it: his suspenders were in good shape; he both looked, and smelled, like he had bathed recently; and all of his teeth were present in his smile.

"A table for three?"

"No," said Wyohla, "just takeout, please."

"Certainly." He produced three menus from the podium and held them out; Lyma took them.

"Do you want a menu, Gysel?" Lyma asked, extending a long, blue cloth folder with a golden anchor on the front.

"No," Gysel answered.

"I know what I am getting."

"And what would you like?" the man asked Gysel.

"I would like cheese, egg, and a beef patty on a bun. I would also like them to be placed in that order, with the cheese on top."

"I'm sorry, but we sell fish and potatoes. The only eggs we have are too small to crack, and I really do not think we can make you a caviar sandwich." Gysel sniffed; that sounded disgusting.

"I would like a menu, Lyma." Lyma handed Gysel the menu, and Gysel opened it, looking over its contents—none of the fish dishes looks appetizing, all were grilled, roasted on sticks, or battered and fried then put on a bun, normally, this would still be appetizing, but the common issue with all is that fish is disgusting, well, tuna is not that bad, it could be eaten cold and uncooked, meaning it never gets that greasy taste and texture that fish tends to have when cooked, is there tuna?

nice of them to organize the menu by type of fish, shark seems disgusting, so does dolphin, oh, they have clams and oysters, the texture of the meat is to die for, literally, death would be a better alternative than the feeling of a slimy oyster sliding down one's throat, are oysters and clams even fish? are they not mussels? why are they listed under fish? shrimp, no, shrimp is an appetizer, and a bad one, everyone knows garlic bread is the only good appetizer, who gets shrimp as an appetizer?

apparently if one eats too many one's skin turns pink, good thing eating any more than five makes one feel sick, shrimp are not fish either, what fool made this menu? no wonder they work at a restaurant; oh, there is tuna, a tuna bowl sounds good, just without all the pointless stuff, like lettuce, pearl onions, sprouts, and 'Loach's Secret Sauce,' who would want a secret sauce?

there is nothing worse than a surprise, because one cannot plan out what to say when something unexpected happens, so having a sauce with a secret recipe sounds like a great way to be disappointed, so a tuna bowl, with just tuna, a tuna bowl with nothing, what about the baked potatoes? flip... flip... flip... at least they make it easy to find things, putting 'Loach's Signature Baked Potato' right at the top of the page, it would be easy to find without glasses, does it come with extra cheese?

it does, what types of cheese, though? Goat, Blue, White Lacquer, Quark... quark is good—Gysel shut the menu, and looked up to the waiter, and finally ordered: "I would like the tuna bowl, with nothing but tuna. And a baked potato with extra cheese—quark cheese, please—and extra butter."

"Just... tuna?" the waiter said.

"Yes. That is what I said. Just tuna." The waiter's bushy brown brow furrowed.

"Alright, alright. A tuna bowl with just tuna, and a baked potato with extra quark cheese and extra butter."

"Yes. That is correct."

"Take a seat over there. It will be about fifteen minutes." The waiter headed back into the dining area. Gysel looked to Wyohla and Lyma.

"Did you order already?"

"We ordered while you were mumbling to yourself," answered Lyma.

"Oh."

"You know, Gysel," said Wyohla, "You have a bit of a tone sometimes. You might want to be careful, or someone might spit in your food."

"I do not speak with a tone," said Gysel—Mother always says that, too. Wyohla's face scrunched, but she did not say anything else, only walking into the waiting area to the left, and looking at the maps. Everything arrived in one big wooden basket within the time frame specified by the waiter.

"Don't forget to bring the basket back," called the waiter as they headed for the door.

"I always do," answered Wyohla.