Malta

[peace_inthe_violence]

This is a fairy tale of blood and bullets
It is the story of three men and three women and a small island between Italy and Africa.
This is a story about tragedy and pain, about healing and hope, but mostly it is about
love.

Comments

[notariver]

She had nodded at the answer, and had picked the right spoon for stirring it, one with a wedge bowl to actually get into the corner along the bottom of the stock pot, because she wasn't completely incompetent in the kitchen, it seemed.

The question however, had her blinking, brow creasing as she turned to look at him, "What?" She shook her head then, returning to watching the milk as she stirred, checking the temperature again because she knew that once it started to heat it would heat quickly, "Not everybody does, people that have their own chicken and can get fresh eggs don't, but it's the whole commercial processing thing again, how they're washed or something strips them of a protective coating, makes the shells sort of porous or something? Easier for bacteria to grow on them, same reason you have to be careful not to get bits of shell into it when you crack one."

[peace_inthe_violence]

It would heat quickly, and probably even quicker considering the milk was from the market run that he'd only gotten back from just before he'd come out into the garden. The milk was still slightly chilled from the morning, but it hadn't come from the fridge that was tucked into the back corner of the pantry. They hadn't been a thing when he'd started imagining this kitchen, but it had fit well enough there.

He looked a little puzzled at her answer, but he let it go with a small disgruntled sound and a thump of the eraser against his notebook. "Well, when you go shopping here, the eggs will not be refrigerated." He scrawled a few more items onto his list, absently twirling the wooden utensil in his fingers as he pondered.

It was another ten or so minutes before he glanced up from the list again, his internal clock tickling at him that the milk should be coming up to the proper temperature range.

[notariver]

She had just given a shrug at that first statement, "Just as long as I don't have to actually fight a chicken for them, I'm good." She'd had both eggs from the supermarket and eggs from the neighbors' chickens growing up, and her brother had always been better at collecting the eggs than she had.

It was right about when Nicky looked up that Nile was testing the temperature again, "Couple degrees shy, what should I be preparing to do?"