fandomhigh | Retro Recipes: This Sh*t is Bananas; First Period [08/22].

Summer knew she was taking a pretty big risk here. Some might say it was a stupid risk; others might claim it was better than she deserved. This class this session had been quite the ride. There had been uprisings; there had been claims of war crimes; even when she tried to throw them a bone and did something normal, things still got heated.

She really couldn't think of a better way to close out her brief stint as a Fandom High teacher, so, in a way, she supposed this was her gift to the poor saps who had to suffer through this class...and yet still kept coming back for more.

"Alright, you guys," she said, "this is our last class ~~I think?~~, and it's going to be a good one. One of the things I've tried to embrace in this class is creativity, and that's what today is all about. Today, you guys are going to make the recipes. You have full range of the pantry, you can mamke whatever you want, and I will eat whatever you make. There are only two rules: 1) It must include bananas and 2) No inorganic or non-edible stuff. My stomach has been exposed to a lot of weird stuff, believe me, but I am still only human, okay? Feel free to ask for help if you need it, or help each other, but that's pretty much it. You'll have a certain amount of time to prepare, and then I'll try everyone's dishes. Is revenge a dish best served cold? I don't know. You tell me. Let's get started."

Ohhhh, she really, really hoped she didn't regret this, but, at the same time, if she didn't regret this? She was going to be terribly disappointed in these guys.

[[ ocd ~~on the way~~ is up! ]]

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Anyone with good sense and an idea of how Earth cooking usually went would likely be cringing when Nina went and fetched two absolutely heaping piles of spinach and a cup of sugar.

And nothing else.

After some thought, Nina went back and got a single egg.

Then she pulled out a wok and a large pot and got to work. Though, uh, work mostly seemed to involve crossing her arms and tapping her feet impatiently, as if waiting on some invisible counter to tick down, when she then exploded into action, tossing what looked suspiciously like rice in that wok and stirring what looked like stew in that pot.

Never mind that Nina didn't have any of the ingredients for those things and wasn't making either of those things.

Further questions were definitely liable to arise when it became clear that the smell of apples baking was absolutely coming from her cooking station. With cinnamon. When she had neither of those things on hand. Or had added them.

And yet.

As she got her presentation down pat, plating up an absolutely gorgeous looking apple-banana-strawberry gratin (where had the cheese come from? or the breadcrumbs? or the buttermilk? how had it gotten baked?) and serving it up with perfect vanilla ice cream and a few sprigs of mint.

It was all going to taste exactly like how it looked.

The fact that she'd made it all with nothing but a wok, a pot, a single egg, a cup of sugar (that hadn't gone near the ice cream!), and a ton of spinach was…

Er.

Yeah.

Look, she could have made something terrible, but Nina had wanted to prove that her way of cooking really did work so there.

Nina, what.

Summer had been watching the girl work with a sort of fascinated revulsion, mostly rooted in the fact that anything involving bananas and a wok, as well as spinach combined with that much sugar was guaranteed to be...a pure hot mess.

And yet, what was presented to her was....anything but.

"What kind of black magic fuckery is this?" she asked, and took a bite.

"This is actually really good, Nina," she enthused after swallowing, though she sounded so, so confused. "I have no idea how it's any good, but, I mean, hey. Props."

Not what she had been expecting to eat, based on the assignment and the recipe, but, hey, she'd take it. She'd much rather be eating this, however it came to be, than what logic and reason suggested she would be eating right now.

It was a hell of a lot more creative than banana pancakes, too.

Edited 2019-08-22 14:38 (UTC)

And yet, despite the fact that it was apple-banana-strawberry gratin… Nina hadn't added any of any fruit in there. How had it happened? How had it showed up? How had it worked out? What had happened to the spinach?

"That's just, like, how we cook in my world??????????????" she said, beaming. "I mean, like, I know it's not a monstrosity, but I figured, like, it'd be something different????????????????"

And, really, the true monstrosity was how it had all come together to work anyway.

Considering how Nina's outrageous claims about cooking were still there, right under Wayne's skin and rubbing the wrong ways, he couldn't help paying a little more undue attention to what she was doing. He knew he probably shouldn't; it was impolite, and a man should mind his own fucking business, but once Nina went for that egg....it was over.

He tried to focus on his own work, but his squinting, suspicious glare drifted over more often than he would have liked to admit it. The longer it went, though, the more he started to feel a sense of smug satisfaction, smirking to himself as he flipped his pancakes, because, sure as God's got sandals, all Nina was fixing herself up for right now was a mess. Oh, getting yourself an egg there, Nina? What'cha gonna do with that egg, Nina, make yerself some fucking ice cream?

And then...

She did.

The indignant sound that escaped Wayne the moment he got an eyeful of what Nina had put together could only be described as strangled, scandalized, and surprisingly high pitched.

Sure as God's got sandals? Well, now Wayne wasn't so sure at all, because, clearly, there was no God.

Like, Nina had been kind of hopeful she'd get some sort of reaction from him. (She'd totally decided to make a good dish just to spite him!)

But she was going to be the bigger person, Wayne.

So Nina was going to pretend, resolutely, that she hadn't heard him (she totally had) and that her look of delight had nothing to do with his squeaky strangled noise (it totally did) and just revel in the fact that she'd proven him wrong.

So there, Wayne!

Retro Recipes: This Sh*t is Bananas; First Period [08/22].

Re: Present your Dishes! - RR, 08/22.

Re: Present your Dishes! - RR, 08/22.

Re: Present your Dishes! - RR, 08/22.

Re: Present your Dishes! - RR, 08/22.

Re: Present your Dishes! - RR, 08/22.