ᴇʀɪᴋ (metalize) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-12-10 12:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: doc holliday, ₴ inactive: erik lehnsherr |
There was one important rule about latkes that Erik always attempted to abide by - serve them hot and make more than you think you’d need. And, alright, technically that was two rules but both were vital to ensuring the success of this Jewish classic. His recipe was pretty standard yet tasty, no kohlrabi or cumin - and every Jewish family had a different take on potato latkes too. Some were thin and lacy, others were thick with a more substantial sort of chew to them - but in his opinion, it was impossible to screw them up. Or at least very, very difficult to do so - because they were potatoes crisped in fat, and honestly, what could go wrong there? One of the most time consuming parts was scrubbing and peeling the potatoes, also dicing them, but that tended to go quickly when you had some help. He had that assistance now, and it was warm and cozy in his and Rogue’s city penthouse - she and Anka Irene were out shopping, so Erik took the opportunity to prepare the latkes for this part of the Hanukkah celebrations; he already made matzo ball soup and Billy had taken care of the jelly donuts, so, latkes were clearly the next logical step. And, if he was being honest, his own latke recipe was amazing. Couldn’t be beat. “I don’t think you’ve ever helped me in the kitchen before,” he chuckled lightly, as he rapidly peeled potatoes - doing it by hand was somewhat therapeutic for him. For Doc, maybe it was too - they both seemed to like to work with their hands, anyway. “It’s a nice switch from the smithy environment, at least.” Doc didn’t know that much about Jewish traditions. At least, he really only knew what he’d learned from listening to Erik talk, so he did his best to listen. Most everything he knew was the wild west or Property Brothers. He’d been considering adding an addition onto the Homestead, but he wasn’t sure how best to go about it yet and whether or not they’d want a basement. But he’d figure everything out in time. “Don’t think I’ve ever much trusted myself to do so,” he replied, a hint of amusement to his voice. “We usually order out or Waverly makes some Vegan food that Wynonna complains about but still eats.” There was always a shift in things when he spoke about Wynonna, an overall happier existence. “And most I know how to cook is made over an open fire in the middle of the desert and not necessarily what most would prefer to eat.” Admittedly, Erik didn’t quite understand vegan food - he knew that there were some people who gave up meat, but meat and dairy? Though if he considered it, he supposed it was similar to only ensuring you ate kosher - or, food that was prepared and served according to Judaism’s dietary laws. Vegans simply had their own dietary laws, that was all. “An open fire sounds quite pleasant, actually,” he noted, handing Doc some potatoes to slice into. “Cut those crosswise, if you please.” He was cutting his own potatoes (and onions - there might be tears all in this kitchen) and he continued talking as he prepped - there was something relaxing about it; he enjoyed cooking, always had. It helped in the wake of Peter’s disappearance and just in general, when unpleasant things happened as often as they did in Vallo. “Open fire cooking has that certain taste to it, one I like - though I’ve certainly had periods in my life where I couldn’t afford to be very picky. You’ve been busy with your homestead though, haven’t you? Doesn’t leave much time for cooking.” Doc took the potatoes before starting to cut them the way he was asked. “I miss it sometimes. Spent some time living out in the woods after the first memory update. Couldn’t quite stick around through the information overload.” And the way that they’d fought back home. It felt so real, so present and the concept of talking to Wynonna or even looking at her while he was feeling that was...unfathomable. “But perhaps it’s something we can do sometime.” He smiled at the mention of the Homestead. “Well, Alice will eventually need her own big girl bed. She is not a baby-baby. And there is quite a bit to consider. We have one bathroom and five of us, so at least a bathroom. I am also considering fixing the barn up to be more of a home with heating and perhaps also air for the summer. It will be a lot of work, naturally.” He liked the concept of building, but he might hire some people to help him with the work of it. He and Waverly were more than capable of the planning and building, but he was certain it would be a long project either way. “I’d like that, honestly - it seems like it’d be refreshing to get away for a little awhile,” Erik mused - and since he didn’t exactly want to run into the woods by himself (tempting though, on occasion), having company seemed ideal. They didn’t even need to have heart-to-heart talks, they could just cook over an open fire and roast s’mores and enjoy the solitude. “I understand needing space during an information overload, however. Sometimes you just need to work through things on your own.” And he appreciated something less urban - after all, some of his happiest times with Magda and Nina were when they were living in hiding, hunkered down in that rural Polish village - Erik hadn’t been hurting anyone. He’d been trying, and there was beauty to be found in simple things like the soaring pine trees and the rustling of deer, where traffic was mainly a cart pulled by a plow horse. He had some of the latke mixture he was beginning to form - once the potatoes and onions were cut, diced, and dried (with the water squeezed out) it was all mixed together with the spices (salt and pepper, nothing too crazy) and the matzo meal - something coarse to bind it all together. “Ah, yes, I remember the big girl bed transition,” he laughed fondly. “We just did that with Anka Irene not too long ago. And another bathroom sounds ideal - I’d be happy to help you with the building part, or the plumbing part. Anything, really. I built my family’s home in Poland, awhile ago, and it’s something I also enjoy doing.” Doc wouldn’t have minded company, but at the time, he didn’t have anyone he wanted to be around. “Then maybe once the weather warms up, we’ll see about planning it. I’m sure it will probably snow soon if we’re going off what usually happens here.” He smiled a little at the mention of Anka Irene. “I made her cradle before I knew Wynonna wasn’t going to keep her with us. So it only seems right to make a bed she can use.” But the offer of help was definitely not something he could turn down. “I can always use help. I’m sure Waverly and I could manage, but I do not have skill in plumbing.” Honestly, yes, Erik was very much anticipating some kind of freak snowstorm - either way, it was rather cold outside. Not freezing (he would have called it more of a comfortable cold) but still not any kind of weather that would be good for sleeping overnight in, at least not without proper provisions. But having a bonfire and warm flame-cooked food to look forward to was thawing in its own way. “Alright, here we go - “ Now that the latke mix was ready, everything cut and mixed together, he moved toward the cast iron skillet. “Can you add some oil to the frying pan? We’ll start cooking these until they’re crispy.” He added schmaltz too, which was really just chicken fat - that was kind of the key, for making good latkes. Well, one of the keys. “So what happened with Alice, exactly? You didn’t get to raise her back in your world?” he asked. That seemed sad. But he was glad that the family was together now - he knew that being a good father was very important to Doc. It wasn’t the coldest that Doc had ever seen. He was used to the midwest and the weather. He could handle the cold better than the heat most of the time, but he had his ways either way. Doc paid attention for the time on making sure that he was doing what he was asked to do. He put the oil in as he was instructed. “I hope I don’t make a mess of things.” He’d definitely never made these, but he wasn’t terrible with basic things. He was at least glad that Erik knew what he was doing. “Ah. Well, the pregnancy was a bit sped up, so by the time Wynonna and I knew she was pregnant, she was near ready to pop.” He’d remembered the uncertainty that lingered in who could have been the father. “We didn’t even know immediately who the father was, but we figured it out after she was born when she could go over the line. Purgatory ain’t no place for a baby. Too many people tryin’ to steal her and kill her momma for that. She sent her off with her Aunt Gus somewhere safe. So we didn’t get to see her till...after everything. Wasn’t even sure Wynonna was coming still she shot the tires of my car.” He laughed a little. “We were on our way to get her last I remember from home.” A sped up pregnancy? That sounded complicated. “Do you mean literally sped up or it just - felt like it went quickly?” Erik wanted to know. He was aware that the town, Purgatory, was crawling with demons and the supernatural - that it was a dusty sort of place, not really quaint or spooky, not really all that dressed up. Plain brick buildings and sprawling railroad tracks, perhaps - entirely different than where Erik had come from. But that was the beauty of being in a place like Vallo, where you got to learn about all sorts of different worlds. As they began frying the latkes, the oil popped and sizzled and the kitchen started to smell like that’s exactly what they were doing - potatoes, onions, and just Hanukkah. He’d have to burn a candle or bake a pie to get the smell out later, but for now he was enjoying it. “I imagine that it must have been hard to send her away,” he mused. “But no, I think - we always want better for our children. I would never want my own to endure what I went through.” “Hypnos,” he explained. “He put the entire town to sleep for a month, but that somehow ended up speeding up the pregnancy. It was, needless to say, a surprise.” But he could remember both the happiness and the displeasure that came with it. No matter what happened, he was glad for it. Alice was everything to him. He wouldn’t give her up for all the bullshit they’d been through. “It was a little while still before she gave birth, but it was close.” Not that she’d been happy with him entirely, but he’d made his way to see his daughter before she left. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done,” he agreed, taking in the scent of the latkes as they cooked and stepping back a little from the stove to avoid any oil. “It was necessary, of course, but I think my heart broke some that day. I am just glad she gets to be happy here.” “Of course - being heartbroken despite knowing you did the right thing to keep her safe is perfectly understandable,” Erik sympathized. He fried each side of the latke he was working on, all until it was a golden brown - by now, he knew how to get them to be nice and perfect; it was a gift. “I’m glad she’s happy here too. That you all get to be together. We obviously have situations here in Vallo, but I doubt it’s very much like your home with the levels of danger. It’s certainly a lot different than mine.” Losing Magda and Nina had broken him - he had only just been beginning to pick up the shattered pieces on Genosha, minding his own business again (literally excommunicated by the government) when redhaired Jean Grey trouble literally flew to his doorstep and landed there. Vallo was vastly preferable. “I still miss my son,” he admitted, flipping latkes onto a plate when they were cooked - there was plenty of mixture left, and they’d also have plenty of latkes at the end of it all. “He disappeared months ago, and he’s grown but - it’s odd without him.” Back home, he and Peter just didn’t have the same relationship they had here either. He didn’t even know Peter was his son - and he doubted Peter planned to tell him anytime soon. “The danger is less people trying to kill her or kidnap her. I don’t mind keepin’ her close if I have to and protectin’ the Homestead rather than joining the big fights.” He wouldn’t mind a calm life, but that was not the life he was given. “Wynonna and I were only just gettin’ to have a life outside of Purgatory. Guess peaceful was just not in the cards for us.” But they had something resembling a life not fully shrouded in fighting and that was all he could hope for. “I am sorry that you lost that connection. I know it is hard even when it seems like it shouldn’t be. Hopefully he will be safe where he is.” Doc had lost plenty of people, would have lost himself if it wasn’t for the immortality and the anger that kept his mind sharp. Revenge kept him from letting himself go. And it was a long, calculating anger that only got worse with time. “Was a time I never considered myself the type to have children. Between the gunslinging and the Tuberculosis, wasn’t really something I wanted to put on a child. Happy I could have the chance, though.” They had a lot in common, it seemed - because there was a time where Erik didn’t really picture himself as settling down and having children either. However, then he met Magda - and he’d opened up to her about who he truly was, Magneto (he’d been a wanted ‘terrorist’ at that time), the first night. Because he felt so comfortable, so serene in her presence - she was warm, safe as a love letter nestled into its envelope and sealed with a wax stamp. He missed her everyday, despite having found love again - but that was normal, he surmised. “We feel similarly about appreciating this life that’s not peaceful, exactly, but - certainly preferable over where we came from,” he agreed. “And, indeed - fatherhood changes so much. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” The latkes were about done - a good stack of them, anyway, and Erik used the spatula to get them onto a platter to cool. Perfectly crisp and smelling great - this was something he’d never be able to do if he was in his world. Stopping to prepare Hanukkah treats? To actually celebrate Hanukkah? Forget it. “Would you like to take some back to the Homestead with you? These are not vegan, unfortunately, but maybe I can make another batch that is.” He’d just leave out the schmaltz, was all. Doc liked peaceful. It was relaxing. Even if here didn’t entirely have the promise of always being peaceful. There was usually something to fight, which meant worrying about Wynonna possibly getting hurt, but he’d made the decision that he would have to let her fight her own battles. She had Raylan and they’d look after each other. He couldn’t make Nicole and Waverly look after his own daughter every time. Especially if they both got hurt again. He wanted to be able to look after Alice. “It definitely changes the way things happen. Think I was gettin’ tired after it all anyway.” He’d been alive for a long time, almost constantly at war with something. After a while, fighting got exhausting. At least that’s the way he felt. “Sure. I could take a few back. Think Waverly might prefer something more vegan if you don’t mind. But it won’t make or break the situation if it’s harder to make.” “Not at all,” Erik promised, something of a grin touching his features - one of those rare smiles that showed all his teeth, just a flicker of one. The whole thing was sort of amusing to him - he was known around here for his pierogi, why not add latkes to the mix? And as he’d said once before, it was better than being known for what he was known for back home. He exuded something of a fearsome presence - not many got to see his softer side. Raven had, but she was gone now. Charles - well, maybe there was still hope for salvaging what he and Erik had built. All of that wasn’t so easily shattered. There was still some latke mix in the bowl, and he grabbed the bottle of soap to use to clean off the pan where the first batch had fried - to make them truly vegan and avoid any trace of chicken fat when he cooked the next batch (and by now his recipe had evolved to the point where he didn’t need to use eggs to hold the latkes together, so that was also important). “You can even say you helped make them.” Which was the truth. Vegan latkes. He never thought he’d see the day but, well - why not? Stranger things had happened. |