© 2025 Joelle R.
A decade removed from the liberation of Ala Mhigo and her subsequent retirement from the Resistance, Pale Morning still woke up before dawn every single day, despite no longer having morning drills. Instead of keeping in fighting shape for Garleans, she now woke up in the wan light of the dawn to start preparing vegetables for her market day food stall. She and her wife Hele — a severe woman to all but Pale Morning — had first met in Ala Ghiri after its liberation by Resistance forces. Both stationed there to keep the peace after kicking the empire out, they fell in love and settled down in the town after their retirement and started their little food stall in the now-burgeoning trading hub.
Hele was the face of their operation, so she got another couple of hours of sleep while Pale did her cooking prep. Her stand only served one dish on a given market day, but it was the best things visitors could eat — something her wife was happy to bark at passersby. Today's special was shakshuka, a delightful dish from the far western regions of Gyr Abania of eggs poached in sofrito. Pale started her meditative peeling of tomatoes and chopping of onions, bell peppers, and garlic for the day. She then donned latex gloves from a box under her counter to start cutting up a much smaller amount of dragon pepper to prepare harissa. Before she was introduced to these disposable gloves, she ran the risk of the spice getting into her eyes if she rubbed them at any point — an experience she did not wish to repeat. Her wife began to stir from the bedroom of their small apartment and Pale Morning smiled. The day was about to begin in earnest.
Uyanga Skai-Dazkar stood at a food stand in the bustling market of Ala Ghiri and fiddled nervously with the buttons on her leather coat as the imposing Highlander woman named Hele regarded her with hands on her hips.
“No, we don't have imam baylidi. Not today. Shakshuka today. Take it or go to another stand.”
Uyanga had forgotten what it was like to be talked to like that. Not since the Bismarck…unwanted memories of crying in the walk-in icebox came to the forefront of her mind. She stifled her fight-or-flight response.
“O-oh okay! I'll have that then,” so anxious that she forgot to even ask what was in the dish.
“200 gil.” Uyanga nervously slid coins over the counter.
“Another one, Pale.” Pale Morning gave an “Aye,” in response. “Spicy?” she called back from her stove.”
“Oh, yes please!” Uyanga temporarily forgot her anxiety with the prospect of blasting her mouth with hot peppers. No further acknowledgement from either woman.
Pale Morning took several handfuls from her pre-cut bell peppers and onions and sautéed it with a couple of spoonfuls of dragon pepper harissa. After a few minutes, the onions had turned translucent, which was her cue to add garlic and spice blend to the concoction. Finally, she placed several peeled tomatoes in the pan and crushed them with her masher. After letting this simmer for a few minutes, she was satisfied with the sofrito, so she made a pocket in it with a wooden spoon and carefully cracked an egg into it to poach for a few minutes. After the egg cooked to her liking, she topped the whole thing off with a handful of cilantro. She carefully slid her creation from the pan into a sizeable cellulose bowl with a chunk of flatbread and said, “Order up!”
Hele took the bowl and unceremoniously plopped it in front of Uyanga. “Budge up for other customers!” Hele barked. Uyanga took her bowl and scurried off to the public seating, where Aemilia sat stuffing her mouth with an enormous salad.
“That looks nice…been an age since I had shakshuka,” Aemilia said between mouthfuls of greenery. “I'm guessing that's a new dish for you?”
“Y-yeah — listen, did I do anything to piss off that Hyur woman? She acted like I kicked her dog,” Uyanga asked anxiously while she broke one of the poached eggs with her fork.
Aemilia gave a giggle muffled by leaves. “Oh no, Hele is just like that. She runs that stand like her old squad. She's soft under all that, I promise. And her wife Pale is a delight…not much of a talker though.”
“Wives?” Uyanga’s tension melted. “That's a completely different story, then.” She took a forkful of egg and sofrito. An incredible tapestry of rich flavours unfurled on her tongue…and Azim’s great hairy arse, it was a good deal spicier than the food she grew up with on the Steppe. Her dark blue face began to flush an even darker blue, and Aemilia giggled at her friend again. “Do you need me to run and get something to cool off your mouth?” Uyanga, for once, was lost for words and could only manage a vigorous nod. Aemilia quickly strode off to another stand and after a few minutes returned with two mugs of a frothy white beverage.
“Ayran. It's a yoghurt drink that goes with spicy food. The mint in it should cool you off too.” Uyanga greedily grabbed the mug and gulped. “You've probably had Thavnairian lassi? Same idea.”
“Ough…” Uygana managed to say. “Thavnair is next on the itinerary after Gyr Abania.” She coughed, soaked the flatbread into some yolk and continued, “But yes, I've had lassi. It's incredible. And so is this! Definitely buffalo milk yoghurt in this. Not as tangy as yak or steppe dzo yoghurt — let alone that reach antelope butter we had — so it's a perfect pair for this dish.” She pointed the yolk-dripping flatbread at Aemilia. “Have you ever heard of ryazhenka? It's a yoghurt beverage from Nhalmasque, the first country that Garlemald conquered 70 years past. It's particularly hearty compared to this lighter beverage. Wonderful for colder climes. I really want to try it if I can make my way up to Garlemald safely. I just think…”
Aemilia smiled and shoveled more salad in her mouth, in rapt attention to her friend.
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