[Open] Food Food and More Food

[shinyisfalse]

Who| Peeta Mellark and OPEN
What| Baking. Lots of therapeutic, stress relieving, worrying baking.
Where| Tribute Tower kitchens.
When| End of week five, all of week six, going into the next week. Pick a day, any day.
Warnings/Notes| Did it take forever to get this baking log up? Yes. Put what you want to be baked in the subject line, and I'll make it happen.

It got more stressful each time an arena took place, but that was nothing compared with when an arena was actually in progress. Each week brought new deaths, and while this wasn't Peeta's first arena being a mentor, he felt like he was getting worse with each round, even worse with each week. It's not the first time he's wished for Haymitch to be here, and he knows it won't be the last.

But how long could he and Katniss do this? There's a lot of stress involved here, with being a mentor, and that wasn't bringing into account this relationship they were in. Which they needed to step up. They needed to step it up a lot, but it was at this stage where they knew they had to do it, but they didn't know how to do it. It as just like their attempts at figuring out this whole revolution deal. Plenty of thoughts, but no idea on how to get them going.

So a lot of indecision, and a lot of unknowns, and Peeta resorted to his way of dealing with stress. That meant massive, massive amounts of baking. Sure, he could go paint, which is what he tried to do. But the smell got to him, and the warmthful (it's a word) aroma on fresh baked bread was more calming to him then anything else in the world.

Which was when he was down in the kitchens of the tribute tower. The tribute tower had more room in their kitchens then Peeta had ever seen, and he wanted to only use a little bit of it. And yet, somehow, they'd given him the biggest corner near the better ovens, and the generosity of that made him smile.

And that everyone was beginning to see him as a person. The first few times he was down there, everyone wanted his opinion, wanted information, wanted a picture or a signature from him. But now, he thought they looked at him as a fellow culinarian. Maybe not that, but not something bigger then life.

But the dishes. The pastries, the cookies, the pies and cakes and brownies, and whatever else he wanted to make, he did. He got recipes from people, he expanded his own recipes, his mother's, his father's... everything and anything. But what was he supposed to do with all of it, once it was made? Throwing it out was terrible, and he would never do it. But there is only so much cake he can eat (and that Katniss can eat).

He sent dishes up. Tons of them, every day, to the different district suites. Always with some decoration that relates to the district. Fish for Four, diamonds for One, trees and plants for Seven and Eleven. Anything he could think of, or from what he's seen. It's all personal, even if the food is the same.

And if someone wanted to come down and do some taste testing? Or help him in any way?

Peeta would love it. Just be prepared to eat!

Comments

[pointandclickme]

Asking where things came from in this place was something Mouse had fast found out was something he didn't really want to do. Not that it stopped him, but still most answers were vague at best or disturbing at worst. The people with the cut out tongues didn't help overall impressions, either. Even if he hadn't been snooping, thought, it would have been hard not to hear about how the great Peeta Mellark (which, to be honest, he has initially thought was a type of food as well) was the one making the goods. Some guy that had won the games from the very district Mouse had been arbitrarily assigned to. The, from the interviews Mouse had seen, love expert.

So of course he had to wander down and see it happening in the flesh. So, without any knocking or preamble, Mouse strolled into the kitchens and immediately started investigating whatever seemed to be the closest to being edible on the counter tops.

"You are a god."

[shinyisfalse]

The whole middle aisle is filled with both cakes and cookies, some finely frosted already, and others waiting to be. The cakes. Oh, the cakes. A clear favorite, as you could see from the bowls of icing he had made so far.

And Peeta had gotten so used to people coming by, by this point. What he hadn't really had was anyone who came down and wanted to say something that was, honestly sort of normal sounding.

"Just a baker, actually." Peeta grinned, wiping flour off of his hands. "Mouse, right? You're in district 12." Peeta was good at keeping up with his tributes. Even if they haven't met before, he knows their name, and what they look like. This is a much better kind of getting to know you then anything else 'planned'.

"Everyone down here seems afraid to get into my personal baking space. Like leaving an artist to their work, I think that's what the head chef said."

[pointandclickme]

"The one and only. Mentor guy."

So far. He'd heard disturbing rumors of people looking the same, but he wasn't going to dwell on that. Not when there was cake to be had. False neurochemical signals they may be that were telling his otherwise comatose body the taste was real, but it was a heck of a break from pretend tasty wheat. And, besides, there was no one else here to keep reminding him of the fact it wasn't real- something that had always been a real downer during his previous group outings.

Speaking of cake, one was finally selected for sacrifice as Mouse ran a finger along the edge, gathering a good helping of frosting which he instantly stuck in his mouth.

"But their loss, man. I've hit my death quote this month. I've nothing to fear."

[metalicarus]

Jet didn't want to be hungry, he didn't want to eat, he wanted to feel physically sick like he knew he was mentally. This whole thing was wrong, he'd died (again) and had come back (again) and apparently this wouldn't be the last time it would happen.

To make things worse, his family was here and in the same position as he and Chaud and he couldn't decide if he was thankful for that or angry. He was leaning towards angry; anger had always been easiest.

But as much as he wanted to feel sick to his stomach at the whole thing, his metabolism forever worked against him and he found himself starving and no replicator to help him out. He couldn't cook to save his life, but he didn't particularly feel like being given his food either, served as though he was just in some restaurant in New York.

So he ventured down to the kitchens and the closer he got the stronger the overwhelmingly amazing aroma of fresh baked breads and pastries filled his nose. Maybe it hadn't been so bad an idea to poke around.

The smell led him to a corner of the kitchen where a boy was elbow-deep in his baking with the fruits (or breads) of his labor around him. It was pretty damn impressive. "You made all of this?"

[shinyisfalse]

Peeta looked up, stopping the light glazing he was putting on this cake, and he gave this new guy a smile. Not in twelve, he knows that, but definitely one he's seen on the screens. Dying with his friend and Peeta had to admire that about him.

Maybe he would have sought him out at some point, but this was better. This was more lax then anything else or anywhere else would be.

"Yeah, most of it. Most of the things I've made have been sent up to the different districts." Peeta smiled at him, inviting him over. "I just don't like seeing food go to waste."

[metalicarus]

Jet moved closer and leaned against a clear part of the counter to watch. "Who does? I haven't spent too much time on any of the district floors, guess I missed your treats. Too bad cause they smell pretty damn good."

He crossed his arms, the image of stoic disinterest. It's not like he was eyeing one of Peeta's cookies or anything.

"Is this what you do for a living or just a hobby?"

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna didn't usually go into the kitchens, they were strange and full of technology she didn't understand. But today, well today she had tried to go to the ice cream shop and they hadn't let duck in. Even though she had told them (very politely, in her opinion) that they couldn't expect a duck that was stupid and useless to wait outside in the rain. Especially since the duck didn't like the rain; which seemed silly since didn't ducks live in water?

She had got angry but they still hadn't let her and a man had come out and told her that though they liked having her there, if she got any more mad or hurt anyone she wouldn't be allowed there anymore.

So Pruna had left. Even though she wanted to stomp on his toes and punch his nose. So now she was on the hunt for ice cream, and so she was sneaking into the kitchens, her duck in her arms.

She froze when she saw someone but grinned when she realised it was Peeta. "Hello Peeta. What do you be doing?"

[shinyisfalse]

"Hey Pruna." Peeta looked over and saw her there, and he gave her a wave, so she could come closer. "I'm doing some baking, making a few cakes and cookies, maybe some pies later." And he saw the duck. Dear god, but what did Effie do now with this duck thing. She did know that Pruna wasn't going anywhere without the duck, right?

How do you even explain this one to a sponsor? "Yes, she's ruthless, and skilled, and has a duck"-- No. Now is not the time for these kind of things, these thoughts. This is a stress free, relaxing, if slightly manic and not really relaxing kind of baking thing.

The worst anything got, the more output of baked goods will appear. "Come on over. What's your duck's name?"

[knifewithnoname]

Baking was fun, Pruna and Sandy had baked at Christmas and it had been lots of fun, if a lot messy.

"It do no be having one. Maximus did be saying people do be earning names when they do be earning your respect. So I do be waiting for it to be doing something cool and then I will be naming it."

She had never named anything before, it seemed to her a big and important thing to do.

[inhumanity]

Later into the sixth week, not too long after his death in the tar pit, Christopher continues his exploration of his surroundings to end up here in the kitchens. This was a place where he could feel at ease. It hadn't been that long since he had last made madeleines for Ricardo. Christopher did not let himself think about how far he was from anyone who might be called a friend (he did not want any friends of his here, no matter how well he knew his brother and sister Lamia would handle a place like this) and instead decided to think about all the new friends he could make. And why not make them through baking?

So into the kitchen strides a monstrous man, all smiling mouth full of fangs and blood red sclera visible in the wideness of his eyes as he looks around. "How incredible. How mouth-watering. No, how heart-warming! What a delightful spread of food and confections to link the souls of individuals and bind them in an unbreakable unity! Truly, this is the work of a much-gifted individual." His eyes fixed right on Peeta. "Friend, I ask you: what is the name of the one whose heart sang out these masterpieces?"

[shinyisfalse]

Peeta was finishing off a light glaze on a tray of berry tarts. He wanted to get that perfect glaze, the one that held everything in place and made it all the more appealing in look. It still tasted better then it looks, still, and that's saying something.

So when a man of... a man of words? Of looks? Of something walks in, and Peeta looked up and gave a grin to the newcomer. Definitely a newcomer, he had no idea who this guy was.

"If you mean the guy who's arms deep in flour today, that would be me." He laughs, setting the tool aside and wiping his hands on his apron. "I'm Peeta, I don't think we've met yet."

[inhumanity]

"Sadly, trying not to die takes up a great deal of time and makes it very hard to meet new friends." Christopher shook his head then, as if all of that could dismiss the entire affair of the Arena as nothing more than a minor inconvenience to a larger goal. But in an instant, his eyes widened with a shame. "Wait! I'm being impolite. To a fellow baker, to one whose soul shares tenor with mine, that's unforgivable!"

Christopher bowed with flourish. "My name is Christopher Chareau de Red. Let's work together to bake a sweeter world."

week six, post-haircut

[youbarium]

There had been a lot of pastries in the District 10 suites lately. They just kept coming, and -- well, they were really good. And, as elaborate as they were, they seemed different from the usual Capitol fare -- they seemed simpler, somehow. Less ostentatiously decadent, more...homemade.

Carlos was curious.

So, after fighting tooth and nail to get directions to the kitchens, a short-haired man in a lab coat pushed open the door to the kitchens.

"Excuse me. Sorry to bother you, but I'd like to know who's been sending the desserts up to District 10."

Re: week six, post-haircut

[shinyisfalse]

There were so many different things here in the Capitol then what they had back home. And it was pretty fun to try them out. Using apples was standard fare back home (an apple and goat cheese tart was someone's favorite), but here he could use oranges. Plums. Pears. Apricots. Peeta didn't even know what an apricot was before he got here, and now he could use them whenever he wanted.

Basically, it was awesome. Hence the current fruit treat spree he had going, and when someone came into the kitchen, he immediately looked up. He had a hard time ignoring new people who came in.

"That would be me." Peeta grinned, wiping the flour on his hands onto his apron. "I hope nothing is wrong with them? No eggshells in anything?"

[youbarium]

"No no, it's not that at all. They're very good. They just taste...different from the rest of what the Capitol makes. That's not a bad thing!" he clarified hurriedly. "They taste more...like something homemade."

Though Carlos's voice was on the nasal side and was only rarely emotionally expressive, there was a softer note to the last word.

"...so, naturally, I wanted to find out where they were coming from."

lunch time

[akingalways]

No. No......nope.

It was nice that Peeta had made the cakes, he supposed. But right at the moment, he was having a more important problem. And - seeing as the boy with the bread was there - Jack figured he could have the other's advice.

"Oi!" He made a grunting sound, though still not as loud or guttural as he'd wanted. "You, Mellark. I need your advice!"

Re: lunch time

[shinyisfalse]

He was taking a break for a little bit, just going through some of the other recipes he'd found in the kitchen (seriously, where did all of this come from?), and so obviously in a good position to look up and wonder what the hell was going on.

Advice? "Sure? What do you need advice on?" Peeta looked at him curiously.

[medecin]

Joly had never had much of a need to cook or bake anything for himself. Before Paris, there had been servants at home, and after, well, he had been a student in apartments, and no one had really cooked outside of restaurants, cafes, or bakeries. Still, he would be remiss if he said that he was not curious about the process, and the foods coming up to the quarters had been interesting enough that, upon discovering the kitchens on a somewhat restless walk through the tower, he had felt the need to poke his head in as it was.

And there was Peeta, of course. He barely knew the younger man, save that he was a mentor here, and that probably should change, as he'd been given the assignment for District 12, after all.

"Might I intrude?" he asked, poised in the doorway, finding himself glancing for the cameras, certain one was there somewhere.

[shinyisfalse]

With the games slowly drawing to a close (more people dead, so many people), Peeta had been taking turns with Katniss watching the screens. That's what you got to do, when there were two mentors. You got to take turns. He didn't know how Haymitch did it, and that was something he was asking himself more and more each day. Then again, he got a break for a year.

This was just too much. "Sure, come on, you're not intruding." Peeta smiled, wiping his hands on his apron. "Joly, right? I'm sorry I haven't met you before this." No cameras beyond security ones. The kitchens were great, if only for a safe haven from the paparazzi.

tags in 10mins late with starbucks and requests for a baguette like a walking stereotype

[saisamour]

Marius finally noticed the pastries on the fourth consecutive day the heapings of it had been delivered to the District 3 floor.

Yet more than the disconcert from that extremely delayed observation materialized in him a mild curiosity. Were the deliveries part of some Capitol tradition he had not been made aware of? Was it simply from an admirer of one of his district-mates? Were they mis-deliveries? But composing questions in his head—naturally—presented him with zero answers, and so through embarrassed and timid questioning here and there he learned of Peeta's... hobby, was perhaps a word for it.

In any case, Marius felt it appropriate to thank the man for his kindness, so he made his way to the kitchens (twice making a wrong turn, once entering the wrong door) and, while wearing a trembling smile, approached Peeta.

"Ah, mons—Peeta." He held eye-contact rather impressively despite his bashfulness and his hasty correction. "I do not know whether my other district-mates have expressed their gratitude, but I would like to thank you all the same."

/crying laughing oh god

[shinyisfalse]

Today was things you would never find in District 12. You never found anything like creme brulee there, or zabaione. But god, these things were difficult to make. This was his fourth attempt on the creme brulee, and it's that stupid torch that keeps tripping him up.

Which was why he was glad for someone else to be there. "Hey, Marius." Peeta gave him a tired smile. "It's really no problem. There's a lot here, and I can't eat it all myself."

He wasn't doing it for the thanks. Not at all. He was doing it because he just couldn't stand sitting there and watching this whole thing. If he kept switching off with Katniss, that still meant he had to watch. And keeping his hands busy was one of the only ways he could stay sane these days. Just something. Anything. Peeta just needed to keep busy.

"How are you doing?" Come in and stay awhile. Company is nice, and after being in the arena... he has to know how he's doing.

[privilegecheck]

Kankri thought that baked goods would just make him sick after eating them so much in the Arena, but these were different. They were fresh, warm, flavorful, and made with obvious care. And he could use doing something that wasn't related to being a Tribute, so after a little bit of badgering and insisting on sharing the bounty, he gets the one of the Avoxes to bring him back to the kitchen with her.

He doesn't recognize the young man amidst all the bread and sweets; he hasn't really familiarized himself with the Mentors, and only knows the ones from his District on sight. So he feels less self-conscious than he otherwise might as he asks, "Do you need help? I find myself in need of something to do."

[shinyisfalse]

At the voice, Peeta looked up and smiled, albeit a tired one. This was stress relief, but it took up a lot of energy, and a lot of time. Which was fine by him. At least he was still enjoying it. Taking in the grey skin, this was obviously one of the trolls.

He'd never seen this one before, though. "Hey. Sure, I'd love some help. There's only so much one set of hands can do." One set of busy hands, though, as the table laden with things indicated, and he gestured over. "Just wash your hands first. I'm Peeta, by the way."

Not late at all

[designatedfreak]

Max didn't visit other districts, she didn't see a need to unless it was to hunt Courfeyrac down for training, but the kitchens were for everyone even though, as far as she knew, no one but the tower workers ever entered them. That didn't mean they were forbidden, just separate. There was an unspoken expectation that the Tributes had better things to do than cook for themselves. Max still didn't really understand what being a Tribute was all about outside of the arena.

Boredom and curiosity pulled her down into the depths of the tower where the Tower, the smell of fresh baked goods sending her senses into overdrive. Manticore never had anything as fresh and varied as what the Capitol served the Tributes. Perhaps because of this Max tended to stick to the blander items that offered nutrition, but lacked real vision in design.

The kitchen was quiet for a place so busy. She had been trained by the best of the best on how to observe without being seen. Passing the cooks and other helpers until she came to the warmth of the oven that held that new smell that had drawn her into this room in the first place.

Ignoring the hot oven, she took up one of the rolls that sat on a table cooling. It was still too hot to properly handle, but Max was used to extremes and made no sound as she took the hot roll and hid under a table where a man was working. The roll was soft. Softer than any piece of bread Manticore had ever given them, and she swallowed it down before the steam could disappear into the air. Warmth settled over her and she leaned back, startling herself as she hit the legs of the man that had been working at the table.

Nope <3

[shinyisfalse]

Everyone was pretty quiet, which was something Peeta was both used to and not used to. Whenever he worked with his father, it was silent, of course. A companionable silence, but still a silence. And then the noise factor came from his brothers, and his mother yelling at them to get moving.

Here, it was companionable once they got used to you being here. Which was only slowly beginning to happen. If there was a new chef in the kitchen on any given day, they immediately went crazy and excited that he was down there with them. But now, they left him alone, and he left them alone.

And it was nice. He'd brought out a fresh bunch of rolls, and had gone back for the others, so when he felt something against his legs, he was not prepared. Peeta dropped the platter on the table and backed up.

"What are you doing down there?"