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"Now, I want you to spend the rest of the day cutting these pieces of meat, and then lay them out on a tray over there," she said, pointing to a tray on a table across from them. "After you've finished that, come see me, and we'll talk about cooking the meat..."
"Yes maam!" Lyssoryl replied.
There were many holes in Lyssoryls knowledge of the cooking skills. Having grown up poor and on her own, she had no idea how to select the finest of ingredients, or what sort of cookware was best. Her knowledge of spices was sketchy, and matching wine to entree was a skill totally outside her experience. She had a tendency to throw all the ingredients she could find into a pot and call it stew.
But she considered herself to be an artist with the knife. Her fingers were deft even for a Cether, and in lean times she had learned how to get every last bit of flesh from a fish or pigeon. She often would craft exotic birds out of slices of lemon and perch them on the edge of her glass, just for fun.
After testing the edge of her knife to make sure it was sharp, she launched into the side of beef with gusto, humming a cheerful toon.
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