interfaith dinner mingle!!

[stefanged]

Who: Interfaith Center regulars & the not-so-regulars (party crashers are welcome too!!)
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Interfaith Center on the Iskaulit
When: Forward-dated to November 4th

[The Interfaith Center sounds far more bustling and busy than usual - and anyone peering inside would quickly figure out that a communal dinner is underway! Take off your shoes and walk in: the lounge has extra tablecloths on the floor as well as buffet tables with non-alcoholic beverages and all sorts of food, including Jordanian cuisine (or the outer space equivalent of Jordanian food).

The board games are out of their hiding nooks; the furniture's arranged for the maximum seating possible; and even the teddy bears donated by Kitty & Winn are out for cuddling, should anyone want them.

The kitchen's bustling with helpers - Stefan's running around at vamp-speed to make sure everything's a) done on time and b) cooked to perfection - but he sure wouldn't mind an extra hand. And if you're still not up for some food? Well, the prayer rooms are open as usual. There's always a quiet moment to be found, even if the laughter's louder and the scent of freshly-baked mansaf's wafting through the long corridors.

Anyone and everyone who's ever been inside the Interfaith Center has been invited (via text message - and Stefan even used the fancy emoji). If you're not particularly faithful or devout? Well, drop by anyways. There's more than enough food to spare.]

Comments

[survivalistcookbook]

[Communal dinner, you say? That's invitation enough to Eugene to poke his nose in early, knocking on the doorway to the kitchen to announce himself.]

Any cooking left to do, or am I stuck with dishes?

[stefanged]

[Stefan's relief is as clear as day! As much as he likes cooking, he's nowhere near Eugene's level and he knows it.]

Actually... [Stefan beams, motioning for Eugene to come over!] I've been trying to follow your bread recipe? So maybe you could tell me where to go from here.

[survivalistcookbook]

Absolutely.

[Eugene joins him readily, already starting to grin. Of everyone he's given the starter to, he's always pleased when people use it to make actual bread.]

How far along are you? Already past the kneading and letting it rise, hopefully.

[stefanged]

You hoped right. [Stefan slides over the bowl of dough, and true to his word, the dough has risen! He's also a little clueless at this point, if his tea-stained recipe's any indication.] I didn't dare try to modify it, since that's usually where the problems lie.

[survivalistcookbook]

Hah, fair enough. This one's pretty all-purpose. Once it rises you can partition it out for buns, shape it into a loaf . . . heck, it makes some pretty decent pitas if you want something that'll cook up a little faster.

[stefanged]

Wait, what. I could've made pita bread this whole time?

[BRO. Stefan's opening and closing his mouth as he glances over at his hummus, then at the bread, then at Eugene as if he's putting together one seriously complex idea.]

And here I thought I'd have to struggle my way through with something else.

[survivalistcookbook]

[Eugene's all ready to respond something blithe and probably stupid, when his eyes follow Stefan's and everything clicks.

Jordanian. Right. He's an idiot.]

Wow, ah- yikes. My deeply Eurocentric bad, there. Sorry. [He gestures his way awkwardly over to the sink, in a sort of 'let me wash my hands and get right to work on that' pantomime.] But the good news that it's the same prep up to this point! You just separate the dough into little balls now, let them rest about ten minutes each, then roll them out. Three, four minutes on a hot sheet in the oven and they're done.

omg i'm so sorry, this got lost in tag mountain

[stefanged]

[Stefan shakes his head instinctively - it's not really Eugene's fault. Stef isn't the most stereotypical Jordanian out there, and it's not like he knew enough to comment on the distinct lack of pita bread.

His expression brightens immediately, as he glances over at the dough and tentatively reaches in to form one of those little balls.]

That's really good news. [He laughs,] I haven't had proper pita bread since I came here, so... it'll be like another little piece of home.

no problem!

[survivalistcookbook]

Hey. Any home you can get out here.

[Eugene joins him, slinging a clean towel over his shoulder en route, and starts making fist-sized balls to set out in evenly-spaced rows.]

It smells amazing in here. What else did you make?

[stefanged]

Thanks! There's hummus, there's some falafel, and I even got creative and made mansaf - that's uh, a rice dish with yogurt and lamb. Left out the nuts, since someone's probably allergic.

[No one's spoken up about allergies, but when in doubt? Best to leave those out of the equation.]

I also uh, tried to make some baklava. Can't promise that turned out accurate, but it seems fine.

[survivalistcookbook]

[Eugene gives a low whistle for that litany, grinning.]

Wow. That- wow. [He gives a huff of a laugh.] I'm gonna be honest, here, and tell you that I am going to have to struggle not to rush these pitas. It has been literal years since I had falafel.

[stefanged]

It's also been literal years since I was able to make them.

[He ducks his head a little, if only to hide his impossibly-wide smile. Sure, it's not exact, because the lamb's more like space-deer, or whatever this planet's weird equivalent is, but it's more than close enough.]

I can't say it'll be accurate, but I sure hope it'll be good.

[survivalistcookbook]

Hey. Everything we make in the fleet is a sort of . . . diaspora cuisine, right? None of us are on our home turf or handling the ingredients we're used to. We're just trying to make it work even when we're under some pretty dramatic limitations.

[He gives a rare flash of an encouraging look.]

Let's be honest, 'Accurate' is a bar we're never going to clear out here. But you're keeping the recipe alive the best way you can. And I bet it's going to be delicious.

[stefanged]

Hell yeah it is. [Someone's a little confident in his cooking ability. Stefan would pump his fist in the air too, if he weren't so focused on getting these pita balls just right.] But seriously, thank you.

I know I hold myself to impossibly-high standards, [given that he doesn't even have the cooking augment]. Even though we've got absolutely no way to accurately re-create what we're used to? I'm certainly trying to bring bits of my home out here, and Caster is too and - you know?

It's never gonna be like home, but I think it'll be close enough.

[survivalistcookbook]

Exactly.

[He works in companionable silence for a moment or five, hands falling into the muscle memory of pinching and forming dough, covering finished batches with clean towels as their ranks grow.]

Hey. I know I don't really do any of the religious . . . anything. But it's nice to see that someone's doing it. [He gives a sidelong look, a little curl at the corner of his mouth that's less mirthful than simply wry.] Is that weird?

[stefanged]

Not really.

[Stefan glances up from his dough ball, tilting his head a little.]

Faith's about more than saying a prayer and hoping God'll listen, you know? It's about building a community and giving comfort to those that need it during a difficult time, just as it is about celebrating life and what we have to offer.

[His cheeks turn a faint red, because wow, it's obvious he's thought about it a lot.]

So when you say things like that? It makes me really happy, because uh, that's the kind of leader I want to be.

[survivalistcookbook]

[He hears that, and it's hard not to think of Phil. Phil in the lonely hours of the morning, reading out the rolls of the confirmed dead in the quiet of the radio shed, an unasked-for vigil borne out of simple compassion. He thinks of murmured words over still bodies at the roadside, the gentle steadiness he'd never otherwise hear in his voice. He thinks of drifting from sleep and seeing him on watch, remaining still and quiet just to watch the unselfconscious glide of fingers across bead after bead and the soundless flicker of his lips through prayer after prayer.]

[He looks at Stefan, and it's the unexpected warmth of recognition, the feeling when you've approached a familiar place from a different direction and just reached the border where you know where you are again.]

Hey. If that's what you're going for? I think you're doing a pretty good job of it. [It's about as sappy as he can get, and he plunks down his dough ball before he can worry it to death, redundantly double-checking the temperature on the over.] Let me know what I can do to help, all right?

[stefanged]

[High praise, coming from someone like Eugene. Stefan's expression brightens, as if he's a thousand shining watts - it's his turn to be reminded of an older brother who didn't care much for faith, who eschewed both Dad's and Mom's and carved his own path. Yet faith and culture are forever intertwined. His older brother would still blow into Stefan's shirt three times every night, or murmur his salaams when he entered a house, or even taken his shoes off before entering a masjid.

That tradition - where everyone in the Interfaith Center is either barefoot or wearing comfy slippers - stems from Islam, from keeping the dirt and outside world outside its borders.

At the time, Stefan thought he was being needlessly strict, but now, he has to acknowledge that his faith matters just as much as everyone else's (lack of).]

Thank you. [His voice is quiet, and very awed.] Right now, honestly? You're doing more than enough for me.