Once the water started to change color, I tossed in some of the oatmeal look-alike my parents had left behind. For the final step, I added some salt to taste.
The salt was something I’d swiped from my mom’s stash. It was some crummy black salt, but I’d cleaned it up with cooking magic. It wasn’t pure white by any means, but it had at least turned a decent shade of gray.
As I stirred the pot, a sharp ding rang in my head. That was the cooking magic’s notification telling me the dish was perfectly done.
“Jörgyn grass porridge, tent style,” magical effect: slight life recovery, complete.
Just so you know, the name of a dish I create gets assigned automatically.
“All right, looks like I nailed it again today.”
Two years ago, when I finally came to, the very first thing I did was start improving the oatmeal look-alike. Of course, without any real ingredients or seasonings, there wasn’t much I could do. Still, by tweaking how long I cooked the jörgyn grass, I managed to cut down the bitterness and bring out a hint of sweetness. It was far from tasty, but it was way better than eating plain, flavorless oatmeal look-alike. Plus, the herb had decent nutritional value and improved digestive health. Since it’s important to give toddlers food that’s easy on the stomach, the herb actually made for pretty good baby food.
I’d never really felt its magical effect, but better than nothing, right?
“Man, I wish I had some spices.”
Because we were so poor, there were no seasonings here except salt—definitely no spices. It was seriously disappointing.
“Well then, time to eat.”
I carefully chewed the bland porridge. I had the mind of an adult, but my body was still that of a toddler. If I’d eaten it like I used to, my stomach wouldn’t hold up. I’d already been sick once, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight. It hadn’t turned into anything serious thanks to holy magic, but since then, I’d been careful of how I ate.
“Yeah, I definitely need some seasoning besides salt.”