3 Day Blinding Stew Novels & Stories

Worthy His huge hand grabbed a ladle. He used it to stir the boiling pot, bubbling and smoke rising up as he took the lid. His other hand went to reach a bowl filled with sliced chunks of broccoli and potatoes. Sitting on the table were Emory and Cressida. Their bright green eyes followed his every movement, both are waiting for the stew to cook. “How much longer?” Emory said, she caressed her stomach, she can feel it grumbling.

Brayden answered her unspoken question as he watched her look at the bowl in front of her. “Hmm..” Meredith commented. She looked up lazily and gave him a smile. “It’s a French stew.” Meredith didn’t respond. Instead she began to eat her pot au feu, which didn’t particularly look like a stew. It looked more like a wide arrange of vegetables and a large piece of beef in a puddle of broth. So much for her slurping. The dish was actually served with a steak knife. Meredith had never had a stew in which she needed a knife.

' I recalled the cut of bone-in meat stored in the break room that I had bought the moment I found out Gerald had a company event that evening. After work, I had to instantly start boiling the cut of meat and bone for an hour before straining out the bone. Then, I would put in some lentils before bringing the stew down to a simmer for around 40 minutes until the lentils were so soft that they practically melted in the mouth. Gerald adored it. Every time he got drunk, he would cajole me into making the stew for him. While it took a lot of effort, I did as requested every time.

"It's behind you." "Huh..." I pouted in confusion, and turned only for me to see a huge iron bowl with a lid on it. I placed my right hand on the lid handle, and lifted it open. Instantly, my nose twitched in disgust. An unbearable scent hit me hard in the nostrils. It took a lot of self-control to not throw up right there. "Damn!" I heard Carmen curse. "That's the meat of a wild boar and it seems it hasn't been washed" Kelvin explained. "I'm leaving that to the two of you. I'll make the stew first. When you're done washing and cutting, we'll grill the meat."

Her group is making a rich berry-glazed rabbit dish, but the crowd is already drifting toward my station because the herbal aroma of my stew is catching the wind. "Don't let them distract you," Jane whispers, leaning over. "They hate that a maid might take the prize." "I'm not letting them touch my station," I muttered, tossing the chopped roots into the bubbling broth. The stew instantly turns a rich, golden-brown color, the scent blooming into something so savory that three passing warriors stop to sniff the air, grinning. The horn blows loudly from the center stage. It’s the two-hour mark. The elders are going to start tasting the dishes soon.

Even so, the place was packed, and they had to wait in line before getting a table. When they finally sat down, Frank noticed the house specialty on the menu: a slow-simmered chicken stew, made with herbs and root vegetables, available in limited portions each day. They managed to snag the last one. Frank scooped up a spoonful of the creamy broth, blew on it lightly, and tasted it. A small smile tugged at his lips. Mona tilted her head at him, confused, still sipping from her own bowl. “This stew’s supposed to restore energy and calm nerves,” Frank said, arching a brow at her. “Did you pick it on purpose—because you thought I was too angry today?”

“You mustn’t taste the food. My apologies for failing to mention that detail earlier.” Serena shot him a look, half disbelief, half fury. Are you kidding me? “How am I supposed to know the spices are working then?” she muttered under her breath. No answer came. Thayne ignored her completely because he had no interest in indulging a human. Grinding her teeth, Serena went back to work. She added the Frostfern Leaves. At once the stew froze over, flames guttering as if snuffed out. The glow vanished. Serena’s stomach dropped. But she pushed on, quickly, and she tossed in the Ashen Berries. At once, a rich aroma flooded the air, spreading across the arena. Still, the stew remained stubbornly col

“Fox meat’s gamey, but it’ll do. Cooks well enough in stew.” “Stew?” I echoed, adjusting the blanket that had slipped off my shoulder. “Stew stretches,” he said, not looking at me. “It lasts longer. Warms the gut. Fights the cold. Meat, bones, scraps—it all goes in the pot. Winter doesn’t allow for luxury.” I sat up straighter. “How long will it last?” “If we’re careful? Three, maybe four days.” He finally glanced at me. “Depends how hungry we get. Depends what else I catch.”

It smelt like fall with spice. Yale smiled, “This is one of our most popular dishes. It's called Dragon fire stew.” Jenna nodded as she smiled at him. She then watched the others around her to see their reactions as they ate the soup. She had never been in the presence of royalty before, and her two friends had already commented on her eating habits. She watched as everyone picked up their spoon and ate daintily, so she did the same. She took a few bites slowly, making sure she chewed quietly and didn't smack her lips, but before she knew it, her mouth was on fire. Her lips started burning, and she started sweating.

July seemed enthusiastic about the idea. "Huh?" Really, Argus looks stupid with his current expression. "What do you mean by blind marriage? Will the guests wear blindfolds like a masquerade party or something similar? Or will the entire wedding hall be pitch black?" Whether the thought of a new idea for a marriage concept is too good or her mental health was depressed due to the pressure of the situation, Argus was dubious for a moment.