After being washed, dried, and having my undercoat removed, I reverted to human form. Number Two was next, and like me, he was covered in grime. Mariella and Number One were ready for him, while Number Four logged everything in our files – my anal glands, ears, and so on. They planned to do this for all thirty of our main forms, and if I were in the mood, I could even include a few avian forms.
But now, it was time for me to head to the kitchen to prepare dinner and snacks for the babies. I was planning on offering them a variety of fruits, though not so many vegetables. Since not all Salvatores were on washing duty, some were linking Mariella's nursery, where her babies were playing next to mine. This meant I needed to make snacks for eight.
As I reached for bananas and raspberries, Salvatores began arriving in the kitchen. I also grabbed my cheeses. We had a cheese cellar, and I had a large box of cheese sticks. When the cheese makers checked on the enormous wheels of cheese, they would drill out a core to taste it. They would only nibble a small portion, placing the rest in a box, as it might not be fully ripened. These were heavy oak boxes filled with these cheese cores. I had a good selection and planned to properly taste and sort them – mild, sharp, and others –, but I hadn't had time yet.
As I was selecting cheeses suitable for the babies, Number Seven, one of my 14 husbands, who was in the kitchen, noticed the box and cheese sticks.
His voice sharp, he asked, "Mimi,baby, my love, my alphafemale, what are those, and why are you eating them? Has someone given you permission to taste everything?"
He snatched the box from my hands and tasted a couple of the cheeses.
I explained, "They're cheese cores. Like a cheesemaster tests cheese, they drill out a core several times a day. With so much cheese, they eat a bit. But in Moldova, where my cheese is from, the cheesemaster was frugal. He didn't waste anything; he put the cores in oak boxes on shelves. When Elena, Katherine, and others made the cheese cellar here, those boxes were included. I've planned to sort them by taste for a while, but I've been busy. I'm just making snacks for the babies, trying to find suitable mild ones for them."
He retorted, "We'll taste them. You need to eat properly, not just sample whatever you want, skeleton. Let's make snacks. You focus on dinner and tacos."
I rolled my eyes, but I let them try the cheeses. Soon, they were eagerly discussing them, envisioning all sorts of uses. They also debated which fruits to include, what the babies lacked or needed, and what would be novel but not too strange-tasting.
I went to get a few bowls, grabbed my cornflowers, and prepared to make the taco shell dough. Frying them would take time. I had a large pot, but could only do six at a time. I planned three shells per person, meaning 75 shells for the 25 adults, with a few extra. I intended to start on that first.
Some of the meat was already in the oven, having been placed there in the morning. Outside, a whole Wagyu carcass and a huge hog were roasting in our firepit, which would also be part of the fillings. I had elk, sealion, horse, venison, and veal in the oven, with even more meats coming from the smokehouse later. It was going to be a busy rest of the day, as I suspected.
I planned to offer several sauces: a minced meat sauce, béarnaise, béchamel (with and without eggs, and also with cheese), and a cream sauce. For those who preferred something spicier, they could add their own. I might also make hollandaise. Though these sauces wouldn't be as perfectly creamy as Salvatore's, they would be acceptable.
Additionally, there would be a variety of fruits, vegetables, salads, and pasta. We'd have three tacos, a meat plate, a carb plate, and a sauce cups on each tray. Our trays would be pre-assembled, so when it was time to eat, everyone could simply grab one. Tacoshells, plates, utensils, and glasses would all be readily available. While this would require some effort, the girls, including Mariella, were familiar with the routine. All I'd need to do was specify our needs.
As I was kneading the dough by hand, Mariella entered. I had previously told her about the plates but hadn't shown her where they were. To my surprise, someone was with her. Number one walked into the kitchen, checking everything. Mariella went to the plate cabinet and selected a plate.
Turning it over in her hands, she said to Damon, "See? There are cracks and this stain won't come off. Mimi has new plates from a drunken order; here's the entire story," sending it telepathically to Damon.
He looked at me and said, "Baby, are you free? Show us where the plates and glassware are, so we can update them. They're a little worn, and we could change things up."
I rolled my eyes, having just finished preparing my pink dough, which I put in the fridge to rest.
"Fine, follow me. I'm busy, so I haven't got time to wait while you choose," I replied.
Damon simply nodded. As I started to walk, Wulfe and several other people followed me.
Damon muttered as he looked at my door signs, "Those are illegible. We should have proper signs, and this house is a maze; there should be a map or something."
I just rolled my eyes. I knew the layout from memory, and I wasn't getting lost. Let them make maps if they wanted. I reached the plate storage room, opened it, and let everyone in. Soon, eager pack members were unpacking boxes and selecting new plates. I had no idea what kind of plates were available, as I'd never bothered to check them out.
Having returned to the kitchen to prepare the remaining doughs, the violet and plain yellow, I considered that while their taste would be similar, a trio of differently colored shells would be visually appealing. I also enjoy making an impact with my dishes.
Once the doughs are ready, I'll retrieve the meats from the smokehouses and let them rest, covered, for a few hours to retain their juiciness. Next, I'll fry the game meat and melt the fish cubes, intending to use the fish as one of the ten baby food meats. Following that, I'll clean the cooked or smoked birds and add their bones to our special broth.
Our meat and bone broth, currently aged for 170 days or more, began as a stock. We didn't use it all initially, so each day, we added more meat scraps and water to the remaining stock, cooked it, and repeated the process. We consistently added any leftover bones and meat. Those meats would then be utilized, and the bones would be ground or used as filled bones. I was also checking the freezer for any remaining marrow bones, which I planned to include in the baby food.
The broth was simmering gently in a 20-liter kettle, and the babies would drink it during dinner; I might have a mug occasionally as well. We might use some of the broth for cooking the next day, but there was always some left over, so the broth developed daily. It now tastes amazing, improving with each passing day.
It's difficult to pinpoint the exact flavor of the meat, as it's been made with so many different kinds. Currently, lamb ribs, chicken thighs, and some pork joints are simmering in the pot. The meat is placed in an inner, perforated pot within the larger one, keeping the meat contained but allowing the broth to circulate. Before dinner, we lift and clean the inner pot, using the meat scraps as part of the filling.
I was considering my next steps, beginning to roll out the dough. I planned to make circles, 25 of each color. The remaining dough would be formed into sheets, then broken into pieces later for use as corn chips. I placed the circles in stacks, separating each layer with parchment paper to prevent sticking.
As I worked, humming softly to myself, I noticed that people were beginning to bring toddlers into the eating area for lunch or snacks. Mariella and Damon, along with a few other Salvatores, arrived with a cart laden with plates and began to rearrange my plate cabinet.
Mariella was explaining to Damon which size plates were needed for each meal, and Damon seemed intrigued, his mind clearly brimming with ideas. He watched Mimi roll her taco dough, her hands working efficiently and swiftly, humming under her breath. Damon wanted to tease her, but she was working hard, and others had warned him that he might get sent away if he interfered too much. Number Ten was supposed to be an example. He rolled his shoulders and prepared to act.
I had just finished my first batch of dough when Number Ten approached, wrapping himself around my back and leaning over my shoulder. "Do you need any help, my love? We could do this together, let my hands guide you."
"No need, Damon," I replied. "But I saw you were on laundry duty. Have you done it yet? My bedding could use a change, and I have more of the children's clothes to wash now that I've finally unpacked our bags."
He hummed, "Well, me, Three, and Seven are actually on laundry duty, but fine. I'll get your bedding. We can put the machines on after lunch. If the clothes are too messy, we'll get those in the machine as well. Oh, I can't wait for our taco dinner. I might be the one making your plate, my love; you're still too skinny. I'll grant you three shells, but plenty of meat!"
I nodded. "Well, I must see if Charles and Adam are free. The wagyu and hog should be almost done in the outside pit, so they can lift them to simmer and soak up their juices."
Number One interjected, "Oh, don't bother Adam and Charles. The boys and I, as well as Number Four, will get those carcasses to cool. And, baby, make sure someone else fries those shells; your lungs aren't too happy with that grease smoke."
I rolled my eyes; he was always so quick. Well, we would certainly find a way to keep him busy. I was just focusing on making my taco shells when I heard the men starting to feed the toddlers.
Soon, frustrated men were once again complaining because my five toddlers didn't really eat, nor did Mariella's toddlers, as they watched mine. Fine, it was time to give the men a lesson on how to deal with toddlers who are on the cusp of becoming their own persons and have their own minds. This food thing was just them flexing their will, but one must be sly in order to get them to eat.
I put my shells in a stack and went to witness this. I took an extra plate meant for babies, put the same food on it, and grabbed a spoon. Then, I went to sit next to Sadie.
I told Damon, "Feed me. I'll make a face and not eat, and then you can ask Sadie to show Mommy how good she is and eats."
Damon looked at me like I had lost my mind, but he took the spoon, scooped up a bit of mashed potato and meat, and gave it to me. I spat it out, making a face, and got Sadie to look at me.
Damon then took another spoonful, went to Sadie, and said to her, "See, Mommy isn't eating how she should. Want to show her how good girls eat?"
She opened her mouth, ate without hesitation, and smiled at me. Then she took her own spoon and ate more, as she actually tasted the food. Soon, the others were mimicking her too, and Damon spoon-fed me, making sure I ate properly as well.
I said to Damon telepathically, "Example, example, and example. They watch and learn, and if you react to their not eating, oh yeah, they make a circus out of eating. One must be calm, show them how it is done, and let them show their skills. And you surely know, after food, it is potty time. It takes time, but be patient and praise them as they produce."
His expression was amazed. He wasn't sure about potty time, but it was high time for him to learn too. Number Two had put Mariella at the table, too, and fed her as her toddlers watched and mimicked, eating nicely.
Dash, in the middle of eating, began to babble, saying "bo boo, boh" with an irritated expression, seemingly searching for something.
I got up and said, "Wait a minute, Mommy will get you some."
Damon, confused, furrowed his brow. I went to the cabinet, retrieved eight sippy cups and a tray, and then went to the broth kettle. I filled each cup with warm broth. As they chilled, the broth cooled appropriately.
Damon asked, "What are you doing? Is that juice or something?"
Wulfe, who was also present, explained, "Nope, it is our bone and meat broth, over 170 days old. We put last days scraps in the morning to simmer there and then use those meats in dinnertime, and the bones get either ground or used otherwise. I forgot to tell you that is what these five are drinking."
Damon turned to me and said, "Baby, bring me a cup too, I want to taste it."
Number Two chimed in, "It is perfect, I mean, it is not very salty, but that complexity of umami and everything, and since it is quite fatty and silky, we use it in our cooking, but as it starts with 20 liters, there is always some left over. I was actually planning to make a velouté out of it for tacos."
I took one of my larger mugs, a gift from Magnum from a long time ago in Australia, and filled it. I didn't cool it down, so it steamed as I carried the sippy cups and distributed them to the children. Mine eagerly grabbed their cups, and Mariella's trio was a little hesitant. However, as soon as they saw Damon sipping the hot broth, his expression morphing into awe and appreciation, they too sipped the broth.
Mariella took a small sip from Damon's cup and declared, "Wonderful as ever!"
Damon asked her, "You knew about this?"
Mariella rolled her eyes and, with a touch of exaggeration, replied, "Well, duh, I have been upstairs during the time of your 'crisis' quite a lot," making air quotes around the word "crisis," which caused Damon to furrow his brow, as he was still tasting the various layers of the broth.
"Baby, grab a cup for yourself, it does the world of good," he said to me.
"Fine, I do have it from time to time," I replied, grabbing my huge pink mug with the special handle, filling it, and adding its straw-infused lid.
I was showing the babies how to use the straws. Damon's expression tightened slightly at the sight of my special cup, but he couldn't help it at that moment.
This day promised to be a joy. The babies watched me intently as I slurped through my straw, my cheeks hollow. They, too, were eager to try it. This was a simple lesson for Damon, who was observing us, about how much children emulate us and how much we can teach them by example.
The easiest method was often show and tell, talk and do. This was also the first time we were eating as a family. Not all of the pack were present, but Damon, the babies, most of the Salvatores, and Mariella were there. The family was gathered at the table, and dinner would be grand.
My alpha side was already planning how many small victories she could secure over Damon during dinner and the preparations, as well as for the future. I would not simply surrender, exposing my vulnerability and obeying him blindly. No. It was time for him to learn that the pack came first, always and forever.