The BLTS Archive - The Food series #3: Ingredients by Kiff (Kiff47@yahoo.com) --- Disclaimer: Voyager and the characters within are the property of Paramount. I'm taking them outside for some fresh air. Archiving: Permission granted to Sileya to archive at TSU. All others, please ask first. Spoiler Alert: Minor spoilers for "Thirty Days." Feedback: Constructive comments accepted. Sequel to "Food for Thought" and "Ruminations." --- Bridge, 0800 hours.... Hello, Voyager. Did you miss me? It's good to be back. And I don't care what the Doctor said. No one treats you as well as I do. Certainly not Culhane. You sound healthy. Warp eight, and you're not straining at all. B'Elanna's working her usual magic. She outranks me, now. Can you believe that? I'm looking outside right now. I never thought I'd say this, but space looks beautiful. Beats the hell out of four gray walls. Harry and I are planning to restart "Captain Proton" tomorrow, after we're off duty. He's going to talk to Jenny and Megan about coming back for an encore. I have a feeling they'll say yes to him, even if they're still mad at me. I gotta start somewhere. Chakotay even looked happy to see me when I took my post. I'll say one thing for him, he's a fair-minded man. I argue with him a lot, but he's willing to listen to my point of view. So is Neelix. He seems to have infinite patience. I watched him for awhile during breakfast this morning and really noticed for the first time how talented he is. He can cook, serve, clean up spills, and give advice all at the same time, without batting an eye. And anyone who can tolerate Dalby's constant bitching gets a gold star in my book. He truly cares about everyone on this ship. Even if they don't reciprocate. Even if they do nothing but make fun of his cooking and tell idiotic jokes at his expense. Well, I'm not going to put up with it anymore. The next person who makes a crack about Neelix is going to answer to me. --- Mess Hall, 1215 hours.... How does he do it? How does he pull together these meals, day after day? I'd go crazy, trying to satisfy 140-plus appetites. Neelix thrives on the challenge. In the beginning, at least half of the meals went straight into the recycler. But now, he seems to have caught on to what appeals to those of us from the Alpha Quadrant. This pasta dish is excellent. The sauce is creamy, not too thick, just right for soaking up with freshly baked bread. Delicious. I'm going up for seconds. I'm entitled. I lost ten pounds on that prison diet. He sees me and smiles. "Would you like dessert, Tom? My spice cake appears to be going over well with the crew today." "Actually, I'd like more of those noodles, if you don't mind." "Not at all." He takes my plate and fills it. "Enjoy." I'd like to stay and talk with him, but Chell is crowding me on one side and Henley on the other, so I just nod my thanks and go back to my seat. Harry and B'Elanna are discussing some modifications to the impulse engines. I hardly listen. I want to taste my food, really take the time to savor it. And think about the care that went into preparing it. --- Corridor, 1630 hours.... I'm glad *that's* over with. Actually, it went better than I expected. The Captain accepted my apology with her usual grace. I guess she feels like my punishment was sufficient, since she didn't even lecture me this time. She's got a tough job, a responsibility that all the years of Starfleet training could never have fully prepared her for. She's doing her damnedest to get us home. And I haven't made things any easier for her, lately. Shit. I need to grow up. Time to get out of this uniform for awhile. I'd forgotten how scratchy this fabric feels. Then I'm going to see Neelix. --- Mess Hall, 1650.... It's quiet. I usually don't come here at this hour. "Neelix?" "Right here." He's in the kitchen. I go through the door and look inside. "Take a seat, Ensign. I'm just seeing if there's enough Styrillian roast for dinner." He's rummaging through the cold storage compartments. I find a nearby stool and sit down. He soon emerges, smiling. "I think it will do. And there's some leftover chili for those with more exotic tastes." "Neelix, do you ever take a break?" "Oh, certainly, Tom. I usually have a nap between 1400 and 1600. Very refreshing." "How late do you stay here?" I can't believe I don't know this. "Most nights I serve Beta shift around 2000. Clean-up's usually done by 2130. Of course, I always prepare a meal for Gamma shift to eat in the middle of the night. Something that they just need to heat and serve." "And then you're back in here..." "I'm what you call an 'early riser,' Tom. We Talaxians do very well on five or six hours of sleep per night, provided that we do nap during the day. I'm usually awake by 0530 hours." I shake my head. "And ready with breakfast and a smile by 0700." Neelix shrugs. "The crew expects it. They like the routine. No matter what unexpected events happen to these people, they can always count on a hot and nutritious meal from me. I believe your Earth has a saying about an army marching as far as its stomach can carry it." I smile at him. "Yeah, something like that." He returns my smile. His whole face relaxes when he does that. It's rather endearing, I think. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I really should get started on the roast." "Can I help?" He looks startled. Pleased, but startled. "Why, of course. But you'll need to put an apron on. My large pots are in that cabinet. Fill two with water and put them on the stove." I do as he asks. While the water runs, I watch Neelix pull several large chunks of meat from the cold storage and set them on the counter. I heave the pots onto the stove. "So you boil the meat first?" "Yes. This particular meat is rather tough. Boiling it first makes it more tender. Then I put it in the oven for about forty minutes." He lights the burners and starts putting the meat into the pots. "I'm afraid this is the last of it, though. I'll have to talk to the Captain about making a supply stop before too long. We're also running low on grains and fresh vegetables." "What about the hydroponics bay?" "There's been an unusually high demand on it lately. I've had to institute some rationing. Ensign Roberts says that it'll take the plants about a month to recover completely." I look at him suspiciously. "So the vegetables you used for my pizza..." "Were the last ones I picked before the rationing started." He looks a little embarrassed at this admission. I bite my lip. "Neelix, I...well, thank you, again." "You're very welcome, Tom, and as soon as the plants are producing again, I will make you another pizza. I must say, I tried some of the sauce myself and found it quite tasty. I could learn to enjoy Terran cuisine." He's going into the cabinets again, and I stand there by the stove watching the flames burn under the pots, and thinking. Thinking about the dozens of times I've turned up my nose at his creations. Okay, I will *never* learn to like leola root, but most of the other things he's made haven't been *that* bad. The Doctor assured me many times that the food satisfies human nutritional requirements and that taste and texture are "irrelevant." Spoken like a true hologram. But maybe I've been a little closed-minded about these things. Neelix has been more than willing to meet the crew halfway with regards to the menu. And he doesn't always have much to work with. In any case, it has to be humiliating to watch people throw away food that you've worked for hours to prepare. Besides, B'Elanna tells me that his banana pancakes aren't half bad. He's got a canister of flour in one hand and a bunch of vegetables in the other. "Tom, would you mind chopping these up for me? I'm going to make some soup for our non-meateaters." "No problem." I take the vegetables from him, find a cutting board, and start slicing. He's making some kind of dough a few feet away from me. "What's that for?" I ask. "Tredian sweet apple pies. Naomi suggested them. She can't stop eating those Tredian sweet apples." "Have I had these yet?" He stops kneading the dough. "Well, no. I suppose not. We gathered them a week or so ago, while you were....unavailable." "Could I try one?" "Of course, Tom. Heat up another pot of water for those vegetables and I'll get one for you." Neelix wipes his hands on a towel and disappears into a far corner of the kitchen while I comply with his request. He comes back and hands me a bright yellow fruit. It's about the size of a plum. "Go ahead, my friend. I know you'll like it." I bite into it. Something sweet bursts into my mouth. It's an apple, all right, but a very juicy one. And *incredibly* delicious. I must be grinning like a kid, because Neelix is grinning back at me. "Aren't they simply delectable?" I'm chewing away here and I can't talk without making a complete fool of myself. He waits patiently until I swallow. "Wow. What does the Doc say about these?" "They're an excellent source of vitamins A, C, and E. We gathered *one hundred* bushels of these apples, Tom. The humans can't get enough of them. Even the Vulcans like them." "I'm impressed." I take another bite, and another. Neelix chuckles, then goes back to his dough. I watch as he finishes kneading it, then rolls it out evenly. "How many pies are you going to make?" "Oh, five or six to start with. If people like them, I'll bake more." I finish the fruit and toss the core into the recycler. "That was excellent." "It's amazing, the variety of food we find throughout the galaxy, isn't it?" "It sure is." I can still taste the sweetness in my mouth. He's cutting up the dough and putting it into pie plates. Now I'm no baker, but it looks to me like he's doing a very efficient job of this. "Anything else I can do, Neelix?" "Not at the moment, but thank you." He smiles up at me. He looks genuinely happy. Glowing, even. "I can handle it from here, Tom. I do appreciate your help." "I enjoyed it." I really did. "Would you mind if I came by tomorrow?" He's positively beaming. "I'd like that. It gets a little lonely here sometimes. Samantha can usually help me in the mornings, and Ensign Smith will occasionally lend a hand at lunch, but the evening meal tends to be a solo effort for me." "All right. It's settled then." I take off the apron and hang it up. "I'll see you in an hour or so. Save a big piece of that pie for me." "I will. Oh, Tom, wait." "What is it?" "You've got some flour on your face. Let me help." He's reaching for me with a towel. "Hold still." He grasps me gently by the shoulder and wipes at my left cheek. He's very close to me and I can feel him breathing. His eyes, those unusual golden eyes, look into mine. I stare back at him. The towel slips out of his hand, but his fingers continue to caress my skin. And suddenly the room feels a lot warmer, and not just from the stove. Time pauses for an instant, then proceeds. Neelix takes his hand away from my face and releases my arm. "Well. I believe you are now presentable, Mr. Paris." I step backwards. "I...I'll see you later." He bends over, picks up the towel, and clutches it in his hand. "Yes...later." I turn and walk out of the kitchen. My face feels like it is on fire. I hurry back to my quarters, throw myself down on the bed, and stare at the ceiling. What in hell just happened there? --- The End (Continued in part four, "Simmer")