Howdred's Homecookin'

Certainly the aroma wafting from inside of Howdred's promises a satisfied palate and belly.   And the place is homey looking; an almost cottage-like exterior, situated right on the corner of two bustling thoroughfares.   The sight and smell likely bring to mind wonderful holiday meals at your grandmothers.  Proprietor Howdred, however is nothing like your grannie.   At least, so we may hope.    A rotund, hirsute man, with a voice like gravel, he was once a militia cook.   One whose duty it was to get very large numbers of men fed quickly and efficiently.  Now, his recipes at the eatery are certainly more compelling, and he is exceedingly courteous to his customers (unless they're troublemakers), but he manages his staff more or less like he's still working for the militia.   Hey, but it's not that bad;  he also pays a better wage than most, and rewards loyalty and above-grade performance with an occasional bonus.

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Inaya's stomach growled as she made her way into Howdred's.   Ah, I'd stop for lunch, but I spent too much time back at the Crescent. I've got to make sure I hit all these places...

Once inside, she produced the parchment to show the nearest server, and requested that she speak with Howdred, or whoever was in charge this day.   As it happened, it was the man himself.    The server vanished into the kitchen, and out came Howdred. His apron was stained with the toils of a busy meal hour.   Apparently, he was the sort of owner who wasn't shy about pitching in.   His round, beefy face broke into a broad grin as he approached:

"Well, hullo there, little lassie!  So you're here about the Pelor's Day event, eh?"

Inaya wasn't fond of being called things such as 'little lassie.'   Normally, she would have scowled, and had some proper retort.   But, she needed to be courteous, and, she had the sense it wasn't meant to be insulting.   Howdred might not be refined, exactly, but her impression was he was authentic.

"Yes, that's correct.   Thank you so much for your contribution.  It will mean a lot to the children at Blessed Stars."

Howdred paused to yell at one of his staff:   "I can smell that sauce startin' to burn, Mergos!  If it does, I dump it on yer pointy head - ya hear me?"  He turned back toward Inaya, instantly affable again.   "Well, that's nice.  I'm sure the kiddlins will just love these brownies and cookies we'll be sendin' along.  Too much sugar's not good for'em, ya know.  So we go half & half, use an herb sweetner, that don't cause cavities."    He displayed his own set of white teeth in a broad grin, and they did look to be in fine shape.

"Say, you like fresh chocolate chip cookies?"   

"Well, sure."

"Othorpe!" he bellowed to one of his servers.   "Bring a cookie for the cookie!"

Inaya rolled her eyes, managed not to scowl through sheer will.   The cookie was exceptional, in any case.

River Quarter