You Want Grubs With That?

 

Milwer Clwngher dumped a scoop of fried earth worms into the mess tin.

"Is that all?" The young rhyfler whined.

"That's it, kit" he gave a sharp sideways nod. "I've got 200 Quar behind you to feed still. Grab a fried grub on a stick and move along."

The hungry youth visibly cheered up at the offered treat, but Clwngher noticed that he snaffled a second termite roll on his way out. "Ah well,  lots of those." The youngsters were always hungry. Extra rolls were an easy way to keep them fed.

Just then Maeb was pulling another tray of rolls out of a hatch in the side of the mobile kitchen. "Hot stuff comin' through" Maeb called as she carried the hot pan behind the serving line. "And she's got fresh buns!"

"Everyquar likes fresh buns!" Laughed Ryzzo, who was ladling moth soup into the tin cups held out to him. 

Maeb dumped the tray of hot rolls on top of the serving pan. A veteran Yawdryl quickly snatched two, cut them open with his bayonet and held them under Clwngher's spoon of fried worms. Clwngher watched amazed as the Yawdryl balanced his worm sarnies while he munched on a fried grub stick on his way to the tea urns.

He noticed his spoon clunking on the bottom of the pan. "Maeb! More worms!" 

"Right away Boss!"

"More grubs on a stick too!"

"On it!"

"And check the urns. It's cold. Nowt like a hot cuppa to warm a Quar up, as muh Nan always said."

The hungry soldiers kept shuffling past with their mess tins. The veterans thanked him with a nod or a grunt. The recruits looked shocked at the stringy worms or grey thin moth soup. "Quit whinging! I'm not your ma. Now get moving."

It was a nice set up they had. A tarp was strung over the prep and serving areas. The heat from the mobile kitchen kept the chill off. Today's rain was a light, soothing patter that almost drowned out the steady rumble of the barrage at the Front.

The Yawdryl-Major and Adjutant walked past, inspecting the meal line, putting snouts into pots, observing the cleanliness of the cook tops. Both took a deep fried grub on a stick and munched happily. 

"B Company is coming out of the line tonight, have summat hot ready."

"You bet, Yawdryl-Major. We'll be ready."

Aye, nae so bad, he thought to himself as he kept dishing fried worms. He thought it might be a good idea to have a food stall when he'd finished his service. Hot tea, fried worm sarnies, deep fried grubs on sticks. Set up in the market or beside the pitch at Mhudd ball matches. Be a tidy earner. 

His reverie was broken by a commotion. He looked past the line of rhyflers, who had also turned to look. A photographer was setting up and a shiny staff car had pulled into the farmyard where they had set up the kitchen. The driver and one of the motorcycle escorts opened doors and saluted. A couple of Very Important Quar got out. Clwngher could tell they were Very Important because their uniforms were very clean.

"Pickle my snout" Ryzzo whispered.

A Syrnol he'd never seen before strode forward. Another walked beside him in clean fatigues but without rank badges. A red tabbed staff-Caerten hovered behind them. The strange Quar strode over to the serving line all smiles and cut in. With a flourish he produced a silver spoon from a pocket and dipped it into the soup. A flash bulb exploded as he lifted it to his snout.

"Ah yes, moth soup" he stated airily. "A basic, traditional favourite. Such a comfort when far from home. Interesting tangy undernote to the broth though. What is it?"

Before Clwngher could speak Ryzzo opened his snout. "Well, sir, we was bombed this morning and that'd be the dirt and shrapnel what fell into the pots, see?"

The visitor coughed and spat the soup out.

Maeb whispered in his ear. " That's Chef Ymil! He has The Dung Heap, only the biggest restaurant in Llantwit."

"Yes, the restaurant reviewer of the Blaen-ty-Wad Bugle said my moth wing suspended between two stag beetle horns was sublime!" The celebrity chef looked at the mess tin of the rhyfler beside him. "Although I don't suppose you have much time for artful plating here, do you?"

"Moth wings an' beetle legs is fine for the La-di-dah folk mindin' their weight. But it'll nowt fill a 'ungry rhyfler just out of line."

Chef Ymil drawled. "Quite. But it tells my story in food. What's your story?"

Clwngher shrugged. "Story? I like fried worm sarnies and a cuppa. Thats my story."

Chef Ymil chuckled in a pratonizing way and bent his snout over Clwngher's pan. "And what have you got here?"

"Fried earth worms sir." 

"Ah!" The chef dipped his spoon in and took a fat, glistening worm out. He chewed thoughtfully. "Basic, but an interesting piquant note, with a slight crunch." He dropped the uneaten half back into the pan.

"That'd be the red ants that Peppa found for us yesterday."

The chef looked around. "Who is Peppa?"

Clwngher nodded at the spiny pig stretched out in a warm dry spot underneath the field kitchen. "Our pig sir. She found a big nest o' ants yesterday. Good nose on her."

He spotted the tray of grubs on sticks. "And what are these?"

"Deep fried grubs on a stick, sir. Use the termite roll mix to make the batter."

Chef Ymil ate it with relish. He took a second. "Spicy and sweet. How do you do it?"

"I mix honey and red crickets into the termite batter." Clwngher straightened up slightly. "It's muh own recipe! Gonna sell 'em at Mhudd-ball games like, when I Demob."

"Are the grubs locally sourced too?"

"Oh yes sir. We got them from the farm right here." The rhyflers had kicked down the barn doors and ransacked the farmer's crop of grubs, termites and beetles, barely leaving enough for the family.

"So what about these buns, eh? What story do they tell?"

"I can't say what story the buns is about sir. Maeb here bakes them fresh every day. Hundreds and hundreds. We're not sure what's in the flour mix. But it says termites."

"I do like a termite bun! Simple and homey." He bit into one. "Hmmmm, quite. You should try my recipe for candied flies!" He turned to smile at the camera again and then left the bun unfinished on the counter. Just as quickly the party was back in the shiny staff car and driving away. The young rhyfler next in line surreptitiously grabbed the unfinished bun. 

A week later, Ryzzo was reading the Rhyfler's Report and laughed. "Hey Clwngher! You made the front page!" Clwngher snatched the paper away. There was a picture of him in knit cap and greasy apron looking like a right daft plonker behind his pan of worms while Chef Ymil smiled. He read in mounting disbelief.

Celebrity Chef Cheers the Troops.

Chef Ymil, Executive Chef of the celebrated restaurant The Dung Heap, visited a mobile field kitchen near the Front to see how the troops were being fed. 

"The cooks of Field Kitchen Cawtrad 31 were doing a fine job providing a locally sourced, organic, farm to table menu for the hungry rhyflers. They really captured the terroir of the place. Something that I naturally do with my new recipe for deep fried grubs on a stick. You can get the recipe in my new cookbook: Chef Ymil's Victory Kitchen. I'm also pleased to announce that I am opening a factory to provide candied flies and tinned moth soup for the army."

Maeb was reading over his shoulder. "It would've been nice if he'd brought some of those candied flies with him, wouldn't it?"

Clwngher gave the paper back to Ryzzo, who turned to the Mhudd-ball standings. "Chance'd be a fine thing, wouldn't it?"

He had some Clanquar posted in Llantwit. He'd write to them. They'd sort the big snout out....

A couple of months later, while they were filling thermos packs with moth soup for a waiting ration party to take forward, Maeb commented. "See the paper? Yon snooty snout chef what was 'ere? 'is restaurant burned down."

"Huh." Grunted Clwngher as he packed a satchel full of rolls. "Dangerous places kitchens. You can never be too careful like. "

My friend Dan likes to kit bash and convert things. He's getting as big a kick out of the Quar as I am I think. My Quar cook inspired him to make a field kitchen. He bought a metal FT17 kit many years ago and it came with an option to make a Command Tank with a big boxy top instead of a turret. He'd always thought it would make a nice field kitchen. For the Quar it doesn't matter if it's an exact historical model, does it? So he added a smoke stack and supported it between two American Civil War artillery limbers. I just had to paint it and finish the base.