"This was nearly too much for the Prince, who had tried very hard to keep his dignity thus far. To now work in this deformity's kitchen like a scullery maid? Leander of the Eight Kingdoms, the Two-Blooded Border-Lord, Son of Helia the Radiant, would absolutely not bake filthy, thin peasant's bread in this wretched place. He had promised to serve her, yes, but he had meant to do so in some manly fashion which involved the slaying of some things and the rescuing of others. Bread needed to be neither slain nor rescued.

"He opened his noble mouth to say so, but the chill stare of the witch stopped his woods like a noose about his neck. Her teeth gleamed horribly bright under cracked lips, and seemed to lengthen and twist into clashing ivory knives. In a moment the vision had evaporated, but the Prince was now convinced that bread-baking was a most estimable and agreeable work, and that perhaps kneading was not too dissimilar to slaying."

- Catherynne M. Valente, The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden

• A few cups of chopped carrot and celery sticks, which were unwanted leftovers from the department's party last week.
  
• Most of an onion that was used but not finished for hamburgers a while ago.
  
• A couple of small potatoes that were starting to grow, dug out from the root box.
  
• A few cloves from the garlic that didn't get eaten from the weekend's camping trip.
  
• A handful of fresh thyme from the garden.
  
• Some meaty pieces of chicken, leftover from yesterday's roast, chopped.
  
• Most of the chicken broth that was made last night from the carcass of said roast.
  
• A splash of white wine, some flour, a handful of barley, salt and pepper.

• Carrot and fennel salad, seasoned with the overgrown masses of fennel and mint from the backyard.
  
• Steamed and garlicified swiss chard, freshly harvested from the garden.