Chapter 22

When I came out, everyone else was entering looking fresh. We went into the dining hall for breakfast.

People were there. It looked like it had been a long night. Jam and I went into the kitchen and helped. At first, a tired young woman objected but Jam talked to her quietly. I took a coffee pot and went out. Once there, I handed it off to Mason. Angela and Anna were setting the table and placing cups. I went back inside the kitchen to help cook.

Angela followed me. “Jar, what can I do?”

I looked around. “Start some ham cooking in that fry pan.” She nodded. I found eggs and vegetables. I cracked the eggs into a bowl.”

Jam came up to me. “Dear, please help me dice the veggies for an omelet.” He nodded and smiled. He grabbed a knife and started dicing onions, mushrooms, and more. I whipped the egg mixture to mix the yellows and whites thoroughly. Angela finished cooking the ham. I said, “Ange, cut the heat but leave the pan. Get the ham out and dice it for the omelet.” She nodded. The cook came in looking worried. I nodded to her. “Good morning. I understand you have been up for a long time. Be at ease. We can do this. It won’t be as magical as your cooking but it will be good.”

“Your grace, it is irregular.”

“I know, ma’am. It will be okay. Tell anyone who questions you that I bullied you.” I gave her a grin.

“Yes, Your Grace. What are you making?”

“A country omelet with ham and vegetables. I would like to cook hash brown potatoes if there are any ready.”

“What are hash brown potatoes, Your Grace?”

Ange was pouring the diced ham into my egg mixture and Jam was doing the same for the veggies. I slowed my mixing now that everything was thoroughly mixed and coated. I turned the heat back on as Jam explained hash browns. The cook’s eyes lit up in understanding. She reached for another pan. She said, “Please, some grease?” I nodded and spooned grease into the pan until she nodded. She grabbed diced potatoes from the fridge. We cooked side by side. I got to know Marie, the morning chef, as we worked together.

We had everything done. We emptied our frying pans into large bowls and carried them out. Jam carried out large spoons. Angela carried out two more place settings. We made our server and the chef sit down and join us. I said, “You should try this and we’ll enjoy a meal together. That will be good, Marie.” The two women sat down. Jam and I held hands and blessed the meal. We passed the bowls. Everyone took a good share. Marie’s eyes widened and she smiled. I could tell she was tasting the flavor and texture of the offering. Obviously, she liked it and was planning for future breakfasts.

“Your Grace, what do you call this again?”

“In my country, it goes by many different names, western omelet, Denver omelet, and others. I’ve usually heard it called a country omelet. It’s really not special to any area of my country.” I smiled. “The word, country, usually applies to rural areas in the context of its use here.” She nodded in understanding.

I continued, “Other vegetables and seasonings can be added. I have seen chilies added and even beans in the western states. In the southern areas where I live, hot sauce is sometimes added along with bacon. The main items other than eggs are ham, onions, and green or red bell peppers. In the west and north, its usually served with hash brown potatoes like we did here. In the south, grits are served instead of the potatoes.”

Roger looked over my way and grinned. “What’s a grit, Jar?”

Angela released his hand longer enough to lightly punch him in the arm. “You’ve had grits before, Roger.”

Marie looked interested. I said, “Grits are a ground corn product cooked in water with a little grease. They are very popular in the south. Other areas of my country usually don’t get them right. It’s like biscuits and milk gravy. Southern biscuits are made with buttermilk and milk gravy is made with bacon grease and milk with a healthy amount of black pepper. Those items are not well known outside the south nor considered haute cuisine. They are just good food.”

Marie said, “Your Grace, good food is always haute cuisine.” We smiled at each other.

I said, ‘Please, call me Jar. It’s my nickname based upon my initials. Jam is beside me. He’s my fiance and that’s his nickname based upon his initials. We’re just people.”

Marie smiled and said, “Thank you, Jar.”

At that moment, the King stepped into the dining hall and many stood. I stood but ran to him and hugged his neck. “King Marcus, it’s good to see you this morning. Come, join us. We’re having breakfast.”

Jam moved our plates over to give him a spot and a plate and silverware were whisked into position. I had blocked Marie from rising even. She was blushing. “Your Highness, I apologize. I...”

“King Marcus, I pulled her in to join us. Blame me. Marie and I have been talking about southern cooking. Have some omelet and hash browns.” I served his plate. Marie looked shocked and King Marcus looked bemused.

He said, “Thank you, Jar.” He used his fork to take a bite of the omelet. “Marie, this is very good.”

“Your Highness, Her, Jar cooked it. I only helped under her instruction.”

He grinned. “Jar is something of a force of nature, isn’t she?” Marie looked surprised but smiled, nodding.

Everyone ate and I carried on a conversation with the King and with Marie. Both were a little shocked. I’m not sure that talking to everyone was really proper for a duchess but I was determined to get away with it. I don’t think anyone would dare correct me.

It was a fun meal and, through it all, Jam sat beside me with his arm or hand touching me. I felt warm and loved by my fiance.