The Clarkl Soup Kitchens Read Online Free Page A
Author: Mary Carmen
In my favor is the fact that I have a knack for being able to get one thing started while another thing is cooking. Many of the others have a hard time with that. Thinking about it, maybe that’s why I burn nearly everything.
September 27, 2137
The roommate is not as friendly now. I think the daily pep rallies the Fundamentalists are having has taken a toll on her loving kindness.
Certainly the New Christian Congregation is a very loose group. Our only tie that binds is our agreement to work with each other and with the forepersons on Clarkl to fulfill the government’s contract. We have no common faith. The papers I signed had no faith-based affirmations.
It would be better to separate the two groups for these flights, just as we are separated on Clarkl.
On the other hand, maybe I snore so loudly she has had no sleep in a month.
October 5, 2137
I still am no great cook, but I have made progress. I have passed inspection on twenty-two of the thirty recipes. The eight that remain involve tricky procedures such as making a pie crust without rolling it out four or five times.
The Clarklians are fond of fruit, and the pineapple trees are nearly worshiped. The Congregation has attempted to train a number of Clarklians, mostly Seekers, to tend these trees, but interest flags.
In the hold of this ship are a number of citrus trees. Orange trees have done well on Clarkl, and now we will try grapefruit.
Apples are very popular with the natives, but the Clarkl climate may not have whatever apples need. Each spacecraft brings many pounds of dried apple chips, and several of the recipes use these as optional or alternate ingredients. I have heard that when an apple dish is on the buffet, word spreads like wildfire and the natives nearly storm the dining room.
October 19, 2137
Less than a month to go before we arrive. I am very excited.
We learned how to set the tables today, although this will not be one of my responsibilities.
The Clarklians have bought china, flatware, and glassware from all over the universe, and this is used for every meal. On Earth I know God’s poor don’t get fancy china because the kindhearted people who run soup kitchens are certain it will be stolen. This problem never exists on Clarkl.
I once saw an advertisement that asked for money for meals for the poor. A scruffy man was shown eating with a cheap plastic fork. I never was able to support that organization. I think I will feel better about serving food to the Clarklians.
November 9, 2137
We land in four hours. I have my sixty pounds of clothes all gathered unto myself, packed away for the unloading.
The classes are over, and I feel much better about presenting myself as a $2,100-per-month cook. I made a passable pie crust about a week ago, and I have not really burned anything in at least a month.
The roommate is still in a snit about something. I pretend to be oblivious to whatever is going on, but I worry that I may have made an enemy without knowing why.
She has said her prayers on her knees by her miniscule bed every night. I have said no prayers since the day Harry was buried, but I don’t really think I owe her any apology.
We are looking forward to three trips around the planet before we land. Each trip will take about an hour, and the captain will play a recorded message to describe what we are seeing. I am very anxious to see the Great Ice Castles that so much has been written about.
November 17, 2137
I have been so busy with getting settled that I have neglected my journal.
The landing was glorious! The dry, cold climate was wonderfully refreshing after the months in the spacecraft, and I stretched my arms toward the star.
The Reverend Wade assured me the atmosphere would be very similar to Earth’s, but I am frequently out of breath. Each day I am better able to pace myself.
My little house is very primitive. It is about 250 square feet, with a large all-purpose room and a small room with a sink and a
September 27, 2137
The roommate is not as friendly now. I think the daily pep rallies the Fundamentalists are having has taken a toll on her loving kindness.
Certainly the New Christian Congregation is a very loose group. Our only tie that binds is our agreement to work with each other and with the forepersons on Clarkl to fulfill the government’s contract. We have no common faith. The papers I signed had no faith-based affirmations.
It would be better to separate the two groups for these flights, just as we are separated on Clarkl.
On the other hand, maybe I snore so loudly she has had no sleep in a month.
October 5, 2137
I still am no great cook, but I have made progress. I have passed inspection on twenty-two of the thirty recipes. The eight that remain involve tricky procedures such as making a pie crust without rolling it out four or five times.
The Clarklians are fond of fruit, and the pineapple trees are nearly worshiped. The Congregation has attempted to train a number of Clarklians, mostly Seekers, to tend these trees, but interest flags.
In the hold of this ship are a number of citrus trees. Orange trees have done well on Clarkl, and now we will try grapefruit.
Apples are very popular with the natives, but the Clarkl climate may not have whatever apples need. Each spacecraft brings many pounds of dried apple chips, and several of the recipes use these as optional or alternate ingredients. I have heard that when an apple dish is on the buffet, word spreads like wildfire and the natives nearly storm the dining room.
October 19, 2137
Less than a month to go before we arrive. I am very excited.
We learned how to set the tables today, although this will not be one of my responsibilities.
The Clarklians have bought china, flatware, and glassware from all over the universe, and this is used for every meal. On Earth I know God’s poor don’t get fancy china because the kindhearted people who run soup kitchens are certain it will be stolen. This problem never exists on Clarkl.
I once saw an advertisement that asked for money for meals for the poor. A scruffy man was shown eating with a cheap plastic fork. I never was able to support that organization. I think I will feel better about serving food to the Clarklians.
November 9, 2137
We land in four hours. I have my sixty pounds of clothes all gathered unto myself, packed away for the unloading.
The classes are over, and I feel much better about presenting myself as a $2,100-per-month cook. I made a passable pie crust about a week ago, and I have not really burned anything in at least a month.
The roommate is still in a snit about something. I pretend to be oblivious to whatever is going on, but I worry that I may have made an enemy without knowing why.
She has said her prayers on her knees by her miniscule bed every night. I have said no prayers since the day Harry was buried, but I don’t really think I owe her any apology.
We are looking forward to three trips around the planet before we land. Each trip will take about an hour, and the captain will play a recorded message to describe what we are seeing. I am very anxious to see the Great Ice Castles that so much has been written about.
November 17, 2137
I have been so busy with getting settled that I have neglected my journal.
The landing was glorious! The dry, cold climate was wonderfully refreshing after the months in the spacecraft, and I stretched my arms toward the star.
The Reverend Wade assured me the atmosphere would be very similar to Earth’s, but I am frequently out of breath. Each day I am better able to pace myself.
My little house is very primitive. It is about 250 square feet, with a large all-purpose room and a small room with a sink and a
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