Verity Player’s Fiendish Bean-Dish

“Oh, brilliant! What shall we bring?”

Verity and her husband Sacha””and any of their family friends””will never have a host cook all alone.

This is the dish they brought round to the Meiers’ for the first “˜do’ at theirs of that fateful new year: the year when she would twice travel to the USA””the “˜Evening Lands’. There she would risk her life for a simple letter written, as it turned out, during the head-splitting hangover after this particular soirée…

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Arash and Farrukh had arrived in Britain, the day after New Year’s, without anywhere to stay. Within three days, they’d launched themselves into buying a house together.

Ruth said it might be fun for them all to meet up.

By nine in the evening noisy conversation criss-crossed the Meiers’ generous dining table. Dishes of gefiltefish, couscous salad and stuffed vine leaves passed from hand to hand, along with news and wine.

Verity sat next to the two new arrivals.

She picked up an open bottle of red to refill her glass, offering it to her neighbours first.

Each declined with a polite wave of the hand.

“Er”¦white, then?”

Neither said anything.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Of course.”

Sharia law.

Two blokes living together.

Sometimes people made even less sense than usual.

She poured herself a glass and took a swig.

“Ruth said you were house-hunting.”

She’d start with the easy question.

“Where’re you going to buy?”

“Bishopthorpe Road.”

“What, near the racecourse?”

Farrukh nodded.

“Would you go to the Races? Are you allowed to bet?”

“Gambling is haram. But for horses, one can make an arrangement with the organisers”””˜make a prediction’ and win, if one is correct. There are bureaux for this, in our country. We’ve not yet found a Predictions Bureau here, though.”

Arash smiled. “There’s a business opportunity for someone.”

He paused.

“My cousin would have been good at that.”

“Would have?” She picked up her glass. “Does he”¦do something else now?”

No! Her face burned””Heck, it must match the colour of the wine in her glass. Would have. That must mean he was dead, been killed somewhere.

“He disappeared.”

The whole table went quiet.

Everyone turned to her. Was she supposed to ask?

“Er”¦how?”

“He was arrested. In Rawalpindi, the night before he was due to fly to Europe. Terrorism. No one has heard from him since.”

“What’s”¦what’s his name?”

Perhaps Amnesty had taken up his case? Perhaps she’d see him in next month’s magazine when it arrived at the house. She should make sure to find it, and write. She’d already made that New Year’s resolution to write to the Director of the C.I.A. about those camps”¦

The formal name, elaborate and winding, soon left her consciousness. She didn’t dare ask, “˜what was that again?’

Ruth rescued her. “So, about the house?”

Arash explained the very thing she’d wanted to know to start with””how a Sharia mortgage worked. A mortgage without usury.

She hoped she hadn’t drunk too much to be able to remember the details in the morning.

***

Verity pressed the hot flannel against her forehead. If she pressed hard enough, perhaps the splinters of ice might melt””not dig into the joints in her skull. She tried not to groan. Sacha stirred. Damn, she’d not wanted to wake him.

“I made an idiot of myself at the Meiers’, love. Sorry”¦”

“I did tell you. I did pour some water out for you.”

“Sorry”¦”

“And you asked so many questions. I hope we haven’t upset the Meiers.”

He turned over, away from her, but the pain put her past the point of caring.

She had to write that letter in the morning.

It needn’t be a long one…

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But to more practical matters. The dish, being Vegan, is (or at least, can be considered) also both kosher and halal. And you never know when that might come in useful.

 

The vegetables: 

• 2 small potatoes
• 3 carrots
• 2 parsnips
• Half a celeriac, or 4 sticks celery

The rest: 

• 4 tablespoons sunflower oil
• 5 cloves garlic
• About 1/2 cubic inch ginger
• 2 red onions
• Fistful of fresh mint leaves
• 1 level teaspoon crushed chillies (turmeric will also work, if people prefer a milder dish)
• 1 tin (about 400g) tomatoes
• 1 tin (about 250g once drained) cooked chick-peas or any white beans such as cannellini, pinto…
• 1 mug (about 300g) of veggie stock
• Pinch saffron threads

Kit: 

• Large frying pan
• Cooking spoons
• Deep dish or similar, to set vegetables aside in
• Only one cooking ring needed
• About 50 minutes of time, of which 20 are actually busy

Method: 

1. Dice the vegetables.
2. Finely chop the onion, garlic and ginger (no need to peel the ginger).
3. Finely chop the fresh mint.
4. Make up the stock and drop the saffron threads in.
5. Tip half the sunflower oil into the frying pan and gently fry the vegetables until they begin to soften. If the frying pan has a lid that’s great, but still make sure the veggies don’t stick to the bottom. I don’t know why but the potatoes are always the worst for this.
6. Take the fried veggies out and set them aside.
7. Top up the oil in the pan, and heat gently.
8. Fry the garlic and ginger.
9. Add the onions, mint and chilli, and fry on low heat until the onions are soft and translucent.
10. Tip in the tin of tomatoes, stir them in, and simmer for 5 minutes.
11. Add the drained beans, stir in, then add the fried veggies and the stock.
12. Simmer for at least half an hour.

Seasonal variations: 

Fiendish bean-dish can be adapted for summer by changing to summer vegetables. Celery rather than celeriac, and red peppers instead of parsnips, for example. It can even be served cold, if the weather merits it.

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BIO: C L Spillard is a complex interplay of matter and energy in a wave-pattern whose probability cloud is densest in York, United Kingdom.

The moon landings influenced the young pattern’s self-awareness mechanisms, igniting lifelong interest in Physics, and in humanity’s plight on Earth.

C L Spillard’s wave-pattern enjoys proximity to a second pattern originating in St Petersburg (Russia), and these two have since generated two younger ones who are now diffusing over the planet stuffing themselves with knowledge as if it were going out of fashion.

She claims responsibility for a raft of published short stories, the fantasy “˜The Price of Time’, and its newly-released sequel “˜The Evening Lands’.

Her website lurks at www.cspillardwriter.co.uk and she can be stalked on Twitter @candispillard.

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It’s difficult being someone my age who says she writes. Especially when I explain to people what kind of stories I like to write. Then, when I try to advertise my work that I post online, I always get the “do you write fanfiction?” question. This is possibly by far the worst question you can ask a teenage writer.

The problem with being a young writer who wants to get out there is that there only so few places we can post. I know some will create Tumblr blogs. If you tell a person to post your work on your Tumblr blog, I can only imagine the look of disgust followed by the treacherous inquiry.

I, like so many teenagers, choose to post their work on Wattpad. Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised by looks I get when I say, “Oh hey! You can read my work on Wattpad!” I’m asking to get punched in the face repeatedly. In my defense, I joined Wattpad before the One Direction fangirls took over. However, I didn’t start posting until they took over the website, which was not beneficial for me. For someone who dislikes fanfiction and what it is, being dominated in views by twelve year olds writing One Direction smut, is truly an embarrassment.

I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I wrote some quality writing (well, for a high schooler) and had followers. Over the years I have accumulated a total of five hundred and thirty-seven followers but my views were still small.

On Wattpad, viewers can “vote” on stories they like. They can “vote” on each chapter. Think of the “voting” like thumbing up a video on YouTube. Rumor had it that if you got famous on Wattpad, you’d get your book published. Ali Novak got her book My Life With The Walter Boys published. She was practically my inspiration. She had started writing when she was fifteen, and it just so happened that I was fifteen when I started posting my story.

I wanted to use Wattpad as a way to get critiques on my story. I did everything I could to promote it. I told friends, I followed people who followed me back, and left comments on other people’s stories. Still, my profile was like a ghost town. That was when it hit me; I needed a flashy cover! I asked someone online to make me a cover. Maybe the pretty cover would attract more people.

A couple weeks later, I got a cover for my story Happy Endings and it was magnificent. It was everything I had hoped for. The user made seven different covers for which were all astonishing. The user even wrote a review of the few chapters I posted of my book and wrote an amazing review! How could I not be ecstatic? I was suddenly boosted with the confidence I needed.

I continued to write my story. I posted chapter after chapter but still, it was getting no love from viewers. I had fallen into a rut. Why were all these other stories getting major views and votes and doing better than me? In my mind, I thought I was a bad writer and that I’d never get anywhere with my story. I lost motivation.

I was lost in the moment. I became obsessed by being popular on this stupid website. I wasn’t writing for me anymore. I was writing for the website. Writing Happy Endings didn’t make me happy anymore. It suddenly became a chore. With the help of some of my friends and family, I crawled out of the hole of desperation.

It’s hard being a writer when you’re a teenager. You want nothing more than to get your story out there and be famous. The easiest way to to that at our age is get internet famous. I had to realize that getting internet famous wasn’t the best route.

When you’re a young writer, you write for you. You want to create a story that resonates with people. I wrote to escape and I wanted to share it with people. Just because people online weren’t reading my story didn’t make it an awful story. You should focus on the content and not the views.

I’m not saying Wattpad is completely awful. I did get a few genuine responses towards my stories. I think what’s best for young writers, whether in high schooler or in college, focus on the story and make a goal for yourself. I may not be swimming in views and followers, but I don’t need to. As long as I am proud with the quality of writing I am producing, I am content. And who knows, maybe one day a group of twelve year olds will be writing fanfiction based on my work.

Molly Baumgardner is a young writer and cat enthusiast. You can read some of her work at https://www.wattpad.com/user/awesomewriter65

Enjoy this writing advice and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.

If you’re an author or other fantasy and science fiction creative, and want to do a guest blog post, please check out the guest blog post guidelines.