Bubbers' Delight, or Peasoup Biscuit Tradition / Ritual in Qara | World Anvil
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Bubbers' Delight, or Peasoup Biscuit

Eastern soldiers in the Houselands often work with little more than their arms, combat narcotics and ingenuity whence it comes to chow. Empty belly for soldiers motivates them, as they know their kin back home were the ones to have run out of food first. Before professional logistics and purpose built kitchens serving chow such as blood soup (or Black) and food scavanged from the wild, or requisitioned from peasantry, food would be scarce. Even late into Kiri history, those units to still employ combat narcotics (or Bub) and extremely rapid marching would get by with a proven recipe called 'Bubber's Delight.'   "Ahoy son. Welcome to the Wolfpacks. You got your arms and gear. Da-ba, su-su, battle armed and ready--   Now. I intend to teach ya ta come come down from the Frenzy of Drug-fueled combat all easy-like, and clear yon head for the next-day's march. Listen well.   First, take a whole bunch of sun-dried rye biscuits, them marching rations. Mix a bit of salt you have with water, 'n moisten biscuit. Vodka if you have it, saliva if there is scant clean water. Right?   Then lard. Just smother it all-around the cakey-cake, for good time's sake. Add more salt. When the arseholes up the chain run out of Gold, they pay with salt. So you literally eat away your 'salary.' Oh, and-- medical tallow is somewhat edible. You need the fat.   Next, the green pea soup. Grab the entire tin, having kept it under yon arm the night, as to soften it nice and proper. Take your good knife, and cut through the can. Three, four pieces. Nice and round, stay in shape as the soup is raw. Place betwixt yon lard-laden biscuits. Add salt. There is naught more to it, than not to gag. Hold ya nose. It helps.   Now, you will see sergeants who have been tested by pike and shot, blade and pox. They survived something far worse: House-standard rations. Bub and bread come from the same fund. No accident. Salt and fat are right on the dime whence it comes to coming down from whatever the Botanist barmies cooked in their huts for us grunts to bring the battle to the Bloods.   Yaa. And the matter-a-fact is, having whiffed this proper, whatever's been dead over a mid-summer's night on the battlefield will not assail ya nostrils the same way. Then ya dig ya teeth, and worry not. You will find any chow delightful, having been fodder the day before.   That is all."

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