The Harvest Table: Offerings for the Low-Mire

Folklore

It is a bit of a bother to get the ingredients together before the first frost, but it is well worth the effort. A well-fed Mire is a quiet Mire, and we all prefer a peaceful winter. These are the recipes my own grandmother passed down to me, written in the margins of her seed catalog. They are simple enough, provided you have a steady hand and a bit of patience. Honey-Glazed Silt Cake This is a sweet treat, best prepared on a Tuesday. You will need two cups of stone-ground oats, a generous dollop of wild clover honey, six dried dragonfly wings, and a small clipping of wool from a newborn lamb. Mix the oats and honey in a clay bowl until the dough is tacky. Fold in the wings and the wool gently; you do not want to bruise the essence of the things. Bake in a small pot over a low peat fire until the edges are golden brown. Once cooled, glaze the top with a thin layer of honey. Place the cake in the hollow of the Old Willow, the one with the split trunk. Be sure to set it on a clean linen napkin. Walk back to the village without looking over your shoulder; it is considered impolite to watch the Mire eat. Marrow and Copper Stew This offering is for the colder months when the Low-Mire feels the chill in its bones. Gather three large beef marrow bones, a handful of wild garlic, three copper pence (worn thin by use), and a single tear shed in genuine frustration. Simmer the bones and garlic in spring water for four hours until the broth is thick and opaque. Stir in the copper coins and the tear during the final ten minutes of cooking. The coins will not melt, but they will impart a metallic tang that the creature finds quite savory. Pour the stew into the cracked stone basin by the Black Pool. Wait until the bubbles stop rising to the surface before you depart. If the stew vanishes before you leave, it is a sign of a very prosperous spring to come. Secret-Berry Tart This is a delicate dish, intended to soothe the Mire's curiosity. You will need a lard crust, two cups of mountain currants, a scrap of linen soaked in vinegar, and a secret written in charcoal on a piece of parchment. Roll out your crust and fill it with the currants. Fold the parchment tightly and wrap it in the vinegar-soaked linen, then press this bundle into the center of the berries. Bake until the crust is crisp and the berries have bled into a deep purple syrup. Carry the tart to the grey peat-flat, exactly where the moss turns from green to ash. Set the tart down with the secret-bundle facing downward. This allows the Mire to read the secret before it tastes the fruit. If you choose a secret that is truly honest, the Mire will often leave a small gift, such as a polished river stone or a piece of ancient sea-glass, in the tart's place.