Cracked Cauldron Spillings

We weren't able to locate a commercial kitchen by today, and today was the deadline for being able to have our own independent booth at MedFaire.

Since we can't prepare the foods according the health codes, we can't sell them at MedFaire, so no nifty stuff like Pyrate's Brew or soup cauldrons or the infamous Scottish Eggs will be there.

OK, so the Scottish Eggs will still be there, because we share them out with friends anyway. But nothing else will be there food-wise.

Well, OK, bread and cheese - but we're buying the cheese!

We'll hawk the cookbook from the blacksmith's booth, Elmtree Forge, as we help him with his demonstrations in between helping on the stages and with any of the other demonstrating artisans who didn't bring enough help of their own.

Next year. Maybe next year, we can have a booth at the Medieval Faire. And the Oklahoma Arts Festival, which takes place right after MedFaire.

That's kind of shot down, too, because Oklahoma City lacks commercial kitchens to rent out.

We found equipment we could rent, but that won't do any good without a location in which to put the equipment.

We were also offered the chance to buy several mobile kitchens, but they were all set up for short order cooking, not baking. Not to mention well out of our price range. Plus, where would we store the kitchen when not in use - ie, all but 2-3 weekends out of the year? We have no plans to be mobile bakers. Some of the breads and pastries couldn't take the jarring of the travel.

Although, to does sound attractive, doesn't it? Mobile bakers.

We bring the bakery to you.

We could travel from state to state, living out of suitcases, setting up on the edge of town like some scandalous circus side show, and tempt you with exotic sourdoughs and sweet fairy cakes and dainty cookies and fruity tarts.

Then, before you could grow jaded with our delights, we'd back up one night and sneak away, leaving you yearning for the next time we came to town.

It sounds so cool.

But I did a stint of traveling salesman sort of thing when I was younger. It's rough, and the tax codes and permits and road checks and stuff wear on you.

Manager may be young enough to handle a life like that, but me, I'm old.

She'd have to do this on her own.

Assuming, of course, she wanted to.

And if she did, what would she do with her fish? We all know I kill fish. They spontaneously freeze in their aquariums, sort of a fishy style of spontaneous combustion, except the fish don't burn, the freeze.

So, we continue to look for a local building that doesn't get up and wander the country like Baba Yaga's house.