A Careful Progress.

In the last update I mentioned the details of how I had vibrantly flavored the girls' egg salad sandwiches, how they had responded in kind, and how this had failed to register on the yard duties. My inspiration to heighten the excitement of their food grew, and in recent experiments I took bolder steps. Mrs. Weems remained magisterially unaware of my subterfuge.

Today the lunch was to be mushy peas, mushed potato, and skin-on steamed haddock—a Draconian measure of protein and vegetable. Thinking as a fry cook, I whipped the peas and potato with butter and salt, and griddled them into crisp latkes. The dubious fish was on another gurney entirely. I rested it in buttermilk for an hour, battered it, and fried it up crisp. Deep-frying has a palliative effect upon white fish. I then created a vinegary brown gravy for the potatoes. The faculty, far from angering over this deviation from their planned menu, in fact seemed transported to a place and time outside of the school gates as they tucked into the golden chip-shop food. I noticed that a covey of them, seated together at the head table, actually let loose with a girlish giggle or two. To my knowledge this had not happened before.