Appledance's Hearth

Appledance’s Guide to Culinary Excellence Entry I · A Hearthworth of Hope

By Delilah Appledance, Eth Dreythna’s Wandering Hearthkeeper

La-la-la… My dearest friends, I welcome you to the first page of my journal, where I fold kindness into every recipe and knead hope into each loaf. I am Delilah Appledance, wife to Brandel, and proud mother of seven whirlwind children, and this is the story of how a single copper kettle and a creaking hay wagon blossomed into Appledance’s Hearth, Eth Dreythna’s rolling bake stall of charity.

It all began on a Harvest’s Eve ten years past, when brand-new frost chased sleep from my bones and Brandel pressed his old wagon into my care. I climbed into my mother’s attic for that lonely copper kettle, and by day’s end had ladled out my first Sunrise Berry Cobbler to three weary travellers beneath Weaver’s Gate. Their grateful smiles rose like perfectly proofed dough, and at that moment, I knew the simplest spice, "compassion," could transform even meagre scraps into a feast of comfort.

Since then, our caravan has grown with every kind soul who lent a hand. Farmer Hallow’s iron skillet now sings with Ember Berry Strudels, each crackling crust twinkling like lanterns at Midwinter’s Glow. Seamstress Tessa’s linen cloths lend dignity to our wooden tables, while pressed flowers from my journeys weave a living tapestry across the wagon wheels. These humble assets have allowed me to feed hundreds of hungry hearts through frost-nipped months and drought-scarce summers.

Behind the stall’s cinnamon-scented plume stand my daughters: Esme, Lina, Marigold, and Miri, each with a delicate touch for sweet confections; and my sons Rook, Fen, and sprightly Tilly, whose mischievous taste-tests ensure my Spiced Orchard Loaf always carries that perfect whisper of cardamom. They remind me, with every sticky finger and giggle, that generosity is at its finest when shared.

In the pages ahead, you’ll discover cherished recipes from Sunrise Berry Cobbler to Spiced Orchard Loaf, curious notes on Eth Dreythna’s local game and orchard fruits, and reflections on how the recent border wars have tested our pantries and creativity. I’ll share tales of venison stews spiced with forest berries, humble grain substitutes born of necessity, and how a mother’s love can coax goodness even from lean seasons.

So tie your green bandana, dust your apron with flour freckles, and hum your favourite orchard lullaby. Together, let's bake this world a little gentler, one golden crust at a time. tra-la…

~Mrs. A