A Heart of Dough

Bashimur Salim. 32 y/o. Cook for the Mogul Kingdom

[bashimur-salim]

princesshxnx‌:

Hana’s eyes lit up when she saw that it was Bashimur coming in with treats. “More than interesting,” she replied, making room on the couch for him to sit next to her. She knew it was less than appropriate, but she often used the excuse that she was foreign whenever she did something others frowned upon. He was one of the few people who could relate to being so far away from home in the middle of a conflict that wasn’t their own. “You must join me. I have been waiting for someone to find me for hours,” she said as she listened to him describe the dish, taking it and trying one. 

Bashimur always tried to be respectful when he was in the presence of the princess. He always kept his distance, his eyes low, never wanting to offend her. Though, it always threw him off guard when she was so casual with him. He had expected to serve her treats on a platter, literally, and then go about the rest of the night. He saw her first scoot over and felt himself go still as a statue. Was it his nerves? He did not know. When she asked him to join, he felt his mouth go dry. He could not believe that she wanted to even spend time with a man such as himself. For she was a princess.. so many other people were at her disposal.  His eyes grew wide and he nodded his head. “Of course your majesty” He said as he walked over to her. He sat next to her, but put space in between them. Quietly he took one of his treats, his eyes closing to the taste of it. It reminded him so much of home .

“My mother used to make this when the weather was bad. It always used to make me feel better”

[bashimur-salim]

buonoroberto‌:

He could see the young man was flustered and sure, Robbie often forgot to behave like a proper king and for a day he put away his arrogance and superiority and came down to the kitchens. Robbie lived with the Incas, adapted to the wild culture of rituals, travelled across South America, slept on the streets, on the floors of people`s houses, was an ambassador in France and Spain {a rather regrading position for a Crown Prince} so there was that. His personality was rather diverse [and unstable when it came to love life but that was another story}. If Bashimur`s surprise amused him, he did not show it. 

His sleeves up, he was ready to work. He had never heard about the dish, naturally so he listened with interest. ‘Rice?’ He had heard of it and he was sure that he had eaten it but he was quite unable to place it in his head. Sure, lots of ships would come to the ports of Venice, Ravenna, Bari and other Italian ports with various exotic ingredients but those were quickly bought by rich people who were eager to pay horrendous prices. But now? After the Plague? Everyone was still cautious to spend money and where Robbie spent his last years {somewhere between Peru and Mexico} they hardly knew what rice was. So he let himself be surprised. 

So, the King inhaled rather eagerly and started coughing. ‘Mamma Mia’ he jumped up ‘that is strong. What is it? Is it sweet? Can I taste it?’ He might have been a little bit afraid but he did everything Bashimur told him, so he took some paprika and smelled. He started coughing again “And that is? Is that all from India?” He was amazed about the richness of the food, of the smell, of the colours. Bashimur´s food was not simply food, it was beautiful art too. 

When the king jumped back, Bashimur tried his best to hold back his chuckle. This was a reaction he saw often when he traveled to different places. He tried to make his food palatable, some people were not used to all the spices. “Oh yes, yes” He urged the king on, handing him a spoon. “The taste you want is flavorful, but too much will be spicy. Just right almost sits on the back of your tongue, almost tangy” He tried to be as descriptive as possible. “But yes, this is all from India, even the rice. I’ve been more East and their rice is much different than ours. Rice is like dry, used with meals, like when people eat bread with soup. It doesnt have much taste but it has something that makes it like no other. I can sometimes eat it plain. It’s dry and you can sometimes eat it with your hands. But the equivalent to  bread for you. ”

[bashimur-salim]

amaraofitalia‌:

Amara smiled softly at that, she often spent time with the cooks when she serves in the court, managing requests and making sure that guests have all they need. ‘‘My name is Amara, I am a Lady-in-Waiting. Well waiting so far for a Queen to appear, but I serve the Princesses while I wait.’’ Approaching the food stall she turned to Bashimur, ‘‘Well since you are a cook you must tell me what to get.’‘

“Oh how nice” He said genuienly as she introduced herself. “Amara” he repeated to make sure he was saying it properly. He was very big on names, he always wanted his name pronounced right, so he did the same for others. Bashimur always wanted to respect others. He had women such as Amara herself that tended to the sultan’s children and or wives. “I always always love fresh food.” He picked up a tomato and smelled it. “You can always tell when it’s ready to be cooked” He said slowly before putting it into his basket. “I use a lot of spices at home, but here not many can handle it, but that is fine. Most of the food I make at home consists of rice, vegetables, spices, doesn’t always have to have meat. Tonight I am making  Navratan Korma. Which a meal I make with veggies, nuts, and fruits. “ He picked up an onion and smelled it and handed it to Amara to smell also. “The base is made of onion and I do not have Paneer here, but you guys have many cheeses. I must sample them to see what will taste good with it. “

[evil--queens]

These people are different.

[bashimur-salim]

princesshxnx‌:

Hana had decided to spend the day in the gardens, reading one of the few books she had brought with her from home. It was a struggle not to get distracted, the only thing on her mind being the letter she sent to her oldest brother asking what she was supposed to do now that there was a war going on. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her time in Paris, but she was feeling uneasy at the idea of staying there while they got involved in a conflict that was completely separated from her. It was a waiting game until her brother wrote her back and it left her feeling incredibly frustrated. She closed her book as a shadow stopped in front of her. “Are you here to cure me of my boredom?” she asked, eyes hopeful as she looked up at them.

Bashimur was hearing rumors about what was happening with Norway. It was making him nervous and afraid. He was far away from home, his family and he had no idea what was going on. That was the hardest part about being away from home was that he never knew what was happening until something bad happened. And the best thing Bashimur did when he was stressed was cook. 

He decided to make one of his favorite desserts for the queen. He decided to make  Hyderabadi. Something sweet and can be picked up with the hands. He brought the dessert over to her, giving some to the guards and tasting one for himself in front of them. After they let him in, he came in dish first. “I come baring treats!” He said teasingly as he stepped in . He tried his best to keep light hearted. “Your majesty” He said as he came to his knees holding the dish up to her. “I am not sure I’m that interesting, but I hope these are good enough” He snuck a glance at her to smile. “ Hyderabadi. Made with saffron milk and fruit... a hint of rosewater to bake “ 

[bashimur-salim]

buonoroberto‌:

Of course he wanted to leave a good impression. A good impression for the emperor of India. He had invited him months ago and he was coming just now. Robbie summoned the royal cook to not only school his cooks but also to get educated about the Indian culture and traditions. What was he to expect? How not to offend his powerful, he hoped… ally. He was not embarrassed to admit his knowledge was limited about that part of the world but it made him even more so excited to discover and learn. His pride had limits and he was an open book.  So even before meeting Bashimur, he had a great respect and great interest for the newcomer. The poor man had to acknowledge some rude stares, though the palace had had its visitors, it was no surprise the servants hardly ever met anyone from such a distant place. The language barrier was obvious but Robbie was sure to explain to his own chefs that knives, vegetables and cheese talked the same in every language so they should just follow the man`s example. But Bashimur turned out to be much better at Italian than anyone at Indian and the cooks got used to it after a day or two. After all, one of them was from Naples {and his dialect was strong}, the other from France, the other from Greece… a real mixture of worlds.  But Robbie was excited not only about food itself but also about the process, so he entered the dirty, smelly hot hell of a kitchen, amazed how quickly everyone moved and it took them good five minutes to stop and gasp. ‘Nonono, you continue your work, Masters.’ he smiled, still amazed at how could they even survive in that heat when he finally found his guest. ‘Segnore Salim’ he hurried to the chef. ‘It is such a pleasure to meet you. What are you preparing and how can I assist? I assure you I cannot do much but I can cut and I know what salt looks like’ he smiled and took off his rather expensive jacket. 

Bashimur was almost at a loss of words as the king personally greeted him. He couldn’t believe it. “Your majesty” He said bowing to him again, his eyes lit up when he saw the King’s interest. He couldn't even form his mouth to ask him for help. “T-tonight I’m preparing Biryani” He cleared his throat. “Full of flavor , rice and chicken”  He motioned for the king to follow him to the pot. “Have a smell” He stepped back for the king to inhale. “Curry” He smiled widely. He grabbed a jar of red seasoning. “I think he needs more paprika” He handed the king the jar. “Just sprinkle some and smell” For he didn’t use measuring cups or written recipes. 

[bashimur-salim]

amaraofitalia‌:

‘‘No need to appologise’‘, Amara spoke softly aware that it would be easier for the man before her if she did so. ‘‘You do not live here I assume - your Italian is not very good’’, smiling Amara pointed to the stall behind him, ‘’I would start there and move your way around it is much the easiest way.’’ When he turned to walk away she approached him. ‘‘I will walk with you.’’

He smiled and nodded when she told him he had no need to apologize. He felt not as silly. She spotted his accent a mile away and he nodded his head sheepishly. He was trying, compared to other languages, Italian was difficult. He smiled wide when they woman started to walk with him. “You are correct, I am not from here. I’m actually a guest, a cook, from the Mughal Empire. Bashimur” He said his name slowly for her to know the proper pronunciation. “What is your name? How rude is it for me not to ask.”

[bashimur-salim]

morethanatitle‌:

A cook. That would explain his excitement over the food. “Thank you,” she replied as she moved to the chair. She made sure her hair was once again behind her back before she sat with the food. She took another spoonful when he asked her the question. Caught off guard, she put her hand to her mouth and swallowed before continuing. “I am loving it. It is like a different world her. The marketplace is warmer and more welcoming. There are smells of spices I have never smelled before. There are so many bright colors everywhere. It is an amazing empire.” As she talked, she noticed that he was not having any for himself. “Are you not eating as well? You loved it so much. I am surprised you don’t want to enjoy some as well.”

He leaned against the table as she sat down and started to eat. He always loved seeing new people around, always loved when people came to the kingdom. The Mughal empire was a beautiful one, most people were afraid, but it was because they did not know. Bashimur of course was never against teaching. He smiled as she exclaimed enjoying the market. When she asked about his meal, he shook his head. “No, no. I will eat later”  He mused back to the market. “I’m glad you enjoy and not find it overwhelming. It was always my favorite place to go even as a child. I always went with my mother .She never wrote down recipes, she always knew by smells what she wanted. I can show you whatever you like, only ask!  The clothes market is always fun, have you walked by the stands where you see the other seamstresses add the embroideries? ”

[bashimur-salim]

morethanatitle‌:

“Well, the result is well worth the effort,” she replied. At an offer for her own, she looked a bit concerned. “I would love more, but only if I don’t take away from someone else. I would hate impose.” Her eyes looked at the clothing under her arm. “Let me go place this in my chambers first. I will be right back.”

She was true to her word. Alina dashed to her chambers and stashed the clothing away before returning back to the kitchen with him. “Thank you. I didn’t want to risk balancing both and spilling.” She stopped herself to give a proper curtsy. “Forgive me. I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Alina. The Royal Seamstress from England.”

Bashimur waited patiently for the woman to come back. He hadn’t even noticed that her hands were full. Sometimes he got caught up in things he didn’t notice the world around him. When she came back, he already had a portion for her made. “No trouble at all” he said truthfully. He had given her his portion, but it was okay. He could always make something for himself later, he didn’t mind. More excited that she wanted more. He bowed forward at her curtsy, handing her a bowl and spoon. “It’s a pleasure Alina.” He said a smile coming to his face because he had overheard about the woman coming to visit. A secret he couldn’t wait to tell his little sister about.  “I am Bashimur, cook to the royal family” He said meekly. “Welcome, welcome, please” He bowed again, motioning his hand towards a chair for her. “How are you enjoying yourself here”

[bashimur-salim]

amaraofitalia‌:

▽ L O C A T I O N ▽ - Italian Market in Venice - O P E N - everyone 

Amara delighted in her Sunday mornings. The Royal trip to Venice was looking advantageous and as she left her Queen she felt certain that it was a trip well made. Taking advantage of her freedom she decided to head to the infamous market to get some silk for her sisters. Meandering around the crowds of buyers she found the stall she was searching for. When something caught her eye she turned and she saw that someone was standing right behind her. 

‘’Good morning?’’ 

At times Bashimur knew he let his stomach lead him places more than his legs. He woke up with a different idea for dinner and as soon as the morning meal was wrapped up, he set out for the market. Although he left the kingdom with one idea as he reached the market and smells, he was influenced by another. Bashimur was growing a real love for italian food. The different use of herbs and tomato. He hadn’t noticed he was trailing behind someone, probably too close, rushing to the smell he was after. When the woman turned, he paused, recognizing she was a lady of some status by her clothing. He did not want to be in trouble. “Oh- uh, G-good morning” He said quickly, bowing forward in respect to her. “I am terribly sorry” he said, trying his best Italian and he took a step back. “I must of gotten distracted. I’m on my way to the food market”

[bashimur-salim]

Bashimur Salim - Cook of the Mughal Empire 

[sollarys-deactivated20201120]

The Hundred Foot Journey (2012)

[andthereisawoman-deactivated202]

Manish Dayal Ressources RPG

Avatars retina x4

[bashimur-salim]

morethanatitle‌:

Alina had already been here for a day, and she was immediately interested in this new culture. The clothing style, the smells, and the world around her was different than anything she had seen in Europe. She had been shown to her chambers earlier that day, and she spent all day watching the people in the streets to study their clothing. Now, her mission was to use the outfit she bought for herself in town as a template to make others. Still in her western clothes but carrying her new outfit on her shoulder, she passed through the kitchen to get to her chambers. She was stopped, and she wasn’t going to be rude. “I can’t say that I have.” Alina took the spoon from him and took a taste for herself. Her eyes widened. “This is delicious. I have never tasted anything so flavorful.”

Bashimur was so happy when the woman tried the dish. A smile coming to his face seeing her. That was what he liked about food, it brought people together, it made you feel good. He nodded his head to her. “It’s called Gosht. It takes hours to prepare, it’s how the meat gets so tender” He explained. His stomach almost jumping with joy at the bite he had. “Everything here is flavorful” He said proudly. “Would you like your own?” he asked. 

[bashimur-salim]

Closed starter for @buonoroberto​

Bashimur was a little nervous about about his trip to Florence, Italy. Bashimur had heard many things about the king and there was something about the stories that made him more curious about him. It made Bashimur all the more want to impress him with his cooking. He knew that the meeting was going to be mostly politics, but he prayed for a moment for the king to recognize him and even enjoy his prepared meal. He decided to make a familiar dish, Biryani , something his mother would make when they had company. He worked around the kitchen, peaking over the shoulders of the other cooks. Him trying his best to direct him the best he could with his elementary level of Italian. He was trying the chicken, relieved that it was coming out the way it intended. It wasn’t long before he felt the entire room go still. The workers all stopping in their tracks, causing Bashimur to finally look up. The king himself entered the kitchen. Bashimur sucked in so much air he almost choked. His eyes immediately glancing down to the ground trying not to stare. So elated to be in the same room with the King he had heard so many things about. 

[bashimur-salim]

Bashimur loved learning new recipes and dishes. What he learned from country to country was something he always cherished. There was always renditions of different meals, but when he tasted something new, it always floored him. Discovering a new taste, a new love. He looked up at the cook, his mouth agar with awe. “This is one of the most best things I’ve ever tasted. You have to teach me.” He said genuinely. He looked over his shoulder to the person walking past. “Have you tasted this? It’s one of the most delectable soups I’ve ever tasted” He said dipping a spoon for the other person insisting to try. 

[bashimur-salim]

frcnchjewel‌:

Location : France, the halls of the palace

Starter : open to everyone

“ Isn’t it lovely ? “ 

The painting was the newest treasure in her personal gallery, which decorated the halls of the palace. It depicted Mary Magdalene as Melancholy - heavy, long curls flew down on the table, pearl glistening on her ear, her dreamy eyes observing the two of them with caution just as they were observing the muse. She was ethereal in her beauty and somehow heavy in sadness.

“ This piece makes me feel less alone in my sorrow, sometimes. “ she said, thin lips curled into a smile which did not reach her eyes.

“ What do you think ? “ 

Bashimur looked at the painting the woman next to him brought to his attention. He loved wandering through France, it was one of his favorite places besides home. He loved the people, the art, the food. It was nothing he had ever seen, every day something new and beautiful to discover. “I thikn its beautiful. How could someone be so talented to put true emotion on canvas” He admired with her. “I can barley put my own emotions into words, nonetheless in art.”  He looked at the woman, a look of worry of him. “What brings you sorrow?”