Words of the Constant
A lot of strange objects in there. None of them food related.
A little too well done.
It's full of magic things.
Fricasseed.
A place to convert my loose change!
C'est horrible.
A place of civic pride.
Fricasseed!
I never thought of a life in politics.
Mon dieu!
Ah. Yes. A restaurant of sorts.
A kitchen mishap, mayhaps?
Ah! I do need help growing fresh vegetables.
It's been blackened.
I may want to pick up a thing or two.
Charbroiled chapeaus.
I could use a new toque blanche.
Looks a little overcooked.
I should pick up few things for kitchen accidents.
Something smells delicious.
I'm saved!
Flambe!
Recipes for doohickeys.
Barbequed.
Battle utensils.
Yeeouch!
An unfortunate end.
Bonjour, mon amie.
Dreaming of nuts, no doubt.
I prefer English Breakfast.
Is that gold leaf edible?
Pine-scented!
One day you'll be a tree.
He may be a nice fellow, but I don't intend to find out.
I do not throw in with these scoundrels. But I like the hat.
This will straighten my back out.
It played its last magic trick.
This reminds me of something...
Proper farm gear.
Orange pith?
Meaty leaves? I'm so confused...
Could use less oxymorons...
The miracle of life!
That is it, just a little more...
Fresh-picked produce!
Oh dear me, the crop has failed...
Maybe it leads to an industrial kitchen.
Did someone leave the oven on?
Perhaps one day...
A sweet maison.