tricemeat
Morning. The kitchen. Boiled rice. Fried noodles. Vegetable hash. Toasting bread adding its hint of burning to the fuzzy, competing smell of yeast-leavened fresh-baked bread. Steam, steamed fish, chopped capsicum. Baz hammering with a cleaver, chopping something into tricemeat on a big block of wood.
[WoH Ch12]
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