The siblings gathered around the stove for their last night in Calpucca. They asked all their friends to meet them in the city square since they wanted one last hurray before they had to take off in the morning. The fireflies glow brightly as music plays and people dance. Desmond might even be smiling. They put in the mushrooms, the spices, and then the meat. They turn the heat up and down accordingly to keep the food at the temperatures their mother drilled into their heads. People are looking over questioningly through the whole process, and they see Corme smile at the meat being added. And so, as the soup simmers down to completion, they pick up the brown pot and put out the bowls to serve. Everyone scrambles over, they know well now that the Owul’s cooking is divine, and marvel at the dish. Made from some of the dried ingredients the siblings managed to save on their ship, they produced a traditional Owul dish for people to enjoy. A soup meant for sharing with family, and as they sit down to eat, they tell the group as such. A few teary eyes and some good food later, the group dances together one more time. And as goodbyes are said, in true Owul fashion, everyone is set home with a few extra servings of the dish, to remember them by.
None of the Calpuccans have managed to replicate it since they left. But damn, for the next time the Owuls come back, they’ll try.