Ten minutes later, the three of them gathered around the pot.
Schiller poured the freshly chopped, celery-like herb into the pot. Wanda craned her neck to watch the bubbling broth, holding a bottle of bright red potion in her hand. "Is it ready? Should we add more?"
Strange used chopsticks made from a broken Iron Spike to dip into the pot and taste the soup base. "Not bad. We can add a little more. Schiller, give it a try."
Schiller dumped in another plate of chopped vegetables and said, "Go ahead and make it as spicy as you want. If you can't handle it, I lose."
Wanda swallowed and poured in some more red potion. "That's enough, that's enough. The fireburst seeds in this world are much hotter than the chilies from ours, and this is concentrated fireburst potion. Too much would make it unbearably spicy."
Strange tasted it again. "It still feels like it's missing something. Should we add some salt?"
Schiller took a sip as well and said, "I think it needs some sourness. Isn't there an herb called acetosella?"
Wanda got up to fetch it and quickly returned with some herbs bearing small fruits on their branches. She tossed them into a mortar, crushed them, and poured them into the pot.
Schiller and Strange tasted it again and both gave a thumbs-up. Schiller brought over the prepared semi-solidified blood and said, "Trust me, this definitely isn't dark cuisine."
"Of course not," Wanda said. "It seems like Americans are the only people in the world who don't eat blood products. I quite like black pudding. It has both the smoothness of dessert and the aroma of meat."
The two of them looked at Strange.
"That's discrimination against Americans," Strange said. "I can try it, but I have a