One of my friends is a chef. He’s not a Croatoan. He doesn’t know anyone from anywhere near there. All his people live around here. None of them have ever lived near there that I’m aware. He might be Croatoan anyway. He’s fond of rice.
I hate to tell him that he doesn’t know anything about the food in Croatoa. I don’t either except rice and a big pot over a fire. He cooks like that all time. Maybe he would come to Croatoa with me and we could learn how to be Croatoan together. He has a family so he’d have to bring them. Honestly they deserve to get to Croatoa more than I do. I’d cook for them if they would come with me. I’d do the dishes.
There’s unnamed exotic species of plants in Croatoa. Bugs and varmints that you can eat. Berries surely. All kinds of things. It’s not just a swamp. There’s a swamp not far from here. It’s part of the migration route for a flock of Canada Geese They put a bunch of graves on top of it back in the 17th and 18th century. Now it’s a historical place. If Croatoans were there once they’re never coming back. It has a chili cook-off and an apple festival every year now.
I want to make authentic Croatoan food and put the apple festival out of business. I’ll just put up a sign bigger than theirs.