Maple the beaver lifts the lid of a steaming Dutch oven of stew on a frozen riverbank at night

The Last Kitchen, Part 13: Maple Holds the Line

By Chef Tamás, head chef (25 years) ·

Updated

·

2–3 minutes

The Last Kitchen, Part 13 of 26. Gerzsi and friends are made up; the gear is real and independently tested. This post contains affiliate links (disclosure).

Previously: Gerzsi’s tangled fishing line scared off the drones by accident, and Willa taught him how to wind a reel properly. Then Maple, Gerzsi’s cousin from Canada, skated up the frozen river: Canadian kitchens had already gone dark in a test run. Missed it? Read Part 12 · All parts

That evening the ring flashed blue instead of silver, and the cold came down like a lid. By midnight the whole river was ice. Every smart heater on the bank had locked itself off.

Maple didn’t panic. Maple was from a lake in Ontario where winter lasts half the year. She opened her sled and pulled out a heavy enameled pot, still wrapped in three blankets, and a tall steel thermos.

“Stew,” she said. “Made it this morning. Still hot.”

It was. Steam rolled out when she lifted the lid. Rufus made a sound like a happy earthquake.

“Twelve hours and still hot,” said Gerzsi. “How?”

Chef Tamás tapped the pot. “Heavy cast iron holds a lot of heat, and lets it go slowly. A thin pot heats fast and cools fast. A heavy one is slow both ways. That’s why we braise in it: the heat stays even and gentle. Wrap it in blankets and it’s like a sleeping bag for soup.” He nodded at the thermos. “And that’s the same idea from the other side: a vacuum between two steel walls, so the heat has nothing to travel through.”

They ate around the pot in a circle, the faded neckerchief and the recipe card laid out on a crate in the middle. Tamás kept looking at them. At the handwriting. At the knot.

Then he looked at Gerzsi. At Gerzsi’s neckerchief. At the chipped tooth. And his face went pale, the way it never went pale, not even in a full restaurant on a Saturday night.

“I wrote that card for someone,” he said slowly. “Someone I trained. A long time from now.” He stood up. “I think I know who the Gadget Lord—”

Every light on the river went out.

Next: Part 14, tomorrow. The chef vanishes.

🛒 Gear from this part

A heavy Dutch oven and a good thermos. Maple’s picks are in our Boxing Day guide for Canadian readers, sorted into tested Dutch ovens and thermoses (links open on Amazon.ca in Canada). US readers: our Dutch oven guide.

Can’t wait for tomorrow’s part?

Gerzsi can’t either. While Chef Tamás’s stock bubbles for four hours, he puts on a sci-fi audiobook and listens with both ears flat against the pot lid (he says it helps). If you’re new to Audible, the free trial is an easy way to start one for the slow-cooking hours.

Free trial for eligible new members; Amazon sets the terms on the sign-up page. Affiliate link: Gerzsi may earn a commission.

All parts of The Last Kitchen → · The Black Friday list

Chef-cooked. Beaver-approved.


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Painted portrait of Chef Tamás, head chef, in his dark chef jacket

About the chef

Chef Tamás has cooked for 25 years in à la carte restaurants, hotels and a river cruise ship, in Hungary, Austria, Germany and France. Today he runs a restaurant kitchen and trains apprentices, including one very eager beaver.

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