Annual International Meal Day

[Vincent Meian]

((Welcome folks! Today we proudly present Hammel's first annual International Meal Day. This volunteer fundraiser, held by the Multicultural Club as a reminder to their community of the benefits of diversity and cultural pride, has thus far been a resounding success for the brunch and dinner portions. Donations and ticket sales are high, many cookbooks have been sold, and the Club met their goals earlier in the day.

It is now the beginning for the supper hours; 6pm to 9pm when the event will close. All students, their invited close relatives, and staff are allowed to be here. All locals not affiliated with the Hammel Institute were escorted off campus after 5pm.

There is no posting order. This is an OPEN thread, and will have many conversations going off at the same time. Students and staff both have volunteered to serve food at the event, thus your characters can either be guests or participants - just remember that all consumables will have been approved or denied prior to the event.

Thank you everyone, and please enjoy!))

Today had been a bigger success than he had hoped. Dozens of students and faculty alike had turned out to support the event, providing food and drink from every inhabited continent and a vast array of cultures. Still more milled about, chatting about the food, the dress, and anything else that came up. The locals were even drawn into the day, whether or not they had affiliations with Hammel, and there were so far no incidents of any kind; no food poisoning, few spills, and no conflict.

All in all, this had proven a fantastic idea, and Vincent was proud of the Multicultural Club for having come up with it. Nothing brought people together in good cheer like food, after all.

The trainer himself had been in and out from behind a flat-top grill much of the day, his long hair tied up and pulled back as much as he could possibly manage, dressed in crimson and black with his sleeves tied up to keep from getting dirty while he cooked. Right now, a number of students who had felt that they could not do the event justice were manning the grill (having taken breaks just a few moments ago after practicing okonomiyaki on the staff during the hour gap between dinner and supper), so the tall man unbound his sleeves and left them to it for a bit while he checked on everything else.

After stopping at a number of the individual cookpots, doing a quick refill of the ice at the chilled section of the buffet, and restocking the table of cookbooks (full of recipes from the foods shown all day, put together with help from the Newspaper Club and a local printer), Vincent checked in with security to make sure that all of the locals not associated with the school had been safely escorted from the premises. With that confirmation, he excused himself back to the party itself, greeting guests as he walked through the courtyard.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Josh had opted to skip services today, due to the Hammel International Meal Day, something that Sean appreciated because it fit the psychiatrist’s schedule far more easily than darting out to Burlington to pick his partner up from Temple in the middle of setting up for brunch. The day had been an event, and although it had been carried out with minimal hassle thus far, Sean preferred being able to remain on campus to cook, chaperone, and host.

In the end, the psychiatrist had opted to wear an Irish tartan; he knew that the pattern hadn’t been invented until the 19th Century as part of the pan-Celtic movement (as opposed to Scottish clan tartans that had centuries of history), but wearing it would make his partner happy, and, besides, it would also amuse some of the other staff members and the students. Say what one would about Sean at fifty-eight and soon to be fifty-nine; he still had the legs to pull off the ensemble. In addition to the tartan, he wore a crisp shirt (which had become less crisp as the day went by), a vest, and a wool cap.

In between set up and hosting, he put the finishing touches on his dishes, and he helped some of the students with theirs. He had opted for an assortment of cuisine: at brunch, he had cooked up a full Irish breakfast, with apologies to everyone around him (he wouldn’t eat a traditional Irish breakfast unless out of options, given that he was as American as all but the International students). In the interest of simplicity, he had opted for similar dishes for both lunch and supper, and so there was a thick beef stew, colcannon, soda bread because everyone expected it, and then Irish apple cake with custard sauce for dessert.

By the time they finished with today, he would be exhausted, but they had earned good revenue, and all of the students and guests were having fun, which made the effort worthwhile.

When Vincent approached, Sean doffed his cap respectfully.

[Cianna "Cici" Rivers]

Cici laughed, balancing a tray in her palm and waving to another familiar student. If she were a normal student, she may have trusted herself to handle two, but with her clumsiness- both natural and caused as a side affect of her ability- she knew better than to risk it. Didn't want to drop a tray and waste the delicious food, after all. Finally, it was the International Meal Day! She was quite excited for it, being in the Multicultural Club herself, and had worked hard to help pull things together. 

She was dressed in her old Kapa Haka performance costume, Kapa Haka being the group back in New Zealand one could join if they wished to learn Maori (the indigenous people of New Zealand) songs and dances. She had even put on black lipstick and drawn a Ta Moko onto her chin. If she had been a maori back in the days when the culture was strong, instead of just drawing it on it would have been tattooed. Dressing up so brought back a good rush of feelings from New Zealand, and she found that she had been humming traditional Maori songs absentmindedly under her breath all day. She'd even began singing and dancing to the songs softly when she found herself taking a short break. 

Placing the tray of food down, she smiled some more to people, feeling proud to be able to showcase what traditional New Zealand culture- Maori Culture- Looked like, even if only through dress. Not many people knew a lot about it after all, especially all the way here in America. She picked her way lightly through the crowd, headed back to where she knew more food needed to be passed around, and spied a couple of teachers. Grinning, she began to make her way over to them, happy to comment to Mr Meian on the great turnout and engage in polite conversation with Dr Neville, whom she didn't know as well. It had been a great day so far, and she just knew the supper would be just as enjoyable.

[Vincent Meian]

The younger man caught sight of his friend, as he had throughout the day, but for once the timing of the greetings allowed for them to have a moment of conversation. Making his way over, he nodded courteously in greeting himself. "It looks as though you have had some success today," he noted, glancing among the dishes that had been in various stages of being devoured for much of the day, but now looked perfect and ready for the supper service. "May I partake in your dessert?"

Mostly because Sean made excellent food, and partially because the trainer had eaten more than enough meat and vegetables for the day to warrant it. Also, partially, because he had almost as profound a sweet tooth as Dr. Neville himself.

Glancing up as a colorful student made her way through the crowd to them, Vincent smiled and bowed in greeting to her as well. "Good evening, Miss Rivers," he replied. "Have you been enjoying yourself today?"

Though he knew of Maori culture and some of the mythology surrounding it, his religious studies had not unearthed much during his period of active study. Having known that Cici was going to be representing it some days ago, however, the adviser had almost needed to forcibly restrain himself from inundating her with questions daily about the culture and religion. The questions were always there, of course, but he was polite enough to not engage in a very scholarly discussion during a dinner party.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“It’s hard to go wrong with the classics,” Sean remarked to the other man, a warm smile on his lips. His brunch offerings had considerable less success than lunch and supper, with the exception of certain aspects of the Irish breakfast spread, primarily the thick-cut bacon, the plump pork sausages and the hash browns: foods that Americans recognized as breakfast foods rather than “Dear Lord, why would you eat this for breakfast or at all?” But the stew and soda bread had gone over well, and he was on his third cake.

On that topic, he nodded and replied, “Of course,” before reaching for a fresh plate and his cake cutter, sizing up a uniform slice before piercing the cake.

Then, as Cici approached, the psychiatrist turned to smile at her as well. “Good evening, Cici,” he greeted her warmly. They might not have had much cause to interact, but between his position and access to student files, and then his telepathy, he recognized her all the same. “May I interest you in a slice of cake as well?”

He took note of her outfit, and he had a few questions about the Maori culture that she had chosen to represent, but those would wait until pleasantries, and dessert, were out of the way.

[Cianna "Cici" Rivers]

Smiling, Cici said hello to Mr Meian in Maori. "Kia ora sir." She always greeted him in Maori when their interactions were related to the multicultural club, as she felt it appropriate considering what the club was about and such. "Of course, t'day's been mean! You done a great as job, thank you for all of this!" She exclaimed with a bright smile. "How 'bout you, 'njoying it?"

At the other man present, she turned to him with a polite, yet sincere smile. "Hello Dr Neville. How're you?" At the offer of cake Cici's face positively lit up, and she decided that maybe taking just a small break would be OK. After all, cake. And, of course, it would be totally rude to turn him down. Nodding with a toothy smile, Cici said, "Yes please, it look' so nice!" Her words ran together in a way that was typical of a New Zealand accent, and apparently sometimes hard for Americans to understand, especially when she talked quickly. She hadn't noticed it before moving to America, but apparently New Zealanders were lazy speakers, often not pronouncing consonants and vowels in words so that they sounded like a different word altogether. 

Smiling at Dr Neville, her opinion of him shot up. She had never had a bad opinion of him, no way, but she hadn't personally known him well enough to form a proper opinion of the man. However, he had totally won her over with the offer of cake. "So 're ya 'njoying t'night, sir? Mr Meian's done an awesome job, neh?" She said happily.