Stephanie grabbed some flour and frozen fish fillet that was surprisingly still edible by the smell. She combed through the knick-knacks inside many cabinets and fridge shelves to find at least a lime or lemon. She found one with brownish skin, but again, the smell still told her it was edible.
Using a knife that she had to sharpen days before, she cut the lemon into two slices, and squeezed each part on a spoon to keep the pit in and the juice trickling down to the fish.
The batter was simple, a handful of flour, sprinkles of salt and pepper, and a dash of water.
The potatoes left in the basket were still intact. Somebody had left them there before the two people from Prattle arrived. In the end, they'd eat like European medieval peasants again; that was probably what the person in charge of their accommodation had thought in the first place, by giving them potatoes.
