He made rice and salted pork.
Nothing complicated. The pork had been braising in the oven for two hours, low heat, the fat rendering down into the broth until the meat pulled apart with no resistance. He cooked the rice in the broth rather than water. Dense, high-calorie, the kind of meal that sat in the body like ballast. Marlo had offered to take over twice. Vane had sent him home both times.
