Sure thing! I’d gather wild mint, spruce needles, maybe a handful of nettle, and let the wind swirl around me like an old teacup gossiping about the day, then pour it all into a pot and simmer until the aroma makes the whole house feel like a warm hug. I’ll keep an eye on the timer like a watchful cat, and if the wind decides to whistle too loud, I’ll just add a pinch of nutmeg for balance.

Ah, good point—never let the wind become a dramatic diva in my kitchen. I’ll lock the pot with a sturdy lid, tuck a fire extinguisher under the sink like a secret spice jar, and keep a small bowl of water by the stove just in case the smoke starts gossiping too loudly. That way the stew stays cozy, and I can keep my mismatched teacups out of danger.