April 18, 1680
I am never letting one of Aunt Fanny's girls cook for me again. Spent most of last nights watch in the head. Next morning Fanny found one of her customers robbed blind. He would have been dead had I not heard the creeping footsteps of the young woman who fed me.
She called it Chille or some Spanish stew. Had more spice than one of Myfanwy's poultice bindings and had more beans than the local trading post.
Fanny gave the girl quite a switch but didn't cast her out. I get to keep my posting.
I treated myself to some fresh pork and potatoes from the market.