Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods.

One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say:

"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."

Ivmir looked past your shoulder, a smirk on his face as he spoke to you. "You season your food well, mortal, but it would be much more enjoyable if it wasn't overshadowed by char and ash."