"Might want to go fetch him then. That way we can all eat. Aha! Found you!"

He retrieved an old cast iron skillet from the back of a cabinet. He looked it over with a critical eye before nodding in approval. No rust and still seasoned. Perfect.

He set it onto the stove and turned on the eye. This, at least, was gas. (Made sense given there was so much natural gas coming from the volcano.) He reached into his pocket to retrieve a lighter to ignite the burner. Then it was back to the pantry for some oil to heat up and to get that flour for the fish.

By the time the twins came back in, he had some potatoes cut into wedges and was starting to fry the fish which he'd covered in flour. No big deal. Just the richest duck in the world cooking for the people who probably should be doing it for him.