Alice just couldn't stop talking.
Though she had only visited the tavern once with Erina, she constantly praised Zane's intelligence to her mother, enthusiastically recounting the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall and sweet-and-sour ribs she had eaten there. As Alice animatedly described every detail, Leonora remained uncharacteristically calm.
She quietly considered this mysterious man—handsome and gentle, with mastery both in the hall and in the kitchen. If such a perfect man truly existed, not only would Alice be drawn to him—even she might fall for him.
"You keep saying he's impressive, but what exactly have you learned from his cooking?" Leonora asked, drying her long hair with a towel during their video call.
"Learned something?" Alice echoed, then fell into thought.
"If you don't have a blowtorch or thermometer, your steak might be bland. If there's not enough sugar, cookies won't form properly…"
"These are challenges in traditional cooking, and molecular gastronomy solves them with science."
"But that idea felt so naïve once I watched Zane cook!"
"Without a clay pot, using just an ordinary iron pan, he still created amazing dishes. He didn't rely on special tools—just his own skill and intuition."
"I think a truly great chef should be able to create perfection under any condition."
Leonora's eyes narrowed sharply, her blood-red irises gleaming with surprise.
…
Psychologically, there's a phenomenon called the Dunning–Kruger effect—where the less people know, the more they overestimate themselves.
Because of her early success with molecular gastronomy, Alice had grown overconfident and developed a clear bias against traditional cooking.
Correcting that bias seemed impossible—until now.
Just a few days at Totsuki and one visit to a mysterious tavern were enough to shake her worldview.
And when confidence peaks, it only takes one powerful experience to send it crashing, leaving room for deeper understanding to take root. It was the beginning of growth.
"To think you would abandon your stubborn beliefs…"
"That Zane… must really be something," Leonora muttered, visibly impressed.
"That's right!" Alice grinned with pride, as if Zane winning her mother's approval was a personal victory.
Suddenly remembering something, she leaned in excitedly. "Oh! And Zane made a dish called Ascending Dragon Dumplings! It was so good it felt like flying through the sky!"
"Even Erina was shocked. She spent time in the kitchen trying to secretly learn how to make it."
"Erina?" Leonora paused, her thoughts drifting to the past.
More than a decade ago, Erina was just a sweet, innocent little girl. But having witnessed the curse of the "God Tongue" firsthand—its ability to bring ecstasy and agony in equal measure—Leonora couldn't help but worry.
Could her niece be facing the same fate?
She hadn't seen Erina in years, having lived in Northern Europe with Alice. She barely knew what had become of her.
"Her? Don't even ask!" Alice huffed. "Still arrogant as ever, always looking down on me."
She recalled how she had just beaten Shiro and dismantled the Dessert Cuisine Research Society. And right after that, Erina had gone and picked a fight with an even stronger faction—the Sumo Hot Pot Research Society. She crushed them in a Shokugeki and then had their building demolished.
To Alice, it was outright provocation.
"Hehe. Still as close as ever, I see~" Leonora chuckled behind her hand.
"Who's close with her?!"
Alice turned red, but didn't argue further.
Beneath the quiet night sky, the mother and daughter talked for two full hours, their conversation warm and full of laughter.
…
Time doesn't take everything away—but it always leaves traces.
Just like Ikumi had been deeply moved by the stir-fried beef, the tavern's reputation steadily grew. More and more customers arrived every day.
And among them, much to Zane's surprise, was Momo.
"Ah… this is the tavern?" she murmured, clutching her plush bear, Buchi, as she stepped inside.
It felt unfamiliar.
She hadn't been back since visiting with Rindo. With the recent renovations, the place looked different—sleeker, warmer, more inviting.
"Momo? You're here alone? Where's Rindo?"
Zane stepped out to greet her, eyebrows raised.
"School just started again," she said softly, looking up at him. "Everyone's scrambling to expand their influence. There's even a Shokugeki scheduled tomorrow morning, so Rindo's coordinating things with the Shokugeki Administration Bureau."
She hesitated, then added shyly, "I actually came… because I wanted a dessert. A rare one."
Her voice grew smaller.
"Could you… make a Zabaglione?"
Zane blinked, taken aback by the request.
Momo grew flustered. "Wait—you can't make it?"
"You've been having trouble with it yourself, haven't you?" Zane said with a sigh, seeing through her.
"Zabaglione's not hard," he added. "But it needs a proper sweet wine. I have some in the tavern, though it might not be ideal…"
"I trust you'll make it perfect," Momo whispered, her wide, glassy eyes gleaming with hope—and a hint of loli charm.
Zane scratched his head and smiled. "Alright. I'll give it a shot."
…
French gourmet Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin once wrote: "The discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a new star."
Indeed, food and scenery—these are two things never to be missed on any journey.
Scenery never lies. But food… food can surprise. It can shock. It can transform.
Zabaglione.
Eggs. Granulated sugar. High-gluten flour. Almonds. Rum. Butter.
With the ingredients ready, Zane turned to Momo. "Strawberry or cherry?"
"Strawberry!" she answered immediately.
Zane nodded and got to work.
He diced fresh strawberries and arranged them in a heat-resistant dish. He melted butter and chocolate over steam, separated the egg yolks and whites, and whisked the yolks with sugar and rum until smooth.
He placed the bowl over a pot of simmering water and whisked quickly, careful not to overheat it.
Once thickened, he removed it from heat, added banana and mango chunks into a pudding bowl, poured the egg yolk sauce over them, and dusted it with coconut flakes.
Then, he baked the dish at 230°C for five minutes.
"All done. Here's the Zabaglione you wanted."
Momo stared wide-eyed. "Already? It hasn't even been 15 minutes!"
…
In today's fast-paced food industry, time is everything.
Long waits drive away customers, and Zane knew this well. That's why he prepped early every morning—washing, slicing, marinating, and organizing everything to perfection.
By the time evening service rolled around, everything was smooth and fast.
But more than that, his skills were simply beyond compare.
"To be honest," Zane said as he handed her the dessert, "Zabaglione's easy. Heat the yolks, sugar, and wine in a bain-marie, whip it into a frothy sauce, and pour it over fruit."
"I know," Momo admitted, "but it takes me 20 minutes to make it just right. You're five minutes faster."
"Heh, five minutes isn't a big deal," Zane said, rubbing his nose.
…
In home baking, whipping egg yolks and sugar is standard.
But heating them with a little liquid causes the mixture to expand dramatically—up to four times its size—creating a dense, stable foam.
That's the essence of Zabaglione.
Sometimes it's a dessert—sometimes a warm drink. In the late 15th century, Italians believed the wine in it had healing powers. There were even non-alcoholic versions for pregnant women.
"Eat it quickly," Zane said, lightly tapping her forehead. "Before the sauce melts."
"Okay!" Momo blushed at the touch and nodded.
She scooped up a spoonful.
…
What is this?
One bite in, and Momo's eyes widened.
Zabaglione was a simple dessert. Few ingredients. Basic technique.
But the flavors…
Sweet—so sweet!
Then warm. Then cool. Then fresh.
There was the creamy smoothness of custard. The delicate lift of wine. A gentle intoxication. The balance of richness and clarity.
She could taste coffee, wine, egg, chocolate, cheese, and cream—all dancing over strawberries.
Even the toasted aroma from the oven teased her palate.
"Wow…"
"So this… is Zane's dessert cuisine?"