According to Grindelwald, he had been quite the culinary enthusiast in his youth.
Back when he and Albus Dumbledore were lost in two months of dizzying, head-over-heels passion in Godric's Hollow, it was mostly he who took to the kitchen to cook for Dumbledore.
Later on, under the influence of Newt Scamander, Grindelwald became a deeply devoted lover of magical creatures.
Grindelwald's love for magical creatures was in no way inferior to Newt's—it could be described as profoundly deep, the kind of love so intense that he simply couldn't miss having them at every single meal.
The combination of the two birthed a true master of magical creature cuisine in Grindelwald.
Had Grindelwald possessed any interest in writing books, Mads Mikkelsen wouldn't have had anything to do with that cherished culinary bible revered by countless housewives, Fantastic Beasts and How to Cook Them.
With the assistance of the eager house-elves, an open-air kitchen was quickly assembled outside the Grindelwald family's tent, equipped with every imaginable utensil.
A steady stream of ingredients was transported via Apparition straight into the tent belonging to Kyle and his family, before being brought back out.
A freshly slaughtered Re'em calf lay right beside the counter, awaiting Grindelwald's further preparation.
This was to be their main dish for lunch today.
Taking a look at Grindelwald's impressive setup, Kyle gave Hermione's arm a gentle tug. "Go invite Mr. Weasley and his family over here so we can all have lunch together."
Hearing Kyle's words, Hermione glanced at the calf on the ground—which looked to weigh well over a ton—and then back at Kyle beside her.
She desperately wanted to ask: If I invite the whole Weasley family over, is this calf even going to be enough for you to eat?
She knew all too well that Kyle's appetite far exceeded that of any ordinary person.
In the end, however, she didn't voice the question. Turning around with Ginny in tow, she set off toward the Weasleys' tent to invite the entire family over for lunch.
Grindelwald stood before the counter, holding his wand high like an orchestral conductor leading his symphony.
Under his direction, various kitchen utensils automatically began processing the ingredients.
The first to be prepared was the calf lying to the side. Once Grindelwald hoisted it into the air with Levicorpus, a dozen knives danced through the air at blinding speed, unleashing a blur of silver glints.
A dozen seconds flashed by in a heartbeat. With a flick of Grindelwald's wand, the blades sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, flying back to settle neatly in the knife block.
Even a perfectionist wouldn't be able to pick out a single fault.
Under the restraint of magic, the calf still retained its complete original form, appearing completely unchanged from before.
Once Grindelwald lifted the magical restraint, however, the calf began to slowly bloom from the tail forward—like a opening flower bud—unfurling into slice after slice of steak that stacked automatically onto the waiting platters below.
This display of knife skill completely dazzled Kyle.
Even though household magic allowed wizards to easily reach the level of a professional chef when cooking, breaking down a whole bull with such precision—categorizing every organ and cut into separate platters like a master butcher—required a truly profound mastery of household magic.
It seemed his old man hadn't been boasting after all; his culinary skills in his youth really were top-tier.
Beside them, Dumbledore noticed the idolizing look Kyle was giving Grindelwald, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy in his heart.
He immediately rolled up his sleeves, preparing to show off his own culinary talents.
He didn't know how to cook the Muggle way, but when it came to using magic to cheat—well, as if anyone didn't know how to do that.
Gazing at the ox tongue resting on the cutting board, Dumbledore recalled a dish Grindelwald had cooked for him long ago—baked lamb tongue in parchment, served with mushroom sauce and oyster mushrooms.
The lamb tongue had been tender yet firm, free of bone, membrane, ligaments, or stringy texture, seared to a golden brown. The oyster mushrooms were merely scalded in hot oil infused with mixed seasonings—delicately smooth and utterly divine.
Though it was an ox tongue resting before him now, both were tongues; surely they couldn't be too different, Dumbledore mused to himself.
Before enjoying the main course, one would open up their sense of smell with the fresh aroma of Pinot Noir, raspberries, redcurrants, and cherries, experiencing that harmonious blend of earthy, savory mushroom flavors melting on the taste buds.
Just reminiscing about the deliciousness of that dish sent Dumbledore drifting into memories.
It reminded him of the wondrous feeling of kissing Grindelwald.
Snapping out of his reverie, Dumbledore shifted his gaze to the ox tongue before him.
Three minutes later, Grindelwald's furious roar echoed across the campsite: "Get out! Such a fine piece of ox tongue, utterly ruined by you!"
Dumbledore awkwardly rubbed his crooked nose—which looked exceptionally twisted from being broken multiple times—and slunk away from Grindelwald's domain, leaving behind an ox tongue that had been roasted to black ash.
Kyle stared with a mournful gaze at his Albus dad, who had tried to show off only to end up getting chewed out, and tugged on the hem of his robes.
"Dad, I wanted to eat that tongue."
Out of all the cuts on a bull, ox tongue was his absolute favorite.
Judging by the culinary expertise Grindelwald had just demonstrated, that tongue handled by his hands would have been an absolute delicacy on earth.
And yet, that ingredient had been ruined just like that by Dumbledore.
Naturally, the look Kyle fixed on Dumbledore was as mournful as could be.
Hearing his son speak up, an awkward smile surfaced on Dumbledore's face. He immediately cast a helpless, pleading look toward their all-powerful butler, Alfred.
Noticing Dumbledore's embarrassment, Alfred offered a slight smile, turning to instruct the house-elves to fetch a few more portions of ingredients.
This time, Dumbledore didn't venture back into the kitchen to humiliate himself further.
As portion after portion of prepared ingredients hit the hot oil, went into the ovens, and sizzled on the grills...
Before long, a rich, intoxicatingly thick aroma of roasted meat permeated the entire campsite.
"Smells so good..."
"Whose lunch is that? It smells incredible!"
Because of the presence of Muggles—and out of a desire to experience Muggle life—the wizards in the campsite were doing their best to imitate the Muggle way of living.
Only Grindelwald held no reservations whatsoever about casting spells in front of Muggles, and nobody from the Ministry of Magic dared to pull him up on it anyway.
Unfamiliar as they were with the Muggle lifestyle, the wizarding families trying to copy Muggle cooking had turned their morning breakfasts into absolute disasters.
After choking down their horribly unpalatable breakfasts, they were thoroughly ravenous by the time noon rolled around.
Now, suddenly catching a whiff of such a delicious scent, none of them could hold it in any longer. Their stomachs began to rumble loudly and cheerfully in unison.
For a moment, a chorus of croaking stomachs resounded across the entire campsite like a choir of frogs.
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