Chapter 255: High-End Ingredients, Simple Preparation
Experience proved that the beef was, in a word, sublime. The inherent quality of the meat alone was enough to deliver an astonishing flavor, a texture that only grew more tender with every moment it was cooked.
The unique, sharp spice of black peppercorns and the clean savoriness of fresh sea salt formed the foundation. A whisper of fragrant sourness from a squeeze of lemon juice not only brightened the profile but also worked to tenderize the meat. And weaving through it all was the exclusive, pine-like aroma of rosemary—the undisputed king of herbs. To call this bite 'amazing' was a gross understatement; it was, unequivocally, delicious.
Pepper Potts found her fork moving on its own accord, completely unable to stop. The steak in the salad was, of course, cooked to a perfect medium-rare; that sliver of ruby-red in the center was a proof of the rich juices locked within.
With every bite, the succulent beef burst forth, releasing a cascade of mingled aromas that made resistance impossible. Beef had always been a faithful companion to those mindful of their figure, so as she ate, a convenient little voice whispered in her mind, 'Eat more! This is good for you. It's pure protein.'And so Pepper continued, secretly coaching herself.'This is just beef. And clean sea salt, and lemon. Eating a lot of this won't make you fat. Just one more piece... and another. Well, it seems I've already eaten quite a bit, so I might as well have a little more.' She was caught in a delicious, unstoppable loop.
Unlike Pepper, whose attention was immediately captured by the singular beef dish, Tony Stark's focus had already drifted. He had noticed the steak, of course, but his mind was preoccupied.
He had been fantasizing about cheese-baked Boston lobster earlier, and now his thoughts were a swirling vortex of rich, melted cheese and sweet, succulent lobster meat.
The human imagination is a terrifying thing. A single idea can conjure a fully-formed dish in the mind's eye, and from there, the brain begins to furiously layer it with color and detail, transforming a simple concept into a masterpiece worthy of a world-renowned gallery.
This was Tony's current state. After two bites of the steak salad, he acknowledged its excellence, but his culinary heart was already set on the lobster. He soon set his fork down and turned his gaze to the main event.
The name "Boston lobster" is synonymous with tender, delicate flesh. As a creature of cold waters, its meat possessed a satisfying firmness that promised a superior bite.
The lobster had been split clean down the middle, its body laid open to reveal the pristine white meat within. One could almost feel its exquisite texture just by looking at it. Some things are like that—you know exactly how they will taste the moment you lay eyes on them.
Much like the steak salad, this dish was exceptionally simple in concept: cheese and lobster. The entire ingredient list was right there in the name. And yet, the aroma wafting from it was so complex and inviting that underestimating it would be a grave mistake.
The entire shell had turned a brilliant, uniform red under the intense heat, and it now rested peacefully in a sea of molten, golden-brown cheese. Though the components were few, the preparation was anything but straightforward.
The meat is the meat, and the shell is the shell, but a cheese-baked Boston lobster is a creation unto itself. The process required first splitting the lobster and carefully scooping out all the meat. This was then tossed with creamy light cream, fragrant garlic that had been minced and pan-fried in butter, a splash of sweet white wine, and a pinch of black pepper for a subtle, lingering heat. All of it was stirred together, allowing the lobster to marinate in the rich mixture.
The aroma generated by this step alone was potent enough to be considered an act of culinary foul play. Having to then stuff that glorious, fragrant meat back into the shell was a true test of willpower.
For any seafood lover, this part of the process would be pure agony. Large chunks of fresh lobster meat could be eaten raw—lobster sashimi was a delicacy, after all. To see that pristine meat being mixed with such fragrant seasonings would make it nearly impossible to resist sneaking a bite.
Only when every last bit was packed back into the shell and sealed beneath a generous blanket of cheese could the chef finally breathe a sigh of relief. Then, with eager anticipation, it was sent into the oven to be baked to perfection.
The savory depth of the cheese, the smooth and delicate texture of the lobster—each bite was as soft and ethereal as a soufflé. The display of seasonings infused into the meat, crowned by the rich layer of cheese, filled the mouth with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and pure, unadulterated flavor.
Tony was now working his knife and fork with relentless precision, steadily dismantling the baked lobster. What beef? Let it be arrogant. He was perfectly content with this honest, down-to-earth dish before him. Who needed tender, juicy, and endlessly flavorful? This pure aroma, this pure deliciousness, this pure freshness was more than enough.
Pepper noticed Tony's focus. He was like a child who had discovered his absolute favorite food, completely absorbed and unable to stop. He just kept eating, not saying a single word. His silent devotion made her intensely curious. Just how good could it be to elicit such a reaction?
The result was, predictably, her own surrender. Pepper, too, fell victim to the rich, captivating aroma. The two of them ate in a comfortable silence, forgoing the champagne, ignoring everything else on the table, simply immersing themselves in the fragrant feast. Seafood has always been one of the easiest ingredients to prepare, and the one that best embodies the very essence of the word 'fresh.'
Every time one eats seafood of this quality, a single thought comes to mind: high-end ingredients often require only the simplest and most unadorned methods of cooking. No dish proves this statement more eloquently than this one.
"Phew… Sister Lucifer… Sister Shion is looking for you…"
Kasugano Sora had finally been released from Sōryūin Shion's instruction. Seeing the deep relief on the girl's face, Lucifer couldn't help but smile. It seemed the call had been a success.
"How did it go?"
On the other end of the line, Sōryūin Shion's voice was laced with a triumphant smile. "Mm, Sora is already being transferred to my side. Tomorrow, I'll have Akemi pick her up and bring her to school to get settled in."
"There's no need to ask Katagiri's people. I want her, so they have to give her to me."
"Kirari? That brat won't even have coffee with her; she can't do anything to me. She won't have a say in this matter."
"Huh? Akemi and the others are going to the gym tomorrow anyway. Just have her bring Sora along. Now that her health is recovering, a little exercise will do her body good."
"Okay, it's settled. I'll arrange for someone to move her things in the afternoon. That's all, then."
After Sōryūin Shion hung up, she let out a long, satisfied sigh. "I didn't expect to actually be a little excited," she murmured to herself. "Hmm? Kirukiru, you're still awake?"
Just as Shion was about to turn back toward her bed, she saw Amou Kirukiru leaning against her bedroom doorframe. At some point, she had switched to a bottle of red wine, and a playful glint danced in her eyes. "It's still far too early to sleep. But hearing you talk like that… has that girl, Sora, been transferred to your side?"
Shion nodded, a flicker of puzzlement on her face. "How did you know?"
"I saw them talking about Sora in the group chat, so I came over. By the way, your vigilance is really poor. I've been standing here for a long time."
Shion waved a dismissive hand. "A minor detail. It's probably because I trust you more than anyone else."
"More?" Kirukiru's smile widened.
"Because you've never once called me 'Sister Shion'. Care to try it?"
"It's enough that you trust me more," Kirukiru purred, stepping into the room. "Wait a moment. You're temporarily entrusting the Student Council to me. So, does that mean that girl, Sora, will be coming to find me tomorrow?"
"Hey, hey," Shion said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you planning? With that look on your face, I have a bad feeling that Sora is going to be in for some trouble…"
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