TEST OF TASTE

"Hey Garp, doesn’t this room feel a bit strange for a cooking club?" Vir asked as we walked into what I had told him was our cooking club room. But of course, it wasn’t. It was just an old storage room that hadn’t been used in three years. All it took was offering the caretaker some Quantum Crypto, and he let me use the room however I wanted. He even cleaned it up for me.

The room was surprisingly spotless. A long metal counter stretched along one wall, perfect for setting up our equipment, and at the back were a couple of deep sinks, freshly scrubbed and ready for washing. Bright lights filled every corner, and while it wasn’t a professional kitchen, it had everything we needed to make it work.

“Have you ever seen a cooking club before?” I asked, watching him look around.

“Uh… no, actually.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge.” I shot him a playful look, and he flinched a little, mumbling an apology under his breath.

I smirked. “So… are you ready for your test?”

Vir swallowed hard, nodding. “Y-yes.” He paused, looking up at me with a mix of nerves and excitement. “So, uh… what exactly do I have to do?”

“Oh, nothing too complicated.” I shrugged, letting a moment of suspense hang between us. “I’ll be cooking a traditional dish, and you’re going to help me make it. No high-tech gadgets, no shortcuts. Just your skill and a little passion for science. Think you’re up for it?”

Vir’s eyes lit up as he nodded, determination written all over his face. “Yes! Let’s do this!”

I thought about it a lot yesterday. I had the exact dish in mind that I wanted to create to make Ms. Lorn my club advisor. It was the first dish, my grandpa made for me.

However, compared to those days, creating those old fashioned ingredients would be a lot challenging for me. So I have prepared myself a lot yesterday. I studied and gather every info on this dish I was about to create.

I smiled as he held up a vial of a clear, slightly murky liquid. “Alright, Vir. First things first—we’re making rice.”

“Rice?” Vir’s eyebrows knitted together. “I have only tasted them through taste-sim chips. I have never seen them in real life. Can we even make them?”

“This, my friend, is calcium lactate. With a bit of sodium alginate, it’s about to become… well, close enough to rice,” I explained with a confident smile. Of course, I’d only learned what any of that meant yesterday. I’d crammed as many science chips into my brain as I could, just to pull this off and convince Vir that I was the science club's vice president—or at least make him think I was.

Vir watched, skeptical but curious, as I prepared a bowl of the concoction. He added a drop of sodium alginate, then handed Vir a spoon. “Drop a bit of this mix in and watch the magic.”

As Vir cautiously dripped the liquid into the bowl, little beads formed, bobbing up like tiny pearls. They looked almost like rice grains, just enough to fool the eye. “Hey, they really do look like rice!” he said, half surprised.

I chuckled. “Next, we need something that feels like meat. For that…”

“Protein gel cubes!” Vir shouted, interrupting my words. As I expected, he was a genius when it came to science. He caught on to my idea in a flash.

Using chemical synthesis, we created molecules that replicated the aroma of traditional cooking. To be honest, Vir did most of the work. After all, it was his test. I wasn’t as passionate as he was about playing with those chemicals, but I couldn’t let him know that. With his help, I was able to create the exact aromatic oil I wanted.

I pulled out a tray of slightly firm cubes and marinated them in the aromatic oil we prepared earlier. Vir leaned in, sniffing the potent mix of cumin, cardamom, and a hint of something almost spicy. “That smells just like the real thing.”

With the “rice” and “meat” ready, we started layering the dish, arranging the rice and protein gel cubes just like a classic ******** of the earlier era. Was this as good as the earlier era? I didn’t know. After all I was not from that earlier era after all. I was a boy of the 31st century. All I had as a reference was my experience of eating something like this made by my grandpa, and some taste-sim chips, which I reluctantly had to use. I sprinkled a fine layer of synthetic onion powder on top, adding a final crunch.

“For the grand finale,” I said, pulling out a small vaporizer filled with saffron-infused mist. I pressed the button, and a gentle cloud drifted out, filling the room with a warm, slightly spicy aroma.

Vir took a deep breath, “It… it actually smells like ********.” His voice dropped to a reverent whisper.

Now, the real test was ahead of us—not for Vir, but for me. I had to serve this to Ms. Lorn. This was the moment that could decide the future of my club. I told myself to stop over-thinking. All that was left now was to trust the dish we had just made.

I picked up the plate, took a steadying breath, and walked toward the door, ready for whatever came next.

After passing through the corridor, I reached the staff room. I saw Ms. Lorn, in the middle of using a data-sim chip. I assumed, she was probably preparing for her history lesson.

"Ms. Lorn, may I come in?" I asked as politely as possible. She’d been upset the last time I came in without her permission. Normally, I’d never do something as unnecessary as asking to enter a room—teacher or not. But this time was different. I needed to stay on Ms. Lorn’s good side. I couldn’t risk it. I really needed her to be my club advisor.

She pulled out the data-sim chip and glanced in my direction, giving a brief nod with her usual stern expression.

I stepped in with a smirk. “Remember our little bet from yesterday? My future club advisor?”

“You’re as cocky as ever, aren’t you, brat?” she replied, keeping that serious look before letting out an exasperated sigh, as if the sight of me was already testing her patience. “Alright, bring it here. What did you make? I don’t have all day.”

As I set the plate down, a warm cloud of steam rose up, carrying the rich, mouth-watering aroma of spices. The golden strands of saffron wove through the fluffy rice, giving it a warm, amber glow against the soft white. Juicy pieces of meat lay nestled within the rice, browned and inviting, with little charred bits that promised a smoky, melt-in-your-mouth bite.

Ms. Lorn’s face showed a flicker of surprise as she said, "Oh, biryani? Now this is unique."

"You recognized it so easily," I replied, a little proud.

"Of course. Biryani is a beloved dish, with a fascinating history that spans continents and centuries. It’s a flavorful fusion of Mughlai and South Asian culinary traditions, combining fragrant rice, tender meat, and a blend of rich spices," she said, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Did you cook something so historical and traditional just because I’m your history teacher?"

"Not exactly," I said. "I made it because I wanted to. I have some nostalgic memories with this dish, so I wanted to recreate it on my own."

She raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You’re quite confident for cooking something you've never made before. What if I don’t like it?" she asked, playfully stirring her spoon on the plate.

"That’s fine," I replied with a calm smile. "If you don’t like it, maybe I shouldn’t form the cooking club at all. I believe if I can’t make others appreciate my cooking, there’s no reason to cook in the first place."

She looked at me thoughtfully and sighed. "You talk big. Let’s see how your food tastes." With that, she took a spoonful and placed it in her mouth.

I braced myself, half expecting her face to light up with exaggerated delight. But instead, she remained serious, taking a few more bites in silence. After she finished, she reached for the napkin, wiped her mouth, and looked at me.

"Now let’s talk about your dish," she began. "First of all, while most of the rice is fluffy, some portions are overcooked. The flavor of the spices should be balanced, but here, a few are just a bit too strong. And the meat, though tender, isn’t quite as flavorful as what you’d find with taste-sim chips."

I listened closely, feeling my confidence shrink as she listed the flaws in my dish. I looked down, realizing how overconfident I’d been.

"You know," she said, her tone almost lecturing, "in the past you’re so fascinated with, people trained for months to learn the perfect recipe for biryani. And here you tried to recreate it in one go. Not to mention, you lack the ingredients they used back then."

It was true—I’d lost the bet. I turned, ready to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?" she called in her usual serious tone. "Did I ever say I didn’t like it?"

I stopped, turning back in surprise. A hopeful smile crept onto my face. "You… actually liked it?"

She rolled her eyes but softened slightly. "If I didn’t, why would I finish it? Yes, it had flaws, but it was edible, and I enjoyed it. What I appreciated most was the effort you put into it—I could taste your hard work. You have potential in cooking." She sighed. "Fine, I’ll be your club advisor. But don’t expect me to play violin for you."

I felt a surge of joy. My dream of forming the cooking club was finally a reality. Overcome with happiness, I moved in for a hug, shouting, "You’re the best, Ms. Lorn!"

She immediately pushed me away, poking me on the forehead. "Keep your distance, young man. I’m not your buddy."

CHAPTER 6 END