BiTTER (Shokugeki no Souma Fanfic)

11. Gain and finally, Succeed

AN: What do you think would be a good nickname for Eda, based on his food specialty?

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Shinomiya passed his test so easily, he made the other participants look like utter jokes. He even sent a smug grin in their direction for good measure. Cleared within the first bite, he retrieved his room key, set a hand on his luggage-- and turned back toward the kitchen.

Eda was eyeing the oven, a finger tapping impatiently at his arm. It wasn't going to make the crust bake any faster, but there wasn't much else to do.

"Not going to settle down?" Sekimori asked from beside him, and Shinomiya hummed in response. Sekimori smiled warmly. "Are you worried?"

Shinomiya raised a brow, "who's worried," he hissed, then flinched and lowered his head in apology, "ah-- sorry, senpai. I mean, I'm interested, but definitely not... worried."

Sekimori laughed.

With a sigh, Eda let his eyes leave the oven, and he made his way to the counters to clean up. Baking of any sort always seemed to leave an incredibly messy and powdery aftermath, but Eda seemed to deal with it easily enough, knowing exactly what to do to get the stubborn sticks out of the corners.

Eda mumbled under his breath. "The caramel glaze was two seconds out of time, so it'll be a little bitter. The tart had a pinch more sugar than required-- the apples are fresh, and... they're a different type... they look like Granny Smith apples... a cooking school would have those, right? Then they're less sweet than the ones back at home..."

Shinomiya shushed the upperclassman that was still laughing. Eda was muttering something-- his food's in the goddamn oven, what could he be deliberating anymore?

"If it's too sweet," Eda opened the fridge and took a long, good stare at the contents, eyes darting about every ingredient possible. "Need to fix it, need to fix it-- something bitter? No, that would ruin it. Whipped cream or ice cream? Ah, no cream. Ice cream might not be enough... oh."

He took out a lemon.

-

"Would you care for some dessert, ma'am?"

He removed the cloche. They could already smell it from the oven, but the burnt sweetness of caramelised apples filled the room and soon a crowd was around them again, all craving a similar midnight snack.

Eda smiled, setting the lid down at the side. He hadn't said a cheesy line like that since his past life as a patissier. Hiding his left hand behind his back, classic dining etiquette for ugly scars, he gestured with his right hand.

"Tarte tatin and warm lemon tea, do enjoy."

And the crowd around them resounded in a series of oohs and aahs. It's a culinary academy that focuses on various aspects of food, with dessert being a minor element among many. Needless to say, they didn't see beautiful, very girly dishes like these very often.

The apples were sliced, arranged, and charred just slightly-- set atop the brown tart crust, it was a glamourous, blooming rose. Atop of it, half-melted vanilla ice cream drowned the creases, raspberry sauce and blueberries peppering every which angle.