About one standard year later...
Inside his restaurant, Hyperfusion on Coruscant, Sheev Palpatine crushed a full Negol Chilli before sprinkling it over the dish. He then passed it to a visibly growing Anakin Skywalker seated across the bar from him.
"Thanks Mr Palpatine!" said the boy before starting on the traditional Tatooine dish.
"No, thank you young Skywalker. You saved my Queen and my world. I think I can offer a few paltry meals in recompense." said Palpatine. Of course, word spread. Every initiate turned up here at Skywalker's recommendation as did the Jedi sent to retrieve them. Those meals, he charged to the Temple, now his biggest customer.
"This is delicious, not like at the Temple, or Obi-Wan's cooking." observed Anakin.
Palpatine chuckled. "I feel your Jedi must cater to every palate possible and so perforce must be quite dull. As for Obi-Wan? The man is from Stewjon. Do you know the number of Stewjon's contributions to Galactic cuisine, young Jedi?"
Anakin's brow furrowed as he thought. "Um, no. They don't really teach us that."
"Never mind. It was a trick question. The answer is zero. In their entire eleven millenia history the peoples of Stewjon have made absolutely no such contribution. Not even to claim to have invented pizza. Having sampled food from there, we should be grateful for that fact too." said Palpatine.
Anakin continued to eat. After a moment he looked up. "You cook food from all over. How come your food isn't boring?"
'An interesting question." said Palpatine, nodding to a pair of Devorians who had entered. He began making the entree they always ordered. "It could be that I make food to order, it's different every night. Your Temple chefs don't have that luxury. For them it is the same thing every day, every week."
"Yeah, that's it. Same thing every day." said Anakin tiredly.
Palpatine paused as he threw ingredients together. "Is that why you're here? Sneak out again?"
Anakin sighed, "It's my birthday. Mom always made me kalash sticks." he said sadly.
"Well, you just wait right there." said Palpatine warmly.
After seeing to the Devorians order, Palpatine prepared the sweetened bread sticks, smothered them in honey and passed them to Anakin.
"Actually, I'm surprised your mother had not sent something to the Temple for you." he said.
"Oh, mom's back on Tatooine with Watoo. I'm supposed to forget about her, but I can't." said Anakin.
"Wait, your mother is still a slave?" said Palpatine. What was this? Why hadn't anyone done anything?
"Yeah. It's sad and I'm supposed to forget about it." said Anakin. He looked up at Palpatine, his face a sticky mess.
Palpatine kept the boy plied with kalash sticks and soda until the Jedi came to collect him. Later, when he had closed he made a holocom call to home.
"Mr Palpatine, this is a surprise." said the image of Queen Amidala.
"Indeed Your Majesty. You said if I ever required a favour..." began Palpatine.
"Are you sure of this? It seems a very roundabout way of doing things. I'm sure if I went to the Jedi." began a still very confused Shmi. She had been kidnapped, transported across several thousand light years and dropped off at a restaurant of all things. The owner seemed nice enough, but she had learned not to trust such things. Particularly if they smiled all the time!
"They would turn you away and not inform your son. The Jedi may mean well, but they are also a monastic order that does it best to separate themselves from worldly affairs. However, Anakin is a precocious lad who escapes his mentors on a regular basis. When he does so, he often comes here, where you are now by happy coincidence." said the owner, a Mr Palpatine with a cheery smile.
"He comes here?" said Shmi suspiciously.
"I do make a mean Negol. He says that yours is better though." said Mr Palpatine.
"Oh I don't know." began Shmi.
"Anakin always says I don't quite get the spices right. It may be I simply lack a mother's touch. Perhaps you could show me where I am going wrong." Mr Palpatine said, gesturing at the kitchen.
Out of habit Shmi obediently turned towards the kitchen. Upon entering began searching for the ingredients. She was halfway through chopping lhama shoots when she realised what she was doing and paused.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to." she began, stopping when Mr Palpatine held up a hand.
"No, please carry on. I always appreciate the opportunity to learn from a master." said Mr Palpatine.
Master. No one had ever called her that. It had always been 'slave', 'girl' or 'woman'. Shmi thought she liked the idea of being the master. She continued preparing the meal.
"Some Jal honey perhaps?" suggested Mr Palpatine.
Shmi stared at the man, "Jal! No wonder it tastes off. You only ever use Kwill." she said.
"Of course, how silly of me. Let me get you some." said Mr Palpatine as he moved towards a drawer.
An hour later Anakin had arrived and was testing the bowl of Negol Chilli.
"Mmmm, you actually got it right this time," Anakin said.
"That's because I had some help," said Palpatine and on cue Shmi came out from the kitchen.
"Mom!"
"Ani!"
Palpatine let the two reunite and returned to seeing to the meals for other guests. However, his mind kept returning to the mother and son bonding in one corner. It seemed strange to him that the Jedi would have left them estranged so. That sort of thing he almost expected from the cultists, but the Jedi? They had a reputation for being wise and good. It could, of course, be simply a minor oversight. A 'for want of a hydrospanner' moment that featured in stories to presage some future tragedy. Palpatine paused. This was no holodrama, this was real life! Also that woman Shmi, if she knew other recipes as well then it was his solemn duty to see such knowledge preserved and encouraged.
If it was not mere happenstance but some elaborate plot then it was best to view this as any good recipe. There would be various ingredients and of course, a chef. Palpatine already had a suspect on his list, but that just begged the obvious question. What was so special about the boy that Hugo would be interested in him?