Title: Gastronomic Delights
Author: Tiffany Park
Fandom: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Description: According to the Keepers of Honor Newsletter #312 that Zack receives in Crisis Core, Angeal's "Most valued skill" is "Cooking with leftovers." However, the newsletter doesn't say whether his cooking is any good or not. His friends and acquaintances know the answer to that particular question!
Characters: Genesis, Sephiroth, Angeal, Lazard, Zack, Hollander
Pairings: None
Tags: Crack, Humor, Fluff, Terrible Cooking, Everyone Likes Angeal, No one wants to hurt his feelings, Taste is inherited
Gastronomic Delights
By Tiffany Park
At around 1800 hours, Genesis strolled through the corridor of the First Class housing area toward his own apartment. He was pleasantly tired from working out in the gym, and looking forward to a hot shower and a nice dinner. Nothing stressful or irritating had happened all day, and he expected the night to be just as uneventful.
And then he smelled the acrid miasma of too many poorly matched herbs and spices wafting through the normally sterile, recirculated air.
He stopped and took stock of his location. Oh dear. That was Angeal's apartment coming up on his left, which explained the smell. His oldest and dearest friend was cooking again!
More scents drifted to Genesis's abused nostrils: hot oil, slightly scorched pork, ginger and garlic, charred bell peppers, and onions. An attempt at tempura? Stir fry? Or it could be just a plain, supposedly foolproof pan of roasted meat and veggies. Hah. Whoever said roasted vegetables were easy and foolproof had never met Angeal Hewley.
The reasons why Angeal had taken up cooking as a hobby eluded everyone who'd ever had the misfortune of sampling his concoctions. Equally mysterious was why Angeal himself didn't seem to realize he had no talent at all when it came to preparing food. He ate what he made happily and with great enjoyment. When someone gathered the courage to ask why, he informed them with undisguised pride (and perhaps a little arrogance) that home cooking was frugal. He saved a lot of money by cooking big batches and eating the leftovers for the rest of the week, and that he also used leftovers as ingredients in other dishes so his food budget stretched further.
Right. So he claimed. Genesis didn't disbelieve him. He'd seen Angeal cheerfully shovel his own cooking into his mouth even while his friends sat at the table pushing the food around their plates and wishing Angeal had a nice, voracious pet they could feed most of it to.
Would even a Giant Flytrap or Pitcher Plant eat Angeal's cooking, though? Let alone a normal dog...
There was a secret betting pool among SOLDIERs, the Infantry, and even some Shinra office workers that mako treatments had somehow fried Angeal's taste buds.
One kind-hearted soul had posted a longshot idea that maybe Angeal just didn't know any better. Perhaps his parents had also been awful cooks and he'd grown up not knowing the difference. Genesis knew that one wasn't true. He'd eaten at the Hewley household as a child and knew Angeal's mother could turn out edible meals. His father, now, that man had been an unknown quantity. Genesis couldn't remember Mister Hewley ever cooking anything. Maybe he hadn't cooked for very good reasons, and Angeal took after him. Were taste and cooking skills, or the lack thereof, inherited traits?
As Angeal's father had passed away a few years ago, the only person to ask would be his widow Gillian. Not even at his most thoughtless and outspoken would Genesis consider making such a rude inquiry of Angeal's mother. He had more tact than that. The question of whether Angeal had inherited his defective sense of taste from his father would forever remain unanswered.
Another rather imaginative gambler put money on a theory that Angeal had once been surrounded by a swarm of Malboros and the resulting poison from Bad Breath attacks had destroyed his olfactory and taste senses. A few other ideas along similar and absurd lines had been bet on, as well.
Despite the handful of silly wagers that had been placed, the betting pool's odds almost universally favored the mako idea. No one had ever collected a single gil, though. Not one person had ever worked up the nerve to ask Hollander or Hojo if it were even possible to lose one's ability to taste properly during the enhancement process. It hadn't ever happened to anyone else that Genesis knew of, but it did seem like an excellent possible explanation.
More smells percolated through the air: oranges, pineapple, cherries, kupo nuts, and coconut. A fruit salad? Perhaps Angeal couldn't mess up a fruit salad, Genesis mused. Then he remembered the time Angeal had made a unique variation on fruit ambrosia and repressed the desire to gag.
It didn't matter what recipes Angeal was experimenting with this time. Genesis did not want to be the guinea pig for this particular trial. Not again. He'd suffered and mouthed polite platitudes many times before for friendship's sake, but he wasn't going to get caught tonight!
He did an about face and headed back the way he'd come. The elevators were not far, promising safety to him and his as yet untraumatized palate. He was hungry, but there were plenty of decent eateries nearby. The SOLDIER cafeteria was an option, too. Even packaged junk food of indeterminate age and freshness from a vending machine seemed appetizing at the moment.
The elevator doors slid open just as he reached them, and Sephiroth stepped out into the hall. Genesis immediately grabbed Sephiroth's arm and spun him back toward the elevator.
"Genesis, what do you think you're doing?" said Sephiroth, yanking his arm away.
"Angeal's cooking right now," Genesis said succinctly.
A look of alarm crossed Sephiroth's features. His eyes widened and he glanced down the hall with the furtive desperation of cornered prey.
"Let's go to that new restaurant in the business district," Genesis suggested. "Ignis's Fish Bar? I've heard great things about the salmon."
"And it gets us out of the building completely," Sephiroth added, catching on with his usual speed. He stepped back into the elevator with no further protests.
"Exactly," Genesis agreed.
The elevator doors slid closed on the two successful escapees.
Angeal poked his head out his apartment door. The corridor was empty. "I could swear I heard Genesis and Sephiroth out here just a minute ago," he muttered, wondering if his enhanced hearing was going haywire. That was a terrible worry. SOLDIERs relied on all their senses, including functional hearing. He'd need to ask Hollander about it.
But that was for tomorrow. Putting it aside for now, he returned to his kitchen and continued with his latest experiment. The pork roast and vegetables had gotten a little dry in the oven, so he'd added broth and brown sugar to the pan and intended to let the dish braise for a while. That way he could also get a nice sauce. Fruit ambrosia salad had been a hit last time he'd made it, so he was trying a new variation he'd found online with some creative additions of his own to make it extra special. Besides, he liked the marshmallows that went in it.
He had plenty of food to share, even after reserving enough to feed himself for a few days. Perhaps he'd pack some of it up for Hollander. Sort of a bribe to soften the scientist up. He wouldn't appreciate Angeal's request to check on his hearing. Hollander tended to be grouchy even on his best days, but maybe a peace offering of a home-cooked meal might soothe his temper and improve his mood.
Besides, Angeal had never shared his cooking with Hollander before. It would be interesting to get a new opinion and maybe some suggestions for different ideas to try.
Lazard Deusericus, Director of SOLDIER, was working a little late when his PHS buzzed. He glanced at his clock; it showed six-thirty in the evening. He wondered who'd be texting him, then shrugged. It probably wasn't anyone from the Board of Directors at this hour. It might be SOLDIER related. SOLDIERs worked all hours of the day and night, depending on the missions they undertook. Maybe someone had run into a roadblock and needed him to perform some bureaucratic magic.
The two messages he beheld on his phone had him wanting to immediately pack up for the day and head to some event—a show, a restaurant, a sightseeing stroll around the slums, an overnight camping trip in the Midgar Wasteland—anything to get offsite.
Sephiroth had sent only three words, but they were more than enough: EMERGENCY: ANGEAL COOKING.
Lazard hadn't needed the alert Genesis sent that elaborated on Sephiroth's warning: ANGEAL IS COOKING TONIGHT. MAKE YOURSELF SCARCE IN CASE HE WANTS TO SHARE.
Lazard's mother hadn't raised an idiot. He immediately swept his unfinished paperwork off his desk and into his briefcase then forwarded all his remaining email to his personal account. He flicked off the lights as he strode swiftly out his office door.
The next morning, Zack heard about Angeal's latest culinary adventure from the SOLDIER grapevine. Luxiere had sent an email chain full of warnings to him. In his turn, Luxiere had gotten the information from Essai, who'd been told by Sebastian, who'd received a text from an accountant named Janice, who'd seen an email from Lazard's secretary Roy, who'd heard in the break room from comments made by a Third Class named Hiroto, who'd heard from SOLDIER Second Class Arkadi, who'd gotten the latest update from Kunsel, who managed the SOLDIER betting pool in his spare time, had personally witnessed Sephiroth, Genesis, and Lazard sneaking out of the building the previous night, and, with a little digging, had discovered exactly why they'd behaved like fugitives on the lam.
Given that the root of that rather long chain was Kunsel, Zack knew it must be entirely accurate. He was a little surprised that no Turks were on the list, but he wasn't going to worry about them. They could take care of themselves.
He just needed to make sure he didn't get within shouting distance of his mentor today. Angeal might very well press some leftovers on him. He loved Angeal like an older brother, but there was no way he'd subject himself to the man's cooking again if he could in any way avoid it.
He'd been caught more than once, and he'd smiled each time and make noncommittal statements, which Angeal had interpreted as compliments. And that was fine. In addition to being Zack's mentor, Angeal was a nice guy in general. Zack didn't want to hurt his feelings.
He suspected that no one had ever been willing to hurt Angeal's feelings with the truth, and sometimes wondered rather uncharitably if even Angeal's own parents had smiled and avoided making any honest declarations that perhaps he needed to find a different hobby.
Zack figured that was why Angeal's mom had bought him a fancy camera—to gently nudge her son in the direction of other pastimes. Pity it hadn't worked.
He checked his calendar. Fortunately, he didn't have any training sessions scheduled with Angeal today. He just needed to make sure he avoided Angeal's usual haunts: the gym, the SOLDIER Common Room, the VR Training Rooms, and...well, a lot of places. Angeal got around. Zack knew he needed to keep a sharp eye out.
Maybe there was something on the mission board he could volunteer for to get him out of Midgar for the day.
Doctor Hollander got home a little after five-thirty that day. After entering his high rise apartment just outside the Shinra headquarters, he dumped a bag of plastic containers on his kitchen table.
It had been a long day, made no easier when Angeal Hewley had come to him to report possible auditory hallucinations. He couldn't believe that Angeal was worried about his hearing, but considering the nature of Angeal's genetic and cellular makeup, something weird might need to be considered. Auditory hallucinations could very well have presaged more serious conditions.
Hollander had run a full suite of auditory tests, and then followed up with an extensive physical, including taking blood, assorted bodily fluids, and some tissue samples. Fortunately, nothing unusual had been uncovered. Angeal's hearing was perfect, just like the rest of him. Hollander had always been proud of his work on Angeal's case.
After being confronted with reams of perfectly normal test results, Angeal had finally conceded that he might have just imagined hearing his friends' voices the previous night. Hollander concurred. The hallway in the First Class housing area probably carried voices from other SOLDIERs, and Angeal had been preoccupied with cooking, so he'd probably just misheard someone.
Thank the Goddess it turned out to be nothing.
And what a nice surprise that Angeal had come to the lab bearing gifts of food. Lovely pork roast with gravy, roasted vegetables, even an ambrosia fruit salad that could serve as dessert. All of it packed neatly in reusable plastic containers, which Hollander had promised to clean and return once he'd eaten everything.
That might take a few days, though. Angeal didn't seem to realize normal, unenhanced humans couldn't eat as much as SOLDIERs; he'd given Hollander enough food to last for at least three meals.
The boy didn't know that Hollander was his biological father and often treated him as a necessary evil, so the gift of food was an unexpected kindness. Angeal must have been feeling particularly magnanimous, despite his worry about the functionality of his ears.
Hollander scooped portions of the meat, gravy, and vegetables onto a plate and put it into his microwave. While the food heated, filling the kitchen with tantalizing aromas, he got a bottle of Banora White apple juice from his refrigerator and poured a nice big glass. When everything was ready, he carried his meal to the dining table and sat down.
It looked gorgeous. It smelled mouth-wateringly delicious. Unable to wait, he dug in, starting with the meat.
It was as delectable as it looked and smelled, full of flavorful, melt-in-your-mouth goodness. The last time he'd had pork roast this enjoyable, he'd cooked it himself. And that had been over a year ago. His important job meant he rarely had much time to spend in the kitchen.
The vegetables were just as scrumptious. All the seasonings in the meal had been coordinated with artistry and what was clearly a deft and experienced hand. His bottled apple juice turned out to be a perfect accompaniment to the roast pork and vegetables. Hollander practically inhaled the meal, and then indulged himself by reheating another plateful for seconds.
He barely stopped himself from having thirds.
Instead, he took a heaping portion of the ambrosia salad for dessert, and it was, well, ambrosial. Wonderfully sweet, the sour cream and marshmallows paired faultlessly with the glistening, honey-glazed fruits, nuts, and coconut. Were there hints of wine, sage, oregano, and blackened cardamom in the dessert, as well? Delicious.
It wasn't the standard ambrosia salad, that was for sure. It contained a lot of surprising and creative touches that would never be found in a routine, boring cookbook. Hollander would call Angeal in the morning to thank him for the extraordinary meal, and would make sure to get the delightful ambrosia recipe, as well.
What an amazing cook Angeal had turned out to be! Hollander couldn't be more proud. Clearly, his son had done extensive experimentation with his cooking to turn out such a sumptuous repast. Of course, that was to be expected, since Angeal was the offspring of two scientists. Experimentation was in his blood. He had obviously inherited the best traits from both his parents, including Hollander's own excellent sense of taste. A regular chip off the old block! Thank goodness Gillian had taught him to cook so that Angeal's inherent aptitude hadn't remained hidden and unknown.
Which reminded him: He hadn't called Gillian in far too long. She probably missed their little chats, and he needed to congratulate her for raising Angeal so well. He especially should praise her for making sure their son had mastered such wonderful culinary arts. He was certain she was just as proud as he was.
Why, Angeal was probably the only SOLDIER who could be a professional chef if he so desired. Not even Hojo's "perfect specimen" Sephiroth could compare. Hojo, for all his insufferable gloating, didn't have a specimen who could prepare such marvelous gastronomic masterpieces! Sephiroth could barely find the kitchen, let alone create edible art in one. Hollander would be sure to rub Hojo's nose in that fact.
Why wait until work tomorrow? Hollander considered options as he carried his empty dishes to the sink. That egotistical jerk Hojo constantly fed positive propaganda about Sephiroth to the public by leaking details both true and invented to the fan clubs, particularly the Silver Elite. As if his ridiculous and unimaginative pseudonym of "Chairwoman H" fooled anyone!
Two could play at that game. Hollander got out his PHS and pulled up the Keepers of Honor website. They needed an update on Angeal's latest triumph.
~ end ~
October 2021
NOTES: For anyone interested, here is the Keepers of Honor email to Zack in Crisis Core that launched fourteen years (and counting!) of fanon about Angeal's cooking:
Angeal Fan Club Newsletter 312
From: Keepers of Honor
Contents:
Hello, fan club members!
Let's take another peek into Angeal's "unauthorized" profile!
Most valued possession: His camera
A gift from his mother, he uses it to take shots of the scenery whenever he goes on a mission.
Most valued skill: Cooking with leftovers
Self-catering is essential in frugal living.
Housewives in our readership should take note!
That's all for this update.
We'll let you know when we have more to share with you!