A Truth Best Served Delicious - or 'Cooking shall be the key to the deepness of souls rather than mere desire' (Food Wars Asahi!SI)

I am not a Master Chef, nor I expected myself to easily become one as I woke up in the body of a young Asahi from Food Wars.

I would love to add a last name to myself, but what I had was a Japanese name as a US citizen, a rather frustrated mind as I was trying and failing to understand how I got here in this situation, and an abusive alcoholic new mother that I wasted no time in ditching by stealing all her money.

Cruel? Not truly. When I woke up, I had bruises all over my body. I could feel my entire new self sore as there were small scars under the clothes- some of which were in places that just left me permanently angry at that bitch.

I was quite sure she wouldn't call the cops on me- first, the bruises would get attention, her attitude wouldn't help and the fact I 'ran away from home without external urge' would warrant a full-blown investigation.

A gold digger she may be, but that woman was far from being an idiot.

I was already changing canon a fair bit by just not 'letting this happen'. I would have gone to an orphanage, met Yukihira Joichirou and learned from him how to become a great chef.

The abuse just didn't amount to the pay-off; it was too much. I was not usually one that took care of fictional pain, but it became a bit of an issue if it was real within the moment. When the fiction became an absurd and ludicrous truth that no one could just ignore.

So… I just wandered off. And eventually found myself sitting at a bench in front of a small pizzeria. It felt fitting as I was born Italian in my previous life and had the blessing of learning how to cook pizza with a degree of mastery to it.

The place was small and quite rundown. No Animatronics so… that was good news. The owner was the 'old and kind man' stereotype made of living beings. He gave me a look, ignored the doubts raised by some of the workers and had me work around the kitchen.

On the first shift, I did a good job. On the second shift, I did a good job. Third shift, the other workers were fucking perplexed because I was helping in making Pizzas of quality at a faster pace than they could have expected a normal 10 years-old kid to be able to do.

It turns out that the old man was Italian. So, using a bit of Lingua Italiana was enough to get him to 'catch on' that I was not a stranger to the recipes relying on Pizza. As a year passed, I learned a few dishes the elder was keen to teach me.

Some stuff I knew, but I was utterly ignorant of some of the preparation behind some of the 'ingredients'. Ravioli- I never had the chance to learn how to make those, but the technique he used was very similar to the method I saw both my previous mother and my grandmother use to get some delicious ravioli done fast and right.

And with Asahi's ability to 'learn' a chef's style by harnessing their tools just once, I had the chance to get the process mastered after a few individual tries. I was going fast, I was a prodigy, and I got adopted.

Wait, what was that last one?

Oh right, remember that bit when I mentioned that I was Asahi NoName? Well, now that's no longer a thing. The old man, Mr. Manciàri, decided to offer me this- a place to call home.

At this point, one would say- 'you definitely shouldn't because he is not this guy or that guy', but this man had been responsible for taking care of me as a parent or a guardian should with their kids.

Some may find this sketchy as he had me work at the pizzeria a lot, but in truth he took me out of that place in times where I wanted to keep experimenting new dishes, either to check the park, visit the doctor or even have a walk around the block.

I was proud to be a 'Manciàri' which, ironically so, was Sicilian for 'To Eat'. Ironic or just Anime Logic coming out of nowhere and landing some awkward Italian naming system on the MC or relevant characters in general.

Still, with that emotional baggage wrapped up to some extent, I also saw improvement in my cooking. The whole 'clothes detonation' thing that was common in this world when the dish was just 'perfect' tended to happen frequently with the stuff I produced.

To many, this was a path to success but… I saw it as a 'false friend' in that regard. Sure, the series highlighted the importance of pursuing this sort of 'Divine Undressing', but this imagery was relatively 'fleeting'.

It was a powerful emotion that shook the body, released steam and brought 'clarity' to those that ate the good dish, but it didn't do the one thing that cooking was meant to bring- fondness and inner pleasure.

This much 'expression' through excessive displays was positive for only a few moments- and that was not good. So, I started to research what I considered to be the 'ultimate' recipe. In truth, there was not 'one for all', but 'one for each' as everyone was different and equal, with their tastes similar and yet not.

So, I decided to try something rather 'interesting' by using the 'meal of the week' to try and experiment on some recipes I found myself tapping into. Stuff that existed but was unfamiliar on this side of the globe.

It was harmless if not overall positive for the experience I was making with the new dishes. Everyone in the kitchen was always curious of what sort of 'powerful reaction' I would end up getting with the achievement of my 'goal' and… they were all surprised when the reaction was positive but muted from the clients that 'got it'.

It had been students- I had purposely studied this group as the one that visited the most, had similar lifestyles and backgrounds and, ultimately, similar tastes within their own soul.

I wasn't trying to reach their taste buds, I was trying to go beyond those. The food was good nonetheless, but it was the meaning and purpose it would 'push' into them that was going to gain the 'perfect reaction'.

Instead of an outward 'explosion', it was an implosion. It was a deep and sharp blast that tore through into a blissful and calm realization that coolly shifted deep and opened one's mind to their own motivations.

It was food not just for the belly, but the soul too.

How did I know this worked? The students that were 'touched' by this particular kind of pizza tended to ask for that specific dish for dinner.

The 'Potato Pizza' was actually a silly name for something a bit more 'complicated-named'. The 'Pizza con Formaggio e Patate alla Pizzaiola' was based on a standard pizza with cheese and… 'Pizzafied Potatoes'. Slices of potatoes were garnished and cooked with the right amount of spices to properly 'mix' and blend with the surface of the pizza.

At first glance, one would think it was a normal pizza, but the soft and transparent texture of gold over the cheese and tomato offered a tiny layer of taste that harnessed the complex ingredient into the usual pizza's taste.

Kids these years were all so endeared to Pizza and Fries that they tended to not see both mixes at once. Some tried, but the flavor just didn't mix right. But by using the basic components and carefully altering the mixture of those to actually fit within the main foundation of a pizza with potato slices… this could easily create a tasty meal that they could 'relate' to.

The truth shall set you free… for it will give the right ingredients to prepare the dish you truly deserve to be in your best shape.

As my second year at the 'Primadoro' Pizzeria came to an end, the place had been renovated, cleaned up properly and provided with improved tools for those working around the place to use. 'Grandfather' had it all patched up to be an excellent place where people could find themselves served with wonderful meals through lunch and dinner at an affordable price.

All was going well…

Until an old acquaintance of Old Man Manciàri decided to pay a visit to 'test' the Pizzeria's success.


AN

Care for a guess on who it is?

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