I absolutely ignored the way the lettuce sorta tasted like dirt and how much I hated tomatoes because I had a good old fashioned American hamburger in my hands right now and fuck my alien DNA for trying to mess this up for me.
When the last crumb disappeared into my mouth and I licked the flavors off my fingers, Rathal waved to the next chef who did the same as the first, though he revealed his prize with more flourish than the grumpy guy.
“Tacos. Taco Tuesdays, Taco dogs, Taco bells. You Earth dwellers love tacos.” Rathal plucked the flour tortilla stuffed with grilled chicken, red onions, and cilantro off of the serving platter and squeezed a dash of lime over it before placing it on my plate. “Personally, I don’t understand the appeal. It seems very basic to me, but then I prefer my food with more flare.”
I held up the street taco and looked at him over it. “This is flare, you cretin. Talk shit about tacos at your own peril.” I took two huge bites and moaned, sitting back in my chair hard while I chewed manna from heaven. I could die right now and be happy.
Rathal tossed the taco into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before nodding once and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “Not bad. Though little more than a mouthful.”
I snorted, swallowing the last of my taco and gestured at my plate. “Usually with tacos there are several. Three is probably the sweet spot, but one can never judge another on the number of tacos consumed. It's a sacred law.”
“Ah, I see. Well, in that case I will apologize for the miscalculation of taco to mouth ratio and we will move onto the next course.”
He nodded at the last chef, who had the largest covered platter. The chef wheeled his cart over to us and lifted the lid.
My hand came to my mouth with a sharp intake of air.
Apple motherfucking pie. With ice cream. Oh, holyfuckingshit there was churros with caramel dipping sauce, and a chocolate malt shake with two red and white striped straws sticking out of the whipped cream.
“I couldn’t decide on what desert was the most popular in your country so I just picked the first three that kept coming up in your media.
I looked at him with a quivering lip and reached for the malted shake first. That first sip made me shimmy in my seat and Rathal laughed.
“Which one is your favorite?”
I held up the shake. “Chocolate malt shakes all the way. It’s like an American staple.”
He got me all dressed up for chocolate shakes and burgers. It was a good thing we’d already exchanged our I love yous or I’d have blurted it out right here and now.
This was an A plusplusdate.
He was getting his dick sucked for this.
“Why are you looking at me that way? It's making me nervous.”
I snickered and continued drinking my shake while thinking of all the filthy ways I was going to reward him for this. Once I got to the bottom of the glass, Rathal served me and himself aslice of apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream and added the churros and caramel sauce as well.
After my second mouthwatering bite I sat back with a sigh and looked at him.
“Thank you for this.”
Rathal paused with his fork in midair before setting it back down on his plate. “You’re welcome. I know what it is to miss home. Something simple like a favorite meal can make all the difference. Though my chefs may kill us both if we make a habit of ordering Earth food. The vanilla beans were viciously hard to get.”
He made jokes but I knew heartache when I saw it.
“What was your favorite dish from Ara’Ama?” I asked before biting into the surgery mess of the churro.
His right ear flicked to the side, the rings clinking together softly. “There was a small cafe just on the outskirts of the Imperial city that served these little fried balls of bread called essa, stuffed with a spicy meat mash. Those paired with a nice cold glass of beer is what I would call my favorite meal. Though perhaps there are the grilled meats my mother used to prepare. She would spend all day preparing them, the spice blend was very exact, and then marinate them overnight so that they would be ready for the open flame the next day. It is a tie, I think.”
I glanced at the churro in my hand, noting that it was exactly like one I would find on Earth, down to the ridges. What would it be like to never have that again? My planet was still there, still alive and well, and once this stupid ass war was over, I could visit if I wanted. Before Anu had Jack’s antibodies to synthesize a cure, Ara’Ama was dead. It had been thousands of years since Rathal had tasted the spices of his homeworld. I couldn’t imagine never tasting my mother’s tamales or my father’s famous chili. Food was such a diverse part of people’s culture,and to lose it forever? Or at least in Rathal’s case, for thousands of years? Awful.
“I’m sorry you’ve lost so much,” I said, reaching my hand out to cover his and giving him a little squeeze.
He smiled and laid his other hand over mine, his rings warm against my fingers. “Thank you. But before you go starting to feel too sorry for me, know that I intend to gorge myself on all the flavors of home until I fall into a coma in which there may be no recovering from once the Rijitera crush the will of the Unity under their claws and resettle Ara’Ama .”
Laughter burst out of me around my mouthful of churro and ice cream and I covered my mouth to keep the food where it belonged. “Well alrighty then, sounds like a plan. What are we gonna do? Go house to house and demand payment for our war efforts in home cooked food?”
He tapped his chin and then snapped his fingers at me. “Or we could have a celebration day where everyone must bring one dish or else. It must have ingredients from the planet and the more original the recipe the better.”
