After finally finding an empty seat, Furen glanced at the menu.
This one, in truth, was hardly different from those found on Earth: the most emblematic dishes were highlighted from the first page, while the less famous, but equally tasty, dishes were relegated to discreet corners of the booklet where only regulars and fine gourmets knew how to find them.
Furen then observed the restaurant's flagship dishes.
It went without saying that the most famous dish of Disy Bay, south of Loen, was well known to all: Disy pie.
Having decided to have both lunch and dinner here, Furen gave up the awkward idea of choosing just one pie.
He then turned his attention to the other typical dishes of Disy, less renowned than the pie, certainly, but just as full of character.
After scanning the menu with an expert eye, he shook his head with a frustrated sigh.
Like any true gourmet, he regretted having only one stomach and not being able to taste everything at once.
But wasn't that precisely the pleasure of lovers of good food?
Each meal became a new journey for the tongue and taste buds, and Furen fully savored the experience.
He raised his hand to call the waiter.
When he approached, Furen pointed to the map and asked:
"Apart from Disy's pie, what other dish would go well with it?"
The waiter replied in a professional tone:
"At our Disy Bay-themed restaurant, several dishes are almost as popular as the pie: Disy's Seafood Casserole, Disy-Style Slow-Cooked Rice, and Disy's Grilled Fish.
But if we have to talk about the dish that best accompanies the pie, there is no doubt: it is the soup from the depths of Disy.
This rich and flavorful soup complements the pie perfectly.
In fact, that's what Mr. Jimmy Rhodes, the famous food critic, said after tasting all our dishes."
The name was not unknown to him.
By the greatest of coincidences, Furen remembered reading an article by this Jimmy Rhodes in a copy of the Trier Daily that he had read just after his arrival in this world.
The newspaper presented him as one of the city's most renowned food critics.
In Trier, a city renowned for its openness and culture, beauty was everywhere and critics, writers and artists were legion.
In such an environment, it was hardly surprising that gastronomes, food columnists and even writers specializing in the art of the table were born.
Fortunately for these people who lived by their pen, the Trier newspapers offered them a space for expression.
They published their articles there, and the food magazines were even more welcoming to them.
Thanks to this, Trier's culinary literature enjoyed worldwide fame, while in many other places newspapers categorically refused to publish anything so far removed from politics or major news.
"In that case," said Furen, "bring me a famous Disy pie, and some soup from the depths of Disy."
The waiter, dressed in a white shirt, blue waistcoat and impeccably ironed black trousers, bowed slightly:
"Very well, sir. I'll bring it to you right away."
The restaurant wasn't crowded, but the preparation still took time.
So while the service wasn't slow, it wasn't particularly fast either.
As Furen expected, both dishes arrived after a reasonable delay.
Disy's pie well deserved its reputation: its golden, crisp exterior immediately whetted the appetite.
Furen picked it up with one hand and was surprised to find that it wasn't greasy to the touch, as its appearance might suggest.
Intrigued, he refrained from jumping to conclusions and tasted it directly.
From the first bite, a wonderful sensation overwhelmed him: the crispy, light but consistent pastry yielded under his teeth, releasing a fragrant and melting heart.
The stuffing, surprisingly, was not saturated with oil or dominated by fish.
Instead, it contained an unexpected diversity of ingredients: crisp fruits and vegetables, uniquely flavored pieces of flesh and greenery, whose flavors blended harmoniously in the mouth.
Furen chewed slowly, savoring every minute of nuance.
When the mouthful finally slid down his throat, a lingering aroma remained on his tongue.
Far from being heavy like some meat pies, this one left a pleasant freshness in the mouth, no doubt thanks to spices or vegetables unknown in its former world.
His appetite, far from being satisfied, was on the contrary stimulated.
"Hmm…" he said to himself, "after this one, I'll order another."
Satisfied, he took two more bites before turning to Disy's Deep Sea Soup, famously paired with pie.
On the surface, the soup looked quite ordinary: various fish, sea vegetables and a clear broth.
Nothing spectacular, and yet, a certain nobility emanated from its simplicity.
Furen took a spoonful and brought it to his lips with a small sucking noise.
The taste was simple, almost familiar, but suddenly the residual flavor of the pie mingled with that of the broth, producing a surprising effect: like drinking fresh water after eating a mint lozenge.
It wasn't intense, but exquisitely harmonious.
A moan of pleasure escaped him despite himself.
He came to his senses immediately, slightly embarrassed.
A blush rose to her cheeks.
Fortunately, no one was around: the few waiters were chatting at the back of the room.
Furen calmed down, pretended nothing had happened, and continued to enjoy both dishes with obvious pleasure.
When he had consumed half his soup, he signaled to the waiter and ordered a second Disy pie.
This time it arrived quickly, and Furen, taking advantage of the fact that the soup was still lukewarm, finished everything down to the last bite.
When it came time to pay, he discovered with pain that while the quality of the restaurant was impeccable, the prices were much less so.
The meal had practically emptied his wallet of what a middle-class person could have saved in six months without spending a penny.
He patted his wallet with a disappointed look.
He had no choice but to walk home, or to go directly, on foot again, to the family dinner planned for later.
"What a pain..." thought Furen, on the verge of tears.
(End of chapter)