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He lets Tidus take the full lead now, content to watch and take notes in his head at the process in which he moves about the kitchen. Another pang of admiration as Roland realizes this is a form of organized thought put into action; that Tidus probably does this often enough that he knows what to do even without a recipe.

He hums to himself as the meat sizzles in the pan and the said spices explained are sprinkled on top without hesitation. Roland would have looked at the rest of the spices, but is already on the move upon the ask for a plate. Said item is deposited promptly yet carefully a little ways away from the heat, forks and spoons sticking out from a clean cup for convenience.

Roland waits for Tidus before he moves to poke at the cooked meat. It smells much better now, fragrant as promised.

"Time for a taste test, then? Fingers crossed."

Tidus slips a fork into his own hand, rolls around the pieces of meat to decide on one before he stabs it, his answer to Roland in when pops it into his mouth and chews. And it tastes what he expects, for the guy who knows what flavours he put into it: smoky, subdued, the spices mingling well together; and then there was the artificial taste of meat, slightly sweet.

More a body to house the flavours than to be one itself.

"Not bad," Tidus hums, neither one way or another about it. "You're only gonna get as good as your meat is, which isn't great. Might as well cook with something like tofu than something like this. But at least it fries. It's all about what you stick with it at this point. He takes another piece onto his fork, then looks over at the other jars of flavouring.

"You wanna try some different flavours? Just don't forget you have the rice and everything going in too."

...That's definitely not bad at all. He makes a slight face of surprise, as if he had doubts about the mix, but the meat's never tasted this way and he's been experimenting for days. Maybe a whole week, now.

"Not bad at all. Nice touch on that smoky spice. It's good. The red scared me a little, but I can get behind it. Poor meat choice aside." Roland takes a few more pieces of the fried meat in his mouth and chews while the fork lays to rest by a paper towel laid out for whatever purpose they so choose. Then, he turns over to the rest of the spices, a particularly yellow one catching his eye -

- but then he stops, as if remembering something. Turning to Tidus with a quirk of his brow. "Hold on. How much spice did you add? You didn't tell me the measurements." He abandons the task of the spices and reaches over for the measuring spoons, holding them close to his eye in inspection. "I think the paprika was equivalent to what, one and a half teaspoons?"

...

".....uhhhhh...."

His brow is dipped low, staring at the measuring spoons that Roland holds now, a tilt to his mouth. Measurements...

"Just add whatever you want?" he decides helplessly. "The golden rule in cooking is you can add, but you can't take. So just add 'til you like the taste of it."

A perfect answer with absolutely no numbers. Great. Learn well, Roland! In the meantime, Tidus grabs a couple of eggs and a jug, cracking the shells on the rim and putting them to the side after, the bin too far to bother with. Pouring in some milk from its plastic container, and then mixing it together with a fork.

"Is egg fried rice with meat and veg good enough? If you wanna make rice omelette, I don't remember how to do that. Unless we make an omelette and roll the rice in like a wrap."

Which already sounds like a massive mess.

He'll hum at that. It makes sense, the rule of adding much simpler to control than the matter of subtracting and changing up the taste because you started off with an excess. But he won't let go of the spoons regardless, even as he turns back to the spices set about them while Tidus does more of the prep work.

A yellow bottle for turmeric, another one for...ginger powder? He perks up, looks around the counters, remembering the recipe that Tidus is prepping for. "Hold on. I forgot something." Roland leaves - takes the discarded egg shells with him to throw away properly, please! - and comes back with a half-empty bottle of tomato sauce, cold from the chiller. He's used it already.

"This is supposed to color the rice. And I think, add flavor? Let's see." He also brings back the said rice they made before, cold and grains separating naturally from its day-old age. "Okay, I think I'm ready." He says with a finality to it, preparing for battle. Tensing up somewhat while he surveys the ingredients laid out and hearing Tidus beat the eggs well. Today has to be the day he gets it right! He already has expert help!

He waits where he is, fork put down once he's ready, the jug too with the eggs as he angles the handle of the pan where he wants it. Grabs the oil as he begins to speak, splashing some in to replace what was swept up in the meat pieces.

"Alright, so, easy fried rice recipe. Eggs first if you want them--you don't need to use milk, that's up to you. But here we go-"

He tips them in, and instantly the kitchen fills with the noise, drowned out for a moment by the liquid, but coming through as the mix is quick to solidify, and Tidus starts to beat it around.

"You just want a bit of oil for the eggs, cook them off some way -- like this. Doesn't take too long, not when you're cooking with oil. Then, you want the rice. Pass it?"

He holds out a hand for the container, but needs to use the fork that beat the eggs to tip in the amount he wants. "You want those flavours too?" he asks, to the turmeric, ginger powder? Thinks he knows the flavours by the colouring, but that's secondary. First is the tomato sauce poured around the edge of the rice, a habit, before he'll grab for the measuring spoons Roland was fiddling with before. Come on, hand them over--he'll use the smaller ones to dump some amounts of the seasonings. Less the ginger, more the turmeric.

"Don't spoon out your spices over the heat," he warns. "You'll ruin them. Don't wanna make the train angry, right?"

And with that said, Tidus starts to mix everything in on itself, sweeping in the food and then breaking it apart, folding it over, flavourings with it; a process automatic, done in confident motions. The rice colours with the tomato, lightening by the bold yellow present. Tidus realises he should have added maybe another egg, or cooked off more meat first, but he adds the latter back in anyway, just to mix it together. Letting the rice sit for a few seconds before mangling it some more, to give it some crisp.

"Wanna get a spoon for a taste test. See if you want any more sauce or spice in there. Salt?" Tidus turns down the heat some just in case. The spring onions not forgotten, but that can wait for later. Always added last, on the dying remains of the heat.

"If ruining spices is the only thing it'll take for the train to talk, then I should have started cooking on my own a long time ago. Heh."

He chuckles at the joke, but Roland is more focused on every move Tidus makes with the pan, the fork, the spices flying across the medley of other ingredients. It's almost poetic in its flurry of activity, because no matter how fast Roland complies with handing over the utensils or the ingredients missing, Tidus meets it perfectly where it needs to be. When the cue is given, he follows well-timed and easy. It can get mesmerizing, but thankfully Roland is the type to listen well when he's obviously being taught by example. Nodding when he makes a display of the eggs and rice, then watching how Tidus measures out the spices. More of the former than the latter, the tomato sauce deposited around instead of clumps in the center. Small things that seemed to make all the difference. He's itching to take out his notebook to write it down, but knows it's not the place for it, as it wasn't the place for it then at the gym, training new moves.

He nods again about the spoons, which he reaches for easily. Two clean ones, handed to Tidus. "Ah. Black pepper, I think. Maybe just a pinch of salt. The meat will give off that saltiness to it, right?" Too afraid to go overboard, but he hands both to Tidus anyway, trusting his intuition behind the stove. Waits for him to taste it first before he dips his own spoon into the rice.

As he blows to cool it, he'll throw in the question that he's been dying to ask. "Who taught you how to cook like this, Tidus? This is really impressive."

"The paprika might be enough," Tidus reasons, at the mention of the meat; rather, processed meat, and a saltiness it doesn't have on its own. But its smoky from the seasoning, and some of that will rub off on the rest. What was already left in the pan too, mixed in with the now scattered bits of clumpy egg.

The salt and pepper are nearby, but it can wait for the first taste. Spoon taken, more rice than anything else, blown too. A mouthful waited on with the question asked. "Huh?" --just for that sound, and then Tidus pops it in his mouth. A little too early by the small wince, but then, between chews-

"Taught myself! I got into reading recipes for blitz training, whey shakes and fluff and everything you can make. One thing led to another, and I tried new things now and then." He shrugs, and this taste -- it'd be good with a better meat. Or even another kind of sauce he thinks. Curry. Or a fish? Roasted, with lemon slices and tomatoes...

Either way, it's not bad at all. "You could call it a hobby. Somethin' between training and games. I didn't live inside the city, so there wasn't a lot to do without moving the boat around." So, he cooked.

And nevermind that he always cooked too much, cooked like he could have packed the boat with guests. Since why just cook the proper portions when he's already going, in the zone? And he thinks even now, 'I can make more of this easy. How about I put more rice on to boil?', the other recipes not far from his mind.

"Self-taught? That's...pretty amazing. If you ever wanted to go pro with this too, I can see it happening." He won't hide that admiration, because anything that takes this much skill and dedication but coming from the fruits of your own hard labor will always earn Roland's approval. He could have picked any other hobby to entertain himself between matches, but he chose this. Something about how simple it is resonates well with him. Roland nods at that, takes a bite out of the cooled rice and hums pleasantly. "Good. Really good. That's way better than all of my attempts combined."

Guess the secret was in the spice! Or in Tidus's masterful handling of them, really. He goes in for a second scoop, eats it right away. Saltiness just right. Roland will have to rely on his memory for this one, no opportunity in the moment to write it down on paper.

"So you lived on a boat, huh? What was it like? What kind of dishes did you cook?" A quick change into something Tidus is more familiar with, a small hint of passion for kitchen arts a piece of information Roland never thought he'd learn from the athlete. He puts away his spoon as he talks and starts cleaning up where he can, though he knows the work here might not be over just yet. "Maybe we can recreate some here. Leave it out for others to try. I'm willing to play sous chef, if you're patient enough."

Roland is a guy easily impressed, isn't he. Not that Tidus isn't proud of himself, thinks he's got some skill too -- you need confidence, and Tidus isn't going to stand here and dismiss himself. A scoff leading into a short chuckle.

"You already planning a restaurant there? One thing at a time - you gotta put that big dreamer brain on a break!" The quality of a president?

Whatever the case, he swaps the pan over to a heatless ring, grabs the spring onion to add in finally. Talking as it's sprinkled in, again the rice and meat mix spooned around. "I cooked anything! Pan-cooking's my favourite, keeping everything on the stove. Fish is always popular in the books - rice, spaghetti. Whatever you wanna cook, really. I tried anything once or twice."

They need plates. Or containers to put this in. Pausing in his reply to point to the food. "You want to put this away? You know where the tubs are?"

"Heh. What can I say? When I see talent, I'm inclined to help it grow." And that is indeed, what he's used to the most. Scoping out who's good at what and making sure they're where they need to be. Though this was really just a hobby as Tidus had mentioned. No concrete plans to encourage him to do anything with, apart from helping him get even better, maybe learning new dishes. Might even benefit from a cookbook from Evermore, though the ingredients would be the problem. Maybe Roland could save up again and get him a meal set to experiment with...?

For now, he returns to the task at the kitchen. Roland leaves for a moment to grab an empty container, lid open and set aside. He looks at the rest of the ingredients and wonders what else he's going to be cooking up next. At the very least, Roland thinks this is a good primer for him to be a bit more creative in the kitchen. He can't remember the last time he's tried and succeeded at cooking for himself; always the kitchens at work, whether Floyd for Evan, or his own staff at home.

"What's your favorite dish, then? Your comfort food?" He says first, while awaiting new orders from the head chef.

"Oh man, comfort food? Lessee..."

He's mumbling while picking up the container and bringing it closer to where he wants it, lifting the pan to start knocking in the fried rice.

"I like...fish tacos. Or any kind of fish wrap. Fish goujons are good too--a big dish of them, some dipping sauce. But good bits of fish marinated in a sauce, then thrown in a wrap? That's great. You can do it with rice too! Put in some lemon or lime-"

There's a tap-tap-tap as he knocks off what clings to the spatula into the container, picks it up and hands it over for Roland to put the lid on.

"That wouldn't be bad in a wrap either. In the mornings or for lunch? Whatever you're feelin'. Speaking of-" He claps his hands together, wiping off the nothing on them. "Wanna see how this wrap recipe goes? Hardest part should be getting them as thin as we want them."

But with that question, he's already going over to the other counter, where all his ingredients are ready and waiting for him.

"Heh. You sound just like Evan." Chalk that up to another little fact about Tidus that reminds Roland how well he would have taken to Hydropolis. All the fish and sea and sky he could bask in. An imagining for some other day. "All the things I order at restaurants, turns out you can just make on your own. I'm jealous."

He moves about, closing the container and setting it aside where it won't take up too much space. Then he wipes his hands down on his apron and takes a look at the ingredients he mentions. Feels a bit more of the challenge, since stir-frying rice was the easiest bit. A more technical ask though...No, he's come this far already. Roland crosses his arms and nods.

"Let's do it. I guess I'll just eat whatever failed wraps we make. On you, pro." He smiles, maybe a joke. Maybe not! He's fine being the human garbage disposal for now - especially when he'd rather not waste ingredients before they're to be replenished by the train.

"Hey, anything we fail at, we should be able to use as a pizza base. Flour, oil, some sea salt... this shouldn't be bad! We should learn it - it'll be easy. No messing with yeast."

Unless Roland already has. Has Senku taken up the offer of using Inigo as a working chocobo, one fussy president guy included? Regardless, Tidus grabs the scales - and if Roland wants, he'll direct him to the book, tap the page - "This is the recipe" - so they're on the same one. Speak then as he gets the amount of flower needed, the measurement of salt and oil.

"Who's Evan? Evermore, or the first place?" He knows the name of the first world Roland comes from, doesn't he? Something like.. "Arem... Remm.. Remmin-something?"

He leans forward a bit, reading off the page with a finger under his chin. "Alright. Got it. Measuring, I can do." The understatement of the century, apart from his president jokes. Roland will move in tandem with Tidus, grabbing what's handed to him and pulling measuring cups to their proximity. He'll start with conservative portions for a small batch first, transferring wet and dry ingredients where they're instructed on the recipe book to new mixing bowls. Warm water in a thermos already sitting behind them, which he grabs and pours out too in perfect ratio.

The work serves a good backdrop for conversation, he thinks.

"My king. The king of Evermore, yes. With the long name, heh." He answers while placing the warm water next to their work station, getting ready to knead. He seems to be doing that a lot these days, between Senku's ramen noodles and now, this. Not that he minds. "And my country in the first world is the United States of Aremica. You can just call it USA for short." Has the salt been put into the spoons? Or was it just by pinch? "I mentioned Evan because his favorite thing to eat is fish too. But uh, that's because he's half-grimalkin." A beat. "Half-cat, for us."

N-not that Evan can like fish just because!

Edited 2020-10-22 16:28 (UTC)

"USA? Alright." Huh. There's an interest in the way it says it, the shortened down name to initials. Odd. He's not used to it, except for the different districts that made up Zanarkand. The flour gets dumped into a mixing bowl once everything is ready to start being added, not once stopping his work with his hands even as he asks suspiciously, judging: "Are you calling me a cat?"

Is that what you're trying to say, Rolo??? Even so-

"But what does that mean, 'half-cat'? Half-cat, half-what? What does he look like?"

"Well, meow loud enough and you could pass off as one. Heh." He jokes lightly, taking up his own bowl with ingredients and using a spatula to mix them together. Will dive in with his bare hands next, kneading required as per the recipe. Talking while working again, dough a little stickier than he expected. More water, perhaps?

"Half-cat, half-boy." Roland shrugs. "He's a blonde, blue-eyed kid with a set of ears and a tail. Can't get more straightforward than that."

"Har har."

That's all Roland is getting. No meows!! Doing as much the same he did with the spatula before (but now with one clean), Tidus mixes the ingredients in on themselves, one part at a time, until it finds a shape. Gives a glance at Roland's own forming dough, this whole scene admittedly...unusual. Peculiar. Someone else to cook with.

A feeling noticed before the conversation draws him back, and so does his own sticky dough. Tidus sprinkles a small helping of flour over its lumpy shape, help to get it rolled out of the bowl.

"That's weird." No offence, Evan. "Nothing else to him? What about fur? We have these cat-like people called Ronso in Spira. Big and blue... really muscular. And they got the cat nose--you know the one?"

... "Well, actually... they have cat-everything." Admittedly.

Ah, nevermind. Learning from the ramen episode with Senku and Gen, Roland still remembers what it feels like when the dough cooperates with the knead. He works at it, with a much lighter hand than the rubbery dough from the noodles, and eventually he gets to a good rhythm, the wrap forming as intended.

Glances at Tidus's bowl from time to time, to make sure he's doing it right. So far, so good! But back to their chat -

- Roland wouldn't be offended, but won't agree either. Respects Evan and his departed father too much to say things out loud. So he'll offer a shrug instead. "No. No fur. Not even the nose - yeah I know what you're talking about." His dad was a Lion, wasn't he? But he got none of that...? Strange, indeed. Not that he's ever thought about it seriously till today. Roland's not going to think about grimalkin race genetics, thanks.

"Ronso, huh? Are all of them muscular with cat-everthing's? That's pretty unique, I've got to say."

One wrap, down for Roland.

Rolling the dough isn't as entuned in his hands as working on a stove, but there isn't a lot of thought to it. Keep rolling it in on itself, knead against the bottom of the palms. Keep it up, add a little flour if it still sticks, but never too much.

"Yeah, there isn't as many Ronso as humans, but they're big tough things! One was Yuna's guardian - more her caretaker growing up," he fixes. "Quiet guy, but loyal as anything. Kimahri. You think I can jump? That guy can throw himself anywhere."

His voice blooms with colour, affection, warm and carrying easily with his kneading.

"So I guess Evan's like a... human lookin' guy with just some fuzzy ears and a tail? Pretty...bare, for a cat guy." Boy. Whatever. Their kneading done, Tidus directs for the dough to be set aside for a while; remembers what he said before and points over to the peppers.

"Think we can use some of the sauce left over and those peppers for a pizza? What veg do you like?"

So far, Roland realizes that Tidus speaks fondly about certain aspects of his time in Spira more than others. Yuna of course, would always hold something special for him. Even if Roland never got the chance to meet her before she disembarked, one need only to know Tidus then to understand that connection well. This too, was a welcome thing to hear from him. Kimahri, part of his team, which Roland now tries to imagine as he sets aside his own finished wrap and takes a look at the rest of the ingredients distractedly. It does warm him up some to be a part of the story Tidus shares with him when he can, when Roland is allowed to hear it.

"Oh yeah?" He says, engaged. "But can he do that blitzball spinning move you did at the gym?" Roland jests, though the implied compliment is genuine.

He'll turn to the line up again, fully intending to deflect his own honesty about how less of a cat Evan is but more of a human boy wearing a costume if he looked at it that way. The grimalkin would probably skin him alive, and Evan would give him that face. Roland's own expressions were something, but Evan had the eyes that could knock anyone out of their defenses.

"Yeah, sounds good. Easy on the hot peppers for me, but everything else we throw on it, I'll eat." A pause, a slight tilt of the head, before he adds: "Do we have cheese, though? Where I come from, pizza has cheese." Which is more of a clarification than anything. He's learned not to assume so much, especially in interdimensional communities like this.

"Never know! Never got him to try," Tidus adds to the joke, mirth in his throat. He goes over to the where the peppers are to ready them by the cutting board, nothing too offensive used on it already to bother with picking out another.

"Check the fridge? The cheese always goes quick- train doesn't know it's more popular than fifty tonnes of carrots."

What was even with its picks in that. Maybe he shouldn't have been so down on the bacon before, although the constant salty meat bored Tidus quick.

"If you're going that way, can you grab some potatoes? I got another recipe that needs 'em. Just one or two should work."

"Got it."

Roland is a fast worker; when instructed, he follows and does it efficiently. He returns to Tidus's side with three potatoes - one extra, just in case! - and a quarter of a block of cheese, a little stinky but he knows that's where the flavor lies. "You weren't kidding about how fast these go," he says with some level of wonder. "I'm pretty sure when I last checked, this was still a whole wheel." All ingredients requested are deposited neatly by Tidus's free side on the work station. Roland washes his hands again, just to be safe.

He peers to check what's going on. Pizza, and then...something else? Roland's a little unused to so much cooking happening all at once, enough to at least ask innocently. "Say, don't you want to finish the pizza before we start prepping for the other recipe? What dish is it anyway?" He'll pick up a potato now, just getting the peeler ready from the bottom drawer. He may be wondering about the process, but wasn't about to slack off as the sous chef.

The peppers quickly chopped and diced, put away into their bowl, Tidus is messing with...the flour. But a different flour than the one used before, measuring it out and sticking it into a fresh bowl. They're going to run out, soon...

"Foccacia," Tidus answers first. "And I'm just measuring out the ingredients. We'll get back to the wraps in a sec- then we can clean up and prep the dough while the pizza wraps are cookin'." See? It's making use of all their time! "You always gotta wait for bread, and we'll have more time to wait between kneading dough with yeast in it, so we might as well do something else, you know? We're already in a kitchen."

Back home, he could step out of the kitchen and into the living room, put on the TV and catch up on some blitzball games or dramas. But he had none of that here. Just himself, a kitchen, a friend to send off to the store car whenever they needed more ingredients.

"We can take out the wrap dough and work with it now if you want. But there's no harm giving it time to settle. Plus, we've got more recipes in here." He takes the book, brushing through the pages. "--Here, hey, how about dipping sauce? We can use that with the focaccia."

Roland is, quite frankly, unused to the sight of Tidus so busy, messy, yet organized at the same time. He knows he has energy to spare for it - in what is perhaps the natural state of an athlete at their prime - but the process in which he moves from one unfinished dish to the other is astoundingly confusing. And awe-inspiring? Roland can barely finish one dish without his absolute attention in command, yet here comes Tidus with about three to four dishes already in his mind's eye, with more yet to come.

He didn't think he would be accessing his multitasking hat for cooking, but what was life without the spice of surprise? Roland adjusts fairly quickly anyway, just making sounds of slight affirmation and understanding as he tries his utmost to create a system for both of their benefit. When Tidus talks, points to something, Roland moves and rearranges it right away so that ingredients that are either about to be used, or are already in the process of being baked or cooked, are in a certain order of ascending priority. The breads to rise and dough balls remaining for wraps are put in their own space, and he soon realizes he'll need to maximize the counter tops for more work yet.

We look like we're cooking for a party.

"Okay, focaccia. I've had that before. That's pretty fragrant." And a bit of a shock that Tidus knows about it? Then again, it's evident who's the expert here. He'll put both his hands on his hips as he looks over at the recipe on the book Tidus mentions; dipping sauce for the bread. Simple enough, almost like pizza sauce even. Tomatoes, basil, olive oil, garlic and balsamic vinegar. He's already on the move back to the stores, memorized enough of it to know what they don't have.

"Can we work with this dipping sauce if we're missing the balsamic vinegar?" He calls out from the adjacent room.

Edited 2020-10-26 16:19 (UTC)

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