Chapter 92: Sequel: The Fake Saint Is Off to Japan 2
The nostalgic BGM of the city filled my ears as I strolled through the streets. I was looking for a restaurant that'd make my radar beep. I hadn't had modern food in ages, but I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to eat. Or rather, there were so many things I wanted to eat that I couldn't decide on anything!
Instead of overthinking it, I'd decided to walk around until I stumbled on the perfect place.
Huh? Do I think I'm in Solitary Gourmet? So what?! I promise I won't start making faces while saying, "I'm so...hungry..." so leave me alone!
Seeing Tokyo again after so long made me realize how comfortable modern life was. The roads were all perfectly maintained, and there was plenty of goods to go around. You only needed to walk a couple of seconds to find a place to eat.
While Fiori had gotten a lot better in recent years, I still hadn't gotten over the desolation of the past.
There was just one problem... Why was everyone looking at me so much? They weren't just stealing glances at this point—they were outright staring! I'd especially designed my dress so that it'd look like the kind of fashion Japanese girls wore. I was positive I didn't look like a weird alien or something, but I guess I did seem foreign with my long blonde hair and facial features... Not to mention my ethereal beauty. That was probably why I stood out.
Whatever, I don't care about their stares. I just wanna get some food.
The first place that caught my eye was a katsudon restaurant. The large poster next to the door showed a perfect bowl topped with beaten eggs that looked delicious.
I pondered over it for a while before concluding that it was a bad idea. A bowl of katsudon from the get-go was a bit too heavy. I wasn't even sure I could eat that much in one sitting with my current body. Although I could've easily knocked back a large serving of katsudon, a side of croquettes, and a bowl of ramen for dessert back when I was Fudou Niito—well, while I was healthy, at least—I doubted I could finish even half of that as Ellize.
My next stop was a convenience store. There were so many options. I was always surprised by the selection of sweets these places had to offer. These days, they could easily compete with bakeries and cake shops.
All right, let's put the convenience store on hold.
I'd walk around a bit more and if I couldn't find anything else I wanted, I'd come back.
A bit farther, I stumbled upon a Japanese barbecue place! Enjoying some grilled meat alone was probably the greatest luxury a common guy could experience, and the restaurant even had free ice cream! But, somehow, I didn't feel like it right now.
I turned the corner and saw a shop that specialized in French toast.
Yes! That's it!
Now that I thought about it, I'd never made French toast in Fiori.
It was a pretty simple recipe that only required eggs, milk, sugar, and bread. You soaked the bread in the aforementioned ingredients, fried it, and you were done. Obviously, making a good version wasn't that easy. Even if it had been, it still would've been difficult for me to pull off on the other side.
The biggest issue was the bread itself. It was a pain to make from scratch, and successfully baking the sort of soft bread I wanted was near-impossible considering my skill level and the equipment and ingredients I had at hand. Okay, I know I started off saying it was a simple recipe and immediately contradicted myself, but that was what it was. French toast was only quick and easy because you could buy packs of sliced bread in any shop here. It was the same as saying that curry was an easy dish anyone could make when you'd only ever used the premade curry roux from the supermarket.
Let me tell you that making it from scratch was a whole other animal!
I'd tried a few times on the other side, but all my attempts had failed. Besides, it was freakishly expensive because of all the spices you needed. I wasn't even sure I even knew which ones were necessary, by the way!
Enough curry talk—it was time to focus on French toast! I'd made up my mind. French toast it is!
As I stepped into the shop, the server froze and stared at me silently for a few seconds. "W-Welcome," they eventually stuttered before gesturing toward the tables. "Please pick any seat you'd like!"
First time serving an otherworlder, huh? I'm a bit disappointed with the service.
I picked a cozy seat in a corner by the window and opened the menu.
High-grade cultured butter, whipped cream, and honey; three cheese crême brulée; whipped cream tower, ice cream, and fruits... There were a lot of choices—even a bagel version! Does that count as French toast?
Looking through the pictures and reading the description was rousing my appetite.
Which one should I pick?
In my past life, I could've eaten them all, but this wasn't an option anymore. I could tell from the picture that one serving was going to be my maximum.
All right! I've decided!
I was going to go with the plain option—one that truly embodied the very essence of French toast!
I pressed the little button to call a server, and one of them arrived in less than ten seconds. I placed my order, but the server looked at me in confusion.
"Ah. Excuse me," I apologized. "One honey French toast, please. And one coffee."
I'm such an idiot!
I'd mistakenly spoken in Fiorian at first!
You're in Japan, so speak Japanese, me!
I could hear the servers whisper in the kitchen.
"Oh my god, I panicked!"
"I'm terrible at English!"
"Speak human when you're here!"
Sorry... It wasn't English, though...
After a few minutes of waiting, a sweet aroma wafted over, and my French toast was brought to my table.
The bread had a beautiful golden color, and it was nicely grilled on top. I could also tell that the egg mixture had perfectly seeped into it. Pure white powdered sugar had been sprinkled over it delicately, and a copious amount of honey added the last touch. Each slice of bread wasn't all that big, but there were three of them—lots for me to enjoy.
There was also some whipped cream and vanilla ice cream on the side to mix and match the flavors however I liked.
For the first taste, however, I decided not to add anything.
I took a bite of the freshly made French toast. The upper layer was crispy, but as I sank my teeth deeper into it, I felt the fluffiness of the bread and the sweetness of the half-cooked egg mixture melt on my tongue. The aroma and flavor of the honey deepened the taste. While they were both sweet, they merged together perfectly instead of canceling each other out.
This was exactly what I'd been expecting when I'd read the name of the dish on the menu—in a good way.
The contrast between the soft inside and crispy surface of the bread was perfection. And, while it was fairly sweet, the flavor disappeared on my tongue without being too much, leaving me wanting more. I felt like I could keep eating this forever.
Next, I put some whipped cream on top. It somehow made the dish look much fancier. It was the same as adding whipped cream to your custard pudding or pancakes—they automatically looked ten times more elegant.
As for the important part—the taste...
My, my, how interesting. The cream asserts itself and changes the tone of the entire dish.
It felt as though the whipped cream was wrapping the toast in a soft, fluffy blanket. For all its softness, though, it added even more sweetness to an already sugary dessert. It was like an explosion of sweetness—a heavy, saccharine punch delivered right to taste buds.
I took a sip of black coffee to reset my palate.
If I was having coffee on its own, I usually preferred adding some milk and sugar, but I was an ardent supporter of black coffee when it was paired with sweets. The bitterness of the coffee could offset the sweetness of the dessert and vice versa.
Last, I'd try the vanilla ice cream. If I just dumped it over the French toast it'd just be difficult to eat, so I scooped a spoonful and ate it. The taste was...well, it was regular vanilla ice cream, so it wasn't anything groundbreaking. After living as Ellize for seventeen years, though, I'd missed it a lot.
I took another spoonful, deposited it on top of the French toast, and cut a morsel with my knife.
Image here:
The warmth of the toast and the coldness of the ice cream clashed inside my mouth, creating a strange-yet-wonderful contrast. As the ice cream melted, it mixed with the French toast. Unlike with the whipped cream, the two flavors gradually became one, blending into one another.
This new mix also paired perfectly with coffee. Not that it surprised me—coffee jelly and vanilla ice cream combos were a staple for a good reason.
Before I knew it, the contents of my plate had entirely disappeared into my stomach, and all that was left was a bit of whipped cream. I wasn't barbaric enough to just eat it like that, but it felt like a waste.
In that case...
"Excuse me," I called out. "I'll have another coffee, please."
When my new cup arrived, I added in the whipped cream instead of milk and sugar. It's not proper restaurant etiquette, but let's not dwell on that. Not following the rules oftentimes yielded delicious results.
I avoided stirring too much so the whipped cream wouldn't entirely dissolve and had a taste.
Hmm... Not bad. Coffee and whipped cream definitely work well together.
I'd had a great meal; I absolutely didn't regret picking this place.
Wait, does this place do takeout? I wanted to bring French toast to Layla and Alfrea to see their reaction. No? What a bummer. Oh well, guess I'll just buy the ingredients and cook it for them when I'm back on the other side.The first ingredient on my shopping list was toast, obviously, but I didn't want to go for the cheap stuff you could get at some corner store.
Isn't there a bakery around here?
If there wasn't one, I'd buy a pack of thick-sliced bread at a convenience store and call it a day.
I also needed eggs, milk—or maybe fresh cream if I wanted them to be fluffier? Whatever, I'll just buy both. I'd get domestically produced honey too. As for the vanilla ice cream... I guess I can use magic to keep it frozen, so it should be okay.
The first stop was the convenience store. I could get pretty much everything on my list there.
"Excuse me, miss," someone called out to stop me. "Could I have a moment of your time? We're filming a show called Ultimate Quiz Runner, and we're trying to see which questions people on the streets get right. Would you like to participate?"
I turned to look at who'd just spoken. There was a man holding out a mic and a cameraman filming us beside him.
Ultimate Quiz Runner was a show in which celebrities and idols had to answer questions to move on to the next stage. If the contestants failed to answer easy questions that pretty much everyone got right, they'd be eliminated on the spot and dropped into a pit. All in all, it was a pretty funny show. There was always at least one idiot that messed up on easy questions, though, so I'd started suspecting that it was all staged.
The way they decided which questions were easy or not was by challenging people in the street. If ninety percent of passersby gave the right answer, it was deemed "obvious." They were currently filming that process.
It's my first time getting interviewed!
The man who'd called out to me was staring at me with a blank look on his face. The cameraman was also frozen, and several people were staring at us.
Huh? You're the one who came to talk to me in the first place, so why're you ignoring me now? That's rude.
"Umm...?" I started.
"Oh. E-E-Excuse me..."
Why're you suddenly stuttering, bro? Are you okay?
That guy wasn't the least bit professional. I assumed he was a newbie assistant director or something and not an actual TV host. Sorry you got roped into doing the interviews.
"So, umm... We were hoping you'd answer one question for us so we can ascertain the correct answer rate, and..."
"Sure, I don't mind," I said.
"Thank you very much. All right, then... Between these two dogs," he said, pulling out photos, "which one is closer to a wolf genetically?"
The newbie assistant director (?) showed me a Shiba Inu and a Siberian Husky.
Oh, I know this one.
If you relied solely on their appearances, you'd be tempted to go with the Siberian Husky, but Shiba Inus were actually the closest dogs to wolves, genetically speaking. While videos of Shiba Inus getting their cheeks squished by their master made them look about as doofy and unthreatening as possible, they were practically wolves.
The photos also made it pretty obvious they were trying to mislead me. The Siberian Husky looked super cool, while the Shiba Inu was getting its cute, puffy cheeks squeezed.
"I would say the Shiba," I answered.
After I gave the right answer, I was asked to sign some sort of agreement form stating I didn't mind them using the footage.
I then bid the crew goodbye and headed to the convenience store. As I was picking up the ingredients for the French toast, I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten to ask them to blur my face and voice.
Whatever. It's not like I live in Japan anyway.
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