The dining table was a lavish display of culinary expertise. The manservants, dressed in their crisp uniforms, had meticulously prepared a feast worthy of the Fitzwilliam family's status.
Dishes were served on silver platters, there was roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs, a platter of buttered asparagus spears, creamy mashed potatoes drizzled with rich gravy, and freshly baked bread that filled the room with its warm scent. In the center of the table, a tureen of velvety pumpkin soup steamed invitingly. For dessert, delicate pastries and fruit tarts awaited, their golden crusts glistening with sugar.
Matthew Hesh and Charles Fitzwilliam sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, and Matthew scanned the dishes before him. Just like in his previous world, the display of food doesn't seem to change when you are born in a privileged status. It looked good but what about the taste?