John was bored, more bored than ever before in his life. It had been three weeks since he worked with Grandpa to write the plan for the operation gull. His grandfather wanted to name it something conspicuous like Operation Midas. John objected and chose a word that while it meant gold in Norwegian was also a common bird, a name that would only attract a little attention. After that, he spent two weeks with Eli finishing work on the militiaman's guide and sending a copy to be spell-checked by an editor they found in the city. Now after a week of trying to spend time to find something to do, he was wandering the estate trying to take his mind off the boredom he faced.
Walking by the fields he liked looking at the winter wheat grow it had only turned golden a few weeks ago. It was calming to see the stalks sway and flow in the wind like a sailor watching the sea this was a farmer's paradise.
He gives a small smirk and quietly mutters to himself, "This is as rich of a golden bounty as any pile of rocks. Because if men have no food to eat, yellow stones are worth less than good soil."
John continues walking down the paths next to the fields until he comes upon a break in the fields and comes upon one of the vegetable gardens.
Years ago when John was younger he convinced his grandfather and mother to start growing vegetables and potatoes on the less-than-favorable ground to have food to supplement them. He also did his best to convince them to eat more greens telling them it would make them feel healthier. A fact that was helped when the farm avoided a about of sickness only a month or so later and John convinced them it was due to the diet. Whether that was true or not it didn't matter, in the end, it helped convince them to eat healthier.
Walking into the garden he looked around until something caught his eye. A red dot, he walked closer, it was covered in green, he walked closer, a familiar sight, he was in front of the plant. He pushed away the left and saw it. In all its glory there sat upon the vine, a ripe, plump, tomato.
Then like a dam being broken and unleashing a flood upon a river a torrent of ideas came into his head. Ideas not born of his gift but of his natural love for food and the memories of his former life. Pastas, stews, and a hundred other dishes but above them all was pizza.
It had been years since he thought of pizza but now that was all he could think of so he picked a handful of them and went back to the house.
He immediately rushed into the kitchen and looked around. Placing the tomatoes on the counter he was carried in a flurry of activity. He grabbed basil, oregano, and thyme that was hanging dry. From the pantry, he got garlic and onion. Before he began he needed cheese so he quickly used his gift to get a recipe for mozzarella.
Knowing what he needed to do he grabbed two jugs and went off to the cattle barn. Finding a pair of dairy cows he milked them, a skill his grandfather taught him when he was little. Filling the jugs he made his way back to the kitchen. Grabbing two pots he began cooking down the milk with salt and some vinegar. While that was happening he prepped the vegetables and herbs for the sauce which he started cooking soon after.
The whole process only took around thirty minutes to get everything cooked down and ready for baking. Grabbing some wood he began stoking a fire in the family's bread oven getting it hot for the pizza. Grabbing some dough saved for dinner bread he shaped it and topped it with the sauce, cheese, and some basil leaves.
While cooking that pizza the room filled with a smell. It was nostalgic but in a strange way. Technically he had never smelt a pizza, only having foreign memories of it. But still, at this moment he was delighted. Once it was done he removed the finished pie and set it on the counter to rest.
That night he had the best meal he'd had in so long and immediately went and shared it with Eli, his mother, and grandfather. It was an unmitigated success with everyone loving the meal.
Sitting in his room he was lying on his bed thinking about how amazing of a day he had until a thought popped into his head.
"Holy crap, the pizza as it existed was invented in the early 1800s," John muttered to himself as he slowly realized what he had done. "I invented pizza," he said to himself as he was lying down.
The next morning was a good one with the family going about their business and all was normal but now the boredom was back, and worse than before.
So John started sketching in his notebook, trying to keep his mind busy until lesions with Eli could start again. During winter most of their plans are over and with spring most professors say they are "busy" so they will end up waiting till summer. Out of boredom, he begins drawing food as that's what was able to alleviate the monotony yesterday.
At first, he drew pizza, after a few he began drawing ones with unique toppings and in around fifteen minutes John is doodling all kinds of foods from his memories. Over the next hour, he goes from creating images of food to writing down the different recipes and by the end of the night a dozen pages are covered in instructions for the preparation of different foods, some already invented and some yet to be.
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Sorry for the quality of this chapter, I really didn't like writing it. It is important for a future plot point. So sorry, but the following chapters will get back into the fun stuff.
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