On que, as Enzo prepared something on the trolley, two of the bussers arrived at their table, and set onto each of their chargers, a plate. On the plate was a hand towel, sealed with a paper cuff, and crystal finger bowl filled with water and half a lemon wedge sliced into two pieces.
Uncertain of what they were to do, they turned their attention to Celina, and began to mimic her actions. Breaking the seal, they unrolled their hand towels, folding them in half, placing it before the plate along the edge of the table. Dipping their fingers of one hand into the water, they used one of the pieces of lemon to wipe down their fingers, before discarding it to the plate, and then doing the same thing to their other hand using the other piece of fruit. With both pieces of the lemon discarded, they dipped their fingers into the water once again, one hand at a time, to rinse off any lingering bits of the pulp, before picking up the towel to dry their hands. Quartering the towel, they set them over their bowls, and the bussers expediently took them away.
With their hands now clean, Enzo brought in the first dish, setting it before Mr. Dodge.
"For the gentleman," he began as he lifted the cloche, a puff of white smoke escaping from beneath, "the Chateaubriand, with herb seasoned roast potatoes, infused with a hint of hickory."
Next, he set a plate before Ren, and removed the cloche, saying, "For the distinguished young man, a shaved prime rib sandwich served with a peppercorn horseradish sauce and rosemary infused au jus, on the side."
"Wow," Ren gasped at the sight of the four-inch section of toasted baguette stuffed full with thin shavings of prime rib cooked to a perfect medium rare, the edges of each slice still encrusted with herbs. "This looks amazing."
Enzo bowed his head to Ren, and returned to the trolley once again, stowing the second cloche before picking up two plates filled with a pile of palm-sized flatbreads arranged in a semi-circle next to three small ramekins filled with different sauces, placing one before Hutch and the second before Celina. Saying nothing, he went back to the trolley and returned carrying a large, oval, silver platter which he placed lengthwise before them.
"And for the lady and the other gentleman, I present the tor anshii moorhay," he said, before dramatically lifting the cloche, revealing a selection of thin sliced meats on a bed of rice, with a thick mounded line of hummus spread evenly down the side of the platter, and a single piece of the flat bread sat upon the top, a silver serving spoon, embedded into the rice nearest Celina. "The feast of three game consists of roasted guinea fowl breast, seared Elk backstrap, and Bison tenderloin poached in apple butter served on a bed of Mediterranean long rice, with our garlic and herb infused hummus. This is accompanied by whole grain rye flatbreads, and a series of three sauces. The first is a citrus honey, the second is the apple beet reduction, and the last is a burgundy mole. Do enjoy your meals."
"Thank you, Enzo," Celina said.
"It has been my pleasure ma'am," he replied, and with a final bow, departed taking the trolley with him.
"This looks spectacular," Mr. Dodge proclaimed, picking up his steak knife and fork.
"After you Mr. Dodge," Celina remarked, waving her hand towards his chateaubriand.
Ren hadn't even bothered to wait until everything was served and was already in the process of devouring his sandwich, but Hutch was left shaken.
He was trembling at the sight of the feast of three game. He knew what Celina had ordered, but was expecting to see something different, something less familiar set down before him. Up until that moment, he'd been working to convince himself that her lies were the truth, that this was all exactly as she explained, nothing but a coincidence. That to her, he was a stranger, and that none of this was a purposefully laid trap. But seeing the feast, proved that she knew exactly who he was, and ensured that everything that had happened to this point, had been done with some purpose in mind.
As Hutch watched her, he began to see for himself how she adhered to Sajomei customs, waiting for the eldest at the table to eat first, before reaching for the piece of flatbread on the top of the feast, using her right hand. She used the bread to pick up a small amount of the hummus from the end of the line, and then used the spoon, to apply a bite sized amount of rice to it. Then, using her two-prong fork, she selected a piece of the bison, and placed it on top. Folding it together, she held it out to him.
"The perfect bite." Her words were as a bolt of lightning to the center of his brain, transporting him back to the first time he'd seen the feast, in a small firelit room on Illimev, the night before he left on the long march north to war.
"I'm sorry, what?" he said, taking the food from Cascel.
"I said, it's called the perfect bite. As the eldest, it's supposed to be mine, but since it's just the two of us," he replied, picking up a second piece of bread from basket on the table between them.
"Where are the others?" Hutch asked, having expected to see the other members of their division.
"Preparing for the journey in their own way," Cascel replied, as Hutch ate the perfect bite. "But since neither of us have family here, I thought I would share this feast of three game with you. I suspect your tribe doesn't have such a tradition."
"Not that I know of," Hutch said, taking a piece of the bread for himself. "I don't think I've asked what tribe you're from."
"Shikkashii. The main tribe here in Qor'ropi. In our tradition, before sending their men off to war, they share this feast of three game. The three meats, one of the air, one that migrates, and one that is domesticated. They represent the leaving, the journey, and the return home. Your xalgar is supposed to serve you first, and whatever meat she selects is supposed to tell you what she wants."
"Don't suppose many pick the bird option," Hutch said sharing a hearty chuckle with Cascel.
"I don't suspect they do," he replied, his expression sinking. "Of all the food I've eaten through the years, this is by far my favorite. Not just because of what it is made of, but because of the meaning behind it. My xalgar never would have eaten something like this."
"Your xalgar? I had no idea."
"Oh, no, not anymore. Different life, different time. If I ever see her again though, this would be the first meal I would make for her, and to hell with traditions, I would serve her the perfect first bite with a slice of home."
Taking the food from Celina, he popped it in his mouth, and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. It was the perfect first bite. It was a memory from days long past. He had taken the tradition of the dish, taught to him by Cascel, back to the Moahaba, back to his tribe and his xalgar, when he returned from the front for the first time. Food had a great significance in the traditions of the tribes, so while the meats changed from what was available to the Shikkashii to what was common to the Moahaba, it held just as deep of a meaning. It became the staple dish he would share with Kahlala the night before he would leave her to return to the front, and it would be the first dish she would serve to him upon his return home.
Intimately, by the fireside, Kahlala would use her own fingers to build the perfect first bite for him. First the heo, a savory bean paste, then a bed of dagap, a rice like grain, followed by a slice of home, from a Yuga, a yak-like creature the Moahaba farmed. He could remember the taste down to the last fleck of spice, the texture of each item as it passed through his mouth, and the look of Kahlala's expression, the desire in her eyes, and the seductive smirk she'd wear as she fed him.
Hutch couldn't stop the tears from escaping and making their way down his cheeks. A single bite was all it took, the taste of his lost home replicated to near perfection, to overwhelm him, to put a crack in his resolve.
"Hey, what's going on with you? Get a hold of yourself," Ren said, nudging at Hutch's side, having noticed his tears.
"Nonsense Ren, let the man be. I almost got tears in my eyes too, this is so good," Mr. Dodge remarked, oblivious as to the real reason behind the loss of his control.
"Did you know?" Hutch muttered, staring at Celina, wanting her to see for herself, what she had done to him.