Batman can't cook.
The definition of "can't" goes something like this:
"Alfred, I think we need a more precise measuring tool than an electronic scale. Considering the size of the kitchen, I think a balance would be good. What do you think?"
"No, sir, we don't need a balance."
"But I believe the last failure was due to insufficient cornstarch grams, timely updating our equipment would reverse my mistakes in cooking."
"The error is not there, sir."
"Then where do you think it is? I'm willing to take your advice."
"I can't risk stating your mistake, because you definitely won't like such a way of description, it's very impolite and disrespectful. I suggest we skip this part."
"Then what?"
"You may temporarily leave the kitchen, in short, go wait for the food."
This was the dialogue when Batman wanted to cook last time — by the way, Batman was at least 30 years old then — that's pretty much his level of cooking.
Chefs always say cooking requires certain inspirations, but if Batman's precision still can't make basic cuisine, then why he can't cook probably only God knows. Some people just don't go along with the kitchen, so Alfred suggests that Batman wouldn't like this answer.
Of course, Batman wouldn't like it, because he knows deep down if God would really answer him, He would definitely poke his nose and blurt, "If you see eating as nothing more than a necessary process for sustaining life through nutrient intake, then you'd never imagine cooking anything delicious."
That's fundamentally why Batman is not good at cooking, he genuinely thinks that cooking and eating are a waste of time.
But the next morning, he was awakened by a fragrant aroma. Since he had been eating Alfred's cooking for half of his life, his brain instinctively discerned that Alfred wasn't the one cooking.
Actually, it was because Alfred generally wouldn't make curry in the morning. He thought breakfast should be more light, the butler has never been a fan of overly spiced dishes.
But curry is a dish made of spices, how could it not be fragrant? Therefore, Wayne Manor, for once, got everyone up at 7:30 am and headed towards the kitchen.
"God, I just dreamed of chasing a Thanksgiving turkey for ten miles." Jason came in, still sleepy as if like a character in a cartoon, being called by the soul from the kitchen.
He saw Bruce stirring something in front of the stove, the fragrance was coming from the pot. He yawned and peeked into the pan finding a sticky, gooey mass.
"Is this curry?"
"Of course, you can wait for a while, it will be ready in about half an hour."
"Oh my God, why does it take so long!!" Tim from the back let out a howl, then turned around to add, "Of course, that's not to say your breakfast tastes bad, Alfred, it's just too delicious to bear, I'm starving."
Thomas, still wearing his sleeping cap, looked sleepy and vaguely poked his head out from the bedroom and called out, "Alfred, Alfred, what's going on? Did we hire an Indian chef?"
Martha had got up and tidied the room, she gently rubbed her wrist and made her way to the kitchen, comfortably padding Bruce on the back and said, "Are there enough spices? If not, we can send someone to buy some from India Street."
"Sure enough, Mom, that's just right."
"I'm not sure I can take this sticky stuff." Red Hood just opened his mouth when Nightwing gave him a look. The Red Hood shrugged and said, "I'm not being a killjoy, the last time I was at an Indian restaurant, I almost threw up."
Batman came down in time to see Bruce's busy form in the kitchen, and a crowd of people huddled around the outside of the kitchen, even Thomas was leaning his neck to see what Bruce was doing.
But Bruce put down his spatula, walked to the door and blocked it saying, "Why don't you go sit down?"
"What are you doing, Bruce." Thomas asked somewhat perplexed, "You actually cook?"
"A little, not much, but I think if we're going to play football later, cold sandwiches and peanut butter won't provide enough heat. The early morning is getting colder."
Thomas swallowed back his doubts about whether eating such a heavy dish this early in the morning would be unhealthy. He turned and led the others to sit down at the dining table.
Batman had already sat down at the dining table, how could he not know himself? It would be a miracle if he could eat.
What surprised everyone was that Bruce didn't serve sticky curry with rice, but a pastry that looked like a giant Italian dumpling.
"Wrapping the curry in puff pastry makes it crisper and tastier to eat." Bruce shrugged and said, "I learned it from a chef in Hong Kong."
Everyone looked somewhat puzzled at the giant dumplings. Jason was the first to pick one up and take a bite. The rich curry soup flowed out immediately, filled with chicken, potatoes, and an unnamed vegetable.
Jason stuffed the rest into his mouth, chewed while giving a big thumbs up, Alfred served them hot milk, coffee, and tea. Jason grabbed a cup of milk and gulped it down, letting out a long, "Ah—".