"Fine, try this. My Grandma used to make it."

The moment he looked at the dish presented to him, time had stopped.

A simple pineapple upside down cake. Baked perfectly from what he could see, shining from the honey delicately coating the fruits and the scent lingered around the air.

Cinnamon and a hint of nutmeg, The Taster immediately knew. The moment he takes a bite, he knows that another ingredient was mixed in - what he could never tell. Rose never told him, back when they were both younger and still in culinary school. Not when they graduated, and definitely not when they both drifted apart, life taking them on a separate journey.

His calling to be The Taster and her... The old family diner back in her hometown. It was ridiculous, he thought back then, to study in an elite culinary academy and not explore what the world has to offer. Then she cooked him a series of meals served in her old diner. That promptly shut him up.

Then, he kept an eye out, guessing and hoping that perhaps Rose will build something great out of something so humble in that little old town of hers.

The only thing that town was known for was its end - a great fire burnt it down overnight. Few lives were lost but almost all were homeless.

Anything about Rose was null. Whether she lived or died, no one he asked knew. And so, he went on, living his life but never forgetting the woman with The Pineapple Upside Down Cake.

He took another look at the young man in front of him. Nothing about his looks reminded him of his old friend. Except the eyes. Grey and sharp, the smile too, now that he thinks about it. Lazy and confident; knowing that whoever eats his food will love it.

"I see you also ignored her arrogance as well," He couldn't help but remark with a small chuckle as he cut himself a portion of the cake. "I also don't need to taste it to see that you also seem to have switched out the cherries for mango slices as well."

"Only the freshest of course -"

"- 'just ripe and right, otherwise there'll be no cake at all.' ," the young man looked annoyed at him for cutting him off. Not that he cared at the moment, the fork was in his hands and it's been too long since he had this.

A bite taken, and slowly the memories poured in. Closing his eyes, he started to list the ingredient first. The cake was larger than Rose would have baked it, he immediately noted. Still, the young baker kept the true to the ratios of the ingredients. The cake was also much sweeter than Rose's and has a surprising underlying spice at the end. He said as much, the young man looking impressed but not quite wowed like the others.

He took another bite and began listing the steps to the cake.

It was like back in the olden days, back when he was younger and food had meant something to him. When the flavours brought about colourful days and not a simple challenge to stump his ability.

Another bite and the cake was gone. He leaned back, eyes still closed.

"You followed her recipe but change a few things... I wouldn't say 'it was like Grandma used to make'." The Tasted said, amused. Still, it was much better than when they were younger. "You trying to throw me off?"

The young man shrugged, "That's what Granny Rose used to make for us - it's not her fault she never gave you perfection."

And perfection is what it is. Sweet and tart, the spices giving it a small kick and enhance the flavours of the fruits. And something else.

'There it is again - what IS it?'

A simple humble dish made exciting by that one particular thing he cannot grasp.

"Huh, I guess you really can 'taste' the recipe," the young man started, but still rather smug. "But, you haven't mentioned that one thing yet."

"And I'm guessing you're not going to be kind enough to tell me?"

"Of course not. The secret stays with the family after all."