An old man looked on at the young Joey Luciani, who was about to make lunch for his blond friend, through a magic portal.

He tapped his bony fingers on a table he had placed in front of him for that sole purpose; yes, to tap his fingers. He really liked tapping.

“He finally decided to explore his spell,” the old man mused. “[Lightbolt].”

In his past, he would have laughed someone out of any magical academy, and possibly out of their own bloodline, if they said that [Lightbolt] could have been a valuable spell. [Light], sure; he saw the value in practicing it. It was the base of the Cantrips for a damn good reason.

But [Lightbolt]?

The man kept tapping his fingers on the table, trying to decide what degree of involvement was warranted on his part.

“I’m getting bored,” he mumbled.

But he had already helped the young man sleep better. Sure, the wooden bed was about to explode under the repetitive casting of a Tier 6 spell. But surely, the high sales of bread could cover a new, sturdier bed.

And really, he could have already been doing so much more than this. He was bespoken to the book. He couldn’t just fly back to Kome, and considering the massive Tier 10 spell enveloping the continent, he might not have been able to go there even if he wasn’t bound.

In the past, it had been his prerogative to let all his disciples face challenges alone. In fact, he had brought the idea of power-leveling even with his offspring to the extreme; they had been left alone to wrestle with the book, even if it meant their death.

A long time ago, he had thought that that was the most sensible thing to do. If they couldn’t survive the book, they would have perished anyway. But now? He was ready to share drinks with a Dragon if Joey Luciani didn’t complete all the Cantrips. He was sure that if the Human had actually put himself into it, he could have been done in less than two months. Who knew, maybe even less than that?

But he kept busying himself to get that [Baker] class which, apparently, would never arrive.

“The best [Heroes] are the most paradoxical ones,” he smiled.

He had aided two of the most famous [Heroes] of his kind and met more.

Joey Luciani was… qualified. But many of his people had also been qualified. If that was all it took, everyone and their Dragon would be a [Hero].

And this Human, this Joey Luciani, was still a child. A young, naïve child. He had moved one step in the right direction, but he was more spoiled than the worst Hydra.

His world had been soft on him.

“I’m doing it again,” the old man stopped himself mid-thought.

He was about to rationalize his way into not helping Joey Luciani.

“I’ll take more time to think about what should be done, but this should be enough.”

He weaved another extremely powerful Tier 6 spell out of thin air.

[Enhanced: Mindful Clarity].

…

“Did you just cast a spell?” Truffles sniffs a couple of times with his nose as I turn from the stove.

“What?”

“You smell like a lot of Mana.”

“Could be just a fart,” I shrug, looking back at the pan.

“But—”

“Shhh, I was explaining,” I interrupt the Blondie. “This is a dish from where my family is from. It’s called Pasta alla Norma. You remember the cheese we picked for my cake, right? Well, the one we picked up today is slightly similar, just more solid.”

I invited Truffles to my home to feed the poor guy. He looks so thin that some college girl with colored hair might just snatch him out of the streets at any moment. Plus, our last conversation about classes was really nice. I felt like I should actually consult the guy more; aside from his murderous tendencies, he makes a lot of sense.

“The origin of this dish is not sure. Some say there was this [Music Composer] who had the dish named after him. Some say it’s some random chef who came up with it and used the story for marketing. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“I don’t care,” Truffles says candidly.

“Shush. This is the Elven variant since I’m using lidulae instead of eggplants. I’m frying them, as you can see. Also, I’ll add a little bit of truffle-infused oil to the fried eggplants. The tomato sauce is basically ready. Most of the condiment is added after.”

I take the big rigatoni I made by hand and place them in an empty bowl. Then, I start picking out the fried lidulae from the sizzling oil, gently laying them on a plate.

“They are the base for the dish,” I explain, smirking in satisfaction. I really wanted to eat something that reminded me of home today. That I get to share it with you, Trufflebag, is a great addition.

“Then, you mix the pasta in the tomato sauce after turning off the heat.”

I move the pasta inside the pan with the sauce and give it a few turns.

“Good, we’ll let it rest there for a second.”

I sprinkle some truffle-infused oil over the fried lidulae and then move the pasta over the two plates, covering the thin strips of faux eggplants with it.

“Now, the cheese,” I smile, grating some of the cheese.

See, Pasta alla Norma requires Ricotta Salata, which is essentially a pressed, salted, and aged version of the fresh ricotta cheese. It originates from Italy and is traditionally made from sheep's milk. The cheese is white, firm, and slightly crumbly, with a mildly salty and nutty flavor.

If you don't have Ricotta Salata, you can substitute it with other cheeses, such as Pecorino Romano or feta cheese, though the flavor profile will be slightly different. However, any sane Sicilian person wouldn’t be wrong for telling you to just cook another dish if you don’t have the right ingredients.

Very simple dishes like this are all about the ingredients. Some chefs like to say, ‘Oh, if you don’t have this, you can use…’

No. It doesn’t work like that.

In the same way, some linguists say that the Italian language doesn’t really have many synonyms since every word is extremely specific and clear-cut – and their cuisine is similar. You can only really enjoy it once you understand the vital importance of its ingredients.

And don’t get me wrong. Mystifying Italian cuisine is wrong. I’m simply telling you what you need to do in order to appreciate a true Italian dish. Egypt, for example, has a rich culinary tradition that’s a blend of Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, and African flavors, reflecting the country's history and cultural influences.

You’ll see where I’m going with this in a second.

Egyptian cuisine, not unlike Italian cuisine, is characterized by the use of fresh, locally sourced ingredients, especially vegetables and legumes. But their most important feature is the array of aromatic spices that gives the dishes their unique and complex flavors.

They have normal stuff too. The most common form of bread is "Aish Baladi," an essential part of the national diet, which is often used to scoop up dips and sauces.

But see, to scoop up dips and sauces. That’s the keyword, baby.

Egyptian cuisine has a wealth of aromatic spices, including cumin, coriander, cinnamon, and cardamom. Herbs too. Stuff like parsley, dill, and mint.

If you don't have the original herbs and spices, it's literally impossible to get an Egyptian dish right. Try having your average American make Koshari, their national dish, and it will pretty much taste like bland lentils and white rice. Now go to a little country town in Egypt where they grow their own spices and see the difference for yourself.

Back to my Pasta, alla, Norma. Once I've mixed the pasta with the sauce, it's time to finish plating it. I carefully arrange the pasta on the plates, making sure to keep the lidulae in place. Then, I generously sprinkle the grated cheese – well, the thing that best resembles the original – over it, allowing it to melt slightly into the warm sauce.

Finally, I garnish the dish with a few fresh basil leaves, which not only add a burst of color but also a delightful aromatic note that complements the other flavors in the dish.

I press my face to the plate, smelling the insane amount of garlic I added to the tomato sauce.

So good.

Wait.

I suddenly realize something.

I was just thinking about the ingredients and how they should be as faithful to the original recipe as possible, but… I kind of used all Elven ingredients, not to talk about the truffle-infused oil.

Huh.

Well, at least I noticed.

“Well, this is a very unfaithful variation of the Pasta alla Norma,” I tell Truffles, still a bit stupefied. “Let me know how it tastes.”

“It smells garlicky,” Truffles wrinkles his nose.

“As it should, Trufflebag. As it should.”

…

“Have you always wanted to be an [Alchemist]?” I ask Truffles as I sip on some of the vintage red wine I’ve bought. I’m not giving any to Blondie, though, considering how little alcohol he can take before going ballistic.

“I already told you,” he says, sipping on some tea. “My grandpa was an [Alchemist]. I really like Alchemy. And it’s a great challenge; my father says that’s how you know a class is perfect for you—you like it, and while some things come easy to you, others will be very much difficult.”

“Sounds like a good rule of thumb,” I nod to myself.

“Have you thought about what class you want?” Truffles asks.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “[Mage] is cool. [Baker] would be cool as well, but that’s not happening, apparently. [Magical Baker], perhaps, if such a thing even exists.”

“Probably does,” Truffles nods. “My dad says you should explore all the things that you want to explore. Some people don’t want to get too many classes because they fear it will block their growth, but my dad says to take all you can. If you don’t die, they will find a way to become one very powerful class.”

“Wait, what’s the thing about impairing growth?” I ask, confused.

“If you take on too many classes, it becomes harder to level up. If you have one, you level up much more easily.”

“Really?” I coo.

Truffles nods, “As long as you face challenges that are hard, you’ll level up pretty easily. That’s why Adventurers have high levels, but many of them die.”

“I mean, that would perfectly explain why I’m not leveling,” I say, scratching my chin. “So, I just have to cook something that is completely outside of my comfort zone, and I might get a level from it. Interesting.”

“It could be a reason,” Truffles shrugs. “Or you simply don’t want to be a [Baker].”

“Again, Trufflebag, you have seen me at work. I doubt that’s the reason.”

Truffles shrugs again.

“But what you said about exploring stuff sounds pretty nice,” I ponder, “basically, just go off the deep end with stuff until you figure it out, right?”

“I don’t know that saying, but I suppose,” Truffles nods.

“Hm. I guess we should hurry up and have Lucillus and Antoninus bring us out to shoot some trees then.”

As if summoned by my words, I hear a knock and get up to open the door.