The waiter interrupted their exchange of warm smiles. Richard sat back to make space for his food; the burger looked mouth-watering. In a single graceful move, the waiter removed Rosaleen’s meal from her tray and presented it to her. Richard had never seen anything like it – a tall silver goblet with a second story, the top containing what looked like house plants; it could have served second duty as a desktop water fountain. Running laps around the pool was a swarm of bright red beef, covered in a translucent substance, with four round yellow blobs floating like life preservers. The waiter put Rosaleen’s smoothie next to her culinary chalice and excused himself.

Richard took a big bite from his burger as Rosaleen scooped her first spoonful. A bouquet of earthy flavors hit him like a runaway boulder; he marveled as this wonderful redefinition of comfort food. “You like it?” she asked. “They grind all their own meat here.”

“I can tell,” Richard gasped. “The difference is unbelievable.” He looked closely at her dish. “You like it rare, huh?”

“You could say that,” she hinted. She took another spoonful and chewed it delicately. A thin rivulet ran from the edge of her right lip and ran down her chin, the red as bright as a neon sign. Richard suddenly froze, and looked at her meal again. The glaring red color’s message finally sunk into his unwilling mind. The meat wasn’t rare…it was raw.

She noticed him looking at her. “What?” she protested. “I got used to eating like this. It’s not like lizards know how to cook.”

“Are the eggs raw too?” he blubbered.

“Oh, relax; they’re seared with vinegar and citrus juice. And the meat must be frozen for two weeks before it can be served like this. It’s all perfectly safe.”

She took another bite, continuing to watch his nervous expression. “You’ve had sushi before, right? What’s the difference?”

Richard admitted to himself there wasn’t one. He took another bite of his burger, chewing it slowly, his eyes locked on her meal.

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She eyed him coyly. “Want to try it?”

Richard froze as he felt his stomach gurgle. “Sure, why not.” Then he put one hand up. “Can I get some with not so much egg? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

She smiled. “Of course.” Deftly, she waved her spoon across the surface, forming small dams on both sides of a flatter, scraped-off area, the Red Sea parting just for him. She then offered her hand. “Fork, please?”

He unwrapped the unused utensil from his napkin and handed it over. She dug in heartily and presented him with a healthy portion. “Is this too much?”

“No,” he lied. “It’s perfect.” With a smirk, she returned it to him.

The fork seemed to travel half a mile as it headed to Richard’s mouth. Carefully, he nibbled a small portion from the tip and, with great effort, made himself chew it.

Suddenly he stopped, arched his eyebrows, then continued chewing much more willingly. His eyes opened wide and he broke out into an unguarded smile, finally swallowing. “That was great!” he cheered, just before taking a larger bite from his fork.

“Not at all like a burger, is it?” she prompted.

Richard shook his head vigorously. The beef was actually creamy; it never occurred to him beef could have such a texture, but it was truly flattering. Not even freshly-made beef jerky, marinated in pineapple juice and fresh from the dehydrator, was ever this soft. Richard chewed as he pondered the rich flavors usually destroyed by cooking, as well as the tangy marinade.

“You’re right, this is very much like sushi,” he concurred. “Cooked fish and raw fish are two completely different foods; neither resemble each other.”

“And raw beef is a lot more nutritious,” she added. “Cooking destroys the nutrition, you see.”

“Can I have another?” he asked, moving his fork towards her dish.

She put her hand up. “Why don’t you finish your food first,” she suggested.

He moved to break off part of his burger. “Can I trade you?”

She looked queasy as she pondered his offer. “I still can’t eat too much cooked food,” she revealed. “It doesn’t agree with me.”

To each their own, Richard concluded as he chomped down on his sandwich. He realized the cooked texture of the patty now came across as a despoiling of nature.

He paused before popping a waffle fry into his mouth. “I wonder what raw potatoes taste like?”

“Don’t try them,” she replied as her face twisted. “They’re nasty.”

He chuckled as he continued to gaze at the most fascinating creature he had ever laid his eyes upon.