Posted by Gamemaster Amadeus (Gamemaster) in Real food

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Finn Grady (First Officer) in Real food

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nytha’rae of Vael’Lume (Chief Science Officer) in Real food
Posted by… suppressed (14) by the Post Ghost! 👻

Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
As the day ends there is alot of buzz coming from the officers lounge that has been transformed on the weekends to a ship’s restaurant called Isekai. The smell of real food fills up the entire deck. Steaks cooking soups, boiling, and pattys cooking.

The menu remains pretty open, and of course, there are some weekly specials

Just by looking inside, one table has Italian spaghetti another table has sushi and another table has a big plate of grilled chicken

Mike Isekai (Ships cook)

Finn walked into the officers’ lounge at the end of his shift feeling very ready to get some sort of refreshment into his stomach and relax a little. Since they had started the mission he had found himself a little busier than usual, though this was to be expected as XO. There was a lot to be managed with these types of missions. He stopped short when he encountered all of the smells wafting around the lounge.

“Well now this is a fun little surprise,” he muttered to himself as he glanced around at the various dishes on tables.

He vaguely remembered hearing something about a restaurant and figured this must be the work of the new ship’s cook and looked around to find him.

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

Mike just got done putting a seafood platter down at a table and walked over and saw XO wipe his hand with his towel he approached and said “hello sir welcome to Isekai. Would you like some food? I can make you anything you want. It will take a few minutes or do you want a drink? I can make it any cocktail you want” and pointed to a screen on the wall. “We also have some daily specials along with some decent wine and beer selections.”

He looked at the Excel with a big grin and said “ what will it be?”

Mike Isekai (Ships cook)

Max hadn’t planned on leaving Sickbay because he still had to do his physical until he caught the smell drifting down the corridor.

Real food. Not the replicator stuff.

He followed his nose to the officers lounge and stopped in the doorway, taking in all the tables that had spaghetti, sushi, and grilled chicken

He spotted the XO talking to the cook and hung back a moment, not wanting to interrupt.

“Didn’t know we had a restaurant on board,” he muttered mostly to himself. As he waited he looked at the daily specials on the wall.

Ensign Max Hunter (Security Officer)

Areiana stopped just outside the restaurant entrance, one hand still resting lightly against the door as she stared inside.

She had only intended to grab something quick from the replicator before heading back to sickbay. Nothing complicated, nothing that would take more than a few minutes. She had a mountain of medical reports waiting for her, several patient files that needed updating, and at least three things she was fairly certain someone had forgotten to log properly.

But then she smelled it.

Real food.

She blinked, almost certain she had imagined it.

The smell drifted through the doorway, warm and rich, carrying the unmistakable scents of freshly cooked vegetables, herbs, spices, and something savory that immediately made her stomach growl. Areiana slowly lowered her hand from the door and looked around the restaurant in genuine amazement.

There were actual plates sitting on tables. Not replicated meals designed to look like something from home, but food that had clearly been prepared by someone. Steam rose from several dishes while the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. She could even hear the occasional clink of utensils against plates.

“Okay…” she murmured to herself, raising an eyebrow. “Where did this come from?”

She had heard there was a new cook aboard, but she hadn’t realized they were going to be making actual meals. Most of the crew simply relied on the replicators, especially during busy shifts. It was convenient, predictable, and considerably easier than trying to coordinate a full kitchen on a starship.

This, however, was different.

Areiana tucked her datapad securely beneath her arm and stepped inside, her curiosity quickly overpowering her schedule. She smiled as she looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds.

A couple of ensigns sitting at one of the nearby tables noticed her almost immediately.

“Doctor Blackford!”

Areiana turned toward them, recognizing the pair from sickbay. “Hey! How are you two doing?”

“Good, Doctor,” one of them answered between bites. “You have to try this.”

Areiana laughed softly. “That’s actually why I’m standing here. I was just going to grab something from the replicator, but…” She glanced toward their plates, her eyes widening slightly. “Whatever that is smells incredible.”

The ensign grinned and gestured toward the food. “It’s real. Apparently the new cook has been working on a whole menu.”

“Real food,” Areiana repeated, almost as if she needed confirmation.

“Real food.”

She shook her head with an amused smile before pulling out a chair at the end of their table. “Well, I suppose my plans can survive another five minutes.”

She set her datapad down beside her and leaned forward, looking over the meal with open curiosity.

For the first time in what felt like days, Areiana wasn’t thinking about medical reports, patient scans, or the next emergency that might come through the doors of sickbay.

She was simply enjoying the smell of something that reminded her that, despite being hundreds of light-years from home, the ship could still feel a little bit like home.

Areiana Blackford

Lieutenant Junior Grade Chief Medical Officer USS Chimera

As soon as Dr. Blackford took a set a young woman named Lisa came over to take her order “Hello and welcome to Isekai” she said placing a cup of water with a small basket of freshly baked garlic butter bread. “Will you like to her the specials are craving a meal from your home” she asked

Lisa
Mike Isekai (Ships Cook)

Finn nodded approvingly as he saw how popular this new lounge was becoming. This would definitely be good for crew morale. He turned back toward Mike, the cook.

“I wonder, what have you got in the way of BBQ? It would be nice to get a little taste of home out here,” he leaned in a little before continuing, “And are you talking actual, real beer or a lovely selection of synthetic stuff?”

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

OOC: It finally happened, I double posted. Sorry

Mike smiled “ I got permission from Starfleet to have a tap and a rule no alcohol for those on duty and if they’re off duty, they can only 2” he then thought for a little bit “how about A BBQ sandwich with pepper jack cheese?” He asked

Mike Isekai (Ships Cook)

Finn returned the smile, “That sounds amazing, actually. Also, it just so happens I am off duty now so what have you got on tap?”

Finn made a mental note to himself to monitor any signs of inebriation in the crew. A 2 drink rule was fine in general, but when people were not used to real alcohol at all they might not have any tolerance and they might have to modify that directive to a 1 drink maximum. He would also need to make sure Dr. Blackford was ready for hangovers.

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

Areiana set her datapad down on the table beside her, glancing toward the kitchen with a small, hopeful smile.

“I wouldn’t mind a Maid-Rite…” she said, almost casually, before realizing the other person might have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. She gave a little laugh and shook her head. “Oh, sorry. That’s an Iowa thing.”

She leaned back in her chair, smiling as she explained. “It’s basically a loose-meat sandwich. Ground beef that’s seasoned and cooked until it’s nice and crumbly, then you put it on a bun. It’s simple, but it’s really good.”

She picked her datapad back up and tapped the screen a few times. “If he doesn’t know how to make one, I can pull up a recipe for him. I mean, I suppose we have replicators, but where’s the fun in that when someone can actually cook it?”

Areiana glanced toward the kitchen again..

“And trust me, after eating replicated food for long enough, something that actually smells like it’s been cooked is worth getting excited about.”

Areiana Blackford

Lieutenant Junior Grade Chief Medical Officer USS Chimera

Lisa smiled at her “don worry Lt we know that dish” she put the order in as iconic Iowa loose-meat sandwich. She left to assist other guests.

mike was talking to XO “ now I have Heineken but you look like a burden man” he joked

Mike Isekai (Ships Cook)

A few minutes later Lisa returned with blackFords meal. A finely crumbled, un-pattied ground beef it was simmered with onions, salt, pepper, and a splash of broth. It came served on a soft hamburger bun topped simply with yellow mustard, dill pickle chips, and raw white onion. The meal also comes with a small order honey butter glaze, curly fries. Then Lisa put a glass of cold Root Beer with ice. “Enjoy your meal Lt”

Lisa
Mike Isekai (Ships Cook)

The doors to the officers’ lounge opened onto something Nytha’rae had not expected.

She stopped.

Nytha’kae stopped with her.

The little dragon had been comfortably draped across her shoulders, his forelegs resting near one collarbone and his long tail curled loosely around the opposite side. Now his head rose sharply.

His nostrils flared.

Once.

Twice.

Then his entire body became intensely alert.

Nytha’rae’s own reaction was quieter, but no less immediate.

She breathed in deeply.

Smoke.

Cooked meat.

Rendered fat.

Onions.

Salt.

Fresh bread.

Something sweet.

Something sharp and fermented.

And beneath all of it were dozens of smaller scents that no replicator meal ever quite possessed.

Real food.

Her dark eyes widened slightly.

She had come expecting the ordinary sterile assortment of replicated meals and drinks that Starfleet seemed perfectly content to call food. Instead, the lounge had somehow transformed itself.

People filled tables.

Conversation flowed freely.

Plates carried meals from worlds and cultures scattered across the Federation.

And everywhere—

scent.

Nytha’rae stepped through the doorway.

She was unmistakably off duty.

Without the blue-and-black Starfleet uniform, there was nothing hiding just how alien the Chief Science Officer truly was.

Traditional Vaelari garments wrapped her slender frame in layered pieces of charcoal, deep forest green, and muted blue, woven from fabrics intended to move silently through dense vegetation. The upper layers crossed around her torso and left portions of her shoulders, sides, and back uncovered, revealing the branching patterns of natural bioluminescence running across her green-blue skin.

Those markings glowed softly now.

Curiosity.

Comfort.

Interest.

Long black hair fell freely down her back, almost disappearing into the darker cloth.

Her tail moved behind her in an easy, unguarded sway, the dark tuft at its end occasionally curling upward as she took in the room.

As always, she wore nothing upon her feet.

Bare toes met the deck plating directly as she walked, her steps nearly silent despite the activity surrounding her.

Nytha’kae, however, had abandoned all pretense of dignity.

His head swung toward one table.

Sushi.

Then another.

Chicken.

Then toward the kitchen.

His wings opened slightly.

Nytha’rae immediately reached up and placed two fingers lightly against his chest.

“No.”

Nytha’kae looked at her.

Then toward the seafood platter.

Then back at her.

“No.”

A questioning chirp followed.

“You have not been invited.”

Another chirp.

Nytha’rae’s eyes narrowed.

“That is not how sharing works.”

The dragon made a distinctly dissatisfied little rumble.

Nytha’rae’s markings brightened with amusement.

Only then did she notice the familiar faces scattered throughout the room.

Commander Grady stood near the cook discussing something involving barbecue and beer. Doctor Blackford had already found herself a meal. Several other officers appeared equally surprised by the transformation of their ordinary lounge.

Nytha’rae moved farther inside.

Her attention kept returning to the kitchen.

There was fire involved.

Actual controlled heat being used to prepare food rather than matter simply appearing inside a replicator alcove.

That she understood.

Cooking had scent.

Texture.

Variation.

Someone had touched these ingredients. Chosen them. Prepared them.

There was intention behind the meal.

Nytha’rae approached slowly, Nytha’kae still staring shamelessly toward anything containing meat.

She eventually stopped near enough to the others to join the gathering without intruding upon anyone’s conversation.

Her eyes traveled across the plates again.

“This is different.”

The observation was spoken mostly to herself.

Nytha’kae chirped enthusiastically.

“Yes,” she murmured. “You noticed the meat.”

Her tail curled slightly behind one leg.

The faint silver-blue patterns along her cheeks glimmered brighter as another wave of unfamiliar aromas reached her.

For perhaps the first time since joining the Chimera, Nytha’rae looked genuinely uncertain about a piece of Federation culture.

Not uncomfortable.

Fascinated.

There were too many choices.

Finally her attention found the man apparently responsible for all of this.

The ship’s cook.

Nytha’rae inclined her head toward Mike, touching one hand briefly over her heart in the traditional greeting of her people.

“May the Mother feel your steps as gentle.”

She lowered her hand.

Her gaze wandered toward the kitchen once more before returning to him.

“I was told humans sometimes prepare food without replicators.”

A tiny pause.

“I believed this was something you mostly did for ceremony.”

Nytha’kae suddenly stretched his neck toward the scent of grilled chicken.

Nytha’rae caught him gently around the middle before he could launch himself from her shoulders.

Her markings flashed brightly with embarrassment and amusement.

“And apparently,” she added, holding the squirming little dragon against her shoulder, “my other half has already decided your cooking is acceptable.”

Nytha’kae chirped loudly.

Nytha’rae sighed.

“He would like to know what you have that is meat.”

A beat passed.

“So would I.”

LT.JG Nytha’rae

Mike just got done with the meal order for the XO and turned to see Nytha’rae and saw the dragon on her shoulder and he said “May the road rise up to meet you and may the wind be at your back” he said smiling. Then he retrieved a small piece of deer jerky and held it up for the little dragon to taste. “ Yes I cook food for people, but it’s not for ceremony. I’m doing this because people deserve to eat real food.” He said with a very warm smile. “ so tell me about your homeworld. I’m not too familiar with it. Maybe if you tell me about some of your food I can make it.” He said

Mike Isekai (Ships Cook)

BUMP X1

The buzz seemed to have made its way through most of the ship before MJ heard that the restaurant was open.

He’d met Mike when the man first arrived on the Chimera. He’d seemed an odd man, with the dream of changing all of Starfleet one meal at a time. The Security Officer smiled as he recalled the interaction. Mike didn’t seem that old, but apparently he was familiar with cuisine from around the galaxy and had even made a name for himself on multiple planets.

Well… at least according to the chef himself.

Mike had said he knew how to make curda, an old Risian dish that involved fatty red meat and fish placed inside a gourd and then smoked low and slow. MJ personally doubted the man had prepared any, since the smoking process usually started early in the morning to be served at dinner. Still, those who had already eaten at the restaurant were raving about the chance to eat real, non-replicated food. Ensign Shau figured whatever he ate would be worth the effort.

Walking into the lounge-turned-restaurant, the Risian paused and took in the scene. It was fairly crowded… and people were talking and having a good time. It was the most lively he’d seen the lounge since he’d checked aboard. A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he continued farther into the restaurant.

He looked for Mike first… but barring that, he looked for anybody who looked like they could help him find a seat.

Ensign MJ Shau - Security Officer - USS Chimera

Nytha’rae’s head tilted slightly at Mike’s response.

“May the road rise up to meet you and may the wind be at your back.”

She did not recognize the words.

But she recognized what they were.

A blessing.

The silver-blue markings tracing her cheekbones brightened subtly, and her expression softened.

“That is a beautiful greeting.”

Before she could ask its meaning, however, Mike produced the strip of deer jerky.

Nytha’kae noticed immediately.

The little dragon’s head snapped toward Mike’s hand with such intensity that Nytha’rae felt his entire body shift across her shoulders.

His nostrils flared.

Once.

Twice.

Then he leaned forward.

Nytha’rae made no effort to stop him this time.

“He may take it.”

Nytha’kae stretched his neck forward and delicately took the offered piece between his teeth.

For perhaps half a heartbeat, he remained perfectly still.

Then—

Crunch.

His eyes widened.

His wings gave one delighted flutter against Nytha’rae’s back, and the jewel-like patterns along his body brightened noticeably.

Nytha’rae laughed.

A genuine, musical sound that escaped before she could contain it.

“Oh, you have made a mistake.”

Nytha’kae was already staring expectantly at Mike’s hands.

“He will remember you now.”

Her tail curled loosely behind her as she reached up and scratched gently beneath her companion’s jaw.

“And he has an excellent memory where food is concerned.”

Then Mike explained why he cooked.

People deserve to eat real food.

That caught her attention.

Nytha’rae looked around the transformed lounge again.

She understood better now.

It was not simply nourishment.

People were gathering.

Talking.

Laughing.

Sharing something made by another person’s hands.

Her gaze returned to Mike.

“My people would understand that.”

She considered his question about her world.

“My home is mostly forest. Great forests older than any living memory. Some trees are large enough that entire family dwellings can be grown among their branches. Much of the forest produces its own light at night—plants, fungi, insects, even some animals.”

Her fingers brushed absently across Nytha’kae’s back.

“Our food comes from those forests.”

She began counting softly upon her fingers.

“We have fruits that grow high in the canopy. Some are sweet. Others are tart enough that younglings challenge one another to eat them without making a face.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her features.

“I was very good at this.”

Her tail gave a small, betraying flick.

“We gather roots and bulbs from the forest floor, edible fungi, seeds, nuts and river plants. There is a climbing vine whose young leaves are cooked over heated stone with crushed seeds and something similar to your salt.”

Then came the meat.

“We hunt.”

There was neither discomfort nor apology in the statement.

“Small forest grazers. Larger herd animals during certain seasons. River creatures. Sometimes avian species. Nothing is killed simply because we desire its flesh. A hunt has purpose, and what is taken is used.”

She gestured lightly toward the jerky Nytha’kae was still happily chewing.

“Meat may be smoked above fragrant wood, dried with herbs, wrapped in leaves and buried beneath heated stones, or cooked slowly beside a fire.”

Nytha’rae’s expression became thoughtful.

“One dish my family made used strips of meat wrapped around a mixture of crushed forest nuts, bitter leaves and a sweet blue fruit. It was tied with vine fiber and roasted beside the fire until the fruit cooked into the meat.”

Her markings glimmered warmly at the memory.

“There are also thick stews made from roots, fungi and whatever meat was brought home that day. Those are eaten communally. One vessel. Everyone takes what they need.”

She paused.

“But…”

Her dark eyes moved across the restaurant again.

Italian food.

Human barbecue.

The plate of loose meat and onions that had been placed before Doctor Blackford.

Different worlds represented by different plates.

Then she looked back to Mike.

“I think attempting to reproduce something from my world misses an opportunity.”

Her head tilted slightly.

“I already know the food of my people.”

A small smile appeared.

“I am more interested in something traditional from your home.”

Nytha’rae stepped a little closer to the counter, genuine curiosity showing now.

“Not what you believe I would enjoy.”

Her markings brightened.

“Not what Starfleet officers usually request.”

She gestured toward him.

“What would you eat when you wished to remember home?”

There was something distinctly Vaelari in the question.

Food was memory.

Place.

Family.

The land that had sustained you.

“I would like that.”

Nytha’kae swallowed the last of his jerky.

Then immediately chirped at Mike.

Nytha’rae closed her eyes briefly.

“He would like another piece of your dried deer.”

Another chirp.

“Yes, I told him.”

She looked at Mike again, the corner of her mouth curling upward.

“Apparently he has already decided what he is ordering.”

LT.JG Nytha’rae

Finn was glad to see that the restaurant was a hit. It was nice to see the crew getting some time to relax and socialize. He turned back to the cook. “Well, Tennessee whiskey over bourbon actually. You mean to tell me you have something like that behind the bar? You might be my new best friend.”

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

Over in the corner there was a discordant note of a couple having an argument.

“I will not be quiet.” The woman hissed back at what must have been her partner who was frantically trying to de-escalate the argument.

– GM Amadeus
USS Chimera

Areiana’s mouth practically watered the moment she spotted the Maid-Rite sitting in front of her. Her eyes lit up as the familiar smell reached her, and she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

“Oh goodness, thank you!” she exclaimed, picking it up eagerly. “This reminds me of home.”

She took a moment to admire it before finally taking a bite, savoring the familiar taste. For a moment, the sterile corridors and humming machinery of the starship seemed to disappear, replaced by memories of home, familiar places, and simpler days.

“I haven’t had one of these in ages,” she said between bites, clearly delighted. “You have no idea how much I needed this. Sometimes it’s the little things that make a ship feel a little less like a ship and a little more like home.”

She chuckled softly and took another bite, looking genuinely happy as she enjoyed the unexpected taste of home. she was about to take another bite when she heard the raised voices. She raised a eyebrow listening

Areiana Blackford

Lieutenant Junior Grade Chief Medical Officer USS Chimera