How Green Becomes Wood

Daizi sighed, leaning in to kiss Ivy's head, "Ivy-Qadira, you gave your Mama such a sweet tooth. Yes, you did."

Watching them, Dark recollected the very strange concoctions Daizi ate while pregnant and thought his daughter had given her more than just a sweet tooth, but said nothing. Nothing could make him forget finding his wife eating an entire lemon. And that wasn't even the strangest thing he had seen.

"At my work, I only had cafeteria food, which was not nearly as compelling."
 
"The last time I had cafeteria food, it was at a hospital. The stuff was almost all so incredibly salty that I couldn't eat it," Tristan said, making a face at the memory. "It was so strange, especially considering how many people in a hospital had some form of dietary restriction requiring less salt, yet here I am eating a mound of white and brown stuff that tasted like it was made with ocean water. Maybe it was some sort of salt substitute that tasted more powerful."
 
"Hospital food," Daizi made a face, "I've spent too much time in hospitals. There aren't many places I hate more."

"I always bring you real food when you have to stay in hospital," Dark told her.

"I know," She pouted.

"You do the same for me."

"I do it for everyone I know," Daizi said, "Nobody is going to recover if they hate what they're eating."
 
"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up a sore point," Tristan apologized. "You are quite right, though. No one can recover from anything if they don't eat, and it's hard to eat when it's not good."
 
"No, it's okay. I just think the best experience I've ever had in a hospital is when I get to go home." Daizi said, rubbing her arm and doing her best to shake off her internal dread. She doubted Tristan had good experiences in hospitals either.

Hell. He brought up one of her biggest phobias. That meant he had to be the one to make friendly conversation. "Daizi's aunts refuse to let anybody go hungry, I am sure you recall how they are. She inherited that trait."
 
Tristan waited to answer as they rounded a corner and passed a mother with young children. When they were clear again, he said, "That is an excellent trait to have! One I would not mind having, as well, but, sadly, I was raised in a rather, ah, backward way. The kitchen was the woman's territory, and men dared not cross. Actually, my mother was known to give anyone who bothered her when she was cooking a good whallop with a wooden spoon, so I'm not entirely certain my father was to blame for that idea. Not even he would cross the threshold into her kitchen no matter what. She did teach all of us at least some survival skills to tide us over so we wouldn't starve, at least. I've been attempting to learn some cooking abilities, but there's just always something else I'd rather spend my time and energy on."
 
"We can teach you, if you'd like," Daizi offered, knowing what it was like to be forbidden from learning, albeit for different reasons. "Dark is a wonderful cook, he's taught Xander already."
 
"Did he? Alec mentioned Xander liked cooking, but I did not know you taught him," Tristan said, nodding to Dark. He didn't answer the offer to be taught cooking, though, genuinely not sure how to answer. He chose to pretend to be distracted and then genuinely got distracted staring at a display of snack foods. He plucked a bag of chips from the display and showed Dark. "This kind of snack I have no idea why anyone likes them, I really don't." It was a bag of super hot cheetos.
 
"He did not know how to peel an orange when we first met," Dark told Tristan, looking at the bag of cheetos. He didn't like getting his fingers messy, but he honestly preferred the spicy ones to the regular ones, when he was forced to choose.

"Well it sounds like a bag of chips," Daizi teased.
 
"It's a bag of the hottest chips, the kind focused on heat and not flavor," Tristan said, putting them back. "I am not a fan." He glanced at Dark. "Please tell me he did not try to eat the peel?"
 
"Do you really?" Tristan asked. "The higher heat tolerance does not surprise me, but I can only taste the heat when I try these things and no flavor. What do you see in them?"
 
"Of course!" Tristan assured her with a smile. He moved back slightly to let the cart go first when they came to a narrower section of aisle, then he pulled up beside Daizi. "What is on your mind?"
 
"Usually a lot of quick things or preprepared meals," Tristan said, a little surprised by the question. "I can muddle my way through simple recipes if I really need to, but most things past simple appetizers or party pleasers are beyond me. I sometimes get those meal trays you can put in the oven, the bigger ones, just to check to make sure the thing still works, but I'm always very careful because I do not want to clean the thing. I eat out a fair amount, I'm afraid."
 
"Boring? No, not really," Tristan said thoughtfully. "I make certain to keep all my meals as well-rounded as possible, and I try not to eat out more than once a week - not counting a cup of coffee and maybe a pastry - so I'd say I have a decent amount of variety. Once in a while, a friend might come over, and I usually try to make something then. It's often a sad affair, so I rarely have repeat meal-time visitors," he chuckled.
 
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