Apicius was a cook who took immense pride in his craft.
He had once been a slave, but his exceptional culinary skills had earned him his freedom, allowing him to cook for Rome's noble households and amass a considerable fortune.
Whenever a grand banquet was held, nobles paid exorbitant sums to hire him, and countless patricians had tried to hire him as their personal cook.
Naturally, serving Lucius Julius Caesar suited him perfectly.
No young politician in Rome commanded more attention than Lucius.
Moreover, his father was poised to become one of the next consuls. Apicius gladly accepted the position of head cook in the young Caesar's household.
"It has been rather pleasant, with so few banquets to prepare..."
He muttered to himself. Unlike the ladies of other noble houses, who constantly nitpicked every detail of the cooking, Pompeia rarely interfered with his work.
In many patrician households, the ladies would closely monitor the cook to ensure he was actually using the expensive ingredients he had asked for.
With few banquets and no meddling from the mistress, Apicius had been able to devote himself entirely to his craft.
Lucius occasionally requested unheard-of dishes, but Apicius had successfully delivered every single time.
But that peaceful routine ended today.
"You wish to cook the meal yourself? What do you mean?" Apicius gasped in horror.
Lucius Caesar had suddenly appeared in the kitchen and made an announcement Apicius could never have anticipated.
He declared that he wanted to cook the food himself.
"But you're a scion of the noble patrician house... and you intend to cook with your own hands? Are my dishes truly so unsatisfactory?" Apicius blocked the young Caesar's path, breaking into a cold sweat. "If there is a specific dish you desire, I shall prepare it for you. Simply name it, sir. Pheasant, wild boar, stuffed sow's udder? How about snails fattened on milk, fried in olive oil and glazed with honey?"
"It is a recipe only I know. And I need to adjust the taste myself as I cook."
As Caesar refused to yield, Apicius felt despair settle over him.
A nobleman who employed a cook, yet insisted on cooking for himself. If word of this spread, his reputation as a cook would be ruined.
"Just how terrible must the food have been for Caesar himself to step into the kitchen?"
He could already hear the mocking whispers of the other cooks.
"For a man of your standing to cook with his own hands would damage your reputation terribly, Caesar. Allow me to assist you, at least. Let us prepare it together."
"That would be fine. I do not know how to use many of the tools in this kitchen."
Hearing Caesar readily agree, Apicius let out a sigh of relief. But that relief was short-lived.
"You mean to tell me... guests are coming to eat what you have prepared?"
"Yes, we are expecting quite a few guests. So make sure to prepare ample quantities of the ingredients I have requested."
Thus, Lucius Caesar's first special banquet began.
***
"Welcome, Brutus. It has been some time since the Trojan Games."
"Thank you, sir."
Brutus shared a warm embrace with Gaius Caesar. Before he realized it, he was smiling.
Gaius Caesar always welcomed him with a warm smile. Was there anyone more trustworthy in Rome right now than this man?
Ah, right. There was also Lucius Caesar. Brutus added inwardly.
"But why are you out here at the gate?" Brutus asked.
He was at Lucius Caesar's estate. In Rome, it was customary for the master of the house to greet his guests.
"Lucius is currently in the kitchen. He is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the banquet."
"He is preparing the banquet himself?"
"Have you not grown used to Lucius doing strange things by now?"
Caesar chuckled and patted Brutus on the back. Still bewildered, Brutus followed him inside.
As he entered the atrium, Pompeia welcomed him.
"Welcome, Brutus. Would you care to recline over here?"
Brutus nodded and glanced at the mural decorating one of the walls.
It depicted Lucius and Metellus in a chariot, clearly commemorating the recent Trojan Games.
"What a magnificent painting."
"I am glad you think so," Pompeia replied with a soft smile.
In the triclinium, Antony, Cornelia, Julia, and another person Brutus had not expected to see were already present.
"You..."
"I do not believe I have ever seen you at a banquet before, Brutus." The young Metellus offered an awkward smile and nodded. "I came at the invitation of Lucius Caesar."
"Anyone would think you two were still enemies," Antony called out to them, raising his wine goblet. "Don't just stand there, Brutus. Come have some chickpeas and wine! The main course hasn't arrived yet, but it is perfect for whetting the appetite."
"Just try not to disgrace yourself with wine today, Antony. I am always the one who has to drag you out after you drink yourself senseless."
"Indeed, true friendship is the most reliable thing in the world."
Brutus sighed and took a seat. Just as he was about to recline, Julia spoke up.
"I heard you will be working on a new venture with Pompeia, Brutus. A plan to bring news to the citizens of Rome and the allied cities?" Julia leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on him. "How is it going? It sounds absolutely fascinating."
"There is still a great deal to prepare," Brutus replied, clearing his throat.
It wasn't unusual for women to attend banquets. However, it was another matter for a young, unmarried woman to approach a man and begin a conversation herself.
If others saw her doing so, they might deem it inappropriate.
Brutus discreetly glanced around the room, but Cornelia and the others were engrossed in the conversation between Antony and Metellus.
"But it is deeply rewarding work. And we are not merely delivering news," Brutus continued. "Lucius Caesar also wishes to introduce poetry and various literary works to more people throughout Rome."
Then, he suddenly recalled something Lucius had once said.
"He spoke very highly of your writing, Julia. Do you often write in your leisure?"
"My brother tends to exaggerate his praise."
"Well, the love of literature runs deep in our family. I was much the same when I was young," Gaius Julius Caesar chimed in.
He must have been eavesdropping on their conversation, as he added with a chuckle.
"I have written poetry since childhood. I was praised for it more than once, too. Cicero may write excellent defense speeches, but..." Caesar paused to clear his throat. "That man's poetry is quite bland and predictable. He is far too constrained by form. Lucius never had much interest in poetry, so I am relieved that our dear Julia seems to have inherited at least a fraction of my talent."
"When I was little, all you ever talked about was the Troy," Julia retorted with a pout. "I could probably recite from memory every time you told me that the Julian clan descends from the goddess Venus."
"The Julian clan is directly tied to Alba Longa. And if you trace our lineage further back, it ultimately leads back to Troy. Which, naturally, means we are descended from the goddess Venus..."
As Caesar launched into his familiar, well-rehearsed genealogical lecture, Brutus dipped a finger into his wine cup.
He discreetly traced a message with the wine on the table where Julia could see it.
[May I read your work one day?]
Julia paused upon reading the words. A faint blush rose to her face, and she offered a small nod.
"My apologies if my explanation bored you, Brutus. I assumed the two of you would be very interested in the Julian clan's descent from the goddess Venus."
"We are deeply interested, Father. Of course."
Watching Julia roll her eyes, Brutus couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Just then, Lucius appeared.
"Thank you all for waiting!"
Lucius Caesar emerged, drenched in sweat. At a gesture from him, servants filed in, carrying an array of covered dishes.
As the table was filled with food, Brutus and the other guests gasped in astonishment.
"What in the world is this..."
"I have never seen any of these dishes before."
"Allow me to introduce you." Lucius smiled broadly, spreading his arms. "New dishes that will conquer Rome!"
***
Who knew cooking could be this exhausting?
I stretched my arms high into the air. Cooking for the first time since my previous life was much harder than I expected.
Ever since being reborn in this era, I had never once had to cook for myself.
I had acquired the recipes from the library in my dreams, but many of the ingredients simply did not exist in Rome in this era.
Take tomatoes, for instance. Short of funding a new fleet and sending an expedition to the Americas, obtaining tomatoes was impossible.
But the lack of tomatoes didn't mean I couldn't make pasta.
Ironically, making the pasta took far longer than the actual cooking.
At first, I tried rolling out the dough with a rolling pin and slicing it with a knife. But that method was far too slow to produce enough for the workers' mess hall.
Eventually, I enlisted the artisans at the technical school to build a primitive extruder—a contraption that used a lever and a piston to force the dough through small holes.
It was not perfect, but once the strands were dried in the sun, they kept reasonably well.
There were many theories about where pasta truly began, but this particular form of dried pasta certainly did not exist in Rome at this time.
I had simply brought its invention forward by several centuries.
The real issue was the sauce. Without tomatoes, any tomato-based sauce was out of the question.
Instead, I experimented with various pasta dishes using cheese, pepper, and olive oil.
The result was the dish I had prepared today.
Meanwhile, Pompey and Crassus still had not arrived.
Well, they were already late. We might as well start without them.
I presented the dishes to the guests reclining around the table.
"How is it?"
To my surprise, an awkward silence settled over the room.
Julia was the first to speak.
"It looks a bit... grotesque."
"Grotesque?"
"They look like wriggling earthworms."
"They are not worms, Julia," I said, clearing my throat.
Admittedly, now that she mentioned it, they did look a bit like worms...
"It is made from wheat flour. Just try a bite, and I guarantee you will change your mind."
"It looks rather difficult to eat with our hands," Brutus interjected. "Are we supposed to use these tools lying next to the bowls?"
"Ah, you must not be used to them. Lucius has hated getting his hands dirty since he was a boy, so he invented those," Father said, glancing at me. "Forks, were they?"
"Yes. They make this dish much easier to eat."
I wiped my sweat and took a seat.
Cooking for the first time in a long while had been surprisingly enjoyable.
In my past life, I had cooked for myself frequently.
But this was practically the first time—across both my past and present lives—that I had cooked for people I considered family and friends.
I watched with eager anticipation as my guests and family picked up their forks.
I had also experimented with hamburgers and hot dogs for later, but the true star of today's menu was pasta.
Everyone awkwardly took up their forks and began tasting the dish.
For a while, the only sound was quiet chewing.
I turned to Pompeia.
"How is it?"
"It is certainly... a new taste." Pompeia replied, her tone laced with polite hesitation.
Hmm. That wasn't exactly the reaction I had hoped for.
I turned to Brutus, Antony, and Metellus.
"What do you think of it?"
"I-It is delicious."
"It is unusual, but not unpleasant." Metellus answered, coughing slightly.
Just then, Antony made a choking sound.
"I have no idea what this is even supposed to taste like. And the texture is bizarre. I cannot eat this!"
"Antony!" Brutus intervened, but it was too late.
As a chilling silence settled over the room, Antony looked flustered and cleared his throat.
"What I meant to say was..."
"It is fine. I appreciate your honesty."
A heavy sigh escaped me before I could stop it. I had tried my best to make this.
I followed the recipe for cacio e pepe almost perfectly, so why did it taste so strange? Was there a problem with the cheese or the pepper?
It wasn't just Antony. The others, having taken a few bites, were now stealing glances at me, clearly not enjoying the dish.
"If it is not to your taste, you do not have to force yourselves to eat it. I will have the cook bring out the usual dishes."
Just then,the sound of two men arguing echoed from beyond the main gate.
I had never thought the sound of those two bickering would ever be so welcome. I opened the door to find Crassus and Pompey quarreling, as usual.
"Is this not entirely your fault that we are late?"
"If you hadn't picked a fight in the first place..."
The two men stopped mid-argument upon seeing me.
"Lucius! My apologies for being late. It was this fool's fault..."
"Welcome, both of you."
I reached out and took them both by the arms. Seeing their bewildered expressions, I flashed them a bright smile.
"Please, come inside. I have prepared a very special meal just for you."
***
The results were not far from what I expected.
Just like the others, Pompey and Crassus did not seem to enjoy my cooking in the slightest.
"It is certainly a unique dish, but I do not think I can eat much more of it. It sits terribly heavy in the stomach."
"..."
I sighed inwardly. Well, now the atmosphere was completely awkward.
I was so certain everyone would love it. The fact that not a single person enjoyed it was baffling.
"Do not be too discouraged, Lucius," Pompeia patted my arm gently. "After all, this was your first attempt at cooking."
"Indeed. The gods may have revealed Palmolive to you, but perhaps they withheld the secrets of cooking?" Brutus chimed in.
No, it was true that I hadn't cooked in decades, but I used to cook quite often in my past life.
I kept those words to myself.
Just then, Pompeia gestured toward the dishes on the other side of the room.
"What are those dishes over there?"
"Those are for the employees. They are made with the same ingredients, but the cook prepared them differently," I replied with a sigh.
When I announced I would be cooking myself, the head cook practically had a fit and begged me to let him assist.
No matter how much I insisted I was fine, he refused to back down, so I ended up letting him help me cook.
The pasta resting on the other table was intended for the employees' tasting.
"It smells wonderful. May I try some?"
"Yes, there is plenty," I answered with a shrug.
I recalled the chef mentioning he had made the pasta sauce using garum.
Garum was the most common fish sauce in Rome. Made from fermented fish and fish entrails, it was widely used to add saltiness and depth to dishes.
To me, the pasta sauce made from garum had tasted awful. It was far too salty and utterly unsuited to my taste.
Antony picked up his fork, took a bite of the cook's pasta, and suddenly gasped.
"This is genuinely delicious. All of you need to try this."
"He is right. This one is excellent."
Brutus and Metellus took a few bites and immediately urged the others to try it.
Soon after, Father, Mother, Julia, and Pompeia all helped themselves to the pasta.
"This truly is delicious."
"The sauce pairs perfectly with this new dish."
They think that is delicious?
The fishy garum sauce tastes better than my cheese and pepper sauce?
I should have been happy, yet I could not help feeling mildly offended.
As I sat there, unsure how to react, Julia offered me a bright smile and asked, "Is there any more of this?"
Seeing her, I could only laugh in defeat and nod.
Perhaps there had been nothing wrong with the pasta itself.
Perhaps... I was simply a terrible cook.