Heir of Aurelian

Frank awoke from his slumber late in the afternoon. He had spent the last few nights partying with his friends and was now hungover beyond belief. He struggled to get up from under his covers, but ultimately managed to find his footing. After some effort, he managed to find his way to the stairs where he descended them cautiously while holding onto the handrail.

When he entered the kitchen area, he could smell the scent of baked ziti in the oven. This instantly surprised him, as he did not know what the time was. When he rounded the corner, his mother looked at him with a stern expression before chastising him for his scandalous actions throughout the weekend.

“Well, it’s good to see that my son is still alive. Were you out drinking again?”

The words the woman spoke felt like a cheese grater against Frank’s brain, and the florescent lighting wasn’t helping. He stumbled towards a stool at the counter where he sat down and sunk his head into his arms.

“Ugghh… Not so loud. I have a massive headache.”

In response to this, the woman scoffed before handing a bottle of painkillers to her son.

“Take these… You really shouldn’t be out partying so much.”

In response to this, Frank smirked as he swallowed the pills with the aid of a cup of water. He shook his head as if he was lecturing the woman._.

“I’m in the prime of my youth, and it’s the fourth of July weekend. Of course I’m going to a party!”

Frank’s mother shook her head in disappointment. She could not have her teenage son going out for the weekend and partying with strangers. The woman had decided to put her foot down. She pulled out a bunch of baking materials and sat them out in front of Frank with a livid expression in her eyes. Frank immediately questioned what she was doing.

“What the hell is this?”

The woman immediately flicked his head before responding to his question with a stern tone.

“Language! This is your punishment. I’ve just run out of noodles, and was about to go to the store to buy more. However, it would appear that you are in need of punishment, so you I’m going to have you make noodles for me.”

Frank felt as if he was listening to an alien language. His brow raised as he struggled to understand what his mother was saying.

“Make noodles? How do I do that?”

In response to this, the woman smirked before dragging her son off of his stool by his ear.

“I’ll show you! First, we start off with flour, pour two cups of it into the bowl. Next, you add two teaspoons of salt from there. You combine it together with a fork, so it is nice and mixed.”

Frank did as his mother instructed him, with a pained expression on his face. He was not expecting to help his mother cook while he was hungover. After he had mixed the bowl properly, his mother began to give him his next instructions.

“Now you add the eggs and milk to the bowl, repeat the process of using your fork to stir and combine the products. Then you knead it together and let it rest on the counter for ten minutes.”

Frank cracked a couple of eggs into the bowl before pouring two tablespoons of milk into. After doing this, he followed his mother’s instructions and combined it. Where he proceeded to knead the dough together and let it rest for the appropriate amount of time.

While Frank was wrist deep in dough, his mother made him a Bloody Mary, which she handed off to him with a standoffish expression as he finished his task.

“Drink this. While I don’t condone your behavior, I can’t bear to see my baby boy suffer so much.”

Frank smiled when he saw his mother acting like her normal self. He quickly gulped down the Bloody Mary and said a brief prayer he heard on a cartoon dedicated to animated spies. For this, his extremely religious mother smacked him on the back of the head and scolded him once more.

“What was that?”

Frank merely scoffed as he responded to his mother’s claims

“It was a joke, I saw it on tv…”

The woman merely glared at him. They did not continue their discussion and sat in silence for ten minutes until the pasta dough was ready for the next step. She scattered flour onto a cutting board before showing her son how to roll the dough until it was about 1/4th of an inch thick. After the mother-son duo did this, she showed him the remaining steps, which were to cut the dough into noodles with a knife.

Having properly made the noodles, Frank’s mother boiled water and handled the rest, keeping these doughy noodles in boiling water for three minutes before straining them. With that, the noodles were complete, and the woman added them to her ziti mix. The two of them ate in silence as they tasted the fruits of their combined labor. Finally, after the meal was done, the woman complimented her son for his work.

“You did well… Hopefully one day you will be proficient in cooking enough to make your own meals!”

Frank chuckled before thanking his mother.

“Thanks mom…”

After saying this, Marcellus awoke from his dream. Finally, he had the last component he needed to truly taste chicken alfredo as he had eaten it in a prior vision. At this point, he no longer even bothered to try to comprehend his dreams.

They were just a part of who he was now. He did not know why they started, or what were their origins, but he did not care. They seemed to be oddly nostalgic and warming. He decided not to think about it, and just learn from the lessons taught within them.

After coming to this conclusion, he hopped out of his bed where Sigefrida was still sleeping. He decided not to wake her up, and to make breakfast for his household. After all, he wanted to put the two components of alfredo together into one dish. Thus, he silently rushed off to the kitchen where he got to work.

Some time had passed, and eventually, both Placidia and Sigefrida came to the kitchen. The sun was shining through the palace windows, and Marcellus had a wide grin on his face as he poured the noodle dish onto their plates.  The two women gazed in shock at Marcellus, as they recognized only part of the dish. Placidia was the first to comment on this strange new invention.

“What is this?”

Marcellus was happy to explain his newest invention to the two women.

“These strips are called pasta. It came to me in a dream, and I figured they would go great with alfredo. Go ahead, eat up and tell me how you like it!”

The two women had differing expressions on their faces. Sigefrida seemed concerned about Marcellus’ mental health after having two strange dreams about cooking in a row. He had never been much of a cook and relied on her to make his meals in the past. Yet he had suddenly come up with two very different types of food. Placidia, on the other hand, was excited and eagerly gulped down the dish before exclaiming her surprise aloud.

“Mmm, it is really good! I think I like alfredo with this pasta more than by itself!”

Upon hearing this, Sigefrida put her concerns aside and quickly got to work devouring the dish. She also shared the same opinion as Placidia. They both ate in silence and only voiced their thoughts when they had completed their meal. Meanwhile, Marcellus had also dined on his portion and was very pleased with the results. Placidia was eager to see if Marcellus had any other bright ideas about the culinary arts.

“Do you have any other dishes? This could be huge! This is entirely different from anything I have ever tasted before.”

Marcellus sighed heavily when he heard this and shook his head in response.

“Sadly, I have not thought up of anything else. But who knows, maybe in the future I will have some new ideas that come to me. Either way, it seems like we have another new dish to introduce to our pallet. Perhaps I can sell this new dish I have created for profit.”

Placidia was quick to encourage Marcellus on the idea.

“Go for it! I’m sure you can find some vacant property and have some cooks learn how to make this dish. You could have them sell this to the public for a fair price. I’m sure it would be popular!”

Marcellus nodded his head in agreement. He also thought it was a good idea to generate revenue. It may not be much, but it was better than keeping the knowledge to himself. Thus, he decided to open up a restaurant as a side business and see how his newest creation fared.