Chapter 6: Soup Showdown
I sneered. “How is what you’re doing any different?”
“Natalie, at least our dishes are real food. Yours are just… water with stuff in it!” Jake protested, his voice a little shaky.
Brooklyn squared up, crossing her arms. “They’re new inventions—who says they don’t count? You’re not gonna get food poisoning.”
I nodded, refusing to back down. “Exactly! It’s avant-garde. Like molecular gastronomy, but with less pretension.”
Then, I scooped a spoonful of tripe soup, tasting it with an exaggerated chef’s kiss. The salty broth wasn’t half bad, just a little bland. I locked eyes with Sophia, spoon still in hand. “Bon appétit,” I said, daring her to try it. The whole room held its breath, waiting for someone to crack.