Meatballs covered in a creamy gravy, with a side of mashed potatos. The scent alone had Alisa licking her lips in antecipation, and albeit reluctantly, she'd finally let go of Sofia's hand. She'd look into the girl's eyes and giggle softly, knowing the girl would forgive her very soon. Reaching out for that rather finely arranged bowl of meatballs, dripping with sauce and sprinkled with parsley, Alisa took Sofia's dish and served her a hefty amount of purée, covering in with gravy and resting a handful of meatballs on top, letting that thick sauce seep into the garnish.
"More~?", asked the sculptress, raising an eyebrow after filling Sofia's dish with the average sized portion, not keen on filling her dish unless her lover happened to be a big eater, though that hardly stopped her from teasing her lover, winking at her as she returned her dish to it's rightful place, "You better eat up, you'll certainly need the energy~"
Unlike how she served her Uncle shortly after, filling his plate about as much as elegance would allow and then a little more, knowing a big man needed a big meal. And more importantly, Uncle Rocky loved to eat. And not just eat...
Pop...!
With a sudden, captivating pop, Alisa's wine red eyes shifted to a matching nectar freshly poured on Sofia's glass. Her smile widened at the sight, that ever catching sound, hinting at the dionysian delight to come. As she finished filling her own plate with food, her eyes darted over the label, her brow rising visibly at the kind of beverage her doting uncle had brough his niece and her lover:
"Maison du Cheval, 780... My~...", noted Alisa, classily stirring the fragrant red ambrosia, raising it up to her to her nose for a good, long whiff, humming in delight before taking a good, long sip, tucking a lock behind her ear as her gaze returned to her uncle's, "Didn't think I'd ever see you open one of those."
Another hearty laughter filled the room as her words sink in, Rocky not the least bit affected by her statement. Indeed, Alisa had a fair point, some bottles should be saved for special occasions. But if his grin was anything to go by, he clearly saw this as one such occasion, pulling up his chair and taking a good, sampling chug of his wine, holding up the glass for the toast:
"Hahahah, I had this one with your name on it Lisa, ready for the day you got back! I'm sure our beloved White Empress wouldn't settle for anything but the best hmm~?", he teased, though clearly this old fox had no qualms taking on the two youngsters at once, winking right back, smirking at Sofia as those words reached his ears, "Heh, you really haven't seen nothing yet.", another cheeky laughter left his lips, and as both him and Alisa found themselves joining Sofia and oggling the pleasantly smelling food, the older man hoisted his glass for a toast, "For now, dig in, and let it be the first of many, kitten~!"
That clinking of glasses would echo through the room, the last piercing sound before they well and truly focused on the treat ahead of them. All but salivating, feeling a low rumbling her stomach, the sculptress could hardly help herself anymore, all too pleasantly finding her knife just sinking throught that first meatball, pinking one half and guiding it to her plush, shimmering lips, her eyes widening as the first explosion of flavour took her tastebuds by storm, a blissful, satisfying hum escaping her lips:
"You got better, Uncle~...", noted Alisa, quite pleased herself easily cutting through the steaming meatball like a hot knife on butter, admiring the crisp, fried outside starkly contrast with the gently cooked, topped by that creamy, exquisite gravy truly letting that meaty taste blossom, "These may yet be the best meatballs you've ever cooked."
Hearing this, the old family man smirking, puffing as he took a whole, hot mouthful like the big eater he was:
"Of course, as if I'd been sleeping on my recipes until you came home!", he replied, laughing, all but scoffing at the mere notion of even considering otherwise. Before long though, both his and Alisa's eyes took curious glances towards Sofia, the one who'd most likely never tried proper Icebergian Meatballs as cooked by a natural of that cold, unforgiving land.