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Jessie deserves better than to have to eat snow. That thought repeats in Delia’s head as she hand whips cream for a mousse.
Yesterday James jokingly warned Delia that Jessie would be outside with a spoon and fork the second snow hits. The idea was cute, at first, until he let it slip why Jessie is always so gung-ho about eating it. Delia can’t stand the thought of it, of poor baby Jessie filling her empty stomach with ice shaped like the food she should’ve actually been given. Maybe it really is a fond memory for her, like James insists, but it still makes Delia sad and angry and determined. She’s going to make a full, real meal with just as much actual food as Jessie’s ‘snowgasbords’ had fake food.
The baked potatoes are finishing up in the oven. She already plated the sushi and finished off the individual pieces with a nice variety of toppings. There’s tuna onigiri, omelet onigiri, and plain onigiri that she’s grilled to a crisp. Warm pork buns. Squirtle shaped melon bread. Delia would’ve normally added in more vegetables for a balanced meal, but she's making Jessie’s favorite foods and they're all really, really carb-heavy. At least that guarantees that Jessie will be nice and full.
Ideally, Delia would’ve been cooking back at the house instead of in her restaurant. It would be more authentic to the ‘home cooked meal’ aspect of Jessie’s ideal ‘snowgasbord’. The only problem is that when all of this food isn’t made out of snow and soy sauce, it suddenly has a bunch of different cooking times and temperatures that are better suited to a restaurant kitchen. Still, she's doing her very best to make Pallet House feel like home. Mimey, James, and Meowth have been given decoration duty. Which, really, is just making sure everything up front is nice and sparkling clean and putting out the tablecloth and bouquet that Delia picked out earlier. She knows they’d like to help more, but Delia feels like she needs to do the cooking herself.
Once she’s satisfied with the peaks on her whipped cream, she stashes the bowl in the fridge and stretches out her sore arms. She takes the potatoes out of the oven and tests them with the stab of a knife. Perfectly done. She lays the potatoes out in a circle on a serving tray then places individual ramekins of sour cream, cheese, scallions, and fresh ground salt in the middle of that circle. Mr. Mime dutifully cracks open the door to the kitchen and Delia gives him a nod of approval, he takes the tray out to join the rest of the smorgasbord. Delia wipes her hands on her apron and leans against the counter for a breather.
“Heads up, Jessie just texted me that her class let out early for the weather. She’s on the way,” James warns.
“Oh, no. Is it snowing that hard already,” Delia asks, opening up the door to talk to the others properly. It feels rude to yell through the wall, the only exception being when they’re too busy with the lunch rush to do anything else. Even then, it doesn’t feel polite, just necessary.
“It’s not even sticking yet,” Meowth offers, peering outside through a window. “Probably just tryin’ to be safe.”
“Well, I'm almost finished anyway,” Delia announces. “I’ve just got dessert left. You boys can go home for now, I’ll handle the rest on my own. You too, Mimey.” She gives them a wave as James and Meowth head on out without complaint. Mr. Mime protests, though. “I know you want to stay with me, but we'll be home before the snow gets bad, I promise.” He reluctantly nods before leaving as well, though he’s visibly huffy about the situation.
With Jessie coming back early, Delia finds herself on a time crunch. Maybe it’s cheating, a little, but just this once she dumps a packet of instant pudding mix into the whipped cream instead of measuring out the sugar and cornstarch and vanilla extract. If she's being honest with herself, Jessie won't be able to tell the difference anyway. She’ll be too busy eating like someone’s threatening to take it away from her. Delia frowns as she connects that unfortunate eating habit to Jessie’s past. She won’t let Jessie go hungry again.
She carefully spoons the finished mousse into a bowl, tops it with a few sliced berries, then carries it out to the table and places it amongst the rest of the feast. It does look home-y, arranged like it is on a single table. It would’ve been nice to do something about the lights, though. The fluorescents are wonderful for making sure the whole place is lit properly even when it’s packed, but they feel just a bit sterile. Candlelight would’ve been nice. She makes a mental note of that for next time.
When Delia spots Jessie through the window she has her arms spread, her mouth open, and her tongue out trying to catch snowflakes. Delia can’t help it, she laughs. Jessie steps through the front door with an excitable, drawn out, “Hi!” Then she looks around, confused. “Oh, did you close up early? Wait-” she hurries up to the table, practically drooling. “Is this..?”
“All for you,” Delia assures her. That’s all it takes for Jessie to take a seat and start in on the onigiri. “It’s a ‘snowgasbord’, James told me about them.”
Jessie pauses before she can take another bite, then really looks over the spread. “I didn’t even notice… I’m so used to it being all snow. That’s… So nice of you.” It looks like she’s going to tear up for a moment, but then she just gives a nostalgic sigh and gets right back to eating.
As the snow picks up and starts to stick Delia notices that Jessie is eating slower and slower. She’d chalk it up to her just having had her fill if it wasn’t for the way her gaze keeps sliding over to the window. She’s definitely enjoying Delia’s ‘snowgasbord’, the same way she enjoys anything Delia makes for her. But it looks like she really wants to eat snow, not that she’s just used to it. Delia had assumed it was just a habit that carried over to Jessie’s Team Rocket days, since she didn’t have a lot of food security then, either. That it was just a way to look at things positively, instead of something she wholeheartedly enjoyed.
Delia gives a soft, wistful sigh and a warm smile. “Do you want to make one out of snow,” she gently asks. Jessie vigorously nods. “Whenever you’re ready, then. We can pack up leftovers here and gather the snow on the way back.”
“You’re not disappointed,” Jessie asks, her words muffled by potato. She swallows before continuing, “You must’ve worked hard on all this.”
“I did, but you’ll still eat it later, won’t you?”
“Of course! It’s so good.”
“Then it’s fine. I promise.”
Jessie gets up from her spot at the table and wraps her arms around Delia’s shoulders in a tight, excited hug. She plants a kiss on Delia’s cheek before hurrying off to the kitchen to grab take-out boxes. “Thank you! It’s been so long since I had a snowgasbord, I’ve been looking forward to the weather all week.”