Work Text:
Dax sighs with satisfaction as she sets her fork down next to her empty plate. “Thanks for cooking, Benjamin. As always.”
“Of course,” Sisko replies. “It’s always a pleasure to have all of you over.”
“I think a home-cooked meal is the real pleasure,” Bashir says. “And a rare one, these days.”
Sisko shrugs. “I suppose you don’t see many cooks in Starfleet.”
“Which is a shame, because it’s such a great way to bring people together. I imagine out of all the captains in Starfleet, you must be the best one.”
Sisko smiles. “That’s not much of a distinction, but I’ll take it. What do you think?” He glances at Dax.
Dax hesitates. “Well…”
Sisko chuckles. “Very funny, old man.” His face falls when Dax doesn’t smile. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” Dax says, looking genuinely apologetic. “Emony once got invited to a dinner party of Captain Pike’s. He made fresh pasta and alfredo sauce with Deltan parsley.”
Bashir frowns. “I thought Deltan parsley was poisonous.”
“It is,” Sisko says with a frown. “That’s why it’s banned in the Federation.”
“Well, it’s only toxic in large doses, so it wasn’t illegal at the time. And it was the best pasta I’ve ever had.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Sisko interjects. “If I had access to Deltan parsley, you’d be saying my food was the best you’d ever had.”
“Maybe,” Dax admits. “There’s no way of knowing, unless we ever travel back to the 23rd century.”
Bashir frowns. “Considering our track record, that’s not the most unlikely scenario,” he says.
“Okay. You’re saying that if we ever travel back in time to the 23rd century, we should have a cookoff?”
“It’s the only way to know for sure who is the better chef.”
Sisko sighs. “Alright. Add it to the list.”