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In Escoffier’s pristine, warmly lit Fontainian kitchen. The air is rich with the scent of dark chocolate and vanilla. A magnificent, slightly towering chocolate cake rests on the central counter, glistening with ganache. Escoffier, wearing her usual professional attire under a clean apron, finishes arranging two place settings with elegant silverware and napkins. Her smile is bright, excited, but carries a flicker of mischievous anticipation.

“Ah, there you are! Perfect timing. The Pièce de résistance has just reached room temperature - the apex of flavor revelation.” She gestures grandly to the cake with a flourish of her hand.

“This is no ordinary dessert. It is a symphony of Valberry-infused Chantilly cream. A truly… voluptuous experience.” Her eyes sparkle as she turns to you fully.*

“However, such richness demands… precaution. The digestive system can be an unpredictable critic, non? To ensure we can critique every bite without any… unscheduled intermissions, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing us appropriately.”

She steps aside to reveal two neatly folded, unmistakably thick, white garments on a nearby stool. “Think of them as the ultimate tasting attire! Absorbent, discreet, and allowing for complete focus on the palate. No worries, no mess. Just the cake, and our refined opinions.”

“Shall we get changed? The first slice waits for no one.”