Yuri has almost certainly never watched anyone chew and swallow food so closely in his life. But when Katsudon starts putting it together, and his surprise gives way to delight (and it's real, it's not just politeness, it's real), Yuri's grin unconsciously mirrors Katsudon's own.
'That's right!' he says, with unmitigated pride. 'My dedka made them himself! Aren't they great?'
Even in his excitement, he knows that they don't taste exactly like the katsudon he'd had at Yu-topia. He'd explained the dish only vaguely to his grandfather, with no real knowledge of Hiroko Katsuki's exact recipe, and so even though it has the proper main ingredients there's no dashi or mirin to season the eggs and rice. The pork cutlet is thicker than the flat breaded one that Yuuri would be used to eating. It could use some more onion to balance out the egg. But the rice has absorbed the rich pork juices and the eggs are fluffy and tender, and the surrounding bread has a solid crust that lets none of the filling escape.
Yuri's grown up eating his grandfather's pirozhki, including any number of experimental recipes, and he knows that this is only a first attempt. You don't start busting out triples in a brand-new pair of skates; you need to break them in first. The next batch of katsudon pirozhki will be even better. The one after that, better still.
But for now? Everything is fine. (Even if it feels like it might be a little colder outside, because his cheeks weren't that warm a few minutes ago, were they?)
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'That's right!' he says, with unmitigated pride. 'My dedka made them himself! Aren't they great?'
Even in his excitement, he knows that they don't taste exactly like the katsudon he'd had at Yu-topia. He'd explained the dish only vaguely to his grandfather, with no real knowledge of Hiroko Katsuki's exact recipe, and so even though it has the proper main ingredients there's no dashi or mirin to season the eggs and rice. The pork cutlet is thicker than the flat breaded one that Yuuri would be used to eating. It could use some more onion to balance out the egg. But the rice has absorbed the rich pork juices and the eggs are fluffy and tender, and the surrounding bread has a solid crust that lets none of the filling escape.
Yuri's grown up eating his grandfather's pirozhki, including any number of experimental recipes, and he knows that this is only a first attempt. You don't start busting out triples in a brand-new pair of skates; you need to break them in first. The next batch of katsudon pirozhki will be even better. The one after that, better still.
But for now? Everything is fine. (Even if it feels like it might be a little colder outside, because his cheeks weren't that warm a few minutes ago, were they?)