Warm and inviting, the scent climbs into waiting nostrils. Familiar and distant, the sight brings back the questions. “Don’t worry,” you trust, though the sight prods at alternate stories. The sound of the thin, slippery strings hitting the red broth gives a double take at the texture. “It’s new, from the store,” they grin as you taste the first bite. Soft rubber upon the tongue is something new; the balance of flavors, still hard to construe. What is the food, you wonder and think. Slightly acidic? Though, their smiles seem base. “Where’s Fred?” you ask; they laugh in your face.