“It’s hard to impress me with chicken.”

That is what I murmured when I saw the waiter handing the plate to me. I don’t understand why my girlfriend insisted on taking me here. She knew I was no longer interested in chicken ever since that thing happened.

She sat across from me, watching my expression carefully, and her face serious.

“I understand that the incident made it hard for you to even think about eating chicken, but I promise this restaurant’s chicken tastes just as good as your grandmother’s. Plus, I don’t want you to be depressed all the time.”

“No one could ever cook chicken like my grandma. No one.” I took the chicken from the waiter and looked down at the silly chicken in disdain. The chicken looked completely different in color, aroma, or quality. “No one could replace her style, and if you really understand my love and respect for my grandma and her chicken, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t argue back: “I do understand. And that’s why I brought you here tonight.“

I blinked doubtfully “What?”

She continued “Your grandmother wrote down her own chicken recipe before she passed away. I gave it to the chef of this restaurant, because he is an old friend of hers. He promised he would do his best to recreate this dish, just the way she used to make it. Your grandmother still cared about you before she was gone, and she entrusted me to keep you happy without her.”

I stared at her with surprise. My eyes were filled with tears as I was touched by her true heart. she whispered “Why don’t you give this chicken a try?”

I nodded. I looked over the chicken for a second time. The roasted chicken sat in the center of the plate like a crown jewel, its golden skin and delicious smell instantly appealing me. This time, the scent reminded me of my grandma. I cut the chicken into half. The color of the meat was cooked to the perfect degree, just the way my grandma used to make it. I took a bite. The juicy chicken, with its scent, taste, and saltiness, brought me back to the moment when I first ate my grandma’s chicken. Everything was just as warm and perfect as her, as if she had never left.

I opened my eyes and looked at my girlfriend, who was nervously looking forward to my response.

“It is perfect. Thank you.”