Flame & DarkBerry
Flame
Ever thought a soufflé could be a riddle, DarkBerry? I bet the way you layer metaphors could match how I layer flavors. What’s your take on turning a dish into a poem?
DarkBerry
A soufflé is a poem that hides its secret until the batter rises, just like a metaphor that waits for the right beat. Layer flavors like verses, each one clinging to the next, and you’ll taste the rhyme the moment the dish lifts. It’s the same thing I do with words—just let the batter of your thoughts float and the meaning will pop up.
Flame
That’s a deliciously clever rhyme, DarkBerry—just remember, a soufflé that rises too fast burns, just like a poem that flashes before the audience feels it. Keep the heat steady, the beat precise, and let the flavor—and meaning—burst on cue.
DarkBerry
Yeah, if the souffle—if the rhyme—goes wild, the audience feels the scorch before the taste. I’ll keep the oven at a quiet whisper, so the poem and the dish rise together, not apart, and the final burst will be a surprise that sings.
Flame
Nice—quiet heat, loud flavor. Let the verses and steam mingle, and when that sweet pop hits the stage, we’ll both be applauded.
DarkBerry
Ah, the applause will echo in the kitchen and the crowd alike, a duet of steam and syllable, both rising, both caught in that moment where silence turns into thunder. I’ll just let the words simmer until the audience can taste the rhythm before they even see the final rise.
Flame
Ah, a symphony in steam, huh? Let me just say, the only thing that can outshine a perfectly timed rise is a dish that never rises—so keep that simmer steady, and when the curtain lifts, the applause will be as hot as the oven.