Four days later, after breakfast that morning, Garp suddenly turned to Po with a serious expression:
"Po, you really won't come with me? You won't join the Marine?"
Hearing this, Po scratched his head and replied with characteristic honesty:
"Thank you for all your teachings during this time, Master. But I really don't want to join the Marine. I just want to open a restaurant with Gustave and Tom and cook delicious meals for travelers who come and go."
Looking at the earnest and lovable Po before him, Garp let out a deep sigh. His apprentice was truly gifted beyond belief. Po had known absolutely nothing on the first day, but after only about two weeks of training together, he'd already learned an incredible amount.
Garp genuinely cared for his apprentice Po. Over the past half month or so, although he'd "educated" him with his Iron Fist of Love daily, he'd also taught him many valuable techniques.
While there were no signs of Observation Haki yet, Po had already grasped the fundamentals of Armament Haki and built an excellent foundation in the Marine's Six Powers. With a bit more practice, he'd be able to master the Six Powers completely.
With Po's current strength, Garp wouldn't claim he was unbeatable throughout the entire East Blue, but within the Goa Kingdom and surrounding regions, it would be difficult to find an opponent who could match him.
With Po's natural talent, if he followed Garp to Marine Headquarters and underwent systematic training under Zephyr, it was foreseeable that the Marine would soon gain an additional Admiral-level combatant. Unfortunately, Po had no interest in such a path.
"Is Mr. Garp returning to Marine Headquarters?" Gustave asked, observing the conversation between master and apprentice.
"Bwahahaha! I'd love to stay longer, but that guy Sengoku harasses me through Den Den Mushi every single day. I have no choice but to leave tomorrow!" Garp suddenly burst into his characteristic booming laughter, returning to his usual carefree demeanor with no trace of the disappointment he'd just shown over Po's refusal to join the Marine. This was simply the special talent shared by both Garp and his grandson—their ability to bounce back from setbacks.
In truth, Garp's vacation had ended a week ago, but for the sake of training his new apprentice Po, he'd forced himself to extend his stay in Windmill Village.
However, with Zephyr's recent retirement, the Marine lose an Admiral. To handle the increasingly volatile situation in the New World, Garp, the Marine's Hero, couldn't afford to be absent for much longer.
"I see. Since Mr. Garp is leaving tomorrow, how about we hold a farewell dinner tonight? Let me cook a proper meal for you, Mr. Garp!" Gustave suggested.
"Dinner? Uncle Gustave is going to cook? I love Uncle Gustave's cooking the most!" As soon as Luffy heard mention of delicious food, he came running over eagerly.
Since his injuries had nearly healed over the past few days, Gustave had prepared several meals himself. After all, his skills as a state banquet chef spoke for themselves, and he'd won everyone over completely. Among them all, the one who loved Gustave's cooking most was naturally Luffy.
"So Luffy, do you prefer listening to my stories or eating the food I cook?" Seeing Luffy's greedy expression, Gustave decided to tease him a little.
"Eh? Stories or food?"
"I want to be the hero in the stories, but Uncle Gustave's cooking is really delicious. It's such a hard choice! I don't know what to do..." Hearing this question, Luffy looked genuinely troubled. Making such a decision was far too difficult for a boy not yet five years old.
BONK!
Garp delivered a firm punch to Luffy's head, raising an impressive bump.
"How could I have such a stupid grandson!"
Seeing Luffy's dilemma, Garp couldn't help but scold him.
"Grandpa, why did you hit me?"
"It really is hard to choose between Uncle Gustave's stories and his cooking!" Luffy protested to Garp with a look of complete indignation.
"Idiot! What's there to choose? Obviously you want both! Bwahahaha!" Garp laughed uproariously. This solution was indeed perfectly in line with his character.
After hearing Garp's answer, everyone present couldn't help but laugh. Only the still-confused little Luffy learned that having everything was actually an option.
After the morning's entertainment, Gustave enlisted Tom's help to prepare ingredients for the evening's dinner. Since this was a farewell feast, the livelier the better. The villagers of Windmill Village had been incredibly kind to them during their stay, so Gustave planned to invite the entire village to participate.
Although he specialized in refined state banquet cuisine with small, exquisite portions, this didn't mean Gustave couldn't handle large-scale cooking. His culinary journey had actually begun with massive countryside banquets during his childhood.
Po had originally wanted to ask Garp if he planned to continue the day's training, but when he turned around, Garp had vanished completely. After searching unsuccessfully for a while, Po gave up and joined the ingredient preparation effort.
During their time drifting at sea, after finishing the food from Tom's refrigerator, they'd been forced to eat everything raw. This would be the first time all three of them cooked together properly.
As for Luffy, Gustave sent him into the village to inform everyone to attend the farewell dinner that evening. When the villagers heard that Gustave would be cooking personally, they eagerly contributed their own ingredients to help with preparations. The entire Windmill Village buzzed with activity.
With the villagers' assistance, ingredient preparation went much faster. At noon, Gustave began working on the first dish.
The opening course would be a feast in itself—roasted whole lamb, the undeniable centerpiece of the banquet. It was not only visually impressive but also rich, flavorful, and deeply satisfying—a dish that demanded time, patience, and precision. Gustave, understanding the importance of pacing a large meal, deliberately chose to begin with this hearty course. Not only did it require the most preparation, but its scent alone would whet the appetite of everyone in Windmill Village the moment it began roasting.
The first and most crucial step in preparing the lamb was the marination process. Without a proper marinade, even the finest cuts would taste flat or overly gamey. For a dish like this to shine, the meat had to be infused with flavor deep into every fiber.
Gustave selected his ingredients carefully: onions for their sweetness and aroma, fresh cilantro to bring brightness and lift, coarse salt to help tenderize the meat and draw out moisture, and an assortment of spices—including cumin, black pepper, bay leaves, garlic, and a hint of clove—to completely neutralize any unwanted gaminess while building a complex, savory base.
But this wasn't a simple family meal. This was a banquet. Windmill Village was home to dozens of people, and appetites in the One Piece world were legendary. To satisfy the crowd, Gustave and his team were preparing no fewer than twenty whole lambs.
Understanding that tastes varied widely, especially among villagers with different food traditions and spice tolerances, Gustave made a special adjustment. He set aside ten of the lambs and infused their marinade with an abundance of fiery red chili peppers—enough to satisfy even the most spice-hardened tongues. These would deliver a bold, smoky heat that lingered with every bite, perfect for those who craved intensity in their food.
Before applying the marinade, Gustave scored the meat meticulously, cutting shallow lines into the surface of each lamb. This wasn't just for show—without scoring, the marinade wouldn't penetrate the thick muscle layers evenly. The cuts allowed the flavors to seep deep inside, ensuring each mouthful was juicy and aromatic.
Once the scoring was done, the marinade was massaged thoroughly into the flesh of each lamb. Gustave took his time, coating every inch, working the mixture in with deliberate care. The kitchen was soon filled with the vibrant scent of herbs, spice, and fresh meat.
With the lambs now resting and soaking in their marinades, Gustave turned to the next dish on his extensive prep list. As for the remaining steps—the turning, basting, and slow-roasting of the lambs over a wood fire—those were entrusted to Tom, his dependable sous-chef. Tom was a master of grilled meats, especially open-fire techniques, and Gustave had full confidence in his ability to execute the roast to perfection.
After Luffy discovered the roasted whole lamb preparations, he quickly became attached to Tom again. It wasn't surprising—Luffy was a boy who absolutely loved meat, and seeing entire lambs being marinated and roasted was enough to win his loyalty all over again.
While Tom handled the lambs, Gustave turned his attention to the second dish on the menu: fish ball soup. Windmill Village was nestled along the coast, and its greatest natural bounty was seafood. It would be a waste not to take full advantage of it.
The process began with cleaning and deboning fresh fish. Every trace of bone had to be removed with precision, leaving only smooth, clean fillets behind. Once that was done, the meat was transferred to a large wooden mortar. Using a heavy pestle, the fish was pounded into a fine paste. Gustave then mixed in just enough flour to bind the texture, creating a smooth, elastic consistency that would yield firm, springy fish balls once cooked.
This physically demanding task was delegated to Po. With his current strength, he was perfectly suited to the repetitive pounding. His rhythm was steady, and he worked with care, knowing the consistency had to be just right.
While Po handled the paste, Gustave began preparing the soup base. He didn't let anything go to waste. The fish bones he'd just set aside were ideal for broth. He poured oil into a large pot and brought it to temperature. Once hot, he added the bones, stirring them until both sides were crisped to a golden brown. The aroma was rich and savory, the perfect base for a nourishing soup.
Then came the key step—adding boiling water. Not lukewarm, not hot, but rolling, vigorous boiling water. Only that could extract the full flavor from the bones and give the broth its signature milky-white color. It was a technique Gustave had refined over many years.
As the broth simmered and the fragrance deepened, he added Po's freshly formed fish balls into the pot. They sank at first, then slowly floated up as they cooked, firming up just right. One by one, they held their shape in the bubbling soup, ready to be served to the village.
Next, Gustave carefully strained the fish soup, removing any lingering bits of bone or foam to ensure a clear, clean broth. Once filtered, he returned the perfectly formed fish balls to the pot, added a measured amount of salt, and let everything simmer gently. Just before serving, he would toss in a mix of fresh vegetables—thinly sliced carrots, cabbage, and leafy greens—cooking them just long enough to soften without losing their color or bite. The result would be a light yet flavorful fish ball soup, clear and fragrant, with plump white fish balls floating among bright vegetables. It was as nourishing as it was beautiful, a perfect complement to the heavier roasted lamb.
For the main staple, Gustave had selected seafood fried rice, a humble but deeply satisfying dish. His reasons were both practical and sentimental. On one hand, it allowed him to make full use of Windmill Village's abundance of fresh seafood. On the other, it reminded him of Sanji—one of the Straw Hats yet to appear in Luffy's life. In the future, seafood fried rice would become one of Sanji's go-to comfort dishes. Gustave found the idea strangely fitting, almost poetic.
The preparation itself was straightforward but required finesse. First, he heated oil in a large wok until it shimmered. Into it he poured beaten eggs, which fluffed and curled into golden curds as he stirred. Then came diced squid and shrimp, which he seared quickly to preserve their tender texture. Finally, he added the pre-cooked rice, each grain separated and dry, and stir-fried everything together with practiced precision. A splash of soy sauce, a pinch of salt, and the final flourish of spring onion completed the dish.
Though simple in appearance, good fried rice was deceptively difficult to perfect. Gustave knew that the secret lay in heat control—too hot, and the eggs burned; too cool, and the rice turned soggy. Timing, seasoning, and wok mastery determined whether the dish would shine or fall flat. He moved swiftly and confidently, the sizzling wok responding like an extension of his own hands.
Beyond these core dishes, the menu extended even further. There was braised fish, slow-cooked in a dark, savory sauce that clung to the meat. Steamed prawns lay neatly arranged on platters, their shells tinted coral-pink. Steamed crabs, caught just that morning, were cracked and prepped, ready to reveal their sweet flesh. And then there were others—side dishes, sauces, and garnishes too many to list, each contributing a note to the symphony of flavors that would soon be served.
As the sun dipped lower and the scent of roasting lamb drifted into every corner of the village, people began to gather. The tables were set, the firelight flickered, and a festive buzz filled the air.
Just before the dinner was set to begin, Garp, who had been mysteriously absent all day, finally returned. And he brought someone that Gustave had never expected to see.