Already the pleasant smells of cooking greeted her. Every kitchen had its own particular scent—whether it was the sugary goodness of the bakery, the exotic spiciness of the Kalmyk Kabob in Canterlot, or even the familiar hominess of the Royal kitchens, the smells never failed to elicit pleasant memories; even the bland hospital food seemed more vibrant in its native habitat. Twilight had never understood why so many upper-class unicorns tried to seperate dining from food preparation. To her mind, the mysterious science of cooking was much more interesting than the boring artistry of food presentation that the nobles preferred.