The Galaxy's Only Soup Kitchen

I died serving the Emperor of the Great Jing Dynasty, only to wake up inside a rusted disposal chute on Neo-Pangaea Station. In this grim 'modern' era of the Terran Ascendancy, humanity has conquered the stars but lost its soul - and its recipes. Everyone survives on chalky, state-mandated nutrient paste. Driven by my uncontrollable urge to feed people, I salvaged a heating coil and some hydroponic scraps to open a tiny stall in the terrifying, gang-run underbelly of Sector 7. I just wanted to offer a warm meal to the exhausted scavengers. I didn't expect Ambassador Vur-Tash, a terrifying Skarn diplomat known for despising human culture, to wander in, sneer at my noodles, and then burst into tears of joy. Nor did I expect heavily armed syndicates to stage daily bloodbaths outside my door just to secure the last portion of braised pork. But as the skirmishes around my humble shop escalate and an interstellar war looms, I realize the alien invasion and my little food stand share a terrifying connection. Will my cooking save the galaxy, or will the line for lunch destroy it first?