I didn't ask how exactly it came to pass that a giant limbic system (seemingly human) had independent life and a desire to throw charming little dinner parties. The limbic system spent the whole time in a huge, incredibly comfortable-looking upholstered love seat. The amygdala and thalamus and hypothalamus and pituitary and so on all lay in a heap in the middle of the seat, and each hippocampus swooped up to rest on an armrest. It had a little microphone speech box that carried its voice with a humming buzzing noise, so it could talk. There was no spine or cortex in sight, and I didn't want to be an ingracious guest and ask.
The actual dinner meal was a mixed bag. Everything smelled perfectly amazing, but some things smelled good and tasted mediocre.
"Sorry," said the limbic system, "I'm primarily associated with olfactory functions, so taste is not really as important to me. I'm also blind and deaf, of course, but I have cameras and microphones for that. I hope most of it was acceptable."
So I tried to have the things that also tasted good, and that went pretty well. I didn't want to criticize, because the limbic system also governs both emotions and memory.