Shield Breaker
I stood on the stage staring out at the crowd. My tail twitched nervously at becoming the focus of attention for such a large crowd of ponies and a handful of other creatures. Looking to my right, at least I was on stage with ponies I had encountered before and knew from the show.
The other three were chefs from some of the festival stalls. Other than Perfect Plate, I was yet to actually meet the last two contestants. I didn’t get the chance before the assistant of the wandering food critic step in front of us. He drew in a deep breath to steady himself before speaking to the crowd with a deep voice which carried across the festival stalls.
“Fillies, Gentlecolts and all other creatures in attendance. I, Critical List, now direct your attention to the one who will judge this contest of the culinary. He is known to all in Canterlot as the illustrious decider of the decadent. In Manehattan he is the denouncer of the dreadful. Ponies whisper from Prance to Stalliongrad of him being the commensurate caller of not only the delicious and most salaciously scrumptious, but the deceitfully inedible and down-right culinary disasters alike to ever grace his most discerning palate. He is my Lord, Rare Taste.”
Ponies in the crowd whispered in awe as the robed figure strode onto the stage before taking their place at the judging table.
Critical List held up a hoof calling for silence and the crowd quickly obeyed so that he could speak again. “I now introduce to you the teams taking part in this challenge.”
He gestured dramatically to the three chosen chefs. “Representing professionals of the palate from far and wide will be, all the way from Prance, with her delectable delicacies, we have Chef Mise en Place!”
With a flourish of a wing, the pegasus I had watch plate food with perfection bowed her head to the audience.
“She will be accompanied by the dessert master and destroyer of budding chef’s dreams everywhere, from Trottingham, stomp your hooves for Chef Ram See!”
The air filled with the sound of thundering hooves from the crowd as the large, goat chef took a step forward to stand up straight and proud.
“Joining them will be the creator of the culinarily curious, the unbridled designer of the decadent, from Canterlot itself, we are honoured to share the stage with Chef Perfect Plate!”
Critical List, still facing the crowd, dropped his right front leg and raise his left one to gesture to the group I was in. “Representing the local fare, we have the concoctor of candies, please welcome, Miss Bonbon!”
Hooves stomped and I swear I spotted Lyra with her hoof in her mouth as she whistled in support.
“And, working beside her today, from a bakery you all probably know and love, Miss Pinkie Pie!”
More hoof stomping and cheers from the crowd.
“Finally, the unknown wildcard, Shield Breaker!”
“Go Pointy Pony!” Jackie bellowed, slipping back into the speech of a yak as he became swept up in the excitement of the crowd.
There were a few hoof stomps for me as I waved a hoof before Critical List moved on with the announcements. “The task today is to make a single dish each with a time limit of two hours.”
I looked to the other team and saw the corners of Ram See’s mouth quirk up in a knowing smirk. Maybe the time limit was funny to him?
“One contestant from each team will create a starter or snack, another will bring into being a main course, and the last will craft their dessert. All to be judged by the great Rare Taste himself.”
Standing on his rear hooves and spreading his forelegs wide in as dramatic pose as he could make, Critical List bellowed to the crowd, “Fillies and gentlecolts. The contestants stand ready. The pantries are packed. Knives are sharp. Specialist tools are set.”
For some reason, much of the crowd turned their attention to Chef Ram See at that comment. Hushed murmurs sprang up among those who had come to watch.
“Chefs, Bakers, Pastry Makers.” Critical List declared in his loudest voice yet. The crowd grew silent as the tension reach its peak. Then, in a voice so soft as if he had never been building up the moment, Critical List said, “Begin.”
I started slow and careful. It had been a while since I had made pozole. Even longer since my last homemade tamales. But they seemed best for a main course. The others were busy gathering what they needed. Ram See was checking the crystals on the outside of his special freezing box he had been allowed to use for a signature dish.
Pinkie was shooting about her work area, even crossing into others to snatch up whatever she needed. She never got in others way and only took what they didn’t have use for. She was a pony on a mission.
Bonbon worked in near silence. An ocean of calm compared to the hyperactive party pony we were teamed with. She was measured and focused. She had a desert to make and she would get it done.
One thing I quickly found as I set about my tasks, magic made things so much quicker than hands. As a human, I had only two hands. With magic, I could have so many more. So long as I could keep them in concentration. Stripping corn husks. Kneading dough. Chopping vegetables to mix with beans. I could do at least four things at once. A real time saver considering what I was making and how long it usually took.
Over an hour in and I stood at the cooktop. Watching. Waiting. Letting things bubble. Letting things steam. Things were getting ready. I turned away to prepare the dishes when Perfect Plate charged past as if he was on a mission.
There was a whoosh and a slosh. Crowd members gasped and shouted in alarm. I turned back and my jaw dropped in horror. The flames from one of my cooktop burners was raging, the pot of pozole was tipped over against the now open steamer. Its stewy contents dripped down the side of the steamer where part of it burned in the flames. I raced to put it out. Others joined in. I didn’t catch who. I was to focused on the disaster unfolding before me.
When the fire was out, I stepped back and stared. I’m sure my teammates tried to talk to me, but their words didn’t reach me. I just stared at the cooktop in shock. Nearly an hour and a half of careful work… gone. Ruined in seconds.
“I need to talk to him!” shouted a familiar gruff voice from the edge of the stage.
“By all means,” sneered Perfect Plate. “Give the simple stallion all the help he needs. He could definitely use it!”
Murmurs from the crowd reached my flattened ears, most of them questioning if I had any chance going forward. I just stared at the disaster on my cooktop. The corn husks peeling back from the half-steamed tamales which were now soaking in pozole. There was no salvaging this. I hung my head. Though I doubt any in the crowd truly said the words, their murmurs grew and morphed into the spiteful ones of my parents. Niño inútil. No deseado. Carga. Fracaso.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Just don’t listen to them!”
I opened my eyes and found Jackie standing with his hooves propped up on the back of the cooktop, looking straight at me.
“You can do this,” he urged.
I shook my head, keeping it low. “There’s so little time left.”
Jackie touched a hoof to my cheek, forcing me to raise my head and look at him. I could even see through the hairs of his thick fringe to his eyes looking right into mine.
“You can do something. You can make something,” she stated emphatically, keeping his eyes fixed with mine. “You can do it. I know it, my brother knows it, and even Ochre knows.”
I glanced past her to where I had spotted my mentor in the crowd earlier. He was still there. I looked to Jackie again. His eyes hadn’t wandered.
“Even if you make a mess, just do your best.”
I sucked in a breath as Jackie’s words shook something loose in my mind. Words so much like Abuelita’s. “Do your best today, Jacob. If you do, no one can say you never tried.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath, looked Jackie in the eyes and nodded lightly. He smiled then stepped back before leaving the stage, leaving me to look over the ruined meal I had been making. I cringed at what I saw. It really couldn’t be saved.
What to do? What to do you?
I glanced at the ingredients still scattered across my table. Still a lot of corn and other vegetables. The pot of refried beans was still warming on the cooktop. An idea formed quickly.
I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath then let it out. When I was done, I snapped my eyes open and lit my horn. Let’s see just how fast I can make some quesadillas!
What followed was a frenzy. I shot around my work area, snatching up what I thought would work from what I had. Grinding corn in my magic itself was so simple. I was good and squeezing things in my magic. My failure with the rocks earlier proved. I went searching for my utensils while my magic worked on mix up a dough. They weren’t were I had left them before the accident.
I just needed the knife? Oh, screw the knife! I focused on the chilli peppers and my magic sliced through them in many places, all along their lengths. I let the pieces fall into the bowl while snatching up more vegetables, tomatoes, an onion, more corn. Even a couple of mushrooms. Whatever I didn’t need from them, my magic stripped away before instantly dicing the rest in the air.
Even as the ingredients rained down into the mixing bowl, my mind and eyes were elsewhere. The refried beans were probably ready now. I plucked the pot from the cooktop, the fire raged free for only a moment before a frying pan took its place and let it heat.
I crushed a lime, dripping its juices into the bowl while I worked the dough nearby. I might not’ve had hands to crush things anymore, but I could do just as well with my magic!
As I rapidly spun and mixed the vegetables in the bowl with my magic, some of the mix shot out in random directions. I did my best to ignore it. I just needed enough to fill a few tortillas. Tortillas that I was busy flattening the dough for on another part of the table with my magic. They weren’t going to be perfect. The dough needed to sit for longer. I just didn’t have the time!
I lined up the uncooked tortillas, floating them in the air as I rushed them into the pan one after the other. The hiss of cool dough hitting hot metal filled the air. The kiss of the heated pan played at my ears. But I didn’t stop. I had things to do, tortillas to fill then press. I didn’t have another pan so I pressed them in my magic, holding them near the open flame to toast. Molten cheese dripped from them as I magically rushed each one to the plate.
I only got to glance at the others. Except for Perfect Plate who had finished well before all others, they were all hurrying to plate their foods. I turned and stepped toward the cooktop, bringing more attention to the pan when someone slammed into me. The crowd gasped as I stumbled, sending freshly browned tortillas and piping hot quesadillas flying from my magical hold. I caught my hooves and tried to snatch what I could from the air.
There was a scream from the crowd and I caught just a glimpse of Twilight Sparkle as she raced back to her library, a quesadilla skewered on her horn and cheese dripping down her mane. Sapphire Moonlight gave chase, calling out to her. But I was too busy catching the last few falling tortillas.
Once all was calm and the crowd hushed. I turned to find Perfect Plate right behind me. Several finished plates floated in his magic. He smirked at me then barged through where I had been standing so he could place his completed dishes on the judging table. Angry murmurs reached me from the crowd, but I brushed them off. I gathered myself and set everything back where they were needed, quickly taking back my rhythm.
“One-minute remaining!” came the cry from Critical List. “Plates must be ready!”
And the final rush was on. Plates and quesadillas followed me in my magic as I ran for the presentation table. Pinkie Pie was there, setting down her last plate and the tower of brown food on it. Mise en Place was nearby, carefully removing an speck she hand unintentionally allowed to hit the plate.
The plates clattered as they hit the table. Cheese squelched and oozed, some of the fillings burst free of their tortillas prisons, smearing the plate. It didn’t matter. The crowd started counting down as I plopped left over refried beans in a blob next to the dribbling quesadillas on the plates.
“Two! One!”
“Back away!” cried Critical List. And I did. I stopped anything else I was holding with magic in mid-air and floated it back to my work area. I stood breathing heavily through my mouth. Looking down at the dishes I had served up. They were messy with splatters, but it didn’t matter. At least I got something out.
When I finally released my magic, I felt a foreleg wrap around me before I was pulled into a hug by Pinkie Pie. Even Bonbon joined in before we were made to move and stand ready for the judging. Rare Taste sat ready. Completely hidden within his robes, there was no way to tell what he thought of the food as it was brought before him. First, the snack or starters.
Pinkie’s plate was piled high with brownies. Their infused ultra-gooey salted caramel fudge oozed out and trickled down the sides of the stack. Typical Pinkie Pie going overboard. I smiled at the sight. Making everything just so was clearly not on her mind when she baked with such passion. I was glad to be on her team.
However, it was Chef Mise en Place with her starter which took the win in the opening round. She called her piece Comté Cheese Souffle with Les Gougères on the side. And, as her name would have all believe, it looked absolutely pristine on the plate. Perfectly risen, with three absolutely delectable pastry balls, glistening with a light glaze; a fourth one perched precisely on top. And at its side, glass of wine which had been carefully measured.
The plates were set aside and two more were placed in front of Rare Taste; mine and Perfect’s. The crowd grew silent as Rare Taste appeared to study both dishes for many long seconds. Then, he picked up a knife in his green magic and made a very precise cut. He switched to a fork and, with care and grace, skewered part of what I first thought to be a berry but now saw as just a bright red ball.
The tiny piece from Perfect Plate’s dish, that incredibly ripe looking red ball in the middle of such an enormous barren plate, slipped into the darkness of Rare Taste’s all concealing hood. The green glow of his magic vanished as he tasted of the treat. Perfect Plate watched on, smugly proud of what he had made.
When he was done, Critical List leaned in next to his boss and listened. The crowd was completely silent and, even then, I still couldn’t hear anything that passed from Rare Taste to his assistant. I spotted Twilight Sparkle as she returned to her spot next to Sapphire in the crowd. Twilight’s mane looked messy, even shiny from a recent rinse of water, while a towel hung across her shoulders. I felt my cheeks warm at the sight of her. I hadn’t meant to send a piping hot quesadilla flying at her.
I caught a giggle from Sapphire who was still paying more attention to Twilight than the judging. “But it looked so delicious on you.”
With a nod, Critical List stepped away from his boss, made a mark on his notepad then waited as Rare Taste used his magic to carefully slice off a piece of my quesadilla on the plate. Once the piece was eaten in the shadowy hood, Rare Taste played out the same ritual with Critical List. When ready, it was time to hear who had won. My stomach was churning. I knew what my plate looked like. Not like I could help it after such a disaster. The announcement snapped my attention back to the judging but my worry only grew.
“Both are interesting,” Critical List declared. “On the grounds of presentation, hooves down, Chef Perfect Plate has clearly won the category.”
I watched as Perfect Plate drew in a breath and puffed out his chest with pride. Chef Ram See nodded to his teammate in respect. I, however, felt my shoulders and heart fall. It felt like I had been kicked in the guts. I had done all I could to make up for the mistake. I felt a hoof touch my shoulder and found Pinkie smiling softly at me. It was little comfort. Much like everything else, this competition was more about how things looked than–
“But, on the grounds of flavour, Rare Taste has asked a question.”
I frowned and looked back to the judge and his assistant.
“Chef Perfect Plate, what was the taste you had intended to convey?” Critical List asked.
All attention shifted to Perfect Plate. Murmurs sprung up in the crowd. The chef cleared his throat and said for all to hear, “It is a signature item of my own creation. Crafted to my own specifications, it has no ingredients of what it looks like. My clientele has labelled it, the Not Berry.”
“That did not come across to Rare Taste,” Critical Listed stated. “There must have been some error as all he could taste was hay.”
The hood of Rare Taste’s robes drooped as if nodding in agreement.
Perfect Plate gasped then shot over to where the rest of the plates of his entry still waited. He quickly shoved one Not Berry, then another into his mouth. With each one, his eyes grew wider with horror.
Keeping the competition on track, Critical List eyed his boss then looked at his notepad before speaking again. “On the grounds of flavour, although not among his personal favourites, Rare Taste commends Shield Breaker for such creative cuisine. The spices, the textures, the melted cheese. They all found an interesting harmony upon his taste buds. It was clear to him that, although hastily made and poorly presented, it was done so, not just with the passion, but with love.”
Critical List looked straight at me and said, “As with the dish presented by your teammate, Pinkie Pie, I must restate that presentation is a part of this competition. Although, it is understandable that yours in particular was not quite so well plated, considering the circumstances.”
“We had fun though!” Pinkie beamed. She shook me but I didn’t respond. I had frozen at Critical Lists words. I swear my heart even stopped beating. The judge had seen past the mess and liked what I had made. I felt a hoof shake my shoulder and a hug wrap around me, but I was too stunned to properly notice. It took until the last moments of the dessert judging for me to even hear what was still going on.
“The glaze was spectacular. The crispness of the outer shell truly did remind Rare Taste a real apple. Even the chilled Chantilly cream filled carried just the right amount of sweetness to cut the bitterness of the ginger and crushed apple. You have Rare Taste’s compliments.”
My ears barely picked up the grumble of a mare in the crowd. “Hmph. Not like any apple ah ever seen.”
Ram See bowed his head to the judge and Rare Taste did the same in return.
“And yet,” Critical List went on. “Even with a dish so exquisite. It can come up against so seemingly simple, yet so skilfully executed. The sauce…”
He pretended to kiss his hoof before flicking the kiss dramatically to the crowd. “Mwa, just so. The whole thing brimming with love.”
Critical List faced our team and said, “Be proud, Miss Bonbon. For you have brought something so wonderful for your team, it has granted you the victory. Rare Taste declares your Crème Caramel to be… delicious. Congratulations, to you, Miss Bonbon and your team. It has been an experience, not only enlightening.”
He looked at Perfect Plate but the chef simply looked stricken as he slowly chewed on another Not Berry while staring at the remaining few. He then looked to me. “But unexpected.”
Looking at Bonbon again, Critical List stated, “And of course, divine. On behalf of my Lord, Rare Taste, you are all to be congratulated and commended for taking part today. And so, the competition is complete, we now bid you all adieu.”
Critical List gave a sweeping bow to the two teams on the stage as the crowd erupted with cheers and stomping hooves.
As things began to clear and the crowd began to leave, I spotted Exotic Spice as she approached the presentation table where most of the food still remained on show. In front of Perfect Plate, she speared one of the few remaining Not Berries with a claw. She held it in front of her nose as if examining its perfect outer shell before taking a tiny nip of its little form.
Her ears instantly flattened, lips curling back as her tail stiffened and it puffed out. She spat the nibble she had taken to one side before staring at the Not Berry still on her claw. “You served this to your clientele? Why? Do you hate them?”
Perfect Plate simply hanged his head and stared at the wooden stage floor. I watched him for a little while. The only movement he made was to shake his head in dismay.
A pink blur swept me away from the sight and up into a crushing warm hug.
“I knew you could do it!” Pinkie beamed as she swung me around. Damn, how was she so strong? Oh, right. Earth pony. When I snapped out of the thought, I found her still rambling off in joy and excitement.
“…Not that presentation is the most important thing. Sure, it’s nice for things to look pretty, but as the spooky judge had his assistant say, you put love and passion into what you made, just like me and Bonbon, and you didn’t give up, even when everything was going so amazingly, catastrophically, food destroyingly wrong!”
I winced as she squeezed me again, pressing my cheek to hers. “Thanks Pinkie.”
When she finally let me go, it wasn’t the last of the hugs for me to receive. And the next one was just as crushing or even more so. I swear I disappeared in Jackie’s wiry fur as he rambled a lot like Pinkie Pie, even slipping into yak speech a few times.
Eventually, he granted me freedom; something my spine and ribs were very thankful for. As I felt my bones slip back into their normal places, I looked to my mentor, who was standing a little further away, listening to the cook Sam O’Nella talking about the competition. When he noticed me watching, Ochre touched the brim of his hat and gave nod toward me.
I smiled. Maybe Jackie was right? Maybe others did have confidence in the things I could do? And, I definitely agreed with Pinkie on food presentation. Nearby, I spotted Bonbon blushing as Lyra made a huge fuss over her winning dish, all while shoving spoonful after spoonful of said crème caramel into her own mouth.
I guess what Critical List had said for Rare Taste was also true. I definitely felt a fire burning inside of me as I worked to make the best dish I could with so little time. I definitely felt tired from it all. I was just glad to have done what Jackie had said and what my grandmother had always reminded me to do. My best.
I felt a tingle rush through my body and there was a sudden flash of light. Shaking a little at the sensation, I shot my head from side to side, looking for the cause. Then I saw it. There was more colour on my flank. A cutie mark had appeared. I stared at the mark, stunned that a former human would get one. Although, Comet Streak had one and he was a pony.
Tilting my head and turning my hip just a little, I tried to get a better look. My mark was a cheesy quesadilla with an end being cut by a knife. Stringy melted cheese still joined the two pieces.
I didn’t have long to admire it before my ears pressed back as Pinkie and Jackie screamed in excitement. Both began rambling again as they wrapped me in a joint hug, still shouting to the world about the cutie mark now on my flanks.
Suddenly, Pinkie’s body shook and twitched violently. She gasped loudly, released me and Jackie then darted off before finding shelter under the small awning of one of the stalls. I simply had to shake my head. Pinkie really was a lot like how the show had–
Wait. My snout scrunched in thought even as much of the sunlight faded under the shade of passing clouds. I glanced at Jackie next to me, then my mentor standing with Sam O’Nella. Ochre had lit his horn and spread a magical shield above them both. I frowned. Had Pinkie’s tail been twitching?
THWUMP!
I lost the world for a few seconds as cold and darkness slammed down on top of me. Oh, right. Winter was late. After a pulling myself free, I found myself standing in a snow-covered world. Everything around us was covered in at least three inches of snow, especially ponies like me who hadn’t been standing under shelter. A deep chuckle reached my ears as I used my magic to brush the snow from my coat, mane and tail.
Following the laughter, I looked up and glared at what I saw. There were pegasi, gryphons and bat ponies thumping away at the clouds, forcing more and more snow at fall free. I spotted Comet Streak. He stood on the edge of a thick cloud bank above me, smiling down on me in the snow.
“You awake now?” he called, still laughing to himself. “Even on your hooves, it looks like I caught you napping!”
I shuddered and continued brushing away the snow which continued to drift down after the original heavy fall. Now I knew why the ponies of the Weather Patrol had been so desperate earlier. Winter arrived at the last minute with a crash. As I watched Comet Streak spread his wings and fly off to help with another snowfall, an idea sparked in my mind. Eyeing the snow around, I felt a smirk crack my snout. Maybe a little revenge was in order…