//------------------------------//
// Chapter One 
// Story: A Jug Of Apple W(h)ine And Thou... 
// by Mr Merritt 
//------------------------------//

	Having been an Apple pony for a while now, Peppermill had managed to learn quite a few things he would have never had in Canterlot. He knew that he had no right to even think about trying to buck apples like Big Macintosh or Applejack. He learned just how far he could tease Applebloom before he had to apologize and/or make a run for safety. He knew just when to pay rapt attention to Granny Smith’s ramblings and when he could afford to let his mind wander. He also had, by this point, a fairly good idea of what foods tended to make a good impression at the Apple dinner table.

While the little cook appreciated and took to heart any and all new techniques, recipes and so on he could not forget his roots. Home-style cooking was all well and good, but he always felt more comfortable when preparing more…upper class fare. Despite the insistence, bordering on complaints, that they didn’t care for ‘fancy vittles’ the grey Earth colt could tell he was slowly but surely winning them over.

Because of this, it meant that Peppermill could occasionally go all out with a feast fit for a princess and maybe seen only in a high-end eatery in Canterlot or even the Crystal Kingdom.  He was determined to prove, if at the very least to the notoriously picky Applejack, that high-class food could be just a fulfilling and tasty as country cooking. And if it meant he could shake off any rust in his memory or skill set then he was doubly intent to do a good job.

This was the scenario the colt was facing as he busied himself one late afternoon in the kitchen of Sweet Apple Acres. He had been given after a generous amount of begging, promises and debts to be named later permission to make whatever he wanted for the evening meal. And Peppermill had decided that he was going to go for the gusto, searching his memory for every detail he could recall from his previous life at his parent’s restaurant. 

Thanks to a bit of help from some of his older friends  and a bit of scrounging he was able to arrange for a full-blown five course meal. He was even able to set up the big table the family ate at just like a setting back at the restaurant. He had polished silverware, folded napkins, spread a tablecloth and even managed to borrow a candleholder from Rarity. Despite all of the hard work and continuous offers of assistance from his elder siblings Peppermill had insisted on doing it all himself. And in the end he felt he had done a pretty impressive job, if he did say so himself.

So impressive was all the work he had put into the dining experience he intended for his surrogate family, they felt it only fair to go all out themselves. It amused the little chef to no end when he found his grandmother, elder brother and elder sisters waiting patiently in the living room to be seated. All of them to a pony were in as formal of clothes as her had ever seen them. Between Big Macintosh’s collar and tie and the dresses his female family members were wearing it brought back powerful memories of patrons waiting patiently to be seated.

“Apple party for…five?” asked Peppermill, his voice light with mirth. 

“Eyup.” Big Macintosh spoke for the family, a bemused look on his face. He wasn’t the kind of pony one might have expected to be willing to ‘play along’ as it were, but whatever made his little brother happy…

“This way…please…” Peppermill led the way to where he had managed to maneuver the dining table so there would be room for all five of them. It meant having the piece of furniture straddling the kitchen and the living room, but it was a small price to pay. Appreciative murmurs were made as Peppermill pulled out and seated each of his family members. 

“Land sakes. This brings back all sorts of memories sugar cube.” remarked Applejack. “I reckon Aunt and Uncle Orange couldn’t have done better…”

“Ah don’t think ahv seen anything so fancy in mah life.” agreed Applebloom.

“I reckon you put a lot of work into this sugar britches.” smiled Granny Smith.

“It is mighty impressive.” nodded Big Mac. “Ah cain’t wait ta see wut you got planned fer the meal.”

“Well, I admit…it was a bit of…work to remember every detail. But…I am pretty sure this…was a common five course….special that we used…to offer. I had to…make a few…substitutions but…you are going to experience…a true Aperitif/Digestif classic.” explained Peppermill.

“So wut exactly is a five course meal? Do ya mean five different things?” asked Applebloom.

“An appetizer…a soup…a salad, followed by the…main course and a dessert.” explained the colt. “Don’t worry if…it sounds like too much food. Most of…the starting stuff is…quite small.”

“Golly…” As the young filly absorbed this information, the colt went to the kitchen counter where a large colored glass bottle sat. He removed the already loosened cork from the top and carefully carried it to the table.

“Shall I pour…some wine for everypony?” With impressive dexterity for having hooves, Peppermill managed to carefully pour a small amount of the fermented beverage in four long stemmed glasses around the table. As he went around the table, you could sense excitement radiating off of Applebloom. This was quite possibly the most grown-up thing she had ever taken part in, and she wanted in the worst way to show how mature she was. When her little brother reached her glass however, he promptly stopped pouring and placed the now half-empty bottle onto the table.

“Ahem…” The little filly cleared her throat and gave Peppermill a very pointed look, her gaze going from him to her empty glass and then to the wine bottle. The colt looked at her in surprise.

“Are you…implying something Applebloom?” queried Peppermill.

“Don’t ah get some of that stuff too?” she asked.

“I’m not sure…if I like the idea…of letting you have any wine…” Immediately after he said this, the colt knew he made a regrettable mistake. He had learned quite quickly that one of the things that really brought out the worst in the red-maned filly was trying to tell her she shouldn’t do or try something. Sure enough, her face twisted into an angry scowl.

“Oh, so it is okay fer you to have that stuff but it ain’t okay fer me?”

“Have you ever…had wine before, Applebloom?” questioned Peppermill further.

“Ah reckon not, unless she ain’t been honest with us.” responded Applejack emphatically.

“Oh, and ah suppose you’ve drank that stuff yerself.” Applebloom ignored her sister, her ire solely on the grey colt.

“I’ve had…a glass or two…in the past.” admitted Peppermill, beginning to feel a bit of annoyance at all the venom directed at him by Applebloom. This revelation proved to be a surprise to his family, who all looked at one another.

“Ah reckon your maw and pa were around to watch over ya…” said Big Macintosh, to which Peppermill nodded his agreement.

“Eh, a little of the hard stuff ain’t gonna kill ya. Of course, this is wine we are talkin’ about.” commented Granny Smith, deciding to add her two bits to the conversation. “ Ifin you young’uns were to try some of Granny’s…er…special tonic ah would hafta take a willow switch to ya. And don’t think yer too old fer that, cause ya ain’t.”

“Ifin Peppermill can drink wine, ah get to!” Peppermill looked desperately to his elder siblings and grandmother for help. But all he got was shrugs and apologetic looks, for they knew as well as he did that Apple stubbornness was almost legendary.

“All right Applebloom…if you really want some.” With a resigned shake of his head the colt poured only half as much of the alcoholic beverage as he did for the others in the glass in front of the red-head. As he made his way to serve the appetizer course Applebloom picked up the glass carefully by the stem between her forehooves and peered into the deep red depths. 

“Doesn’t smell all that good if ya ask me.” she murmured. “But if this is wut all the fancy adult ponies drink…” She immediately tipped the glass back and drained the contents in one gulp, to the shock of the assorted ponies.

“Hoo boy, this is gonna get ugly…” Applejack was already grabbing a napkin, while Peppermill raced to his sister’s side.

“You don’t just…chug down wine! You sip it!” he scolded her. But the damage, so to speak, was already done. The filly’s face went as red as her mane, her cheeks began to bulge out and she leapt clear across and over the table and into the kitchen. The fact that she managed not to upset a single glass or plate was dimmed slightly by the retching and spitting noises coming from the other room.

“Huh, it didn’t seem that bad ta me…” muttered Granny, sniffing at her own beverage.

“Oh…bother…” groaned Peppermill.