//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Soul Kitchen - Part 2 // Story: Sparké // by moviemaster8510 //------------------------------// Peter had already planned everything out. He had two pots heating with seasoned water inside of them. Along with that, he had two pans at the ready, one with melting butter, the other with olive oil. He had his portabella mushrooms lined out on his counter. One thing he realized back on Earth was that with the way that Crème garnished them, portabella mushrooms had to have been the pony equivalent of steak. Peter wanted to do something special for that. Peter wanted some French cuisine, and what entrée was more vegetarian and more French than ratatouille? Finally, when he worked on the appetizer and sandwich, he made a ball of pasta dough made with buckwheat flour, grappa liqueur, and ale. Peter grabbed a rolling pin and a knife and placed them on the table. He then ran to the fridge and grabbed his dough. Peter put it back onto the counter and grabbed the rolling pin and pressed it over the dough until it became a large, flat sheet. Peter took the knife and begun cutting them into quarter-inch thick strips. Once he had a decent amount of wheat-speckled pasta, he got out three red pepper and placed them on the still hot grill, allowing them to roast. Peter threw garlic and sage into a pan of melted butter and allowed it to cook. In a pot to the side of it, which was beginning to simmer with water, Peter put in cubed potatoes and spinach. The other pot, whose water was in a rolling boil, was filled with a few whole, red potatoes. Peter turned the peppers on the grill over, seeing that their blackened sides were telling him that he was doing well. While everything was cooking, Peter went to the zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant, and some small tomatoes on the counter. With swiftness and dexterity, Peter cut all four vegetables in just under a minute. Peter then cut and minced another tomato, onion, cloves of garlic, and some basil leaves and set them aside. With another turn of his peppers, he went to the jar of breadcrumbs, the brick of bleu cheese, the jar of horseradish, and the bottle of olive oil from before that he set on the counter. Peter quickly crumbled the bleu cheese into one of two bowls and scooped some horseradish into the second bowl. Pouring a touch of olive oil into each bowl, he then applied the breadcrumbs until they were each a nice clump. With a couple of minutes left on his potato/spinach boil and his peppers, Peter went to his garlic-sage butter and pressed down on the cloves with a spoon, secreting the oils from within. Once each clove was spent, Peter discarded them and stirred the butter mixture up, setting it aside on a free space on the counter. Peter, his peppers now finished, took the blackened vegetables from the grill and placed them on a plate protected with a tower to allow them to sweat. Peter went back to his pasta and gently moved it to a cutting board, transferring it to his potato/spinach boil. Peter took this time to take a few more garlic cloves and cut them up. With a small bit of time in between, Peter went to the sink to get a quick drink of water. He figured as much that the entrees would be the most taxing part of his test, and he figured right. ____________________________________________________________ Celestia and Luna looked at each other with slight worry. Patrick couldn’t see them properly through the computer screen, but Peter’s absence was beginning to eat at him. “He has thirty minutes left,” Luna said. “I hope he’s biding his time well.” “I can’t see why he wouldn’t,” answered Celestia. “He’s a bright, young man. I have full confidence that he’ll pull through.” “If I know my son,” Patrick added. “He’ll still knock your socks… or, your horseshoes off!” Celestia giggled at Patrick’s remark. Twilight and Spike continued to nervously sit by as Peter still didn’t show up. Crème Fraiche looked at this and walked up to her. “You seem nervous,” Crème cooed. “You shouldn’t be. You tasted Peter’s food, right?” “I know, Ms. Fraiche,” Twilight answered, unsure of herself, “but I can’t bear to see what happens if Peter loses.” “I’m sure he won’t. If he continues producing food like he’s been, he’s sure to earn the restaurant he deserves.” “I hope you’re right.” “Relax, Twilight,” assured Spike. “I’m sure we’ll see Peter come through those doors any minute now.” Twilight and Spike stared expectantly, hoping that he would. ____________________________________________________________ Peter layered the pasta, spinach, and potato mixture and the sage-and-garlic butter into a deep, individual-sized, but presentable red baking dish. Peter finished by topping the entire entrée with cubed brie and shredded parmesan. Peter put the dish into the oven along with three small, round dishes that held the bleu cheese and horseradish mixtures. With the pasta cooking, Peter took the roasted peppers, chopped tomatoes, onion, garlic, and basil that was sautéing inside the pan and carried it to a clean blender. After putting all of its contents inside, Peter pureed everything until it became a thin sauce without a single chunk inside of it. Peter quickly wiped the inside of the pan with the towel and poured a couple more tablespoons of olive oil into the pan and let it heat up atop the stove. Peter then took a small pot and filled it with sugar, setting it aside for later. He knew he wasn’t going to have enough time to make ice cream for his desert, but he knew that Crème Fraiche kept ice cream in her freezer. He might not be looked favorably by Luna, but at least he’d create the rest and complete his challenge. Peter took his other pot of potatoes and drained them. With them still inside the pot, Peter took out a masher and made paste out of the spuds with their skins still upon them. Once Peter felt like the skins were broken down enough, he took a bowl that contained cream, milk, butter, and salt and poured it into the potatoes. Peter then put some more minced garlic into the potatoes, stirring them up until they reached the smooth consistency he desired. Peter set his potatoes aside, happy for them to be finished. Grabbing his pan again, Peter pushed his sliced zucchini, squash, eggplant, tomato, and minced garlic into the pan, which was still hot enough to cause the vegetables to sizzle. Peter placed the pan back onto the burner while he stirred its contents, coating them in oil. Peter left it back alone to let the vegetables cook. Peter went to his two small portabella mushroom caps that he lightly dressed in oil, grabbed them with tongs and put them on the grill. Peter, knowing that the wet oil would help pace the cooking of the mushrooms, went back to stir up his ratatouille. Even with the oil, the mushrooms did not take long, forcing Peter to flip them back over soon after. With another minute passed, Peter took his mushrooms and put them both on a square plate. With his vegetables nearly completed in the pan, Peter poured some of his pepper and tomato sauce in, stirring it up and giving it its needed flavor. Peter then placed the pan of finished vegetables onto the counter. He then grabbed his pasta and breadcrumb mixtures from the oven and put them down on the counter. With more time to spare, Peter took his wooden spoon that he used for his ratatouille and scooped slices onto the outside of the depression in the plate, chaining them together as each slice except the ends overlapped. Peter continued this until the vegetables formed a ring around the plate, placing the front end of the chain underneath the end of it, forming a Penrose stairs of vegetable slices. Peter then went to his mushrooms with his breadcrumbs and gently flipped them just over the tops of the caps allowing a perfectly crispy crust to land on each one. Peter took his potatoes and scooped a dollop onto the plate, it, along with the mushrooms forming a triangle. Peter garnished this dish with a sprig of thyme on top of the potatoes. Peter grabbed another nozzle-topped bottle and poured some of the remaining sauce inside of it. Starting inside the vegetable ring, he drew the sauce in a light swirling design for presentation. Peter slammed the bottle down on the counter. With his pasta perfectly cooked and the cheese atop of it melted to perfection, Peter was ready for his next three dishes. ____________________________________________________________ Peter came in with the cart, surprising and elating the ponies, as well as Spike and Patrick, inside. With three dishes to be presented, Celestia and Crème Fraiche licked their lips, knowing that they were officially in for a treat. Luna stoically walked back to her position at the table as Peter moved his trays there. “So, you’ve finally returned,” Celestia spoke. “You have fifteen minutes after this. I hope you still have time for dessert.” “Frankly,” Peter joked, “I’m more concerned about you leaving room for it.” Celestia and Crème indeed chuckled, but Luna was still stone-faced, just wanting to judge the dishes. “Alright then,” Crème asked, “which entrée are you presenting first?” Peter unveiled his mushroom course, the ponies, even Luna, looking at it with intrigue and wonder. “And what is this?” asked Celestia, walking up first. “These are portabella mushroom medallions. The one on your right has a horseradish crust upon it, while the other has a bleu cheese crust. Behind them, there are smashed reds as we like to call them back home with garlic and garnished with thyme.” Celestia was already chewing her bite, allowing the flavors to roll around her tongue. Upon swallowing her verdict was made. “The horseradish crust has a nice kick to it,” she answered, “and you cooked your portabellas to perfection. What about the other?” Celestia took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “The combination here is what does it for me. Going from the spicy horseradish to the mellow bleu cheese is a great transition. And the potatoes…” Another bite was had. “…are wonderful. They act as a nice palate cleanser for the next bites ahead. This is a great dish.” “Thank you, Celestia,” Peter spoke. Luna stepped in front of Celestia’s place. She too took the horseradish mushroom first. Once she was done with this bite, she moved onto the bleu cheese without another word. Finally, she took a bite of the potatoes. Peter was sweating as she saw her swallow for the third and final time. “I must say,” Luna said, producing a smile, “you shone with this entrée. There’s much going on with this plate, and there’s also much variety that a customer would love. I agree with my sister. This was good.” “Thank you, Luna,” bid Peter. Crème was up next, and she took the same journey as the two judges before her, her pleasured grunts being enough of an indicator to tell Peter how he did. “I feel…” Crème spoke, “like my taste buds went on a journey. This dish really has many different flavors going on inside of it, and it’s not overly difficult. I can’t see why this dish shouldn’t be the star at your restaurant.” “Thank you, Crème.” “Now,” spoke Luna. “What do you have next?” Peter took the next lid off, revealing his ratatouille. “And what is this?” asked Celestia, stepping back up. “This is a ratatouille with zucchini, squash, eggplant, and tomato in a roasted-red pepper and tomato sauce.” “Mmm,” mumbled Celestia before she swallowed her bite. “I love this sauce. It really makes this dish. I also liked how it’s cooked into the vegetables as well as having some on the plate if one wants more. It’s light, and it’s just delicious.” “Thank you,” Peter said. Peter couldn’t help but take a glance at Patrick as Luna took her bite. Patrick was ecstatic to see his son become what he was now; cooking for and impressing the two leaders of an entire nation as well as their personal chef. Luna, finished with her bite, spoke to bring Peter’s attention back. “Such a simple array of vegetables,” she said, “but the sauce is indeed flavorful enough to make the dish. Your presentation is also very pleasing. You did well.” “Thank you.” Crème was up again, and she was eager to try another bite of Peter’s food. Upon eating it, she made her opinion known. “You know,” she giggled, “if I could have a straw, and just drink the sauce, that would make me so happy. This is just delicious. I loved the choices of vegetables as well as how you made them look. This dish makes me very happy. Thank you.” “Thank you so much, Crème,” Peter said, getting giddy. “I see you’re excited,” Celestia observed. “Do you really think you can win this?” “I certainly do, and this next dish might just seal it for me.” Peter took the lid off the last entrée, the three judges looking at it with confusion, obviously never having seen a dish like that. Patrick, his view blocked by them, couldn’t see what it was. “I'm genuinely interested,” Celestia said. “What is this, Peter?” “This is an Italian dish called pizzoccheri.” Patrick gasped, knowing exactly what it was. Celestia, hearing it, looked back to the computer to see Patrick with his hands cupped over his mouth, tears streaming from his face. “Patrick?” she asked. “Is something the matter?” “That dish…” he choked. “Was a specialty from my wife’s side of the family.” “Your wi– Oh… I see.” Celestia and Twilight had known before that Peter’s mother had died, and they could certainly feel the emotional weight that this dish would present. “On my mother’s birthday,” Peter explained, “my grandma from my mother’s side of the family would prepare her famous pizzoccheri for the family. My grandma had intended to give it to my mom before she passed, but my mom died before that, so my grandma made my pop the heir to the recipe before she passed. He continued to make it every day on her birthday… in her memory. I made this in her honor.” Patrick’s sobs were audible from the screen, but he did his best to quell his tears to see how Peter did. “How sweet of you,” Celestia said. “Now, what’s in it?” “The pasta was made with buckwheat flower, grappa liqueur, and a sweet ale. While I wanted to make the dish in my grandmother’s traditional way, but remembering Luna’s words, I played a bit around. There are cubed fingerlings inside there, and though my grandmother used kale as the greens, I used spinach, and in place of the gouda, I used brie. The sauce is a garlic and sage butter that’s layered into the pasta, potatoes, and greens.” “Is it normally supposed to be served inside the dish which you baked it in?” “I wanted to. I thought it would look nice and it would help keep the food warm.” “I see. Let’s see how you did.” Celestia speared a bite, making sure to get one of everything. Giving it a quick blow, she inserted it into her mouth. As she chewed more and more, tears began to stream down her face. Eventually, she had to swallow, wiping her tears with her eyes. “This is…” Celestia spoke, her voice choking up, “a perfect dish. Not only does it taste marvelous, I can feel the love that you put into this and the influence your father, mother, and grandmother put into it. I can’t exactly speak for her, but if your mother was indeed here right now, she would be so very proud of you, Peter.” Peter’s own tears began to flow, and he tried his best to wipe them dry and look professional for his judges, but found it hard. Celestia stepped back to let Luna try a bite. Her stoic expression was now gone, now filled with intrigue over what kind of dish would make Celestia weep so. She took her own forkful and put it into her mouth. Her eyes immediately widened, and her own tears welled in her eyes, filled with both painful and pleasant memories all at once. She hardly chewed before she swallowed. Finding the right words was hard as the water rolled from her cheeks. “You know of the tale of Nightmare Moon, correct, Peter?” asked Luna. “I do.” “Those thousand years of isolation on the moon were the most miserable of my life. It wasn’t until I was welcomed back into my sister’s arms that I felt true happiness again to be in the company of someone that I love so very much. “This dish here… brings back those happy feelings. From losing your mother, to being pulled from your home world twice, to reuniting with your dear friend Twilight, only someone such as yourself could have made this dish that can evoke such emotions. This dish is… joy incarnate.” “Thank you,” whispered Pete, trying to keep from crying again. Crème was up next. There was a slight twinge of fear on her face, knowing that whatever dish she was about to try would cause a very heavy response inside of her. However, she was here for Peter, and she needed to eat. Putting her fork into the pasta, spinach, and potatoes, she slowly took a bite, nervous over what was to come. As she had expected, Crème began weeping almost immediately. Looking at her little boy from all those years ago having grown up to make something as delicious as this was something that could have only come once in a lifetime. After swallowing, Crème looked back to Twilight. “Twilight,” she spoke, “please. Taste this.” Twilight walked up, grabbing a fourth and fifth fork from the tray and giving one to Spike. Both Twilight and Spike took large bites, eagerly wanting to taste this food. Spike, his body in pure pleasure as he chewed, fell limp to the floor. Twilight, however, began to tear up, looking at Peter with a happy smile and streaming tears. “Twilight,” asked Crème. “Are you certain that Peter will lose now?” Twilight could only shake her head. Peter’s feelings were beginning to overtake him. “I want to be serious for a second,” Crème admitted, “and tell you exactly why this dish is delicious. Your pasta is cooked perfectly and the buckwheat leaves a very interesting texture, as well as a delicious flavor from the grappa and ale. The sage butter perfectly flavors the dish, and the spinach and potatoes add more textures to the dish that really just pop. The brie was an excellent choice. It’s a mild cheese that doesn’t overpower the dish, and it allows its other components to work together. “Now, Peter, after you left, I had one wish that I hoped would absolutely come true. Even beyond you becoming a chef or running your own restaurant… I hoped with all my heart that you would grow up to become a better chef than I. And after tasting that dish… it warms my soul to know that that wish had come true. Thank you for granting my wish, Peter.” Peter couldn’t take it anymore. Peter squatted down and supported his hands upon the table, bowing his head down as his tears dripped onto the floor. Patrick, off behind the ponies, was beside himself as he watched Peter break down. “Peter, come,” cooed Celestia. Peter stood back up, his eyes red and his cheeks wet from his tears as he walked up to Celestia and gave her neck a tight hug. Celestia returned his hug by giving Peter a kiss on his cheek, the same one he loved so much as a boy. As Peter openly sobbed and cried over Celestia’s shoulder, she gently rubbed the back of his neck with the side of her face. Both Crème and Twilight walked up to Peter as well. Both standing on their hind legs, they both wrapped their arms around his torso. Peter, feeling them, took his arms off Celestia and wrapped one arm each around Twilight and Crème. Spike, who was still a bit short, hugged Peter at the leg, pressing his cheek into his thigh. Luna looked upon the sight with a happy smile. While she didn’t know Peter as well as Celestia, Twilight, or Crème did, she could tell through their affection that their friendship and love for each other was genuine. Patrick wanted nothing more to be there for his son, but he could only watch and cry as his son received the ponies’ affections. “Pop,” Peter whispered as he broke free from the hugs, wanting to be by his father’s side as desperately as he did. Peter ran up and knelt down in front of his screen. Peter placed his hand over the camera, watching as Patrick put his hand upon his computer screen. While it wasn’t physical affection by many means, it was still enough for Peter to show his gratitude and love while Patrick could express how proud he was of his son. “Thanks, pop,” he sniffled. “I don’t think I could have had a better dad than you.” “I love you, Peter,” Patrick sobbed. “I love you too.” Peter knelt there with his hand by the screen for what felt like minutes, imagining his father being in the hall with him and giving him a loving hug as well. As the tears began to fade, Peter stood back up to face his pony friends. “Well, Peter,” Celestia spoke. “You have roughly fifteen minutes left to prepare a dessert. At this point,” she giggled, “the only way you could fail now is if you don’t bring out anything or completely burn it.” “I won’t let you down, Celestia,” he answered. “Very good. Your final fifteen minutes begin… now!” Peter ran down the stairs and grabbed his cart, going out the door to prepare his final dish. “Sister,” asked Luna, “what dessert do you think Peter could make in just fifteen minutes?” “If he uses some of the ice cream in the kitchen freezer,” Crème answered, “I could think of a few.” “Premade ice cream? Wouldn’t that break the rules?” “…After that pasta dish,” Celestia answered, “I think we could let that one slide.” Luna gasped, looking back at Peter’s pasta. She then smiled, remembering how good it was, now understanding Celestia’s leniency. ____________________________________________________________ Peter quickly laid his sugar-coated bananas, which were sliced down the middle and then halved, making quarters, into the hot pan. Once they were in, Peter went back to pouring and whisking cream into a pot of melted sugar and melted butter. Neither one would take much longer, and he still had about five minutes before his time was done. It might not haven been the best dessert he could make considering the time he was given, but at least it would be something and something good. ____________________________________________________________ Peter came back with just two minutes left in his challenge, his beaming face telling Celestia, Luna, and Crème that with his dessert, he was finished. Peter wheeled his cart with his three spoons upon it to the table where the two princesses and their chef met him as he took his dessert off the cart, placed it on the table, and unveiled its contents. Sitting on a square plate was the banana quarters, their flat, glistening sides facing out, teepeed against a sizable ball of ice cream. Atop and around the desert was a line of caramel sauce that lead to four puffs of whipped cream on the corners of the plate. “For my dessert,” Peter explained, “I made a simple sundae with vanilla bean ice cream, fresh caramel sauce and a banana with its flat bottoms coated and sugar and fried to create a hard, crunchy coating. The whipped cream and ice cream, admittedly, were taken from the fridge and freezer, respectively.” “I see,” Luna answered, he voice not sounding angered in the slightest. “Huh?” “Peter,” Celestia explained. “Your pizzoccheri was phenomenal, and the fact you were able to bring us a dessert at all after the seven other dishes you brought out, I think we can excuse you for using premade whipped cream and ice cream.” Peter took a heavy sigh of relief. The biggest bane on his mind was finally lifted, and now, his judges would just have to give him a passing grade and he’d pass. He eagerly watched as Celestia broke a piece of banana, scooped some caramel, whipped cream, ice cream, and then banana. Taking a bite, Celestia rolled the sweet treat on her tongue, letting the ice cream melt. She chewed the banana up with it, swallowing it so she could give her opinion. “It’s a very simple desert,” Celestia admitted, “but that caramel sauce was very good. And I really loved the crunch the bananas have. It was going to be hard to top that final entrée anyway. Very nice.” “Thank you,” Peter spoke. Luna was up, and she went through Celestia’s motions of cutting some banana, and spooning all four components together before taking a bite. It didn’t take her very long to come up with her decision. “Normally, I would be displeased of you putting this in front of me as a testament to your cooking prowess. However, I was reminded by my sister of your previous dish as well as your time constraints, so I will simply say that this is a simple and tasty dessert.” “Thank you,” Peter said, feeling a little off put by her mixed review. Crème was the last up, and would put a cap on Peter’s test. Peter just relaxed as he watched Crème take her bite. Crème also did not take long before she gulped her last bite of the test. “The caramelized bananas were a very nice idea, and the caramel sauce is indeed delicious. I find a tad… flattering that you use my ice cream for this dish, but this is still a great, simple dessert.” “Thank you all,” Peter said with a smile. Twilight levitated the far-from-empty plate over to her and Spike, who licked his lips as the dessert was brought closer. As the judges reconvened to make their final choice and decide Peter’s fate, Peter looked to his father as he gave his son a thumbs up, happy for his success. The judges then stepped back into line. “Peter,” she spoke. “We have come to a decision.” Peter looked dead into Celestia’s eyes, awaiting the answer he was waiting for his entire life. “Judging by the dishes you’ve created for us, we all see no reason as to not grant you your very own restaurant. Congratulations, Peter. You deserve it.” Peter was far too elated to shout. He merely sunk to his knees and looked up to the pretty blue sky and the sun that streamed through it. Today was a beautiful day, and it was only made more beautiful for his long, grueling fourteen year journey to have finally reached its destination. Even as Twilight, Spike, Celestia, Luna, Crème, and Patrick clapped his son on his victory, all that Peter heard was the silence that rung in his head, still unable to grasp it. A restaurant. A whole restaurant. And it was now officially his.