//------------------------------// // Chapter 18:Recipe // Story: CiderCon Chronicles // by SSCiderConOfficial //------------------------------// CiderCon Chronicles Chapter 18 : Recipe "...most times, a good recipe comes from hard work, and understanding how your ingredients interact with one another. There are rare occasions, though, when something magical happens. A new ingredient gets thrown into the mix -something you'd never consider mixing in- and it just works, and this recipe that you already thought was perfect turns out even better..." - Good Eats, Chef/Author/TV Star/Foodie Silence descended. The shock of what had just happened rippled through the assembled ponies. From near the back Doc Gladstone's voice called out "Now, ever'pony jus' simmah' down. Don' nopony move him, ya' heah? And don'chall crowd him none, eithah' ". He was making his way through the crowd to where P'tach was lying on the floor. Bramley and Warm Welcome were so stunned that they hadn't moved, but were just staring at P'tach in a slackjawed expression of shock. Doc Gladstone knelt down next to P'tach and started checking him over with the practiced hooves of his decades in medicine. After a few seconds, Doc looked to Bramley and Warm Welcome, and said "Po' little fellah'. He's out cold, be he'll a' be alright soon enough. Jus' fainted, looks like. Surprise musta' been too much fo' 'im". Bramley and Warm Welcome breathed a sigh of relief, and the assembled ponies did the same. The last thing they wanted was for the guest of honor to die on them. Warm Welcome spoke up, her maternal instinct kicking in, "Can we move 'im someplace more comfortable?" Doc nodded. "Won't hurt nothin' none." It was a indication of how the other townsponies felt about P'tach that, before Doc Gladstone had finished, the burly blacksmith Tough Temper, and another farmstrong pony stepped forward to move him. With a gentleness that was incongruous with their bulk, the two of them lifted P'tach and carried him to a bench. While they carried him, the ponies nearest to the bench removed sweaters, shawls, overcoats, and the like, and laid them on the bench to afford him a comfortable place to lay. The two ponies placed him atop the makeshift outerwear bed. Now, all anypony could do was wait. ******************** For P'tach, the transition was instantaneous and jarring. He remembered seeing the hard wooden floor approach with frightening speed just after realizing that the townsponies, were throwing him a party. Now, he was in another part of what he assumed was the same room, lying on something soft, while Warm Welcome held a cool cloth to his head. "I'm sorry", he croaked in Warm Welcome's general direction. "What? Why?" She queried, confused. "I thought you were lying to me, and I ruined your party", was his response. Warm Welcome sighed. "Well, the fact of the matter is, we did lie ta' ya'. We did it for what we thought was a good reason", she gestured around around at the party, "but we lied ta' ya' all the same. And anyways", she chuckled, "it's your party, you c'n do whatever ya' want!" "It's me that should offer the apology", said a voice near Warm Welcome. P'tach craned his neck to see the speaker. A youngish mare got up from her place beside Bramley's mother, and walked over with her face downcast. "I'm sorry for all o' what happened in the bakery." Then P'tach recognized her : the baker, Plum Tart. Her words came out in a rush, as if she was divesting herself of a great burden. "When ya' came in I didn't have a clue o' what to do! Dub Dub - that's what I call Warm Welcome - was in the back using my kitchen to cook all o' this", she gestured at the spread on the tables in the center of the hall "and then you came in! Well, tha' last thing I wanted was for you to smell her cookin' , or, worse yet, to catch a glimpse o' her in the back! I plum panicked! The only thing that I could think of ta' do was run ya' out of the bakery on the double!" She looked at P'tach, abashed. "Can ya' forgive me?" she asked. P'tach smiled, and said, "Only if you'll forgive me for thinking that all of you were changeling infiltrators planning on offing me." He drew a hoof across his throat to illustrate. Plum Tart cocked her head to the side, and screwed her face up in confusion. "Uh... ok...?" she said, sounding more like a question than a statement. "Great!" replied P'tach He grinned and tried to get up. His head was still a little foggy, and his body was slow to respond, but he got his hooves under him, and wrapped her in a hug. He released the dumbstruck baker, and turned to address the crowd "I understand that this is supposed to be a party. Let's get to it!" The crowd erupted into a cacophony of whoops and hollers. With that, the party kicked into high gear. Eager to make up for lost time, and throw off the tension with which the festivities began, P'tach, Bramley, Warm Welcome, and the rest of the revellers threw themselves into having a good time. Ponies laughed, ate, drank, danced, played raucous games, and generally enjoyed themselves. To everyone's amusement, P'tach told the self deprecating tale of just why he had fainted at the door. Folks laughed along with him at his story of an imagined changeling invasion (and quite a few planned to dress up as changelings for the next Nightmare Night as a joke). Once everypony had had a chance to enjoy the fun for a bit, Warm Welcome, Bramley, and Constable Even-hoof made their way to the back of the room where a trio of townsponies were on a small stage, playing music so others could dance. They waited for them to finish their song, then stepped up onto the stage. Flanked by Bramley and the Constable, Warm Welcvome cleared her throat, and spoke. It was a testament to her presence, and to her facility in speaking to large groups, that when she spoke, the room fell silent. "Thank y'all for comin' out tonight to help celebrate our favorite changeling : our guest o' honor, P'tach!" There was a chorus of whoops and hollers, and P'tach was ushered to the front to receive the spotlight. Warm Welcome beamed at him, and continued. "There's hardly a pony here whose life you ain't touched some way or another. You've always been kind, giving, and understanding. You've become like a son to me, and like a brother ta' Bram. To the townsponies, you've been as good a citizen, as good a neighbor, and as good a friend as anypony could ask for. We threw this party for ya' to tell ya' how glad we are that you came to our little town, and to give you something." P'tach had been trying hard to hide his embarrassment as Warm Welcome praised him on behalf of the town. In his mind, he hadn't done anything special. These ponies had taken him in, accepted him, and given a place where he belonged. All he'd done is share his meager gifts with them. When she reached the end. and mentioned giving him something else, he cocked his head at her quizzically, and scrunched his face up in query. She smiled even wider at his questioning expression, and continued. "We'd like to give you a new name." P'tach looked shocked, this was unexpected! Warm Welcome mistook his reaction for one of offense, and hastily continued. "We understand why you chose to keep on callin' yourself P'tach, n' how you'd consider that a badge o' honor n' all, but we all know that your name means outcast. We want ya' to know that we don't consider ya' an outcast any kinda' way. You're one o' us, and we'd like ya' to think about a takin' a pony name. Now, I've asked 'round, and gotten suggestions from almost everypony in town, " she said, gesturing at the assembled ponies. " We came up with some good ones, but everypony agreed that Bram came up with the best." She drew Bramley to her side, and hugged him. " We were talkin' one night after you went ta' bed, we were goin' over some o' the names that had been suggested, and Bram gets this look in his eye, and says : '...ya' know, it's kinda like your recipe for cornbread.' I don't what kinda look I gave him, but the smiled real big and explained. '...ya' know how ponies always talked about your cornbread - how good it was and all - but then that one time ya' accidentally put may'naise in it without realizin' what you'd done. Well, it made your prize winnin' cornbread even better. P'tach's like that. He's the Secret Ingredient (She made sure to place extra emphasis on those words) "that we didn't know we was missin'. He made our family - heck the whole town - better.'" P'tach mouthed the words "Secret Ingredient" over and over, trying them on like a suit of clothes as she concluded. "Sure enough, that's what you've done. We didn't know anything could make our town better 'til you came along." The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts of agreement. P'tach got up on stage and addressed the assembled ponies. "I just can't believe how much you all have done for me, and I love having the opportunity everyday to live here and repay your kindness. You're right, it's just not fitting to keep on calling myself outcast. Besides, Doc still calls me "taki" because he can't pronounce it." He wiped away a tear, and with it, the last traces of his painful past. "From now on, you can call me Secret Ingredient!" ********************