The Spice of Life - Peppermill's Stories

by Mr Merritt

You Are What You Eat Pt. 1

Sweet Apple Acres lived and breathed on routine. Normally should something unexpected force a change to that routine, the Apple clan could work around it. But there were a few things that would never be compromised.

One of those set-in-stone rules was cooking duty.

If Peppermill, the grey colt who was a proverbial wizard in the kitchen, had his way he would be head chef of the farmhouse. But it took some firm words and at least one solid smack across the hooves from a wooden spoon wielded by the elderly yet still capable Granny Smith to tear him away from the stove every once and awhile.

One of these rare events occurred one early afternoon as Granny Smith pondered what to make her hungry grandchildren (she willingly and happily included the black-maned colt as an honorary member of that group). Peppermill sat at his usual spot at the kitchen table watching and waiting, always intrigued by the elderly mare. Having no other blood relations to speak of, the idea of a “granny” amused him.

“One thing you’ll learn soon enough sonny,” warbled Granny Smith as she peering in the pantry, “on a farm you tend to go for amount of vittles rather than the kind. A good thing the younguns’ round here ain’t picky.”

“Yes…Granny” rasped Peppermill. The green mare hobbled to the cold box, and peered inside, muttering to herself. Meanwhile it was taking Peppermill a bit of self-control not to offer up meal ideas, lest he get another lecture about ‘respecting your elders’.

“Hmmm…a nice cream soup. Maybe with them potaters’ and some of them nice green onions AJ got from the market…” Granny Smith pulled out a bottle of milk with her two fore hooves and placed it carefully on the counter.

“Are you…sure that…is enough…milk?” queried Peppermill.

“Enough milk? Of course there’s enough milk…” Granny did a double, then triple-take at the glass bottle before her. She then leaned in so close that her snout nudged the bottle, peering into it’s milky depths. “Hmm…then again…” she grumbled.

“Maybe…some biscuits?”

“Nope, I’m fixin’ for cream soup and that’s what it gonna be. But it might hafta wait till tomorrow. I think Applejack is supposed to be checkin’ in with the herd in the mornin’ anyways.”

“Um…couldn’t you…just send…somepony to buy…some?”

“Ha, why bother goin’ to town when we can get it fresher and faster here?” cackled Granny Smith as she dug into the icebox again. Peppermill digested this statement for a moment or two. Then a look of wonder came across his face.

“You mean…from cows? Actual…cows?”

“Where else would you get milk sonny?” laughed the elder mare. When she turned to face the colt, her amusement faltered slightly. “Hold on. I suppose a city boy like yerself probably though you got milk from a store…”

“No…I know…about where…milk comes from.” responded Peppermill, slightly put-upon. “But I’ve…never seen…or met…an actual cow…before.”

“I guess you don’t get many cows in the big city huh?”

“My parents…believed very…strongly…that a good cook…should respect…where his ingredients…came from. They talked…about us all…taking a family…vacation to the country…to see a farm…that one of…Mom’s friends owned. It…never happened though…”

“Well, I ain’t about to let some youngun’ under mah roof go around not knowin’ where his food comes from. Ain’t right.” announced the green mare firmly. “First thing tomorrow yer going with AJ to meet the ladies. I expect you to be on yer best behaviour.”

“Really? Oh…of course…I will.” Peppermill was thrilled at the thought, so much so he was quiet through the entire process of making supper, much to Granny Smith’s relief. While she valued the occasional suggestion, she preferred to cook her way.

***

As promised, Applejack was more than happy to let Peppermill accompany her to where the cows stayed on the acreage. The orange mare had never seen the colt this excited before, though Peppermill was not one for exuberance. But despite his usual calm demeanour there was an unmistakable bounce in his step and a cheerfulness in his raspy voice.

“What…is the…proper…etiquette…for greeting…cows?” he asked as the two ponies made their way out of the farmhouse. “I…want to…make a…good impression.”

“Etiquette? I reckon’ that must be yer Canterlot upraising coming out.” chuckled Applejack. “As long as yer polite you’ll be fine. The only thing I ought at warn you about: whatever you do, don’t mention snakes.”

“Snakes?”

“Just mentionin’ the ‘s’ word is enough to send them ladies a’runnin’. And believe me sugarcube a cattle stampede is something you don’t want to be in the middle of.” Applejack noticed the look of uncertainty crossing the colt’s face, then gave him a kind nuzzle. “Don’t fret none sugarcube. The ladies are a decent bunch, and ah know you’ll charm them off their hooves.” Despite giving the mare a weak grin, Peppermill still felt anxious, more so when an unfamiliar building came into view.

Tucked away in one corner of Sweet Apple Acres sat the cow shed, where ‘the ladies’ (as they apparently preferred to be called) stayed when not grazing. The two ponies approached the wide open double doors, and Applejack called out.

“Howdy!” Peppermill winced at the loud yell, but then felt a tingle of excitement when a number of low voices from inside the barn responded.

“Howdy AJ!” Peppermill could sense movement in the dark building, and was rewarded when a large white and brown cow came sauntering out.

“It’s always goo-ood to see you AJ.” drawled the cow, smiling. “And whoo-oo is this handsome little fellow?”

“This here is Peppermill. Peppermill, this is Daisy Jo.”

“Good day…to you…Miss Daisy.” murmured the colt. He normally wasn’t as shy as this, but he was not expecting a cow to be this…big. She didn’t have the height like Big Macintosh did, but she was clearly twice as wide or more than an grown pony. Fortunately the cow was clearly amused by the colt, for she gave him a warm smile.

“Well aren’t you a sweet little thing. No need to be nervous deary, I don’t bite.”

“This is the first time he’s ever met a cow.” explained Applejack quickly. “He’s originally from Canterlot…”

“Oh, I see. Well, I hope to have met your expectations sweetie.” Peppermill seemed to relax slightly, but a nagging question kept wanting to force it’s way out. It was something he had always wanted to know, but he felt foolish and just a bit flustered to ask. But it bubbled inside until it burst.

“Does it…hurt…to give…milk?” It was the loudest volume Applejack had ever heard out of the grey colt, though it made her think inadvertently of Fluttershy. Despite herself she could not hold back a laugh, as did Daisy Jo. Peppermill sat there looking embarrassed and cross, staring down at the ground willing the red on his cheeks to fade.

“What’s all the commotion about Daisy?” A few more of the cattle poured out of the barn, and soon the mare and colt were facing a genuine herd of friendly bovine. It didn’t take long for a number of them to start oohing and ahhing over Peppermill. It made him think about how some of his older brother’s mare fiends tended to act whenever he was introduced to them.

It was one thing to have a pretty pony gush over you, but another to have some hefty yet pleasant cows that acted more like great aunts trying to pinch your cheeks with a cloven hoof.

…

…

…

And all Peppermill had wanted was to learn where milk came from…

***

Once the herd had gotten over their collective adoration of the colt, things went far more smoother. Questions were answered and Peppermill felt a certain amount of pride than he had succeeded in learning something. He also felt that his parents, had they been there, would have been proud of him. He even told Applejack this as the two had waved their goodbyes and headed back to the farmhouse.

“Well, ahm glad you learned somethin’ sugarcube. I guess I never thought about how somepony from the big city wouldn’t know about where their food comes from.”

“They…seemed nice. The cows…I mean. But…my cheeks…are so…sore.” Peppermill rubbed one of said cheeks with a fore hoof, while Applejack grinned.

“Heh, I guess them more…mature types tend to do that.”

“Huh…I don’t remember you…doing that.”

“Hey! I ain’t that old!” The orange mare glanced at the colt, but realized that she had been caught once again by Peppermill’s quick wit.

“In…any event…it was…definitely…an experience.”

“Say,” said Applejack, “do you know where eggs come from?”

“Um…chickens…I think…why?”

“Oh, just thinking out loud…”

To Be Continued…?

Mr. Merritt Sez: I fully admit this is a fluff piece and nothing more. But the next chapter to this saga will be better...promise.

Comments

[YeahWhateverBye]

Very well done as always!

[Ex-Nihilos]

oh lord... Daisy why did I have to go and kill you!

(fanfic reference... eh)

That aside I love to see Peppermill adjusting to life in Ponyville! Great story as always like the above commenter said!