It's All in the Sauce
“And this, singlehoofedly, is why Applejack is the only pony I consider a serious contender for the title of Iron Pony of Ponyville. She’s tough as nails, and you know what they say about how you are-”
“Oh, consarn it!” Applejack spits out, her eyes glaring pitchforks at Rainbow Dash. The two mares, dovetailing a certain three overly excited fillies, are cuddling in Apple Bloom’s room.
“Can it, Applesnack,” Rainbow Dash says, her voice as hard as the wrought iron shingle nail Applejack is using as a toothpick. “You gave me seconds.”
Applejack saltily grumbles to herself as she fishes out a bit of red gunk from between her teeth.
“That’s what I thought,” Rainbow Dash says as she sticks her tongue out at the farmpony, starting off in a chipper voice.
“It was a bright and sunny morning in Ponyville - thanks of course to yours truly - and I was just settling in for my second nap in the southern orchards when the most delicious smell to ever grace my nostrils wafted by. It smelled, as you can probably guess, of apples. Which, given that I was surrounded by apples in an apple orchard, was saying something. But this was more than just the mere sharp tang of a granny smith, or the sweet taste of a red delicious. No, this was an auger of something even better.”
“Cider?” asks Apple Bloom’s young, innocent voice.
“Better than cider!” Rainbow Dash confidently states.
“Fresh cider?” Scootaloo offers tentatively, her eyes huge against her small head.
“Bet- well, okay, it smelled almost as good as fresh cider.” Rainbow Dash nods sagely. “It smelled just like fresh cider, straight from the cask. But, it was only later that I learned how close to the truth I was. I had to investigate, and as I stalked closer, the sense of foreboarding was about to get me as dead as a doornail. I peered around trees, searching for that elusive scent, only to find...”
Rainbow Dash pauses for dramatic effect, whispering something to herself.
“-Ah was standin' in the middle of a field.” Applejack crushes Rainbow Dash’s dreams like the shingle nail she is grinding to flecks. “It’d be like tryin’ to miss the broad side of a barn.” She then pulls a doornail out of a basket of used nails, prying said flecks out.
Rainbow Dash continues unabated. “There, surrounded by slats of wood and what had to be every pot and pan they own - one, two, three, four, it’s a lot, they never throw anything away - stood Applejack. She cackled over a vast cauldron, stirring chunks of red with a long wooden board. Up, up, up goes the beam, the solid twelve foot timber dwarfing the orange mare. Yet she managed, hocking her elbow around and twirling like it’s a partner in a dance.”
“Have you ever been to a dance?” Applejack asks, her voice flat as a level.
“Pff, like I’m gonna be seen at some lame hoe ‘round. Anyway, she’s got crates of old Granny Smith apples that she’s just dumping inside. And she’s got some freaky earth pony magic going, ‘cause it smells amazing. Like, it was so good, I just gobbled up the plate Applejack had on hoof!”
“Ah wasn’t even angry,” Applejack says, rubbing her full stomach. “Ah was so happy somepony else finally appreciated what Ah was doin’ ‘round the farm. Plus, Ah wanted a partner.”
“Yeah, sure. You got screwed up tighter than a... screw.” Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes, focusing on Scootaloo. “So she dropped that eight foot tall beam and came after me madder than a bunch of bees after you run into their hive - oh, yeah, she had a bunch of honey, too. Anyway, once she saw that I wasn’t wasting anything then she calmed down and said, ‘You want more?’ I nodded, and she did that eyebrow raising thing-” Rainbow Dash points at Applejack, the orange earth pony raising an eyebrow incredulously “-and said, ‘Well, paint me bright and bold.’ You see, Big Mac can’t stand the heat-”
“-Texture,” Applejack corrects.
“...Yeah, I don’t know about that, it went down smoother than a sanded finish. I wasn’t sure; I mean, of course I wanted more, but it’d be a lot of hard work. But she still wanted me to work off that plate I ate, so Applejack started me prying apart these joints with a hammer. Pull out all the nails, too, put ‘em in a basket for later. So I do, and I’m looking at this barn she’s got partly done, pieces lying everywhere. Applejack let that four foot beam sink into the pot as she talked about apples.”
“Granny Smith’s got a lot of acid in ‘em, and our earth pony magic lets us amplify that. Helps break everythin’ apart, especially the denser heartwood'n such. Honey’s for the taste. Rest of it’s just kerf, and the stirrin' helps spread the heat around evenly.”
Rainbow Dash nods gravely. “Then she took that joint I just pulled apart, and stuck the big piece into the cauldron. The other one sank below the surface, bubbles coming up. Then she ladled out some from a simmering pot and dribbled this rich, creamy red lacquer all over it, like she was in a fancy Prench restaurant. Hoofed it to me, said, ‘Thanks for the help, Rainbow, Ah really appreciate it. We make a good team.’ I, of course, took it and gobbled it up like the galoot I am.”
“Hey!” Applejack objects.
Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, shaking as she forces herself to relive the memory. “Then... then she took another stack of wood off the ground, and just dumped it into the cauldron. I could only stare, slack jawed, bits of red dripping out of my mouth as Applejack turned. She looked me square in the eyes, stuck her hoof out, and said...”
“What?” ask the three fillies as Rainbow Dash looks Applejack dead in the eyes.
“Together, we can braise this barn!”