In the vegan nation of Equestria, how do you live down a special talent for cooking meat?
They say that a pony's special talent is neither good nor evil - it just is, and it's what you do with your cutie mark that matters. But when you live in the vegan nation of Equestria, how do you live down a special talent for cooking meat?
(A gastronomic gift for a friend's OC. Double Patty and her image are the creation of ThisIsBobby.)
It had been a pleasant day for a childbirth, bright and cool. In the old earth pony way - at home, surrounded by family - Cinnamon had whelped a beautiful little filly foal, still amazed at feeling so wonderful and horrible at once. Her sister, Nutmeg, gently nuzzled the insecure newborn filly, guiding her to her mother's muzzle while making a proud proclamation: "It's a girl."
"And a beautiful one, at that," the little filly's father beamed. Skystriker could already see the golden brown of his fur in the young filly's dawny fur, and the pale yellow mane and tail seemed somewhere between his bright gold and his wife's dull white. "She's beautiful!"
"Hello," the worn Cinnamon nickered, the sight of her daughter giving her strength she couldn't have imagined she would have had ten minutes ago. As the filly huddled close to her mother, Nutmeg crooned, "What are you naming her?"
Her parents locked eyes, and stammered a moment. "She's..."
The golden stallion also stammered, fumbling for a word that wasn't there. "Her name?"
They had been married long enough that they didn't need to speak their mistake. Assuming their child would be a young colt, they had never thought to think of a name for a young filly. And neither of them thought Stormbolt, the name of her famous grandfather, would be a suitable name for a mare.
"Erm... I was thinking of naming a filly for her grandmother, Patience." Cinnamon preened over her daughter, nuzzling the newborn earth pony behind the ears.
"And I was thinking she'd take after my aunt - you know, the sculptor? Patina."
They looked at each other... and again shared a grin. After so many years together, their sense of humor was shared, too.
"You were going to call her 'Patty'..."
"... and I was going to call her 'Patty.'"
Skystriker smiled, and took his place at his wife's side, resting his muzzle over hers to look at his new daughter. "Then... it's decided. We want to name her 'Patty' twice... and so, that's how we'll name her. Patina Patience; or... Double Patty."
Nutmeg shook her head, with a soft laugh at her sister. "You're both silly." There was a quiet pause, as she fiddled with paperwork. "... but I have to admit - it's unique, and kind of pretty." Taking a quill with a careful lilt to her muzzle, the mare midwife wrote on the birth certificate: "Patina Patience (Double Patty)."
Of course, in giving their child that name, Cinnamon and Skystriker had made a mistake. An innocent mistake, but not without consequence. In Equestria, as in so many places, words have power, and names especially so. Their choice would set the course for their child's life...
She was still a year too young for school, but the foal Double Patty had already learned everything she would learn in kindergarten: reading, numbers, colors, even writing her name and address. She had to, because she needed to know all this to properly enjoy her one true love:
Cookbooks.
Every cookbook the little filly read was like a treasure trove. Every picture depicted new dishes, colorful and unique and interesting, and described the origins of the dishes. The best cookbooks weren't just recipes - they were portals into faraway lands and the lives of people completely unlike her, like griffins and buffalo and zebras.
And best of all, it was treasure she could MAKE! She held measuring cups and cut vegetables more often than she played with her doll (although Mister Schnarfle sometimes gave her ideas or held her cookbook open for her). Every recipe was better than a spell, because while her unicorn friends would get frustrated as their incantation sent awry (or just didn't go at all), Double Patty would have made something delicious.
She started simply, like any cook; boiling noodles and cutting vegetables into salads. (One particularly painful cut just above the hoof quickly taught Patty to respect knives - and while that was still healing, she believed her parents when they told her that fire would hurt worse.) But she experimented and explored the kitchen with the enthusiasm of a foal, and Cinnamon encouraged the filly to substitute ingredients to try to improve dishes. Some of her experiments, like her pecan lasagna or her dessert salad, were so successful that her parent's friends would ask her for the recipe. (Others, like the time she tried to sweeten her morning oatmeal by adding ketchup, weren't so successful. Mister Schnarfle invariably was the one who gave her the bad ideas.)
Where most ponies her age were obsessed with sweet above all, Patty loved to explore flavors: bitter chocolate, salty soy, savory alfredo, rich guacamole, spicy chili and zesty lemonade. Soon, she was beginning to cook a meal a day - her mom still made the best dinners, but Patty was allowed to make lunch as long as she agreed to do the dishes. She didn't understand why her parents looked at each other with disbelieving pride when she made that offer, but she felt proud for wrangling that concession out of them.
Cooking from an early age made Double Patty a a bit smug for it - not simply the absolute sureness only a five-year-old could have, but she had learned enough to explain just why she was right. She had learned more about the history and culture of Equestria through its varied cuisine than some adults had learned in their lifetime. And her sire told her she was almost as good a cook as her dam.
"Fatty! Fatty-fatty! DOUBLE fatty!"
Double Patty had gained a lot of weight early on; coddled by well-to-do parents and routinely completing the results of her own experiments (Skystriker would not stand for Double Patty wasting food, no matter what), the calories added up into pounds of extra padding. Not even a filly's normal rambunctious energy held sway; she had learned to read early, and the only hard work the young pony knew was stuffing her saddlebags at the library. Even on her first day of school, everyone could see that she was heavier than any other pony her age and height. And the colts in her class were the first to comment on the matter. As the classroom slowly filled, the banter before the teacher arrived was the same as usual.
Today, the first to speak up was a blue and purple filly - unusual. "Double Patty's so fat, she sat on a book and chapters popped out!"
Grinning, another colt - Marbles, was that his name? Double Patty didn't recall - grinned and spun in his desk. "Double Patty's so fat, she turned the merry-go-round into a see-saw!"
One of the taller fillies in class, Skyreach, laughed at both of her classmates. "Double Patty's so fat, at dinner she asks for seconds first!"
The young golden filly was still managing to hold back tears - just barely - when her teacher, Golden Rule, called the class to attention. Her cutie mark was a ruler, and the black-and-silver unicorn wielded a near-identical ruler in the dark purple grip of her magic, wielding it at attention like a rapier. "Now, class - quiet down. It's time for everypony to get started." With only a glance, the teacher lifted up the rolebook to her face; there was nothing like being a schoolteacher to give a unicorn practice in juggling multiple objects with their magic. With each name, the ruler dipped in the air to mark a beat.
"Alabaster!" A white earth pony colt waved his hoof.
"Bass!" A dark silver pegasus filly waved frantically, making some in the class giggle.
"Bruno!" A pastel green colt waved his hoof, while stifling a laugh with the other. He knew what was coming.
"Double Patty!"
Double Patty dreaded having her name called - most of her classmates had come into the habit of whispering her nickname in the same cadence their teacher used. It never quite rose to the older mare's attention, but the young filly never failed to hear the entire classroom rising in quiet unison against her.
She sighed, and squeaked in response to her teacher, trying not to look at the way some of her youngest classmates bloated their cheeks and mimed waddling. Just six hours left in the day.
After class, Double Patty was tired. Not simply from trying to remember the history of the Equestrian political system; not just from trying to parse how to balance algebraic equations; not only from trying to remember the obtuse rules for how the color wheel worked. Hours of trying to not notice various jokes had worn on her heavily. Like when Tick Tock bloated his cheeks and looked cross-eyed to her, or how Maple Leaf tried to pull out her chair from under her. (Frankly, she was afraid of what would happen once Trickster got his cutie mark.)
Her saddlebags were loaded - all the normal books and tools, plus the gifted books, plus library books, plus one or two fashion magazines (so pink you could almost read by the glow of their covers). All together, her saddlebags weighed almost two stone, and the filly stretched out low to get underneath where they sat on the floor. It took a proper heave to get her bags up in the air, but it was a familiar burden.
From school, it was a fairly long trot - both her parents preferred lots of room to run in, and so lived on the outskirts of Ponyville - but Double Patty was in no rush. Her day's plan involved some roasted eggplant, a lot of reading, and a few naps; she was going to be far too busy to study, or worry about mean classmates. Before she could make it off of school grounds, though, she heard a furtive whisper.
Double Patty looked over her shoulder to see what the noise was, and saw a pegasus waving at her. Of course, she recognized the pegasus - Evergreen was a year older but was one of the most popular fillies in school. She wore her green coat and three-tone green mane like a bride would wear her gown; she was tall and regal and popular and beautiful. And she was waving a hoof, drawing it backwards towards herself to say "come here" from across the courtyard.
The golden filly didn't question it - after all, Evergreen was popular because she was so nice. She knew that much about her upperclassman.
"We've been expecting you," the unicorn smiled softly, leading Patty just beyond the corner. She kept her voice down, as if sharing a secret.
The earth pony tilted her head. "We? Who is we?"
"We... our inner circle. All of us girls who... well. Have higher values than most of those around us. We think you're just about ready to join in our group." Evergreen smiled, and Patty couldn't help but feel as if Princess Celestia herself were smiling upon her.
Patty's flush immediately took over her face. "But... Why me?"
The older pegasus gave a small smile. "It's what we see in you. What more could there be?" That smile was too winning, and this time, when the pegasus tilted to turn, Double Patty immediately followed.
The walk wasn't far, but it was twisty, as the two avoided any teachers, the green pegasus keeping to her hooves and making sure her new initiate was staying close. It eventually led to the far side of the sports courts, where Evergreen reached into her own (stylishly small and oh so cute!) saddlebags and grabbed a blindfold. "For this last step, I need you to not know the path - at least, until we formally initiate you." With that winsome smile, Evergreen held her hoof out.
"Will you trust me?"
Double Patty looked at the blindfold, then back up to Evergreen. That smile, the way her eyes searched Patty's hopefully, sealed it. Somehow, Patty just knew things were turning around for her - she didn't know this circle at all, but she resolved to try her hardest and get along. Proper manners for proper mares, and all that! Standing up as straight as she could under the weight of her load, Patty took the green blindfold and slipped it over her eyes.
"I will. I'll trust you, Evergreen."
Patty's legs burnt like they had been moving for miles, although it could only have been a few minutes at most. Evergreen was taking careful steps so the blindfolded mare could follow, and the only sound was the distinctive clip-clop of hooves as Patty followed the sound. She vaguely understood that they were doing a lap around the pool enclosure, but she wasn't sure what hallways they were walking down.
"Almost there..."
The creak of a door being nudged open preceeded quiet voices from up ahead. She barely recognized Maple Leaf's bell of a voice, but the rest of the voices were too low and hushed for the earth pony to understand. The clops came to a halt, replaced by a shuffling to the side.
"Just a little forwards - oh, and pick up your hooves!"
Double Patty lifted her hooves just in time, to catch a step she hadn't noticed. It gave under her weight, but held.
"Alright - stand very still on that platform, dear. And don't take the blindfold off yet."
Doing her best to emulate the poses in her fashion magazines, Double Patty held her head high, keeping her muzzle and spine in line, flanks straight, forehooves set close together for demureness and hindhooves set slightly spaced to indicate openness. If she hadn't had a blindfold on, she would have been doing her best to wear "blinders", staring straight ahead. The voices seemed to crowd in on her, and became quiet. She knew she was surrounded, but she couldn't tell what they were doing or what they were talking about.
But suddenly, there was a shout to the mare's right - "EIGHT! Eight and a HALF stone!"
The silence shattered into a million pieces as Patty was engulfed by laughter. And not joyful laughter, but disbelieving and berating. Shaking off her blindfold, Patty looked about. She recognized the room: Evergreen had led her into the gym's rarely-used weight room. Only a few of the lights in the room worked, casting angular shadows over racks and benches and bucking bags. But Patty had been guided into the corner with the -
Scale. It creaked under her as she reared in surprise, but its needle came back rest between two faded and ornate numerals.
"Oh, Celestia, this is TOO rich!" Evergreen's voice had completely lost its kind nature, and she raised a hoof to point over Patty's curves while laughing. "Can you imagine being that heavy? I'm only three and a half stone - I'd just DIE if I weighed that much!"
"I'm just three and a quarter," piped up Maple Leaf, "And I had no idea that a filly that short could be that fat!"
"I'm only two and three-quarter, and I am taller than she is," laughed an emaciated unicorn filly.
Skyreach, one of her Double Patty's classmates, joined in with that laugh Patty had long learned to fear. "I'm five stone-" two dozen heads turned her head predatorially, so the pegasus quickly stammered, "-which means that two of us could stand on that scale and STILL weigh less. No wonder everyone calls her Double Fatty - she's as big as two ponies in one!"
"Really? Her name is Double Fatty? Oh Celestia!" Evergreen fell backwards laughing, which only started the snickers all over again. The little brown filly reared up, and tried to press back against the wall - she couldn't think straight, and she couldn't figure out how to get away, the tears in her choking her throat.
Someone touched Double Patty. It might have been teasing her blank flank, or poking at her soft pudge, but getting poked like that was the trigger. With a shocked whinny, Patty leaped over what looked like the thinnest point in the crowd, leaving her bags behind her to crash onto the scale. It wasn't enough to clear, and Patty rolled over one of the smaller pegasi in the group, collapsing. She didn't care that this made her tormentors laugh all the harder as she bolted out the gym building and onto the grass.
Got to get away, thought the terrified filly, sniffling. Her eyes were closed but all she needed to know was to keep galloping, to head downhill. Across the sport greens, to the creek on the edge of the field, over it into the forbidden Everfree, away from her mean classmates, away from everyone.
As she leapt the creek, Double Patty thought: Not a single pony had given chase after her. Not a single one of her classmates had cared enough to see why she was crying. Her leaping the forbidden creek had even gone unnoticed by the teachers. And in her young mind, that meant one thing: she was well and truly alone. That's when she began properly bawling.
Double Patty had been running for almost two hours. For the first half an hour, it still stung; but after that, she kept running, then trotting, staying in constant motion. The burning in her legs and the heaving of her sides numbed her mind, and the last thing she wanted to do was think or feel anymore.
It wasn't until she couldn't figure out where Celestia's sun was in the sky that she started to worry about sleep.
Patty didn't remember even the longest of the field trips into the Everfree leading anywhere that looked like this. Even the trees didn't seem right: the mangroves rose out of the peaty soil like the many-fingered hands of witches, casting long ragged shadows along the path. This certainly wasn't the busy path; as she ran, she had intentionally kept herself turning what felt like 'away' from Ponyville. The problem was, however, that she now had no idea which direction was back 'towards' ponyville.
Yet another intersection met her hooves, but she wasn't sure which of the two overgrown paths was more inviting. It was a little too dark to judge which looked the safest. She finally allowed herself to sit.... and rested her head between her forehooves. Just to catch her breath. Only a moment's rest, not much longer.
Theodore (just call him Theo) lived by himself in the great bog south of Ponyville. Being a crocodile, living alone came naturally. He had no job, no responsibilities, no duties, and nobody to stop him from playing his bagpipes just as loud as it suited him. His house - really, it was more of a tidy porch with high hopes - rested on the shore of a lake, where oil lamps cast flickering light over a pond only fish disturbed. Between the difficulty of building on the bog's soil and his musical practice discouraging neighbors, it was was definately the liveliest thing around for miles. (With more practice, he hoped to constantly expand this circle of solitude.)
Theo was no great cook, himself; but any bachelor at the very least knows how to run a grill. Between the fish he had caught and the the root vegetables he had foraged, his meal for the night was going to taste good together and smell even better. But it was getting late, and he wanted to spend the rest of his night working on his latest composition.
He nearly didn't notice the small brown pony collapsed to one side of the darkening path.
"Hey - are you okay?"
He gave her a gentle nudge with her snout. She didn't move - and not even in the slow reluctant motion of a sleeper. Worse, she was cold. Very, very cold. "Oh no oh no oh no..."
The crocodile waved a clawed hand in front of her closed eyes, noticing they were still wet at the edges. They flickered. He also saw her breath quicken, so he relaxed. "Oh, good."
Setting down his backpack, he set about rearranging it - the fish baskets to the side, and laying his fishing pole at the crossroad sign (he'd return for it later), he lay the small gold filly against the backpack, the straps becoming a hook. "Well, then, little miss - seeing as you're not doing much of anything tonight, may I invite you to dinner?"
He noticed a bit more motion in her, now that he was heaving her. Her breaths were not deep, but they were regular. He also thought he noticed a kick in the straps. "Well then, by your silence I assume that was a 'yes'. We'll be at my place in two shakes." Then, he tried to take a step.
"Ooof - what do you weigh, eight stone?"
He got home well after the sun had darkened, only the moon's pale light guiding her on her path. He would have made it home earlier, but her weight added to his baskets made for slow walk. Not that he would have left her; Pappa Theo taught him better, after all.
For all his grumbling about her weight, though, once he felt her forehead, he was glad he hadn't left her to the cold Everfree nights: Patty was now burning up. Unfortunately for her, Theo definately didn't know how to help her. (After all, every crocodile ailment is treated with the same medication: stubbornness.) So he left her on the couch on the porch to rest, laid an old threadbare blanket atop her (silly warmbloods), and kept a watchful eye as he started up his grill.
It was an old brick grill, as sturdy as any castle wall and seemingly twice as ancient, blackened from long and frequent use. The lazy wind coming off the lake was just the thing to lazily stoke the flame, and the low glow cast shadows up the walls of Theodore home and over the lake. On her couch, Patty relaxed out just a little, relaxing as the heat started to warm her cold bones.
As his grill set about to warming, Theo set about about preparing the fish. They weren't as fresh as he liked, but that was unavoidable now, so he just ignored the less-than-fresh smell and turned his three best catches into six fat fish fillets. It was an easy job for a crocodile; their claws seemed custom made for the task. One swipe halved the fish; one (more careful) swipe deboned them; a final little flick cleared the entrails and sent them into the lake.
"Uhnnn..."
"You're getting up? Good, good."
She didn't open her eyes yet - she was still shivvering from the Everfree's night - but her ears flicked forwards and about, curious. "Where am I?"
"You're not freezing your little tail off at a crossroads, that's for sure," he grinned. "Now get up - dinner's almost ready."
In her defense, once she saw just how many teeth was coming off his long, pointed grin, she screamed only once. "What-what are you?"
He gave a smug little grunt. No croc mind being feared. "Your host, madmoiselle," he smiled. "Can you sit up, at least?"
"What? No, you can't possibly serve me that!"
The crocodile's low grumble became an incoherent mutter. "Well, I just did."
"No, I mean... it's meat."
"Yep! And fresh caught, too," he grinned with pride. "Got a lot of practice with snapping them up at just the right time."
"No. Really. It's meat," she said, "And I'm a pony. I can't eat this."
Theodore quirked an eyebrow. "I don't see why not, little missy. Ponies and crocodiles both, you've got a hole for one end, a hole for the other end, and a lot of acid somewhere in between. Food, you see, no matter what it is, gets ground up and boiled in that acid. So you should have no problem digesting that. And if you sit there refusing food, you're going to get even sicker and then you won't be anywhere. Or are you just picky?"
Patty looked at Theodore, stunned. "I-I'm not picky," she said, muted. Taking the fork on her plate, she looked over the fish, idly separating some layers of the fillet, investigating how the unfamiliar foodstuff seemed to come in pasty grey layers.
Watching her deflate so quickly worried him. Although he was reluctant, he laid a hand on her shoulder, claws up and palm spread. "What's got you down now?"
She was slightly startled by his touch, but looked up. "My... my mom says I'm a picky eater." It hadn't been a day, but she already missed her mother.
Theodore nodded sagely. "Well, don't you worry, miss. We'll get you home to you mom as soon as you're feeling better. Now-" he paused to flip another slice of fish into his maw - "where do you live?"
"Ponyville," Patty nodded. Theodore didn't comment on how she had instinctively lifted a forkful of fish to her muzzle. "I'm almost ready for high school now."
"Well - I have to tell you, miss, Ponyville is the nearest big town, but it's still three hours away. Just how did you wind up this far out, anyways?"
And so, Patty told Theodore the tale. Being a filly, she focused heavily on her popularity, and her issues with her weight, but Theodore said little, simply eating his fish and letting her tell the story her way.
"I have to admit, miss, I haven't caught your name. And I'm sure it's not 'Double Fatty' like your classmates say."
"Well, my full name is Patina Patience," she smiled, "But my friends call me Double Patty."
"Well, Double Patty," Theodore grinned, "You seem to be mostly done with your meal."
Looking down, Patty saw that it was true: only a few forkfuls were left of both the bass and the sweet potato.
"Oh! Well... that went by fast."
"How did you like it?"
"It... it was okay," Patty said quickly, quick to appease.
"What? What didn't you like?"
"Well, it's not that I didn't like it, but there wasn't anything to like. I didn't taste much at all. What did you season it with?"
The crocodile smiled smugly. "Nothing! That lets the natural flavor comes out-"
"-and makes it bland!" For the first time, Patty stood on all fours, slipping out of the sheet that had been in her lap. "Raw food, even heated, it's just ingredients. A single flavor is just that, single, alone, nothing. Blah. It's like raw sugar or vinegar." Her hooves were waving around more than her teacher's ruler would in a lesson. "You've got to have two flavors in contrast that make something delicious. Mushrooms and onions. Olive oil and basalmic. Kale and thyme..." She gave a shrug. "Don't you see?"
The older crocodile snorted; she was being remarkably un-guest-like for his tastes. "Well, then, miss fancy chef," he grumbled, "what would you do?"
Ignoring the dangerous tone in his voice, Double Patty trotted over to his spice racks. "Salt. Salt, peper, lemongrass to start. Ooh, you've got paprika-" She took a sniff, then reared back - "Oh, no you don't, that's turning south. No garlic or parsley, but - oooh, I like the way this stuff smells." She lifted the red vial up and asked over her shoulder, "Hey, what's this?"
"Cayenne. Now listen, I don't know what you think-"
"Get a bowl," she ordered, as she carried several of the spices over to a table. "You've got one fish left and I swear to Celestia I'm going to show you how to spice it right."
"Big talk for a pony that wouldn't eat meat ten minutes ago."
"What was that?"
This time, it was loud enough to hear - but in a very forced singsong. "Oh, will this do?"
"Perfect." She grabbed it out of his hand and started shaking spices into the bowl. With a spoon to improvise as a pestle, salt and pepper were just the thing to grind the lemongrass and release the flavor from within. As the colors mixed together, she added in the cayenne and a bit of olive oil and caraway seed she had found, until it became a thick, dark red paste. "I wish you had cilantro," she said under her voice, "But I haven't had cayenne ever, and I don't know if it and the cilantro will go well together. Here," she said, passing the spice bowl to him, "Try the last fish with some of this rubbed over it."
The croc gave a nod, lifting the iron pan with the last fillet. "Let's try it out, missy." Taking the spoon from her - and giving it a little twirl, showing off - he threw a big glop of the paste onto the fish, grinding the cayenne-heavy paste over it. "Well, I'll give it a try," he snorted, cutting himself a hunk of fish with the spoon, stuffing it into his mouth. "But I know darn well that it can't beat the natural flavor of-"
He paused.
Patty winced, concerned. She hadn't actually tasted the cayenne... maybe it was too much? "Are - are you okay, si-"
"WOW!"
The force of his joy knocked Patty over the porch railing.
"This is FANTASTIC!" Another large portion of the fish was cut off, eagerly pushed into his mouth, and noisily worked against his tongue as he actively explored every flavor. "You have to show me how to make this-"
Patty managed to get her front hooves back up and onto the porch at this point. "I... I just kind of winged it."
"Well," Theodore laughed, "you wing it so well I'd think you were a gryphon." He gave another laugh, as he finished the last fish. "Too bad you didn't get to have any."
"What? I'm sure I..." Patty looked back at her own plate, which had a fish skin and naught else. "I'm not sure what's worse: that I just ate meat for the first time... or that I wasn't paying attention."
Theodore frowned. "Well, that's too bad. There's not going to be much more fishing tonight, so no more fish. I wasn't expecting company, you know."
The gold filly nodded, and sprawled. "Well... then I'll cook for you, then. Do you have anything?"
The crocodile cast eyes over to his icebox and froze. The only entree-ish thing in there was unprepared, and the source of the meat was...
"No, no I don't. Not a thing!"
"Are you... hiding something?"
"No, nothing at all! You couldn't eat that and you definately couldn't cook that," he said. "Tell you what, I'll treat you to ice cream once we make the trek into Ponyville tomm-"
"... oh, I COULDN'T?" A dangerous glint had taken over Patty's face, and she grinned unnervingly, taking a step forwards. "I've cooked everything from pastries to pasta, from scratch, and I can guarantee you, mister," she smirked, placing his hoof over the end of his craggy maw to silence him, "That there is NOTHING I cannot cook. Now - you get me this whatever-it-is, and I guarantee you it will be the best - and I mean the best - you have ever eaten."
The crocodile gulped. He wasn't sure what he had just got himself into... but he pointed a tremulous hand to the icebox. "It's on the top shelf, miss."
It turned out there was about ten packages of the stuff, about four pounds each. Patty picked one and unrolled the paper package onto the small endtable that served as the crocodile's kitchen table. The stuff was bright blood-red with striations of white through it, and the occasional fleck of firm grey.
"I've never seen anything like this... and the fish didn't look like this. Are you sure this is meat?"
"Sure I'm sure," he said. "This is just ground up." He grinned, and took a sniff. "Nice and fatty and still pretty fresh, too."
Patty looked curious. She used the edge of her hoof to roll a small piece and brought it to her lips-
"Don't do that!" The croc had smacked her hoof away, sending the small piece of beef flying into the lake. Afterwards, he bopped Patty in the back of the head gently with his free hand.
"Meat's not safe to eat until you cook it, you goofball. It's gotta get almost hot enough to boil water."
The filly sighed. "Alright. So... do you cook the whole thing? Do you have a pan or something?"
The crocodile shook his head. "No... you roll them up into patties. No, don't look at me like that, I didn't name them." He reached out with his hands. "About the size of an onion, but flat..."
"Like this?" Before he had a chance to grab the meat, there was a nearly perfectly formed patty in Double Patty's hoof. She had rolled her hoof in a circle and flattened the beef underneath, the resulting patty slightly oblong and with a flat edge near the back - but almost the perfect width.
"Say, you're a natural!" His laugh was back, and it was deep; there's nothing like a fast learner. "But you've made the patties too thick, Patty," the crocodile chided, taking the patty from her hoof and tearing it in half. "There, flatten these back out. Try the same width but half as thick."
"I don't understand," the little filly sighed, re-rolling the meat. "What's wrong with big patties?"
"Well, the rate a material changes temperature is inversely proportional to the square of the depth, so as the patty gets thicker and thicker, it takes more energy and time to get the inside to a safe temperature, while the outside - needing less energy - is much more likely to burn, creating a patty that's nasty to eat on the outside while unsafe to eat on the inside."
Patina blinked.
"What? Don't look at me like that. They allow crocodiles at Detrot Tech, I know my physics."
Patina blinked again.
Theodore facepawed. "Thin patties cook faster, and two thin patties are easy to pair up and squeeze sauce and veggies in the middle."
"Oh! Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
It didn't take long, with two of them working together. Soon, they had just over a dozen patties made up, resting on the paper. But Double Patty frowned. "And... that's it? You heat them up and put veggies on them?"
"Well, you serve meat patties like a sandwich, but yeah, that's why I got a grill in the first place. You gotta let the natural flavor show-"
"Boring." Patty grinned, and grabbed a bowl. "Mmm, what did I say? It's complex flavors interacting that make something delicious, and I bet you only have plain old wheat bread."
"Hey! I make that myself... it's not like there's a supermarket nearby."
"Ooooh. Well, that's good... but these patties need something." Grabbing a bowl, Patty started walking down his spice cabinet, occasionally shaking something into it. "Two shakes black pepper, one shake mustard, three shakes 'cayenne', one shake garlic salt... too bad about the paprika, that and horseradish would have gone really well." She pondered. "And... regular radish-radish? Maybe cut thin on top..."
"Is this one of your sauces again?"
"Oh, no! I'm still making the cayenne sauce later," she grinned. "No, we're kneading the patties into this!" Taking the nearest patty, she kneaded it, rolling the meat in the spice mix like pasta dough. The red became brownish, the mustard and black pepper tinting the meat. "Here, let's remake them, and we can get them all properly formed..."
Soon, all of the patties had been rolled in with the spice mix, and Patty was making another batch of the cayenne spice that had gone over so well. (She really wished that she had had some horseradish...)
"Say, by the way ... what's this meat called, anyways?"
He froze for a moment. "Well, it's... burgher."
"So... how do you know when it's done?"
"Here - take this," he said, handing the turner to her. "Give each a slight press - not too hard, you want to circulate the juices in the patties to distribute the heat, not break them open and squeeze them through the grill. Now, try to turn them over."
It took a bit of work, as his spatula had been made for fingers and not hooves, but she was able to lift and tilt each patty onto its side. "See? They brown as you heat up, because some of the protiens are breaking down. To make it taste right, we need to get the heat all the way through the patty. Now, use that to pierce into the center of the patty."
Patty made a note to cook with more physics students.
"See? It's pink now, because it has that same protien as on the outside. But once the heat's gone through, it'll start turning white-ish, and combined with a bit of charring on the patty, that's a pretty sure sign that it's ready to serve."
The gold filly nodded, shifting from one hoof to another. "And the heat transfers at a rate inverse to the square, you said..." Her little head swam with figures, imagining the progression of heat as a slow glow spreading through the patty as she continued flipping them, watching each patty she turned be subtly darker than the last.
For Theodore, the sight was almost like watching a banker at work. She took to the timing quickly, and each patty was soon being turned like clockwork, effortless flips, occasionally one being pierced in order to see if the heat had worked its way through. The occasional pops of fat, the variations in the sizzling - nothing distracted her. She had this meat-cooking thing down to a science.
And any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguisable from magic. She didn't feel any different, she didn't see the flash of light (so focused she was on her task), but regardless of race, the moment a pony gets their cutie mark is the moment they are at their greatest magical potential, a small taste of apotheosis. She could see with a casual glance just when each patty needed to be flipped; just how long it would take to get the heat evenly spread; and when another little press of her paddle would help the process along, and when to leave it be. She turned her head to the crocodile, and said, "Did you say something?"
"No, but..." the crocodile shook his head. "Something appeared on your flank..."
With a gasp, the filly reared, the paddle forgotten on the table. "Really? Oh my god! I bet it's a chef's hat," she gasped, as she turned and twisted. It was dark red, but she couldn't make it out in the light... "Oh, do you have a mirror?"
"Not really, no. Except in the bathroom, but..."
He didn't even get the chance to see her run before he could hear the clatter of hooves on ceramic, trying to make her way to the bathroom's mirror. She threw the door open to get some light... and he heard a terrified whinny, as she ran out.
"What's the matter? Did you cut yourself?"
Diving back onto the couch, she hid under the quilt and bawled.
"Don't tell me you burnt yourself..."
"NO! It's... it's worse! it's terrible! I look like... oh, no. I can not go back," Patty sniffled. "I can never go back!"
Theodore felt his rage building at his guest. He had no patience for the sort of drama only a filly of her age could cause. Despite how quickly he had taken to Patty, he had to admit that some small part was strongly tempted to treat himself to a small after-dinner snack... "And why in the world not?!"
"My cutie mark! It's... it's a spatula!"
Next Time: A filly's cuteceñera should be the happiest moment in her young life - but will the guest of honor be absent from her own party? And what of Evergreen and her entourage? Isn't there something Double Patty can do to have her just desserts? Come back for the next chapter:Order Up: Have It Your Way!
Having good food in her belly, a blanket to sleep under, and the warmth radiating from Theo's old brick grill was too much for the exhausted filly. Not even the excitement of her cutie mark could fight back the drowsiness caused by her fever, she passed out quickly after dinner. The morning after, Patty woke up more energized than she could ever remeber.
The trip back to Ponyville was uneventful, save for the bawdy crocodile songs that Theodore taught Double Patty on their way back. They had burgers prepared and wrapped for meals, and a shopping list and impromptu recipe so Theodore to restock his larder and prepare the burger mixture they had worked out.
It was more than a little eventful once they got to Ponyville, though. Being more than five times as tall as your average pony, it was completely impossible for Theodore to blend in with the crowd.
A grey mare with a red mane was the first to announce their arrival: "Alligator!!"
Theodore roared with aggravation. "Hey, missy! Mind your manners - I'm a crocodile!!"
Of course, once he roared the stampede was full-blown. He might as well have shouted "Did somepony order the large ham?"; ponies just weren't listening. There was a lot of running, screaming, fainting, and general chaos, though, as the panic spread through the town. Double Patty and her crocodile friend simply walked down the road at a lazy pace, occastionally looking at each other.
"Erm... Patty, does this town erupt into a full-blown panic every day?"
"Oh, no. Only about once a week."
Double Patty had finally got both her sire and her dam to let her dye her hair; the long-standing agreement was that Patty would be allowed to dye her hair for her cuteceñera once she had earned her cutie mark. (It certainly helped that Theodore had laid it on really thick that their girl was really talented with his really intense crocodile smile.)
Brush in hoof, she examined her hair in the mirror again. Brushing it first this way, than that. It took a while for it to lay just right. But once she got the colors to lay just right, she giggled, and cantered in place like any other schoolfilly. Where before, she had only had blonde in her mane and tail, now her mane and tail were in three sections; the center was still the original blond, while her left side sported red hair, and her right side sported green. Three-tone hair was all the rage those days, with adults as well as fillies, and Double Patty had had it cut to a shorter, sportier look when she went to have it dyed.
She gave a smile, and used a bright red hairband to keep her bangs manageable. At least she looked halfway presentable.
Now, it was time to worry about the catering...
"Out, out, out!"
Skystriker gently nudged his wife out the kitchen door, towards safety and away from the small brown filly who was angrily brandishing the utensil that appeared on her flank. "Don't bother her, darling - she's in her madness place."
Double Patty had refused to set a proper date for her cuteceñara; she even refused to have one unless she had this recipe perfect. But she had found one major problem: Ponyville didn't have a butcher shop anywhere. Nor did any nearby town. She suspected there might be one in the epicurean city of Canterlot, but didn't have the bits or her parents' permission to head there. (The meat would be bad by the time she got back home anyways.) So, it was up to Double Patty to do what any great cook would do in her position: Improvise. The entirety of her house's small kitchen was wiped clean, and all the vegetables Patty had at hoof were lined up. If she couldn't buy meat, she'd make it.
The first thing she thought was to use beans. Beans are thick, and full of protein, and have the same "bloody" mineral profile as most meats. So, she began with the combination that looked and tasted most like meat - a mashed patty formed of black beans and kidney beans. After baking, though, the 'patty' that formed was a soggy mush - like a burger made of baby food. Mixing in some minced carrot didn't help the matter too much. The patty needed moisture, true, but she needed texture.
To get the texture right, she next tried making patties out of a variant of hash browns. By mixing in her cannibal sauce (as Theo had taken to calling it - but she didn't know why Theo once or twice got a guilty look in his eye whenever she said that), the texture and flavor were certainly right; the hash brown patty was savory, the potatos creamy and soft on the inside yet crisp and slightly burnt on the outside, with the horseradish tying the entire meal together. But put together, the hash browns felt like a third piece of bread when sandwiched between the dark bread her parents made.
Neither being completely satisfying, Patty tried another. Taking a variant of the bean mixture, Double Patty added minced celery and carrot to get the crunch she was seeking out. But instead of being crisp, the celery slowly stewed and released its oil into the mix, breaking the cohesion of the beans and creating a mixture that was less mush and more a chunky gruel. The unappetizing sheen from the oil bubbling out from the bean mixture taunted Double Patty, as if her cooking was laughing at her. It took more self-control than usual to put the spatula down beside the stove, as opposed to throwing it out the window.
She scrunched her muzzle, then sighed dejectedly. "Just great. When they ask why I have a spatula for my cutie mark, I'll tell them I have a special talent for making greasy soup and baby food."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
After Double Patty had stormed out of the kitchen after another frustrating day, Cinnamon had insisted on ordering out - Beyjing cuisine, just about the exact opposite of the whatever her daughter had been preparing. She was worried, and more than a little annoyed with her daughter's experimentation blocking off the kitchen; and more to the point her studies had been put on the back burner for the last week as she tried to reverse engineer that dish she had prepared for that... crocodile. "This is your hour, dear... you don't need to spend it working for anypony but yourself."
"But that's the thing, mom," Patty pouted, as she nibbled a slice of orange-glazed zucchini. "If this is a celebration of my cutie mark, I have to defend it too. This has to be the best thing I've ever made anypony."
"Patina, you know perfectly well you don't have to defend your talent to anypony. Or your cutie mark."
"You don't understand, Mom. You got a heart over two crossed leaves, and your special talent is debates. That's about as normal of a cutie mark as anypony can get! Nopony has a-" Patty frowned at her stir fried pine nuts, as if they were somehow to blame. "... a spatula."
"Well... no, nopony does. Then again, nopony else has a special talent for breaking the laws of pony and nature."
"Mom!"
"Well, it's true, Patina. You do know that ponies aren't carnivores... right?"
Double Patty shook her head. "And that's why I want to introduce that taste, mom! The taste was completely different. It wasn't... starchy. At all. It was rich and warm and savory and a little creamy. It... it was a complete contrast to the flavors we're used to. It was new. It's literally something nopony has worked with before, and that's why it's a special talent."
Cinnamon sighed, frustrated. It was time to change tactics. "And that, dear, is exactly why you should be the one to cater."
"Bwah?"
"I think it's a wonderful idea," Patina's mother nodded, trotting around to the other side of the table. After arguing the exact opposite point with her daughter for so long, a quick turnaround in the conversation be quick to agree. "What other pony has a cutie mark like yours? What other pony has a talent like yours? Nopony caters their own cuteceñera. That's why it's a perfect." Cinnamon smiled her warmest, proudest smile. "They'll remember your special day for years to come."
"I - huh. I think you're right."
"So, Patty - you should make your strongest dishes. Why not your spicy lasagna, or your white chocolate radish salad?" Cinnamon lifted Patty's near-empty plate away, only a few overcooked lentils left in sauce. "Do your best to show everypony your talent for-"
Patina's hooves instantly hit the table, almost launching the plates into the air. "No!"
She rose, glowering. "I'm not just a good cook, mom. I'm the best. I made something new, and I'm going to find a way to show everypony just what a burger is. All I need is the right ... erm... texture..."
Patty ran her tongue along her teeth, and could still taste the pine nuts and lentils. As the taste hit her tongue, she could feel the yielding crunch of the pine nuts, the way the lentils squished under her mouth. She thought of the fried rice - almost there, maybe barley instead?. And in that moment, she realized where she had gone wrong. She had tried to create a dish by imagining what certain things would taste like after being cooked, then creating a recipe, then seeing if it worked. Instead, she needed to be comparing prepared ingredients. A simple ingredient, given a dozen different preparation styles, would have a dozen different tastes and textures.
Dropping her fork in her Maneighsian-style artichoke, Patty cantered back into the kitchen. "Argument later, mom! I've got it!"
The kitchen table was set up like a buffet, with each plate set up like a palette; instead of paint, each table had a small quantity of some vegetable or grain. The nearest plate, set up for zucchini, had zucchini prepared several different ways: raw, fried, baked, boiled, steamed, skewered, and grilled. Plate after plate built up on the table, sorted by texture and color.
"Alright. Definitions." Patty wrote on a piece of paper clipped up to the icebox because there was no other surface left in the kitchen. "Has to hold together, when frying and in the bun. Has to be savory, but can't be too strong. Has to be a little creamy and a little chewy." Patty looked over the legumes. "The best burger so far started with beans, so... start from here..."
With this new tactic, it didn't take long for Patty's recipe to come into place. Black beans, bulgur, and lentils formed the base of the patty, with a bit of roast ground eggplant to bind it together; black beans and lentils were soft and split easily between teeth , while the bulgur was 'chewier' and had to be ground on the molars, two textures that met the tongue like ground meat. In order to add fat, Patty added fried vegetables; fried mushroom and leeks carried just enough fat from the sunflower oil to be creamy on the tongue without being too greasy. A bit of diced carrot and celery added just a bit more chewiness, while coarsely ground garbanzo beans and pine nuts added a satisfying crunch to every bite.
At this point, Patty had the firmness, savoriness, and taste down. However, there were still problems. The patties tended to fall apart on the first bite; unlike the meat patties which were uniformly sticky, her vegetable patties were 'chunky' - and thus couldn't be flattened out underhoof into near as flat a shape as a meat patty could, lest they break apart when cooked. Unfortunately, this ruled out slipping an onion ring and her homemade hot sauce between two thin patties - but it could still be worked into the mix proper.
Additionally, these vegetable patties didn't look like meat; they looked like vegetables clinging together for dear life in the middle of the frying pan. It wasn't like anypony would know what meat tasted like - but it was the *principle* of the thing! To keep the patties firmly together, Double Patty added flour and a pinch of baking soda, using a trick she had learned from making pizza. So the outside of each patty would scorch nicely, she dredged the formed patties through soy sauce, then a mix of bread crumbs and black pepper; the bread crumbs were dry, and they added a nice roasted color. As they roasted, the patties began to crisp up properly, and plump out; the olive oil leaked from the patty, frying the underside. When she went to flip them, the hoof-cut mix of vegetables and grains actually looked a lot like the patties she had grilled with Theodore - even the way the oil eventually cooked out reminded her of the marbled meat the crocodile had served her.
Finally, after almost another four hours of experimentation, she *had* it; the patty stayed together and was rich and savory. Making buns took almost no time after that, and a few fresh vegetables added variety: juicy red tomatoes, thin slices of crisp white onion, fresh purple kale, all held together by a thicker crimson version of her 'cannibal sauce'. A few stalks of asparagus fried with impromptu breading made a decent side, completing the plate.
She had it.
"Dad?"
Hesitantly, Double Patty's sire Skystriker peeked around the door to the kitchen. "What is it?"
A plate was all but shoved into his face. "Try this."
The giant grin on Patty's face was impossible to say 'no' to, but Skystriker had been served several inedible patties in the past few days. "Y-yes, dear." He made a move to step around Patty. "Just let me get a fork-"
"No need," Patty grinned. "Just take it with your hooves, like... like a muffin I guess."
Skystriker looked to his daughter, than the plate. "If you say so, dear."
Patty leaned in ever closer as her sire took a wide bite of her first ever burger, her eye going wider and wider as he chewed. Her smile became tighter and tighter with expectation. "Well?"
Skystriker chewed experimentally. "Sunflowers."
"... bwah?"
"Dark bread doesn't taste right with something like this. It's dense with dense, so when it cooled you'd have a mouth full of stale hay. Sunflower bread might work better for this kind of sandwich, and with the seeds on top it'd match the filling-"
Double Patty had all but pounced on her father, her grasp wrapping his neck tightly.
"Thanks dad! I think it's finally ready!"
Skystriker laughed, but one hoof was quick to work under his daughters', fighting the eager filly for breath. "Ready for what, dear?"
"What else, dad? I'm going to show this to everypony -"
- somewhere, a musical number swelled -
"...At my cuteceñera!"
On the outskirts of Ponyville, a boring lawn became a lively dance. Live music - the hottest pop out of Las Pegasus and Manehattan, as seen through the cover of a small folk band. Tea, lemonade, and punch filled the cups, and Double Patty's classmates talked and giggled amongst themselves.
"Do you really think Double Fatty's going to show?" Alabaster - whose own cutie mark had become a block of marble with a chisel - laughed. "I mean, what's her cutie mark, a tub of gelato?"
"Yeah, sure." Trickster - his cutie mark had turned out to be a knight and bishop at angles to each other - threw a hoof dismissively. "She can't possibly miss her own party. I mean, a prom, a birthday, okay, but your cuteceñera?"
"Hmmph. Well." Evergreen turned her hoof and examined its edge. "It wouldn't surprise me one bit. After our little get-together the other day... well, you know."
Everyone in her circle nodded. The entire school knew she had run away, and there were rumors that Double Patty had bucked some of her classmates in the gym's weight room. Rumors still circulated and were growing about what had truly happened that day; some came close to the truth, while others accused Double Patty of everything from leading a fight club to being a spy for the gryphon lands.
A small blue filly, Double Patty's youngest classmate, shook her head. "I just worry about her, sometimes. She just seems to live in her own-"
"I'm sorry, everyone!"
Everypony turned to the door that was just kicked open. There was Patty - but she was decidedly not in a dress. Instead, she was in a stained apron, a bit of splashed grease down its front.
"I'm going to be late, you see, I know what I'm good at and I'm going to show you but it's taking so long and-" Double Patty's rant ended in a squeak as finally occured to Double Patty that with her apron on and not her dress, the 'secret' of her cutie mark was spoiled, ruining the reveal later in the party.
"I - just dance! There should be enough dancing that I can finish for - everypony - did Mom and Dad really have to invite everypony?" Searching the crowd, her eyes met an older green filly. Especially her!
With a terrified squeak, the harried filly ran back into the kitchen.
Evergreen was the first to speak up.
"... was her cutie mark... a spatula?"
"Alright, everypony! Dinner's on!"
This time, Patina Patience was far more composed, and was looking the part. To contrast with her dull earth tones, she had chosen a bright white dress, ruffled at the shoulders and with white checks at the hooves. It was old-fashioned, sure, but it was neat and tidy. And, despite what she had been doing for the last hour and a half, she was clean. Having missed the first half of her own party, she wasn't about to give in to stage fright to miss the rest.
"I'm sorry for making you all wait," Patty started as the party filed into the picnic tables. "But... this is why I called you all here, so I could demonstrate my talent. Please, be seated."
Patty grinned, sitting at the head of the largest table, waiting for every pony to climb up in front of the bench. At every position, a paper plate with a cool bun and a large hot patty was seated; Theodore and Patty's hot sauce sat in mason jars in reach of everypony, as well as mustard, pickles, and ketchup. Her party looked at the dinner, curiously - even those who could look past the dark, unfamiliar, steaming surface of her creation had to question why a cuteceñera was being served dinner as if it were a picnic.
"First things first. Has anypony ever had meat before?"
About half her party whinnied in surprise, with a few literally jumping out of their tables.
"No, no, no! I'm not serving you meat," Patty quickly explained, waving a hoof in surprise. "It's part of the story. You see, when I got lost last month, I was saved by a crocodile-"
Yet another loud gasp ran though the crowd-
"Yes, a crocodile! He fed me fish and another kind of meat when I was sick and feverish, so I could get better. In the process, he showed me how good meat can taste - and in learning how to cook it, even though I was sick, I got my cutie mark. So I prepared for you a new kind of dish."
With pride, Patty lifted up a burger, putting the second sunflower bun on top.
"It's rich and deep and savory, but there's still a lot of crunch so you get this big squishy taste on the tongue. It's like getting a mouthful of... of fruit or grain, but it doesn't taste like fruit sugar or raw starch. And that crocodile taught me to enjoy spicy flavors, so I made a spicy sauce to go with it. But be careful, it's really spicy so use ketchup if you don't like that taste. And I made some fried potato wedges, with a little salt and that sauce rubbed into the skin, as a side. Spicy, savory, and salty are three tastes we don't get a lot here in Ponyville, but I think you all will like it."
Patty demonstrated, as she took the bun and patty and scooped some of the red sauce over it with a spoon, adding a squirt of ketchup and a few slices of pickle on top. She covered it with the bun that had kale on it and showed off the creation, as pretty as a picture. Her grin had a flicker of the artistic fugue she had been working through not a week ago - a small hint of her culinary madness.
"I call them... burgers. Dig in, everypony!"
Reluctantly, her friends and classmates assembled their burgers. Most didn't opt for her spicy sauce, and most added pickles or mustard. There were a few polite reassurances that her cooking was great. But as the assembled party chewed into it, an murmur started building up in the crowd. Double Patty looked over their faces expectantly, nervously. It was the moment of truth for her - and her party all looked more curious.
"So, how do you all like it?"
The closest pony to her - Skyreach, an Arabian filly who had been averting her eyes thanks to her involvement in the gym the month before - lifted her plate. "May I have another?"
As soon as Skyreach asked for more, two more lifted their plates. "Me, too!"
Soon, most of the party was asking for seconds, and a low sound of appreciative hooffalls filled the backyard, with all eyes on Patty.
"Oh - oh wow. I have more of the patty mix ready, but - who here can cook?"
Six hooves went up, including from some of the parents."
"Alright! You, you, and--- you," she said, pointing her hoof. "Dad, get out the grill, we've got a lot of hungry ponies!"
Quickly, Patty took charge of her volunteers. Teaching two of the adults how to roll a patty underhoof, she moved on to teaching her younger assistants how to make more of the mixture. (Somewhere in the mix, her mother trotted off to the store for more beans and eggplant.) While the two Patty thought were more responsible tended to the stove, she herself worked the grill with her father, rushing to meet the paties demanded by forty hungry ponies..
After seconds started becoming thirds, though, Skystriker all but shoved his daughter away with a firm nuzzle. "We'll hold down the kitchen, champ," he grinned. "You have a party to enjoy. But remember - dad gets the last dance."
The little brown filly giggled. "I'll wait on you, Dad." After bounding up to give her sire a tight hug around his neck, she entered the crowd, spirit light. As the band finished up their thirds, they launched into a much more modern take on their music, and the dances rekindled.
"Hey, Patina."
Hidden in the crowd, one mare stood, flanked by three of her friends. She looked beautiful in her black and green dress, and the dresses of her friends were styled to match. They looked like quite the clique.
"... hello again, Evergreen."
"Look, Double f- Double Patty. I just wanted to say..." Evergreen's muzzle scrunched up, as her eyes looked away... "I'm sorry. It's just..." The older filly frowned and drew a hoof back in embarrassment, wanting to seem sincere but unwilling to humiliate herself. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Oh. Well... okay, I guess." Double Patty gave a shrug, and began to turn away.
"Patty!"
Evergreen's hoof reached out when she turned around, trying to draw her back.
"We're still friends, right?"
Double Patty looked up at Evergreen, and at the outstretched hoof. She reached over to shake it... and then knocked it away.
"Oh, no way in Tartarus."
Bringing herself up to her full height, a devious gleam appeared in Patty's eyes, but she spoke low enough for the sound of the party to keep the conversation between them. "I hate you, Evergreen, and I hate everyone who likes you. I wish my parents hadn't invited you, but I'm the host so I won't kick you out. Oh, this week I got proof from the coach that you were using the weight room after hours. I already spoke with your parents about what you did, and they asked me to go with them to a special conference, which lead to an investigation by the school board."
The smile grew, as Double Patty gave a little pace, circling Evergreen. "Most of your friends are getting detentions, but after everyone who talked to the principal confirmed what I said, your parents had the principal reassign you to the School for Educational/Disciplinary Imperfections. So, Evergreen... welcome to juvie."
Evergreen's mouth fell open, her eyes tiny pupils. She could see her popularity being replaced by a future at a juvie school, abandoned by all the friends who she got punished thanks to her little hazing stunt --
Patty tossed her mane, and looked at Evergreen with one eye, her teeth bared. "And that's if I don't tie you up, tenderize you, grind you into horse meat, mix you into the burgers and serve you at my birthday next month."
Evergreen collapsed, almost fainting on the spot. Patty stepped in close, rearing up over the older green filly, and raised a leg...
"Nah, I'm just messing with ya," Patty grinned, knocking Evergreen firmly in the shoulder with a hoof. "I haven't told anyone. I don't think we're friends, but I forgive ya."
Evergreen's heart skipped several beats. "... what?"
"I wouldn't have met Theodore if you hadn't, after all, and if I hadn't met him and been sick I wouldn't have found out." Patty's smile became a lot more genuine, as she helped Evergreen up. "I think we're just about even."
Evergreen smiled weakly. "So... you were just..."
"Making you a little afraid like you made me? Yep."
"Oh." Evergreen sighed, as the emotional roller coaster Patty sent her through came to its final crest. She couldn't help but giggle. "You... you got me."
"Really? Heh. I should have been an actor."
"Too bad you don't have a butcher knife cutie mark. It would have worked for that, too."
"Wouldn't it?"
Both fillies shared a laugh. For the first time, Evergreen and Double Patty seemed to be on equal terms.
"So... what are you going to do, with this cutie mark?"
"Well, I've been thinking." Patty looked back over at the grill, where her father and two of her classmates were making and serving fourths. "None of them knew how to make a burger at all an hour ago. Now I've got a grill and a oven making them constantly, and a crew making the mixture by themselves, and everypony's going back for more."
"What's your point?"
"Well... if this is what I can do at a party, what else can I do?" Patty smiled, as she thought. "I mean... there's an ice cream shop, a café, a fancy dining place, and a cupcake shop. But that's about it. We don't have fast food, really, like they have in Manehattan or Chicagolt..."
Evergreen titled her head. "Do you think Ponyville is big enough a place like that?"
"I think so." Patty nodded. "I mean... if I can lead some random ponies at a party, imagine what I could do with a restaurant!"
"But you don't have a restaurant!" Evergreen shook her mane. "All you have is, like, five guys!"
Double Patty grinned. "Five guys, huh?"
Double Patty smiled in reminiscence. "And that's how this restaurant was made."
The three fillies Double Patty had been serving just stared in shock. "Wait a minute. Miss Green's real name is Evergreen?"
"Why would you ever allow her into your shop? She was so cruel!"
"Well, that's the thing," Patty grinned. "I forgave her, and I kept to it. And when I forgave her... she stopped making me worry. Besides..." Patty smiled warmly. "I got my revenge..."
The three fillies looked up in surprise.
"... she's had her problems throughout her life." Patty looked back at her oldest customer, the green mare in her own corner. "She never practiced her talent. And here I am - I set my own course, I have my own place, I do want I like to do. Even when I'm at work I get to see all my family and friends come by. It's not all schadenfreude," Patty continued, ignoring the fillies' confusion at the term. "We've becomes friends after a fashion. I try my best to cheer her up every time she comes in. I really do hope things turn around for her"
Patty faced the fillies again, and shared a conspiratory wink. "And the best part about running my own place? Whenever I decide to do a little 'research', I can tell everyone I need to do it for work."
The three fillies giggled. Patty smiled, and tucked the fillies' order pad into her apron. "Right. An Everfree Original, original-all-the-way, no side; a Perfect Potato Patty on potato bread, no sauce, with potato wedges; and a Golden Wheat on black bread, Detrot Style sauce, hay fries; and vanilla shakes for all of you. I'll be right back with your orders, dears."
As the crusading trio sat, their hooves tapping in anticipation, they could hear the sound of fresh patties hitting a grill, sizzling merrily, the smells of their patties filling the air. Soon, that was met by the sound of a mixer grinding up three milkshakes, and the popping sound of hay and potatoes being pan fried.
The pegasus filly spoke to her two friends. "You know, we didn't learn how to get our cutie marks... but it sure made me hungry!"
A deep, reptilian voice shouted from the back, as a heavy tray laden with three orders appeared in the kitchen window.
