Peaches or Apples?

by Workable Goblin

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life
Length: 3026

When Applejack and her neighbor begin to argue about the merits of their respective produce, Twilight Sparkle knows just how to resolve their dispute.

Soon after discovering Rainbow Power, Twilight Sparkle comes across Applejack arguing with a neighbor about the merits of their respective produce. Fortunately, Twilight's been reading and knows just the right way to answer the question once and for all: a cook-off!

So which are you for? Peaches, or Apples...?

Published 2016-05-30 17:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-30 17:40:01 UTC

Well, which?

“Twilight...Sparkle,” I slowly mutter as my quill scratches quickly across the page, signing my name at the bottom. A moment later, the quill floats down to my desk, while the sheet of paper I was just filling out floats upwards, heading over to the huge stack of similar papers in my outbox before flipping upside down and putting itself on top. Who knew there was so much paperwork associated with magic plants growing you a new castle?

With the mass of forms filled out, properly stacked, and ready to send off, I flop back on my couch. For a moment, I just luxuriate in the feeling of a job well done, before raising my head. I eye the pile of books I’ve been meaning to get to in the corner, but to be honest I’m not terribly enthusiastic about spending any more time in my office, whether or not I’m working. Instead...I roll over and look back behind me, towards the French doors separating the office from the outside balcony. I never realized, until I got my wings, just how convenient outside balconies are, but now I can hardly imagine having a home without them. It certainly helps me understand some of Celestia and Luna’s choices in architecture.

Regardless, the balcony promises fresh air, sunlight, and a nice break, so an instant later I roll back upright and spring off my couch, trotting over to the doors and nudging them open. I slip out onto the balcony and spread my wings, just standing there for a moment while I take in the day. Then I dive off the balcony.

Now, I might not be threatening Rainbow Dash anytime soon (she still laughs at me at our weekly get-togethers), but I’ve gotten a lot better at flying since I was coronated, and it only takes me a moment before I catch myself and start really flying. Since I got my wings, I can at least appreciate why she enjoys flying so much; it really is something to cruise through the air above Ponyville, without a care in the world. Gradually, my course takes me towards the Everfree, though I carefully keep away from the forest itself, and eventually I drift over the apple orchard. I don’t see anypony but Big Mac, doing something or the other near the edge of one of the smaller fields out there. I think about dropping down to say hello, but today I’d rather go flying than talk to Big Mac, so I press onwards.

As I near the edge of the orchard, I hear muffled shouting from below. I look down to scan the ground, but I can’t see anything through the trees, so I fold one wing and snap into a steep dive, plummeting towards the ground the way I’ve seen Rainbow do it. Now, I may not be as good as she is, but I think this time even she’d be a little impressed. At least, I didn’t crash or hurt myself or crash and hurt myself, even though I had to go through a tree canopy.

As I land, I see Applejack standing, red-faced, with more than a few strands sticking out from her ponytail, on one side of a road running under the trees, while across from her is another pony whom I cannot place, as big and broad-shouldered as Applejack but sporting a deep brown coat and windblown brown mane and tail to Applejack’s pale coat and blonde ponytails. Only a few patches of white around her ankles and mouth break up her dull colors, along with her cutie mark, a golden peach bearing a single leaf. As she turns her head towards me, I see another point of similarity with Applejack; her eyes, too, are brilliantly green. I can also see her mouth turning into a little o as she sees me.

“All right, what’s going on?” I ask right away, but it’s too late; she’s already flung herself onto the ground in prostration. “Princess!” she squeaks a moment later.

“Please,” I say, maybe blushing a little. “I’m ‘Twilight’. Not ‘Princess’.”

She looks up at me and chews her lower lip a little. “O-okay,” she says a moment later.

“And I don’t need ponies prostrating themselves at my feet,” I add in what I hope is a gentle tone.

Fortunately, she catches the hint and scrambles to her feet a moment later, though not before giving me a dip of her head.

“So, what’s going on?” I repeat, now that the...formalities have been dispensed with.

Applejack scowls. “Ain’t nothing worth bothering you about, Twilight,” she says, before her opposite number can get a word in edgewise.

“I could hear you at fifty feet,” I point out. “I think I’m bothered.”

Applejack manages to scowl a little deeper, but before she can say anything the other mare inserts herself. “It was just an argument we have sometimes, Princess,” she says, smiling slightly. “Peaches, or apples?”

“And you were shouting at each other about that?” I look back and forth between them. “Aren’t they both pretty good?”

Both of them laugh at that, though it’s sucked up by the orchards around us. As their laughter dies down and they wipe the tears away from their eyes, Applejack explains, “I ain’t denyin’ the appeal of a decent peach, but in a pinch, which would you rather have: a peach or a crunchy, sweet apple?”

“Well...” I temporize. Applejack is a good friend, and I do like apples, but I like peaches too, and it’s not that easy to choose between them.

Before I can say anything, the other mare says “Yeah, a juicy, ripe, sweet-as-sin peach or a crunchy old sour apple?”

Applejack scowls again, and the thunder in her eyes is strong enough that I ready my horn in case I have to stop her from doing something stupid. But she just says, “Now, that ain’t fair, Peach, and you know it. I could just as well say, ‘a hard, early, tasteless peach?’ and Twi’d be just as biased towards me as she is towards you.”

But Peach just smiles a little and says, “Or I could ask her about peach cobbler.”

“Apple pie!”

“Preserves.”

“Butter!”

“Brandy!”

“Cider!”

They both turn towards me at the same time (it’s a little unnerving). “Well?” they say, as if they were one and the same. “Which one?”

My stomach rumbles. “Both,” I say again, and both of them laugh again.

“You know, you’re not giving me much of a chance to decide,” I complain. “You’re just asking me to decide...on...the...” I have an idea. A wonderful idea. Even a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.

“How about a cook-off?” I say a moment later.

“Cook-off?” Applejack asks, followed a moment later by Peach.

“Cooking competition,” I explain. “I’ve been reading about social food gatherings lately, and...”

Applejack sniggers, but I ignore her and plow on. “They’re pretty common. You just have different ponies cooking something, and then others taste it and pick which pony made whatever it is best. There are regular cook-offs for pretty much anything you can imagine. Why don’t we have a cook-off for peaches versus apples? You can each bring the pick of your crop and your best recipes, and I can taste both of them and choose between them. Anything left over we can give away, or sell and give the money to somepony who needs it.”

“That don't sound half-bad,” Applejack says after a little bit of thought, and a moment later Peach nods. “When were you thinking about doing this?”

I think for a moment. “How about the Summer Wrap-Up?” I suggest. “It’s not for a week and a half, so there should be enough time for you two to prepare.”

Applejack thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “Sounds good to me. We Apples ought to be able to whip something up by then.”

Peach looks like she’s thinking a bit harder than Applejack, but she nods a few moments after the other mare has declared herself in favor. “Sure, the Peaches’ll be able to make it.”

“Alright!” I exclaim. “Then we’ll have the first Apples or Peaches cook-off at the Summer Wrap-Up celebration. I’ll make sure Mayor Mare and Pinkie Pie know what’s going on. You two just need to come with food.”

Applejack nods, turns, and trots away, heading off down the road. As she leaves, I turn towards the other mare. “You know,” I say, “I never actually asked your name, Peach...?”

“Peach Brandy,” she says. “Well, I got to get back to work, so I’ll be seeing you, Princess!”

I begin to rethink my proposal when Applejack and Peach Brandy, pinning me in on both sides, escort me to my seat at the judging table. On either side of me is a mountain of peach and apple-based foods. I haven’t eaten anything all day in preparation, and my stomach rumbles as I sit down, but it sounds more like a whimper of anticipation than a cry of hunger.

While I am contemplating my choices in life, particularly my choice of making friends with Applejack and my choice of trying to peacefully resolve disputes, Applejack raises her head and says, in a crowd-stopping voice, “Hey! Hey now, y’all! Yeah, over here! Twilight here’s volunteered to judge whether apples—“

A section of the crowd anchored by Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom cheers. Applejack smiles for a moment before Peach Brandy clears her throat and Applejack hurriedly continues, “—or peaches are the better fruit! Now, she’s gonna eat allllllll of this,” she says, waving her hoof over the piles of food on the table, “and then render judgement. So, without further ado, let’s start!”

Peach Brandy reaches down and picks up a peach from her side of the table, offering it to me. I pick it up in my magic and take a bite and oh dear Celestia it’s good! It’s sweet and juicy, perfectly ripe, as I suppose I should have expected, the very sort of thing that made me like peaches in the first place. I’m almost ready to declare Peach Brandy the winner without taking another bite.

That, however, would be unfair, so instead I finish chewing and swallowing my bite of peach, before I put it down gently on the plate before me and Applejack hoofs over an apple. I lift it to my mouth and bite. It doesn't quite go through me like an electric shock, the way the peach did, but it's still very good, initially sweet but with a hint of sourness touching my tongue as I finish chewing, while crisp and solid in a way that no peach ever was.

I put the apple down after swallowing. The corners of Applejack's eyes crinkle as she asks, "So, which one was better?"

Peach Brandy leans down, a hint of a smile on her muzzle. "Yes, tell us, which did you like better?"

I answer, perhaps a bit too primly, "The rules are that I will render judgement after I'm done, not before. What's next?"

Peach gazpacho, it turns out, and an apple salad. The gazpacho is a nice cool refresher on this last hot day of summer, though the combination of crisp and sweet apples, crisp but not-sweet lettuce, and sharp cheese in the salad certainly has its attractions. I'm not allowed much time to savor them as I finish before they're yanked away and a pair of sandwiches, melted cheese dripping from between the slices of the bread, end up on my plate. I bite into one of them and discover a matrix of melted cheese enclosing tart chunks of apple, while the other, I soon learn, involves a peach-based sauce gripping melted pepper-infused cheese, creating a delicious contrast between sweet fruitiness and spicy heat.

When I finish them, they finally dish up the main courses. Peach Brandy slides a plate with an enchilada, smothered in a dark mole, toward me. As it approaches, I grip it in my magic and lift it to my mouth, taking a quick bite out of the end. Evidently their sweet-spicy sandwich was just a warm-up, because this hews to the same formula; gooey, melted cheese mixed with spicy peppers in the center along with a sweeter, peachy sauce around the outside. It's even better, though, maybe because of the crunchiness of the tortilla adding an entirely new layer to the idea. Whether or not that's the case, I savor it before I turn to the dish that the Apples have prepared, a plate of rice topped with chunks of tofu swimming in a reddish sauce flecked with pieces of apple. The Apples did a better job with the tofu than I would have expected, but the sauce is the real star here, sweet but with a slight hint of sourness that's accentuated whenever I bite into one of the tart, sour chunks of apple.

As I finish, Applejack and Peach Brandy lean down again. "So?" they ask, almost simultaneously. "Who's winning?"

I deliberately dab at my mouth with my napkin, channeling Rarity to buy myself some time, before I respond, "I haven't made up my mind yet. What's next?"

Grilled peaches and baked apples, it turns out, as a palate cleanser, before they finally, finally, finally get into what we're all really here for, dessert. It takes about, oh, half a second before it's clear that everything I've downed so far was just a warm-up, as Applejack on the one hoof and Peach Brandy on the other start bringing out seemingly endless waves of baked goods, sometimes served a la mode, sometimes not. Apple fritters and peach tarts, peach cobbler and apple pie, apple compote and peach ice: it all flows out to me, and all down my throat, disappearing into my increasingly stuffed belly. And, to my increasing discomfort, it's all good. Occasionally, I must admit, one side or the other will be clearly superior to the other, but those are invariably balanced out by a superiority by the other side shortly afterwards, and most of the dishes are exactly and precisely balanced so that I cannot say whether the peaches were better than the apples or vice versa.

Fortunately, nopony else seems to be noticing my increasing discomfiture, since with the beginning of the dessert menu the Apples and Peaches have started redirecting part of their output to the crowd. Everypony seems too distracted by enjoying their own apple fritters or peach cobbler or apple ice cream to notice my troubles.

Finally, I break. Applejack sidles up with another dessert and I moan, "No, please. I just can't eat any more."

She smiles and slides the plate onto the table. "Sure enough, sugarcube. But, I gotta ask, who's ahead?"

"I--"

"Yes, who's going to win?" Peach asks as she slides in on the other side.

"I just don't know!" I burst out. "I don't know! Every time you brought out something that was better," I say, gesturing at Applejack, "you'd bring out something just as good afterwards!" I finish, pointing at Peach Brandy. "And most of the time, anyway, everything you brought out was just as good as everything you brought out, so there was no way to choose between you!"

A slight frown graces Applejack's muzzle for an instant before the corners of her mouth turn upwards and she starts laughing. I hear Peach join in a moment later.

"What?" I demand as they stand there guffawing. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, sugarcube," Applejack says as the laughter dies down. "But we already figured that one out."

"What?" I say. "But when I met you--"

"A friendly sort of thing," Peach Brandy says. "Like Applejack and Rainbow Dash, when it comes to athletics. We've eaten together often enough to appreciate apples and peaches. Did you think we'd lived next to each other so long without getting to know each other?"

"...no, I guess not." I admit. "But why accept the cook-off, then?"

"Well, shoot, it sounded like fun," Applejack says.

"Indeed, and a way to show off to everypony. Don't deny it, Applejack."

"I won't," she says with a grin.

"You could have told me that before I ate so much I feel like a beached whale," I mutter at both of them. "I just want to go lie down."

"Sure thing, sugarcube, but you need to render your verdict first," Applejack says.

"Eergh," I mutter, but I push myself back to sit upright and charge my horn. "Hello? Can everypony hear me?" I say, and everypony at the fair turns towards me. "I guess so. Alright, um, I'm judging the Peaches-Apples Cook-Off and, after sampling the many tasty dishes the Peaches and Apples made, I've, um, it's a tie! It's a tie," I repeat, a little more loudly.

Everypony looking at me smiles, or so it seems. A few of them--Pinkie, Rainbow--wave. Most of them just turn back when I'm done and get back to eating their own slices of apple cake or peach pie. Nopony cared, I guess. I don't know what to think about that.

"Alright, sugarcube, let's get you home so you can have your lie-down," Applejack says, and I struggle to my feet, leaning against her as she leads me back towards my castle.

Peach Brandy follows, and as we leave the fair grounds she asks, "So, Applejack, shall we do that again next year?"

"I was thinking about it," Applejack answers.

"I'm not judging," I mutter, rubbing my swollen belly.

Peach laughs. "No, I was thinking the Mayor--"

"--And maybe the town council," Applejack says. "Though I don't know about judging anyway. Maybe as master of ceremonies--"

Peach nods. "That's an idea. We should get together and plan."

"I can help," I interject.

"Sure," Applejack agrees. "You're good at planning. But first--"

I look up. Somehow, we've managed to stagger all the way over to my castle. I climb up the front stairs before turning back towards Applejack and Peach Brandy.

"See you tomorrow!" I tell them.

"Tomorrow!" they agree, and I turn back to my castle, and a well-deserved nap.