Pictures of the Past (At The Wrong Time)
Following the Steps is Optional
"Hey, uh, could you pass me the flour?"
A snicker. "Sure thing, Feathers."
Featherweight rolled his eyes, but failed to suppress a quiet chuckle, as he felt the weight of the bag of flour on his outstretched hoof. His wings unfurled as they flapped to keep him at a steady hover. Grasping the bag with both his hooves, he maneuvered himself over the mixing bowl and very carefully tipped it to fill the bowl to the marked line. "Really, Babs? 'Feathers'? Not even a week into our marriage and you're already coming up with a 'pet name' for me?"
"Hey, most ponies I know come up with a nickname while they're dating. A whole year of us dating and I never called you anything but your name, so it was sooner or later!" Babs stuck her tongue out playfully and trotted to the other side of the kitchen. The colorful aroma pouring out of the oven smacked her in the snout, and she had to resist the urge to drool on the spot. "Mmmmm... I think the mincemeat is ready."
"Wha- already?!" Featherweight whipped his head around to squint at the oven. "My alarm hasn't even rang yet!"
"Alarm?" Babs cocked her head, then turned her gaze to the countertop beside her where the familiar little clock sat. "Oh, that's what this was for? My bad, I thought that was for you to remind yourself to prepare the pastry."
"No! It's for the-" Featherweight's eyes widened. "Um... wait, you shut it off earlier?"
"Yeah."
"How long ago?!"
"Uh... about ten minutes ago."
"Ten minu- take it out already!
Babs blinked.
"Now!"
Babs stared at him for a second before realizing. "Oh, hayfeathers!" She frantically shoved on a pair of hoofmits and pulled open the oven door. Immediately, her face was met with a deluge of black smoke, sending her into a fit of hacks and coughs. "What the hay? Why wasn't there any smoke coming out the entire time?!"
Featherweight dropped the bag of flour and reached for a nearby window to open it. He then glided over beside Babs, joining her in her coughing as he angled his wings to try to coax the smoke closer to the window. "Apparently Apple Bloom asked Starlight to put some sort of smoke filter enchantment on the oven door. She volunteered to do the cooking for last year's Hearthswarming. She, um, completely burnt the apple pies."
Babs chuckled as she played the scene out in her head. "She's still burnin' the pies? She's a grown mare now, I'd think she'd be able to handle a silly pie by now."
Featherweight shrugged, waving his hoof around to clear more smoke away from his face. "That's exactly what Applejack said. And what I said."
A thought crossed her mind and she narrowed her eyes. "Wait, how come you know this and I don't? I've known them way longer than you!"
"Ahhh, Apple Bloom was pretty embarrassed. Only Applejack and I know about it. Somehow, Applejack was able to whip up a fresh batch of pies in time for the actual lunch while everypony else was hanging around outside."
"Okay, I get Applejack, but what about you? We were here together last year!"
"I overheard it while in the bathroom. I could smell it from there too."
"Fine fine." Babs answered, more or less satisfied with the explanation and already devising how she would tease her cousin about it in the future. With the smoke dissipated enough, she reached her hoof inside the oven and pulled out casserole dish containing the bubbling and slightly blackened mincemeat. She winced at the sight. "Oooooh... I mean, we could just cut out the black parts, right?"
Featherweight deadpanned, but rolled his eyes with a smile. "Just for messing up my timer, you'll be doing that, Babs." Ignoring her playful scoff, he returned to his mixing bowl, only to cringe in annoyance. Apparently in his panic to fan the smoke, he'd dumped the entire bag of flour into the bowl.
"Snrk"
Without even looking, he extended his left wing to gently bap at his wife's snoot just behind his shoulder.
"Hey!"
"Serves you right." Thankfully, he hadn't added the coconut oil yet, so the mess was still salvageable. Cautiously, he lifted the mixing bowl and began slowly pouring some of the excess flour back into the bag.
Babs chuckled and snatched one of the wooden spoons from the wall, starting to carefully scrape off the charred bits off the top of the mincemeat. Her eyes trailed to the nearby fridge, where significantly more photos than ever before hang scattered throughout its side and door. "Have I told you how much nicer it's been ever since you started doing the pictures for our family's reunions and parties?"
Featherweight laughed as he finally got the last of the excess flour out of the bowl. "How could I forget, that's how we met, remember? But by all means, keep telling me."
Babs trotted over to the fridge and gazed at its plethora of photos. There were definitely way more photos than she'd ever seen, but the quality, lighting, and angles on the shots were much more professional. It helped after all to have somepony with a cutie mark in photography in charge of the, well, photos.
Applejack had been a bit hesitant at first to stop using the old, vintage tripod camera she'd been using since she was a filly, but being able to catch a lot more moments and memories in wayyy brighter quality was all worth it in the end, even to that old mare.
Her eyes drifted from picture to picture, gazing into the eyes of every smiling face, until they landed upon a very specific, memorable one. In the photo stood a line of familiar ponies from the Apple Family Reunion two years ago. To anypony else, there was nothing really special about this photo to make it stand out from the tens of other reunion pictures lining the fridge. But to her...
"Yo, Feathers, do you remember this picture?"
Featherweight turned around amidst pouring some coconut oil into his mixing bowl. "Which one?"
"The final picture of the Apple Family Reunion two years ago. Y'know, the first time we spoke to each other?"
"Ahh." Featherweight smiled and turned back to his bowl, grabbing a wooden spoon to begin mixing the oil and flour together. "Yep. How could I forget?"
In the bottom right corner of the picture were a pair of ponies, a young mare and stallion, the former's foreleg wrapped playfully behind the latter's shoulder. Babs bore a wide, mischievous grin, while Featherweight donned a more reserved, but pleasant smile.
"You were just gonna take our picture like you always do, but I convinced you last minute to get in on the last take."
"More like dragged my flank in there", Featherweight joked. He trotted over to the fridge and pulled it open with a wing. He flapped his wings into a hover and grabbed both a bottle of vodka in one hoof and a pre-prepared cup of icy water in the othee.
"Pfffft, that doesn't work here, you had to set your camera to a delay before joining us!"
"Was it two tablespoons of the vodka and fifty milliters of the water?" Featherweight's gaze shifted nervously between the cup and bottle in both of his hooves. "Or two tablespoons of water and fifty milliliters of vodka?"
"Uhhh... I think the second one?"
"Good enough to me." Featherweight floated over to the mixing bowl and began slowly measuring out fifty militers of the vodka. "Yes yes, fine, you convinced me." He poured the vodka in and reached for the water.
"Then after that was when we started writing to each other for a while, before we eventually began dating."
Featherweight turned around with a smirk. "You know, that reunion wasn't the first time I'd seen you."
Babs blinked. "Seriously? I think I'd remember if I talked to you before. You're very... distinct."
"Huh?" Featherweight tilted his head curiously. "No no, we didn't exactly, uh, talk yet. Do you remember when that mane salon you were working at in Manehattan was getting an article in the Canterlot Daily?"
"Hmmm." Babs looked up in thought. "Oh! Yes, three years ago, right?"
Featherweight nodded and reached for the vodka to begin measuring out two tablespoons of it. "I was the photographer the newspaper hired for the photos."
"Ohhh were you now?" Babs flashed a coy smile.
"Yep, I still have the picture too! I left a copy of the article here." He finished mashing together the mixture of flour, oil, and vodka, then trotted it over to the fridge and placed it in neatly. He closed the door, then brushed his hoof along the line of photos along the edge of the door. He eyed a specific one and carefully slipped out a piece of newspaper hidden underneath.
Manes of the City
Celebrates 5 Years
In The Big City!
Below the headline stood five smiling mares, all donning cutie marks relating to scissors in some way. And there on the furthest left was the all too familiar light brown coat and short, cherry red
mane of his newlywed wife.
"Ohhh, yes, that one. I could never forget that picture."
Featherweight blinked. "Oh, you remember this one specifically?"
Babs winked. "Yup, cause it's the first time I noticed you."
Featherweight paused. "You remember that? I mean, I remember it too, but only with the hindsight that we would end up together."
Babs snickered, reaching into the fridge to pull the mixing bowl out. She balanced it on her back as she carried it to the counter. "Oh yeah, I remember it. I dunno what it was, but I noticed you that day. And I, um, may or may not have followed you around while you were taking the pictures."
Featherweight gasped. "Seriously? You never told me that!"
Babs gave a mischievous smile. "I thought it'd be funnier to save that detail for later. And turns out I was right." She glanced at the mixing bowl, and her smile turned sheepish. "Um... what's the next step again?"
Featherweight rolled her eyes. "I think we are supposed to... cut the pastry up?"
"Into how many pieces?"
"However many pies we're making."
"...and how many pies are we making?"
Featherweight pondered for a moment. "I... don't remember actually. Probably ten."
"Mmmm, fine, ten it is." Babs reached across the counter for a nearby kitchen knife and pressed it to the top of the pastry. "Um, is it supposed to be this warm?"
Featherweight tilted his head in confusion. "It's still warm? It should've been chilled by now."
"How do you know?"
"That's what it said on the recipe!"
"Okay, well, where is the recipe?"
Featherweight glanced around awkwardly. "Not... on me right now?"
Baba blinked. "Do you mean to tell me we're trying to make mincemeat pies for the first time, and it's by your memory of a glimpse at the recipe?"
"Hey! It was way more than a glimpse, I studied that for hours when I was at the library earlier! You're the one that messed me up by turning off my alarm!"
Babs smirked devilishly. "My bad, then." She stared at the pastry in the mixing bowl. "Well, chilled or not, I'm cutting it now." She poured the still wet and steaming mix onto a cutting board and began awkwardly separating the aromatic goop into ten separate pieces. "I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be much harder than this."
Featherweight raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like the sort of thing I would say and you'd have a very specific and detailed retort to."
"Oh, you know me so well, Feathers." Babs smirked and snickered. "If it was any more detailed, your camera could snap a pic of it. Hehe, wouldn't that be something to keep in my wallet."
Featherweight whacked her in the back of the head with a wing. It did nothing but make her snicker harder. "Shush it, you. Keep talking like that and you'll never see it again."
Babs gasped in faux shock. "You wouldn't!"
Featherweight eyed the ten brown puddles of baked war crimes suspiciously. "Ahh, it's too late now, all or nothing", he muttered under his breath. "Next we have to mmm add the mincemeat."
"In what way?"
Featherweight shrugged. "On top of it?"
"You don't say. I meant if there's any special steps on how to arrange it or how much to add."
"Oh. Um... just put a gloop of mincemeat in the center of the pi-" he paused, unable to see anything resembling a pie before him. "In the center of each."
"How much is a gloop?"
"Just put a spoonful."
"How much is a spoo-" Babs ducked a swipe from Featherweight's wing. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" She proceeded to shovel scoops of mincemeat from the casserole dish onto the puddles of pastry. "So you really didn't know I was following you back then?"
Featherweight put a hoof to his chin in thought. "I mean, you were bugging me with questions awfuly lot not that I think about it, but no." He ignored the playful death glare being leveled at him. "But I bet you didn't know I was following you too."
"What?!" Babs spun around, accidentally dumping an extra large pile of mincemeat across the pastries. "Is that why you were there to take pictures in the first place?"
"Oh! No no no." Featherweight shook his head. "I wasn't that crazy... yet. The day after my visit though, I went by and scheduled a mane cut so I could see you again."
"You did?" Babs blinked in surprise. "I don't remember seeing you around."
"You were extremely focused on your job that day."
"Was I? Hmm. My colleagues used to say it's impossible to get my attention when I'm locked in like that, so fiiineee." Babs playfully nudged Featherweight with the side of her head. "So we were really eying each other before we even started writing?"
Featherweight laughed softly. "I guess so. Oh, uh, you're not supposed to put that much mincemeat on each."
Babs glanced back to her cutting board, where she had apparently drowned the pastries in mincemeat while she was talking. "Oh. Do you want to start over?"
Featherweight raised an eyebrow. "Not really, no."
"Then this is how much mincemeat we're getting. What's next?"
Featherweight eyed the massive globs of mincemeat with a wince. "Close enough, I guess. Uhhhh, I think that's it. We just pop it into the fridge and let it cool and harden, I think? Then tomorrow, we need to heat it in the oven for a bit to get it warm and crispy before joining it with the rest of Applejack's dishes."
"We're finally done? Sweet!" Babs pumped a hoof in the air victoriously, a sight at which Featherweight barely managed to suppress his chuckle.
Featherweight unfurled his wings and floated up to a steady hover, grasping the cutting board with both hooves as Babs trotted to the fridge to open it for him. With a single, swift motion, the mincemeat "pies" were deposited into the fridge, out of sight and out of mind until the Hearthswarming lunch the next day.
Babs gave a final peek at their concoction as she closed the fridge. "I think we botched the shape, but it sure smelled fine. I hear smell and taste are connected, and as long as it tastes fine, that's what counts, right?" She gave a tired yawn and snuck a peck at Featherweight's cheek, before nuzzling into his side.
Featherweight eyed the pre-measured glass of icy water still sitting untouched on the counter.
"Yep. This is fine."
"This ain't fine." Applejack suppressed a gag upon trying a bite of the pie. "How much vodka did you use?! All of it? There's more mince than pie here. Ah wouldn't have known these were pies if you hadn't told me, ah thought these were some fancy schmancy cookies."
Featherweight hovered in the air, his hooves tapping nervously together. He spared a desperate glance at his wife to the side, but upon seeing her fighting for her life to not collapse to the floor bursting into tears and laughter (and visibly failing miserably), he decided to just roll with it. "We... may have messed the recipe up a bit."
"'A bit' you say?" Applejack pressed a hoof to her chest, subconsciously brushing it against granny's scarf. "Heh. Well, I appreciate the effort and all, but it might be best to, well, not serve this today. Or at all." She caught his expression sink slightly and stepped forward. "That ain't all bad! It's rather good for your first try making somethin like this. Ah would just rather not have a, uh, repeat of when I tried baking muffins with Pinkie during apple bucking season manyyy ears ago, if y'all remember that."
She eyed both of the newlyweds as they failed to recall the incident. "No? Good, ah'd rather no one else have t' live with that memory." She shuddered. "Ah bet the pigs would love this though. Or Spike, that guy will eat anything."
Apple Bloom trotted up behind Featherweight and put a comforting hoof on his shoulder. "Hey, don't feel too bad. At least you made something!"
Babs smirked. "Unlike you last year, huh?"
Apple Bloom turned around with a scowl hinting with jest, her voice lowering. "You ain't supposed to know about that."
Babs matched her glare with a mischievous grin.
"And what are ya gonna do about it?"
Author's Note
The actual recipe issss here!
https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/vegan-mince-pies
I've never made this before, but I pray I don't mess it up as badly as these two did :'D
