Pie Day Fic!

[kelly_chambliss]

Today is National Pie Day in the US. (Seriously -- that's a Thing.)

Since I adore virtually any pie, sweet or savory (except peach and strawberry-rhubarb), I thought I would honor National Pie Day by giving you a Pie Fanfic.

A few years ago, a "thank-you comm" was created to honor the many fandom contributions of the wonderful therealsnape. Since TRS is a) a fan of Minerva/Poppy, and b) one of the best chefs going, I thought I'd combine these two elements into my tribute: a Minerva/Poppy food!fic.

Somehow, I never got around to posting the story anywhere else, but what better time to repost than National Pie Day?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Title: Muggle-icious
Author: kellychambliss
Pairing/Characters: Poppy/Minerva, Charity Burbage, Staffroom Cast of Thousands (give or take)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible chocolate overdose
Word Count: 3300
Summary: Poppy and Minerva make a little wager. Recipe included.

My grateful thanks to tetleythesecond for her invaluable help with metric measurements.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Merlin's polka-dotted drawers!"

That's what Poppy Pomfrey's grandmother had always said in moments of exasperation, and the words sprang automatically to Poppy's mind as she looked at the mountain of ingredients that sat front of her, waiting to be turned into something fit to eat.

It wasn't that Poppy was panicking. Not at all. Poppy wasn't prone to panic. How could she be? No one could be a medi-witch to children unless she had a very strong nerve indeed.

But upset stomachs and accidental transfigurations were one thing; this current situation was quite another.

Still, Poppy was determined not to give in. She was a trained healer, proficient in potions and charms. She could do this. She was not the panicking sort.

Nor was she the sort to blame others for her own predicaments. But if she had been, she would have said that this was all Minerva McGonagall's fault. It had been Minerva, after all, who had challenged her to this ridiculous bet in the first place.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Of course, the whole business had really started with Charity Burbage and her idea of sponsoring a "Muggle Day" contest. "You know," she'd said in the staff room only last week, "something where students would compete to see who could create the tastiest food using only Muggle cooking techniques."

Her colleagues had met this plan with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Severus had drawled that he'd need to lay in a new supply of bezoars if they were all going to have to risk poisoning themselves with Muggle concoctions made by dunderheads, and Sybill had fluttered wide-eyed to her feet and proclaimed that Muggle-prepared foods were well-known to cause prophetic nightmares in magical people. Even Pomona had been skeptical, worrying that the students would plunder her vegetable patches in search of carrots or rocket.

Poor Charity had looked so disappointed that Poppy felt moved to reassure her. So she'd summoned her best "you're-going-to-be-fine" tones and said, "Pomona, I don't think we need worry that the students will want to ply us with too many healthy greens. And Severus, I'm sure the only poisoning is going to come from our sampling too many sweets. Come on, it could be fun to have the students make us some nice biscuits or fairy cakes. It can't be that difficult -- Muggles do it every day."

And that's when Minerva had stood up. Her eyes had been lit with that spark of amused deviltry that should have sounded all sorts of warning bells in Poppy's head, but unfortunately, she'd been distracted by the memory of what had happened the last time Minerva's face had worn that look. They'd barely made it out of bed in time for Christmas dinner, and Albus had twinkled at them with an irritating brightness that told Poppy he understood exactly why her face was so flushed.

Yes, she had been distracted, and she'd wanted to support Charity, so when Minerva said, "Not that difficult to cook like a Muggle? Would you like to make a little wager to that effect?" Poppy had spoken the fatal words.

She'd said, "Of course."

"You'll prepare anything I ask for?" Minerva said, but before Poppy could reply, "Certainly not," for she had enough of her wits left about her to see the dangers of that proposal, Charity had said eagerly, "Oh, I have just the perfect recipe. It's easy and so tasty."

"All right," Poppy had agreed. At least Charity's recipe, whatever it was, probably wouldn’t require Poppy to spend hours standing elbow-deep in sheep stomach.

"And when will this demonstration of every-day Muggleness occur?" Severus had asked.

Poppy thought. There weren't many weekends without either a Quidditch match or a Hogsmeade visit -- and their inevitable demands on the school healer. It would have to be. . .

"This Saturday," Poppy said. "On Saturday, Minerva, I'll make Charity's recipe, and if the result isn't edible -- according to Charity's judgment -- I'll take your next Hogsmeade chaperoning duties."

Pomona had asked, "Minerva? What will you do if Poppy wins?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," Minerva answered, and the deviltry in her eyes increased until Poppy would have sworn she could see the actual imps dancing behind the spectacles.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And now it was Saturday morning, and here Poppy stood, in the Muggle kitchen of Charity's mother, surrounded by chocolate and eggs and cream and Muggle baking implements and cookbooks and Edna Burbage's hand-written instructions on how to bring heat into the oven.

If only Poppy had been the sort of woman who could have said it was all Minerva's fault.

But she wasn't, so now there was nothing for it but to prepare this recipe. Charity had written it out on a card and spello -- no, sellotaped it to the cabinet door, where it stared accusingly at Poppy.

Chocolate Mousse Pie au Rhum

Well, Poppy thought, at least Charity had been right that it sounded tasty -- though perhaps not particularly easy on the arteries. And the list of ingredients was only mildly daunting; it hadn't really been fair to call them a "mountain."

Minerva had agreed that Charity could accompany Poppy to the Muggle supermarket to buy the supplies, but now that the groceries trip was over, Poppy was on her own. Charity and Edna had obligingly (or cravenly) taken themselves out for a day of shopping and Muggle cinema.

Poppy adjusted her bifocal ocular charm and peered at the list. It was no different, she told herself staunchly, from preparing potions and remedies. One simply needed to be systematic and accurate.

First, did she have everything?

225 grams semi-sweet baking chocolate

Check. Charity had selected what she said was a particularly fine brand of chocolate, and now that Poppy was feeling a bit more in control, she could enjoy imagining how smooth it would taste in the final product. No wonder people thought chocolate was an aphrodisiac.

Sugar in the following amounts:
1 ½ tablespoons
125 grams

Sugar, yes, she had that. Quickly, Poppy checked the rest of the list:

60 ml water
Dash of salt
8 eggs
5 ml vanilla and 60 ml dark rum OR 20 ml orange liqueur (omit the vanilla)
Whipped cream for garnish

Well, everything seemed accounted for. When they'd discussed the recipe in the staff room, Charity had said she liked both the rum and orange versions equally, but Poppy had decided to go with the rum.

Minerva had laughed. "Because Muggle cooking is a rum business?" she'd asked, earning a chuckle from Filius and a snort from Severus. In fact, every person in the room seemed to be listening. Even Cuthbert floated past to look over Charity's shoulder at the recipe.

Part of Poppy wished her friends and colleagues hadn't been paying quite such close attention to this bet. But another part of her was looking forward to impressing them with a rum-chocolate masterpiece. A little something to remind them of her abilities, since over the years, everyone had come to take her skills at mending bones and curing hexes rather too much for granted.

Well, Minerva still appreciated a few of her skills, of course. But that was a different matter entirely.

All right, then. Poppy girded her mental loins and looked at Step One of the recipe.

1. Sprinkle 1 ½ tablespoons sugar on the bottom and sides of a well-buttered 23-cm pie pan.

Easy enough. The buttering turned out to be rather fun to do by hand instead of by wand, and Poppy felt almost like a real Muggle as she confidently scattered the sugar across the pan. Perhaps she wasn't going to be taking Minerva's students to Hogsmeade after all.

2. Melt the chocolate in the water over very low heat, stirring constantly until smooth. Remove from heat.

Here Poppy paused. This step was going to require lighting the gas -- and doing it without a wand. What had Charity said? Just turn the knob -- dial -- and wait for the clicks? And then the gas would come on? Could it be that easy?

It must be, she thought bracingly. After all, as she'd said in the staffroom when this whole thing started -- "Muggles do it every day."

If her years as a healer had taught her nothing else, they'd taught Poppy the value of practical experimentation. Taking a deep breath, she turned the dial on the cook top. Yes, there were the clicks, and . . .

Merlin! With a little cry, Poppy jumped backward as a rush of blue flame whooshed from the cooker. Keep it low, Charity had said, so quickly, Poppy turned the dial again, sighing with relief when the flame retreated to a manageable level.

"Very low heat," though, the recipe said. Poppy tried lowering the level. . .lowering. . .damn. The pesky thing had gone out entirely.

Well, one could find many entertaining things to do in Hogsmeade.

Sighing, Poppy tried again, and after her third attempt, she managed to create a sustained low flame. Perhaps you were supposed to try it three times; perhaps Muggles used the magic of the number three in cooking, just as wizards did. If so, she did think Charity ought to have mentioned it.

But finally Poppy had a nice little pan full of glistening melted chocolate, and she removed it from the heat to set aside, feeling what she hoped was a pardonable flutter of pride. She'd turned on the burners and hadn't blown up the house in the process. She could only imagine what Severus would have said if she had -- "Even Longbottom can manage to light a fire, Poppy!"

The thought made her grin, and she relaxed a little as she turned to Step Three.

3. Separate eggs.

She felt the smile bleed from her face as she looked at the smooth, crack-free ovals sitting snug in their box on the counter. Separate the eggs. Oh, dear. Even though Charity had given her a little Muggle gadget that let you catch the yolk unbroken while the white dripped clear, Poppy just knew this procedure was not going to be easy.

With her wand, of course, the separation would be as nothing. A few flicks, and she could have a lovely bowl of egg whites and a lovely bowl of yolks all ready to go.

Poppy stood still as temptation swelled in her breast, but very soon her face assumed an expression of steadfast purpose that generations of Hogwarts students knew very well, an expression that brooked no argument and accepted no excuses: the expression that said one was going to take one's medicine.

And Poppy was going to take hers. She'd given her word that she was going to make this pie the Muggle way, and she was going to make it the Muggle way. She felt, and Minerva always agreed, that if you couldn't trust your own word, you couldn't trust anything.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? She'd ruin all the eggs and have to buy more. As consequences went, this one wasn't even as bad as a dose of Pepper-Up.

In the event, she ruined only two of the eggs before she got the hang of the little gadget. Very handy, it was. Poppy wasn't surprised, really. Unlike some wizarding families, the Pomfreys had never been ones to deny that in their way, Muggles could be very clever indeed.

Buoyed by the fact that even without her wand, she'd still managed to produce a lovely bowl of whites and a lovely bowl of yolks, Poppy turned her attention to Step Four.

4. Beat egg yolks; gradually add 125 grams sugar and continue beating until the yolks are thick and light yellow in colour.

Beat the yolks. Right.

She turned to the monstrosity that was Edna Burbage's Muggle "electric mixer." It loomed on the counter, bringing a little shiver of nervousness to Poppy's stomach.

"Enough, Madam Pomfrey," she told herself firmly. No, she would not let the thing intimidate her. She'd been allowing the sheer strangeness of this world affect her far too much, and it was time she took herself in hand. If this pile of metal and plugs had been a disease and not a Muggle appliance, she'd soon show it who was in charge, wouldn't she? Well, then.

Poppy tipped the egg yolks into the metal bowl and hesitated only the tiniest bit before pushing the button that Charity had explained started the electricity.

The noise was loud, but she'd heard worse, and soon the mixing bowl was spinning merrily. Poppy poured in the sugar and watched the yolks go from canary-yellow to lemon and felt a surge of satisfaction. So far, so good.

5. Blend in chocolate and rum / vanilla or orange liqueur.

This step, too, was accomplished without trouble, and Poppy removed the bowl from underneath the mixing blades with no small satisfaction. Onward!

6. Beat egg whites and salt into stiff peaks. Fold in chocolate mixture, blend well.

Carefully, Poppy washed the beaters clean of all traces of egg yolk and readied the mixer for another go. Absolutely pristine instrumentation -- that was one key to success in healing, and she couldn't imagine that the principle would be any different with Muggle cookery.

The result of her new labours was a bowl full of thick chocolate creaminess, and Poppy beamed at it much as she would have done at a child who had dutifully swallowed a nasty-tasting potion. Only one more step now until she could take a well-earned break.

7. Measure four cups (about one litre) of chocolate mixture into pie pan. Bake in a 180-degree oven for 25-30 minutes, or until puffed and firm. Chill the remaining chocolate mixture.

This part was going to be fun -- and easy, too. After the pan was finished baking, the next step was, 8. Cool fifteen minutes and then refrigerate for one hour.

Charity had explained that after the chilling, the puffed chocolate would fall in the centre, forming a dense pie shell. "It's magic," she'd laughed.

Severus had rolled his eyes. "It's basic potions theory," he'd countered.

Rolanda had silenced them both. "It's chocolate," she'd said firmly, and Poppy had to admit that as a last word, "chocolate" could hardly be surpassed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Poppy had just slid the pie pan and its aromatic contents into the electric cooling box, the "refrigerator," when Charity and her mother returned from the cinema, talking animatedly and bearing a white pasteboard box.

"I hope you haven't been sampling too many of your wares, Poppy," Charity said, flourishing the box, "because we've brought Eccles cakes and raspberry tarts."

"We thought you'd be ready for a cup of tea about now," Edna added. "I'll put the kettle on."

Poppy sank gratefully into a chair at the kitchen table. Really, this Muggle cooking was more arduous than she'd expected. As always when she ventured into the Muggle world, her admiration for their fortitude increased. It must be a difficult life in a many ways. Not that she believed magical folk were automatically superior, but. . .well, she did think it would be hard lines to have to live with some of the things Muggles had to tolerate. Like broken bones that took weeks to mend, for example.

Still, she had to admit that Muggles had it all over wizards in some respects. Automobiles, now -- they were a much more comfortable form of travel than brooms.

"How was the film?" she enquired of Charity and Edna, and by the time they'd told her all about it, and the tea had been drunk, and the cakes eaten, it was time to finish making the pie.

"Last step!" said Charity, checking the recipe, "and it's an easy one." Stepping behind her, Poppy read,

9. Spoon the remaining mousse into chilled shell. Chill for at least three hours; serve with whipped cream as garnish.

Though she'd had no reason to believe the shell wouldn't collapse just as Charity had said it would, Poppy was nonetheless relieved to see that it had behaved exactly as it was supposed to, forming a dark-brown crater into which she could pile the rest of the mousse. She spooned it in happily, swirling the sides into a smooth mound using nothing but Muggle utensils.

"It looks perfect," Charity said, and Poppy couldn't deny it.

What with washing up the dishes the Muggle way and whipping the cream for garnish and talking and having another cup of tea, Poppy passed the three hours of chilling time very pleasantly.

Still, she wasn't sorry when Edna asked, "Ready to put on the finishing touches?" She was eager to return to her life and world: to the staff room with its dear, bickering colleagues, to the Great Hall with its lively students and the promise of dinner, and finally, last but so not least, to her sitting room with its comfortable chintz settee. . .and its Minerva.

Poppy was eager, in short, to go home.

And what a triumphant homecoming it was going to be! Poppy didn't even try to hide her glee at how fine the chocolate pie looked once she'd piped on the whipped cream (and how tricky was that Muggle piping tool? She'd had to scoop off the cream and start over so often that she feared she'd turn the stuff to butter before she was done).

But done she finally was.

"It's a work of art," Charity said solemnly, after the last edge was trimmed.

"I'm impressed," Edna agreed. "It's not often that a witch is so much the equal of a Muggle."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The chocolate mousse pie au rhum sat on the staffroom table, the rich, dark chocolate crust peeping enticingly over the edge of the glass plate, the lighter-brown filling rising above it in a decadent heap, the snowy whipped cream marching in puffy clouds around the edge, fresh mint leaves decorating the top.

"Guaranteed 100% Muggle-made," Charity announced.

"It looks beautiful, Poppy," Pomona said, and the others were effusive in their praise, with even Severus allowing that the pie "looked about as appetizing as anything so tooth-rotting could."

Then Rolanda cleared her throat. "The proof of the pudding, you know. . ." she said meaningfully, conjuring a plate and knife and sending them floating toward Charity. "Burbage, aren't you supposed to be the judge?"

Everyone watched Charity as she served herself a slice, took a bite, and swallowed slowly. "Delicious," she declared finally.

Pomona applauded, and Poppy relished the chance to raise her eyebrow to Minerva this once. Minerva tried to look stern but failed, instead smiling at Poppy with a pleasure that was altogether unseemly in someone who had just thoroughly lost a bet. Poppy grinned back.

The next few minutes were occupied with slicing and serving, and Poppy had just let the first bite of chocolate goodness melt in her mouth when she felt Minerva's hand on her arm.

"I believe I have a debt to pay," Minerva said.

"I believe you do," Poppy agreed, raising another forkful of pie to her lips.

But before she could eat it, Minerva deftly plucked both fork and plate from her hands and set them on the table.

"No time for that now," she said. "We've an appointment with a portkey in ten minutes. And in any case, you wouldn't want to spoil your dinner in Paris."

Poppy felt her eyes widen. "We're having dinner in Paris?"

"Mmmmm. And breakfast. Among other things," Minerva said, linking her arm through Poppy's and leading her towards the door. "Why not? Muggles do it every day."





(Note -- This photo doesn't show the pie made from the recipe; I don't have a picture of that one. But as Rolanda would say, it's chocolate -- and serious chocolate at that. So I hope this pic will do.)

Pie Recipe in US Measurements

--1 and 1/2 tablespoons sugar
--8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate
--1/4 cup water
--8 eggs, separated
--2/3 cup sugar
--1 and 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
--1 teaspoon rum extract OR 1/4 cup dark rum OR 2 tablespoons orange liqueur (omit the vanilla if using orange. Use a bit more if you want more orange flavor. You can experiment with other flavorings, too.)
dash of salt
--1 cup whipped cream for garnish, plus orange slices or mint leaves

Follow the same numbered directions that Poppy used above. Enjoy!