Miss Pegasus' weird Oneshots

Soup Soup Soup

Poppy stared at the yellowed page in the old cookbook. The ink had already faded a little, but she could still make out her grandmother's cursive handwriting. Creamy Pumpkin Soup was written in large letters at the top of the page. "So, let's go through the ingredients list again," she said to Charlotte, who was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island. The black-haired woman nodded.

"One large butternut squash," Poppy read. Charlotte picked up the squash. "Check." "Two onions," Poppy continued. "Check." "About four tablespoons of butter." "Check." "1600 millilitres of vegetable stock." Charlotte waved the two measuring cups. "Double check." "200 grams of crème fraîche." "Check." "And for seasoning, salt, pepper, nutmeg and chilli flakes." "Check, check, check and check."

Poppy looked up from the recipe. "It seems like we have everything. And it doesn't sound that difficult. That should be doable." Charlotte tied her black curls into a ponytail. "It would be a laugh if we couldn't make your grandma's pumpkin soup." "Exactly!" Poppy agreed. "We're not stupid." The two friends gave each other a high-five and put on their aprons.

"Well, the first thing it says is that we should peel the pumpkin, remove the seeds and cut it into cubes." Poppy eyed the large butternut sceptically. "Where is the best place to start?" Charlotte shrugged. "Maybe we should cut it in half first? Then each of us will have a ball that we can chop up?" she suggested. Poppy agreed, and the two girls started working on the pumpkin. Charlotte took on the flower half, while Poppy got the stem half.

"What cheek! Why doesn't your half have any seeds?" Charlotte stared indignantly at Poppy's halved half of the pumpkin. They hadn't expected that. "Would you like to swap?" Poppy offered, but Charlotte shook her head with a smile. "No, it's fine. I can just about manage to deseed a pumpkin." Full of energy, she grabbed a large spoon and scraped the seeds out of the flesh. Suddenly, a load of flesh, including seeds, flew across the table and landed on Poppy's face. "What was that about 'I can manage that'?" giggled Poppy and picked up the pumpkin pieces from her sweater. Charlotte looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, I slipped." Poppy laughed. "It's okay. It can happen." The friends cheerfully continued to work on the pumpkin.

"Okay, next, we need to dice the onions and sauté them in the butter in the stockpot," Poppy explained as soon as the pumpkin was finished cutting. "I'll chop the onions, and you put the pot with the butter on, okay?" she suggested. Grateful for this suggestion, Charlotte got straight to work. She hated cutting onions. Her eyes were often still watering minutes later, and she was so blinded by the tears that cutting took forever. But Poppy also seemed to struggle with the onions. Sniffling, she chopped the vegetables while tears ran down her cheeks. "They're tough," the brunette commented with a tortured smile. But she bravely kept cutting and was quickly finished.

As if she couldn't get rid of the onion pieces fast enough, she rushed to the stove with the cutting board and pushed the onions into the hot butter. The hissing sound was like a satisfaction for her. "Onions are delicious, but do they always have to fight like that?" she complained, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. "They just don't want to be eaten," grinned Charlotte. "Yes, that's what I suspect, too," giggled Poppy.

While Charlotte stirred the onions so they didn't burn, Poppy read the next step in the recipe. "Okay, when the onions are translucent, add the pumpkin and fry it a little." The girls did as the recipe said and then poured the broth onto the fried vegetables. The pot was now quite full. The two peered into it suspiciously. "Do you really think the pot is big enough?" Charlotte asked sceptically. Poppy shrugged her shoulders. "Grandma always makes the soup in that pot. It'll probably boil away." She nodded confidently. "It needs to simmer for half an hour. There will be less water in it by then."

The two of them left the pot alone and tidied up the kitchen in the meantime. Charlotte had actually thrown the pulp halfway across the kitchen when she had cored the pumpkin. She found orange, slippery fibres far behind where Poppy had been standing. "Next time, you should aim better," joked Poppy, who was just picking up some pumpkin from the kitchen table. "You mean better at your face?" Charlotte asked teasingly, earning an approving chuckle from Poppy.

"Your grandma will be delighted when she sees the soup," Charlotte beamed a few minutes later as they washed the boards. "I hope so," replied Poppy. "She made the soup every autumn. She must have cooked it at least twice a month. It always gave me a feeling of security, and I would like to be able to give that back to Grandma."

When the kitchen was sparkling again, the half-hour cooking was up and the pumpkin was boiled until soft. "Now we have to puree the whole thing." Poppy pulled out her wand and drew a few circles over the pot. The pumpkin disintegrated and mixed with the broth to form a creamy, homogeneous liquid. The soup was almost ready. All that was missing was the crème fraîche and the spices. They eagerly added the remaining ingredients to the bubbling soup and stirred diligently. The crème fraîche left white trails through the bright orange soup, and the chilli flakes glowed red between the increasingly lighter liquid.

Charlotte shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. Her stomach was growling, and the soup took forever to finally be ready. Suddenly, an air bubble burst in the pot, and hot soup splashed towards Charlotte and Poppy. Orange spots now adorned both the girls and the kitchen around the stove. "Fucking shit," Charlotte cursed and wiped the soup from her face. "I think the soup should be ready," squeaked Poppy and quickly took the pot off the stove before it could erupt again like a delicious volcano. The girls cleaned themselves up speedily and swept off the mess the soup made around the stove.

Full of anticipation, Poppy filled three deep plates with the pumpkin soup and added a little fresh bread to each one. She called for her grandmother, who entered the kitchen shortly afterwards. The older witch sniffed and raised her nose in the air. "That smells fantastic. Is that pumpkin soup I smell?" The two girls puffed out their chests proudly and nodded. They sat down together at the freshly cleaned, now pumpkin-free kitchen table and dug into the warm meal. Charlotte interrupted the greedy silence with a loud slurp. "Ah, Soup Soup Soup." She and Poppy looked at each other momentarily before bursting into laughter. They each ate another bowl of the delicious soup before falling into their beds, well-fed and content.