A Tempest in the Kitchen

“Magic?” Applejack wasn’t so sure she believed Sunset Shimmer. “What are you investigating magic for, anyway? We’ve got enough magic going on when we play music.”

The girls were standing in the middle of the cafeteria kitchen, where Applejack was cooking up a mess of donuts. She’d organized her mixing bowls and baking sheets and cooking racks. She’d bought eggs, sugar, flour, salt, seasonings, milk, and lots of apples. There was nothing Applejack liked better than baking. Besides, she’d finish it all up this afternoon and still have plenty of time to work on that week’s edition of the school paper.

“I’m experimenting with magic the way you do with cooking,” explained Sunset Shimmer.

“I always follow a recipe,” said Applejack.

“But we don’t really know the recipe yet,” said Sunset Shimmer. “Every time you whip up a batch of donuts, people ask what the secret ingredient is, don’t they?”

“And I always tell them there isn’t one,” said Applejack. “Because there isn’t.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Sunset Shimmer was excited.

“I am?” Applejack scratched her head, confused.

“There must be. Only it’s magic flowing out of you, possibly the very same ingredient that sets off the reaction that results in everyone ponying up when we play our music. That’s my theory, anyway. I’ve been reading a lot about alchemy in preparation for this.”

“If you say so,” said Applejack, unconvinced. “What do I do? I have a schedule I’ve got to keep to if I’m going to get all these goodies ready for the bake sale.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said Sunset Shimmer. “I’m just going to be setting up a few monitoring devices and doing some field research, taking notes, asking questions, that kind of thing.”

Sunset Shimmer set up a heat monitor near the oven and put a thermometer with wires sticking out of it into the mixing bowl.

“Whoa!” said Applejack, just as she was about to pour in a few cups of flour. “What’s that?”

“Just measuring temperature fluctuations. Don’t mind me.”

Every time Applejack reached for an ingredient, however, it seemed like Sunset Shimmer was already there—running some kind of scanner over the salt or the milk or the butter. “You finding anything interesting?”

“Not yet,” said Sunset Shimmer. “But you have to be patient and observant when you are a magic investigator.”

“Same with cooking,” said Applejack.

Applejack tossed eggshells into the trash, and Sunset Shimmer retrieved them, documenting the size and shape of each crack. Applejack picked up the electric mixer, and Sunset Shimmer attached an electrode to it. Applejack went to take a look at her recipe book and couldn’t find it anywhere. Sunset Shimmer was reading it and had lost her page.

“Recipes are really like spells, aren’t they?” she observed.

“Maybe,” said Applejack. “But I need to know how many spoonfuls of baking powder I’m supposed to put in these donuts.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Sunset Shimmer, handing her the book. “This is all so fascinating.”

“This is all so confusing,” said Applejack, trying to remember what she was supposed to do next. “What’s all this commotion got to do with how we pony up, anyway?”

“Ah!” said Sunset Shimmer, thrilled to be asked a question. “If we can isolate the different variables of enchantment and tweak them, it’s very possible that we will be able to maximize our musical magic.”

“Could you put that into plain English, please?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to make our magic!”

“Oh?” Applejack wasn’t watching what she was doing and accidentally poured all the milk out of the carton—and onto the floor. “Shoot!”

“Here. I’ll clean that up for you,” said Sunset Shimmer. She went to grab the mop and pulled on one of the wires attached to the mixer, which went skittering across the counter, spilling batter everywhere. “Oops.”

“Now I’ve got one big barnyard of a mess to clean up!”

As Sunset Shimmer began mopping, smoke started billowing from the oven and an acrid smell filled the air. “My first batch!” shouted Applejack, rushing toward the stove with pot holders. But it was too late. The treats were scorched.

Sunset Shimmer felt terrible. “I think the heat monitor may have increased the temperature. Sometimes that happens.”

“Well,” said Applejack, “at least you didn’t turn into a she-devil or sow disharmony or anything like that.”

Sunset Shimmer gulped, remembering the mistakes of her past. The girls were so nice and accepting, it was easy for her to forget that once she had nearly destroyed the whole school. But she would never do anything like that again. That was what was important about her magic investigations—if she understood magic better, she could make sure it was always used for good.

“What’s going on in here?” asked Granny Smith, coming into the kitchen. “Looks like you girls are cookin’ up trouble! What a mess!” She picked up another broom and began sweeping all the ingredients for the fashion show bake sale into a pile for the trash.

Applejack handed Sunset Shimmer a dishrag. “It’s not very magical, but it gets the job done.”

Sunset Shimmer scrubbed until the kitchen was spotless. But the whole time she was wondering how she could figure out the Sonic Rainbooms’ special magic. There had to be a secret ingredient—but what could it be?