"Who says I can't cook?" the Doctor said, looking aggrieved.
Jack raised his hands defensively. "No offense," he said, grinning. "I just thought it would be too domestic for you, you know?"
The Doctor crossed his arms. "Nine hundred years, me, and you think I've never learned to cook?"
Jack leaned over the counter. "If you can cook," he asked, with mock seriousness, "Why do I always end up making dinner?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Because Rose can't cook, and why should I do it when you manage perfectly well on your own?"
"Oi!" Rose interjected. "I can cook!" They were sitting in the TARDIS kitchen. They didn't eat in often, but every now and again, the human population of the time capsule needed food and didn't feel like risking death or revolution to get it.
"Rose," Jack said. He took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "Honey. I've seen you burn lemonade."
"That was only the once!" she protested, but she was smiling.
"As for you, Doctor," Jack said, releasing Rose. "I'll believe it when I see it. Or, more appropriately, when I taste it."
"You want me to cook?" the Doctor said. "Fine, I'll cook- but you're going to be my sous chef."
"Doctor," Jack said, smirking, "I'll work under you anytime."
"Curry," the Doctor said, rummaging in the TARDIS's pantries.
"Rose likes curry," Jack said, slyly.
"She does," the Doctor said, with a tone that brooked no further comment on the subject. "Onion," he added, throwing one in Jack's direction. Jack leaned to catch it. "Peeled and minced fine," he ordered, and went back into the pantry.
Jack pulled out his favorite knife, and set to his task. There was a pleasant physicality to the act of mincing, even if the onion made his eyes burn. "So this is regular old curry?" he asked, teasing. "Not Arcturian Hyper-curry or something?"
"There's nothing regular about curry. Done right, it's a masterpiece of spice and the balance of flavors," the Doctor lectured from the pantry. "Besides, I promised Rose she'd be able to eat whatever we cooked, and she's only got twentieth century stomach enzymes." He emerged with a paper-wrapped block of butter and tossed it into a small pot. "Don't touch that," he warned, pointing at it.
"Hadn't planned to," Jack said, cheerfully. "I'm busy with the onions, remember?"
The Doctor peered over at Jack's cutting board, and Jack was glad that he'd taken care with his mince. Finally, the Doctor nodded, and went back to the pantry. Apparently, Jack's knife skills passed muster. The Doctor returned a while later with an armful of paper packets and jars and boxes, and began sorting them. "Indian cooking is fascinating," he said, peering into a packet. "Do you know, they balance dishes as much for the medicinal properties of the spices as for the flavor?" He poured some seeds into a bowl. "Or what they thought the medicinal properties were, anyway. Coriander," he said, pointing. "Stimulant, anti-inflammatory." He paused. "Aphrodisiac," he admitted.
"Doctor!" Jack said, feigning shock. "You aren't trying to seduce us with a vindaloo, are you?"
The Doctor glowered at him. "It's not my fault that you apes think that any old thing might enhance your sex lives," he said, setting the coriander aside. "If you're done with that onion, I need ginger minced as well," he said.
"Yes, sir," Jack said, saluting with his knife. He peeled and minced the ginger, and then garlic, and then crushed some tomatoes. The Doctor was still measuring and balancing spices. He pulled out a small cast iron skillet and began roasting cumin and ajwain. Clouds of aromatic smoke filled the kitchen. It made Jack cough, but the Doctor didn't seem to notice it at all. When he'd finished roasting the spices, the Time Lord produced (from where, Jack wasn't sure) a granite mortar and pestle as big as his head.
"Check the ghee," the Doctor told him, nodding at the stove.
Jack jumped up to check the butter. It had melted and clarified, and the bottom of the pot was starting to look brown. "How do I tell whether it's done?" he asked.
The Doctor glanced over. "It's done!" he declared. "Pull it off, and sieve out the solid bits."
Jack set about doing as he was told. The butter had gained a rich, nutty aroma that vaguely made him want to lick the pot. "Where do you want this?" he asked.
The Doctor was in the middle of taking off his jacket and pulling up the sleeves of his jumper. "Get out a stew pot, and pour some in. Set the rest aside." He tossed the cumin and ajwain into his mortar and began grinding. Jack was distracted by the unusual sight of the Doctor with skin exposed. The Doctor's arms were all lean and powerful muscle playing under his skin as he ground spice between stone.
"Oi!" the Doctor called, annoyed. "Stew pot! What, you've never seen someone grind spices before?"
"What can I say, Doc-" Jack said as he shook himself and went looking for the pot. "You really know how to work your kitchen implements." He poured some of the butter into the stew pot.
"Get it hot," the Doctor told him, "And toss in the onions."
"Getting things hot is my specialty," Jack said, with a straight face. He turned on the burner under the pot.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "D'you ever stop that, Captain Innuendo?" He poured the ground spices into a clear bowl, and put a few pinches of something from another jar into his mortar and pestle.
"Not if I can help it," Jack answered, smiling. He scraped the onions into the pot with the flat of his blade.
"Mind you keep those moving," The Doctor said, gruffly, nodding towards the pot. "Put 'em on high, and keep stirring them or else they'll burn." He held up a jar, squinting at the contents.
"Noted," Jack said, his eyes twinkling. He grabbed a flat, wooden spatula and turned to his onions. They were already starting to crisp up on the edges. He turned the heat up a little more, and started stirring. He really did have to keep them moving constantly to keep them from burning.
"Almost," the Doctor said, over his shoulder, "I want them a medium sort of brown."
"Gah!" Jack said, jumping. "Give a guy warning, huh?"
"Here are the spices," the Doctor said, grinning unapologetically. He handed Jack a bowl with a large pile of aromatic powder in it. "Call me once the onions are done, and then we'll toss this in."
"What are you going to do?" Jack asked, still stirring onions.
"Potatoes," the Time Lord said, disappearing back into the pantry. "And chickpeas!"
He emerged a minute later, holding four or five red-skinned potatoes, a few tins of chickpeas, a cauliflower, and a bag of fresh green peas, still in their shells. "How are the onions?" He asked.
"Do you want Sontaran-head-brown, or Aggedor-fur-brown?" Jack asked, stirring vigorously.
The Doctor considered. "More like Macra shell?" he offered.
"Then I think it's done," Jack said. The Doctor set the food he was holding on the counter and came over.
"Fantastic," he said, smiling. He picked up the bowl of spice next to the stove. "Now, watch this." He dumped the bowl in, and grabbed the spatula from Jack, stirring the spice into the onion paste. "Smell it," he said, inhaling deeply, his eyes shut. Jack could smell a glorious mix of spice wafting up from the pot. He smiled. "That's the best," the Doctor said, dreamily. His eyes snapped open. "Tomatoes!" he ordered. "Quick as you can."
Jack grabbed the tomatoes, and the Doctor stirred them in. "Do you want the ginger and garlic now, too?" he asked. The Doctor nodded, and Jack dumped them in. The mixture formed an aromatic wet paste at the bottom of the pot. The Doctor reached up, and turned the heat way down.
"Now we need something to put in it," he said, reaching for a knife. "I'll take the potatoes- you take the peas."
Jack reached for the bag. "It's been a while since I shelled peas," he said, affably.
"The practice will do you good," the Doctor said, reaching for the potatoes. He began rendering them into half-inch sized chunks. His knife technique was a pleasure to watch. He was precise, consistent, graceful- and far faster than Jack would have been. Jack's hands went on automatic while he watched the Doctor slice potatoes, chunk the cauliflower, and then pop open the tinned chickpeas with his knife. He drained the chickpeas, and began scraping everything into the pot. "Peas'll go in last," he told Jack.
"So they don't overcook," Jack agreed. "You really know how to handle a knife," he told the Doctor.
The Doctor grinned. "I really do," he said. He poured some water into the pot and stirred it around. "Now, we just wait until it's done. Fancy a game of parcheesi?"
"Oh my god," Rose breathed, her mouth full. She swallowed. "This is brilliant." She took another forkful, peering at it. The rice was tinted a gentle yellow by saffron, and the sauce was orangey- the mix of tomatoes and turmeric. "Jack, he didn't nip out to India and pick this up, did he?"
"Nope," Jack said, grinning. He spooned a little yogurt sauce over his plate. "It was all done from scratch- I swear on my honor." He put a hand over his heart, and tried to look virtuous.
"S'not hard," the Doctor said. "Just takes a little time- and the right know-how."
"Well," Rose said, smelling her plate, "We take it back, right Jack? You definitely know how to cook."
"I'm focusing less on the cooking, and more on the eating," Jack said. "I'm really enjoying the eating right now."
"You apes and your stomachs," the Doctor said, affectionately.
A/N:
When I posted this to Winter Companions, I received many comments to the effect that it was really unfair to make someone read that without then giving a recipe. Here follows the recipe that Jack and the Doctor are making.
Using the fic above as the instructions (and I was precise in what they were doing as far as the cooking):
1 onion, minced (food processor is fine; the Doctor is giving Jack shit by suggesting he do it with a knife)
1 T fresh ginger (peeled and minced/grated- if you have a microplane, use it)
2 or 3 or 4 cloves of garlic, minced (or pressed or grated)
1 can whole tomatoes, crushed or food processed
3 T ghee (which is made by cooking unsalted butter until the milk solids are golden brown and then straining it, which is how the Doctor does it here. Or you can just use vegetable oil. Or buy ghee.)
Spices: ground fresh if you can, but, you know, do what you can do (turmeric and cayenne are already powder usually).
2 T coriander
2 T cumin (roasted, which I usually do in a hot, cast iron pan, tossing until they seem done)
1/4 t ajwain (roasted- this is VITAL; unroasted ajwain is awful)
1/4 t fenugreek
1/4 t cloves
1/4 t cardamom
1/4-1/2 t. turmeric
cayenne to taste. Keep in mind that a little goes a long way.
1/2 T salt (salt to taste, later too)
Some water, enough to cover the vegetables you put in.
Put whatever you want in it, but I like the chickpeas/potatoes/cauliflower/peas thing. There is no shame in using canned chickpeas. Regardless, though, the chickpeas should be cooked before they go in.
Put the potatoes in first, and let them cook a little before you add the water. Then let it simmer and cook down until the potatoes and cauliflower are done, and add the peas (I use frozen). When they seem done, pull it off, and I usually pour some coconut milk in at that point. Serve over rice.