Here's the very belated fall food chapter, which should have been up by... last Wednesday. I'm hoping to get the fall weather chapter finished and up tomorrow so I don't miss yet another week.
The recipes mentioned in this chapter can be found here.
Loud music jolted Rose from a sound slumber. "Wha…?" She opened bleary eyes and spotted an iPod on the night stand. "So gonna kill you," she hollered, realising the Doctor must have used the sonic as a remote control.
He laughed in reply, and Rose threw back the duvet, grumbling when the chilly air touched her warm skin. She dug in her bag and pulled out a warm pair of pyjamas, not venturing downstairs until she was protected from the cold.
Bacon sizzled on the hob, and the Doctor waved a spatula at Rose when she entered the kitchen. She mumbled some kind of reply, but she was more interested in finding the kettle and getting tea started. When she only spotted a coffee maker and toaster on the counter, she glanced at the range.
"Seriously?" She grabbed the shiny, new—but still old-fashioned—kettle and took it to the sink. "Even my nan has an electric kettle, and she still watches an old black and white television."
The Doctor looked up from the frying pan. "There's only so much counter space," he pointed out, "and Americans tend to be attached to their coffee makers."
Rose set the full kettle back on the burner, then took two slices of bread from the loaf sitting on the counter and popped them into the toaster. "What are we doing today?"
He flipped the bacon, then reached into a cupboard for dishes. "One of the maps Alistair left was for the Fruit Loop. I thought we could check it out."
"Aren't Froot Loops a sugary cereal?" Rose asked as they finished plating up breakfast together.
The Doctor chuckled. "They are, but this is a different kind of Fruit Loop. This area is one of the best fruit growing regions in the U.S., and in 1992, the farms started banding together for marketing purposes. According to this year's map, there are 32 stops."
The kettle's whistle interrupted Rose's reply. "Where do they keep the tea in this place?" She turned the burner off and pulled two large mugs out of the cupboard.
When she turned back around, the Doctor was holding the tea canister from the TARDIS, a smile on his face. "Did you think I'd leave you at the mercy of whatever Americans think passes for tea? I know better than that."
After they sat down at the table, Rose went back to the earlier topic of the plan for the day. "So what kind of places are on this Fruit Loop?"
"Fruit stands, obviously, but also wineries and stores and a nut farm or two. Oh! And bakeries!"
Rose eyed him while she ate her bacon. "All right, I'm game," she agreed. Privately though, she wondered when the domesticity would become too much for the Doctor, and she braced herself for his inevitable withdrawal.
oOoOoOoOo
The Doctor sucked in a breath when he pushed open the screen door and stepped into the Apple Valley Country Store. He'd chosen the store for a reason, of course, but this… He walked toward the wall of jams in a daze, almost overwhelmed by the dozens of options in front of him.
Starting at one end of the row, he picked up the first sample jar he came to—raspberry jam. He had no intention of using the crackers set out on the counter for tasting, but Rose snatched the jar from his hands before he could stick his finger inside.
"Use the crackers," she hissed.
"But they interfere with the flavour of the jam."
The Doctor tried to take the jar back, but she held it out of his reach. "Think of it this way," she said. "If you go sticking your fingers in the jars, you'll only get to taste one or maybe two before they kick us out—before you even get to buy anything. Is that what you really want?"
It most definitely was not. The Doctor picked up a cracker, and Rose handed him the jar.
"I should have known this was why you were so eager to go on this Fruit Loop thing," she said. "Leave it to you to take a holiday someplace where you can buy all the flavours of jam you could possibly want."
The Doctor hummed in delight when the raspberry jam hit his tongue, and Rose shook her head and wandered off. When she came back a moment later with a basket over her arm, he dropped a jar of jam into it and reached for the next flavour, unscrewing the lid without looking at the label.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Rose asked.
"Why wouldn't I?"
She nodded at the jar he held. "Because that's marionberry pear."
The Doctor's eyes widened. He scanned the shelves and realised at least ten varieties of lovely jam were tainted with pears.
"Why would they do that?" he hissed to Rose. "Perfectly good jam…"
She looked at him, and he got the distinct impression she was suppressing a smile. "Well, I know it will come as a shock to you, Doctor, but not everyone hates pears."
He sniffed and moved on to the next flavour.
oOoOoOoOo
When the basket was full, Rose carried it up to the counter where a bloke her age watched the Doctor's tasting spree with something akin to awe. "Mind if I leave this here while we continue shopping, Tim?" she asked, reading his name tag.
Tim looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure what to think of her crazy, jam-obsessed alien. "Yeah, I mean of course." He looked at the Doctor, then back at Rose. "Your boyfriend sure seems to love jam."
Rose rolled her eyes. "You have no idea," she said, not bothering to correct his assumption about their relationship. Sometimes it just took more effort than she really wanted to expend.
The Doctor called for her excitedly, and she exchanged a smile with Tim and picked up a new basket before rejoining him. "Yes, Doctor?"
"Try this!" He shoved a cracker with a bit of dark brown jam into her mouth before she could protest.
The rich, autumn flavours of apple and cinnamon burst on her tongue. "What's that?" she asked when she was done.
"The label says it's called apple butter."
Tim wandered over to join them. "Do you not have apple butter in England?"
"I don't think I've ever seen it," Rose said. "The Doctor has travelled more than I have, but…"
"I've heard of it, but I've never tasted it." The Doctor stared at the open jar. "So it's apple jam that's cooked long enough for the sugars in the apples to caramelise, right?"
Tim nodded. "Then you add the sugar and spices, and that's all there is to it. It's actually a remarkably easy preserve to make, if you're interested in trying your hand at it."
The Doctor's eyes lit up, and Rose groaned. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling we're going to be spending tomorrow cutting and peeling apples?"
It took the Doctor another ten minutes to finish sampling all the non-pear jams and butters, and by the time he was done, he'd filled another basket.
Tim examined their haul with wide eyes. "Are these gifts for people back home?"
The Doctor bounced on his toes. "Nope!"
He shook his head slowly as he continued to ring up their purchase. "You must have more room in your pantry than I do."
Rose knew what the Doctor was going to say before the words came out of his mouth. "It's almost like it's bigger on the inside," he quipped.
He handed over a ridiculous amount of money for three dozen jars of preserves, then leaned against the counter. "Now, if I'm going to make apple butter, I need to buy apples. Obviously, I'm in the right part of the world for that, but which farm should I go to?"
"Well, we get all of our fruit from Kiyokawa Farm."
The Doctor pulled his map out of his jacket pocket, and Tim took a pen and circled the southernmost stop on the route. "Thank you!" the Doctor chirped.
Rose took one of the boxes of jam and smiled at Tim. "Thanks so much for all your help," she added.
"Here, let me get the door for you." He hurried around the counter and pushed the door open.
The Doctor used the car remote to unlock the boot, then picked up the other box of jam. "Yes, thank you Jim."
"Rude," Rose chastised under her breath as she set her box down next to his.
"He was flirting with you." The Doctor slammed the lid shut with more force than was strictly necessary and got into the car. "He thought we were a couple, and he still tried to flirt with you."
"What, because he offered to hold the door open when I had a heavy box in my arms? Doctor, that's not flirting—that's just being polite." She wanted to tease him about being jealous, but didn't know how he'd react. Instead, she shot him a cheeky smile. "Although I can see how you might not understand the distinction, since politeness is so foreign to you."
"Oi!"
"Rude and not ginger," she sang lightly as he pulled out onto the road, and the words pulled a smile back to his face.
Rose leaned back in her seat and looked at the Doctor. "So, off to buy apples?"
"There's a quick stop I want to make first," he said, turning off onto a side road that was covered with a canopy of bright orange leaves. "I thought we could pick up a bottle of wine to go with dinner tonight at the winery across the road."
The Doctor looked at Rose after he parked the car in front of the winery. "This will only take a moment," he said. "Why don't you just stay here, and I'll be right back?" Rose nodded, and he darted into the building alone.
The five minutes it took to pay for the nice merlot the saleswoman selected to go with their spaghetti gave the Doctor enough time to rebuild his defences. He could outwardly pretend that Rose was nothing more than a friend to him, but as soon as someone else showed an interest in her, his jealousy broke loose.
He handed the woman his bankcard and rubbed at the back of his neck while he waited for the transaction to go through. His jealousy wasn't right or fair; he knew that. He didn't own Rose Tyler… even if they were together, he wouldn't own her. But watching her with other men always reminded him that they weren't together.
"Thank you, Mr. Smith," the saleswoman said after he signed her copy of the receipt. She handed him the bottle and his copy, and said, "Enjoy the beautiful sun."
Outside, the Doctor relaxed just slightly. It was a beautiful autumn day. The had the top down again, and Rose had her head tilted back against the headrest, letting the sun warm her face. Her eyes were closed, and he took a moment to admire the sweep of her dark lashes against her fair skin before putting the wine in the back seat and climbing into the car.
"That's taken care of," he said cheerfully. "On to apple picking!"
"Are you sure making apple butter isn't a bit… domestic for you?" Rose teased.
The Doctor shot her a sideways glance as he pulled back out onto the highway, turning right and following the directions Jim—Tim, he corrected—had given. "It's not domestic," he argued. "It's… resourceful! We're going to pick our own apples to make our own apple butter in our own (rented) cabin. Domestic is the store-bought life, with tinned fruit and pre-packed meals."
"Right," Rose drawled. "So this is a culinary adventure, is it?"
"Exactly! Even adventurers have to eat, after all."
oOoOoOoOo
The staff at the orchard certainly seemed to know their business, easily answering the Doctor's questions about which apples would make the best apple butter and directing them toward the section of the orchard where they could pick Braeburns, Fujis, and Mcintoshes.
Stepping out of the shaded fruit stand into the golden October sun, the Doctor looked at Rose and shook the basket in invitation. "Are you ready?"
She took the other side of the handle and grinned back at him, her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. "For the first step of our grand culinary adventure? Lead the way, Doctor."
The basket swung between them as they walked down the rows of apple trees, stopping when they reached a row of Braeburn trees that were still loaded with bright red fruit. The apples stood out in vibrant contrast to the shades of yellow leaves ranging from a just-turned green-gold to bright orangey yellow and a rich rust brown. They set their basket down against the trunk and each reached up for a ripe apple.
"It smells like autumn," the Doctor commented as they started picking.
"Thought that was just the smell of decaying organic matter," Rose shot back.
He rolled his eyes. "Well, it is, but I have to admit, the scent does become associated with the season. Plus, that's not all you can smell. Can't you smell the apples?"
Rose took a deep breath. "Mmm, yeah. It was stronger inside the fruit stand though."
"Gets more concentrated when it's closed in." He grabbed another apple and twisted, breaking the stem and adding it to their basket.
They kept picking and talking until the basket was about a third full. Then they moved onto the next variety, and the next, until the basket was full with an even mix of the three varieties of apples.
The orchard had been fairly empty when they arrived, but on their way back, they met more people—mostly young mums who were probably enjoying a relatively inexpensive outdoor activity with their children before the dreary winter months set in. Several smiled at the Doctor and Rose as they passed, carrying their basket between them, and he overheard more than one comment to a friend about how sweet a couple they were.
The Doctor thought he probably ought to correct people in that misconception more often than he did, but truthfully, he liked the idea that he and Rose looked like they belonged together. Besides, he reminded himself quickly as they approached the fruit stand, Rose doesn't usually set them straight either.
After spending almost two hours in the bright sun, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust when they reentered the fruit stand. "Well, it looks like you found the trees all right," the woman who'd helped them earlier said.
The Doctor started to answer, but then his vision sharpened and he caught sight of a sign behind her. "Sorry," he said hurriedly, "but is that apple actually called a Winter Banana?"
She had a knife out before he finished asking the question, cutting a sample. The Doctor bit into the apple hesitantly, but to his surprise, the name wasn't misleading. There was actually a hint of banana flavour behind the appley-ness.
"I think we'll be taking a few of those," Rose said dryly. "And enough apples to make a pie."
Rose enjoyed the look of surprise on the Doctor's face. Sometimes she felt like an open book to him; it was good to know he didn't actually know everything about her.
"Did you have a preference in varieties for the pie?"
"What do you recommend?" Rose asked, shaking a brown paper bag open and following the woman as she moved around the bins.
"Well, I prefer a mix of sweet and tart. Right now, we have Cox's Orange Pippin, Winesap, and Red Rome," she said, pointing at three separate bins as she spoke.
Rose nodded and quickly selected four of each variety, then set the bag down with their box of u-pick apples. The Doctor was still standing over the bin of Winter Banana apples, examining each one carefully for any spots or defects. She was half surprised he didn't pull out the sonic, scanning each one for the slightest imperfection.
Finally, he found four he was satisfied with and brought them up to the counter, where he paid for the two bags and the twenty pound box they'd picked themselves.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose really thought that in two years travelling with the Doctor, she'd gotten rid of her narrow minded views on how the world should be. She certainly didn't expect to be fazed by cultural differences on Earth. But when she looked at a jug of cloudy apple juice, she was forced to admit she'd been wrong.
"That is not cider."
"Not cider like you're used to," the Doctor agreed. "North Americans call the alcoholic beverage hard cider. This kind of cider is unfiltered apple juice."
She looked dubiously at the jug. "Unfiltered? Is that why it looks like there's bits floating in it?"
"Yep! Tell you what—let's get some."
When they got back to the TARDIS and looked up recipes for apple butter, they discovered the purchase of apple cider had been lucky. Almost every recipe they found called for cooking the apples down in the cider.
The TARDIS had helpfully laid a few kitchen utensils out on the counter, mostly ones Rose had never seen before. The stock pot for cooking the apples was familiar, but beside it was what looked like a saucepan, except the bottom was a sieve and it had a crank in the middle.
"It's a food mill," the Doctor explained as they carried the gadgets into the cabin. "After we cook the apples down, we'll have to process the cooked pulp to get it smooth."
"All right, then what's this?" Rose asked, holding up the large, dark blue-and-white speckled pot in her hands. She heard something rattle inside it with every step she took, and as soon as they were inside, she pulled the lid off and looked at the rack resting on the bottom of the pot.
"That's a water bath canner. Once we've made the apple butter and put it in jars, we'll put the jars in there to seal the lids and kill any bacteria."
"How do you know all of this?" Rose demanded. "Do you secretly write a household tips column for the Times or something?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I've been around for a long time, Rose."
She looked at him sceptically. "And you're saying one of your incarnations was a domestic whiz?"
He tried to give her his superior Time Lord expression, but she wasn't buying it. Finally, he sighed. "The recipe mentioned both devices by name. Since the TARDIS had them sitting out for us, I put two and two together."
Rose nodded. "Speaking of recipes, I'll need to go back to the supermarket since we weren't planning on baking when we went shopping last night," she told him.
"And I need jars. Somehow, the TARDIS didn't have canning jars."
oOoOoOoOo
This trip to the supermarket went faster than their stop the night before, but Rose was surprised when the Doctor turned left out of Safeway's parking lot, taking them farther into town instead of back up the mountain. "Where are we going?"
The smile on his face was the same half smug, half mysterious smile he wore whenever he was about to show her something amazing that she'd never seen before. "We've been sampling all of these autumn foods," he said, "and it occurs to me that there's something available here in the States that won't come to the UK for another… ooooh, five or six years?"
He turned the indicator on and turned into Starbucks. "Are you seriously telling me you're taking me to Starbucks for a cultural experience, Doctor?"
"Well," he drawled as he parked the car, "Starbucks is a culture in this part of the world. With the rainy weather, coffee shops are a natural fit for the Pacific Northwest."
She kept arguing while they walked into the store. "Same reason we drink tea all the time, but I wouldn't tell an alien that tea was a cultural experience."
He raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that, Rose? Because in my experience, understanding the British fascination with tea goes a long way toward understanding your culture."
They'd reached the register by now, and a perky high school student wearing a green apron smiled at them. "Oh! You're English! We have great tea, I promise."
Rose groaned when the Doctor shot her a triumphant look. "All right, fine. Tea is part of our culture."
"But that's not what we're here for today," the Doctor said, before the girl could start making them a cuppa. "Two grande pumpkin spice lattes, please."
"Pumpkin… coffee?" Rose muttered after he'd paid, while they were waiting for their drinks.
"Introduced in 2003, it quickly became a seasonal favourite. In fact, the popularity makes it a bit of a running joke—pumpkin spice everything!" He shrugged. "You won't get it in the UK until 2013 or 2014, sometime around then. But, the benefit of traveling is trying things you can't have at home."
"Two pumpkin spice lattes for the Doctor," the barista called out, looking a little unsure of the name.
The Doctor took both cups and handed one to Rose, thanking the barista and cashier as he guided her toward the door. "Well, try it!" he insisted once they were outside.
She took a hesitant sip. The idea of this flavour combination didn't sound appetising, but she smiled when the latte hit her tongue. "Tastes more like pumpkin pie than coffee," she said. "And people back home have to wait until 2014 to get this?"
"Yep!"
"I love travelling with you."
"Oh, I knew it." The Doctor put a hand over his right heart. "You're only with me for the food."
oOoOoOoOo
The Doctor leaned against the refrigerator and watched Rose expertly turn flour, salt, and butter into pie crust. "When did you learn how to bake a pie?"
"Mickey's gran was a great baker," she said as she cut the butter into the flour. "He wasn't interested in learning, of course, so she sort of latched onto me as the person she'd pass her recipes to."
"You mean you've been able to bake all this time and you never told me? Rose Tyler, you've been holding out on me."
She turned around with the bowl. "I need to let this chill," she said, and he shifted out of her way.
When she stood at the sink with her back to him to peel the apples, he moved around to the other side of the counter, resting his elbows on the bar. "Seriously, why didn't you ever tell me?"
Rose glanced up at him, a teasing smile on her face. "Maybe I didn't want you to expect banana bread every day," she said.
The Doctor gasped. "You can make banana bread?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I suppose I could probably figure it out without much work," she said, "but mostly she taught me how to make pies and cakes."
"As soon as we're home, we're going to find a recipe for banana bread," he declared. Rose stopped peeling the apple in her hand and looked at him. "I mean, would you please make banana bread for me?" he quickly amended, realising how demanding his first sentence sounded.
"I s'pose I can try," she said, finishing the apple and moving on to the next. "Of course, there's always a chance I won't be any good at it."
The Doctor heard the slight challenge in her voice and wondered how he could convince her. "Can I help you slice the apples for the pie?"
Rose grinned up at him. "That'd be nice, ta. Quarter and core them, then slice them thinly—but not too thin, or they won't really hold their shape long enough to bake."
He rejoined her on at the counter and followed her instructions to the letter, after locating a cutting board. When he'd sliced the first apple, Rose stopped peeling and poured a cup and a half of sugar on top of it.
"To keep them from getting brown," she explained when he looked at her. She peeled the final apple, then added cinnamon, nutmeg, and three tablespoons of flour to the sugar and stirred it up. "Stir it after every apple," she instructed. "I'm gonna roll out the crust."
The Doctor dropped the next apple into the bowl and sniffed deeply as he stirred. Even raw, the combination of apple and cinnamon was mouth-watering.
"What about Jackie? Does she bake?"
Rose snorted. "Mum? Are you kidding? Nah, she does well enough with the few standard dishes she makes, and honestly her Christmas turkey isn't bad—" The Doctor hummed in agreement, and he felt Rose smile at him. "—But that's really all she can do. Oh, and a nice fry-up. Nothing like this, though."
When the filling was done, Rose poured it into the waiting pie crust and dotted it with butter. Then she took the second crust that she'd folded into quarters and spread it over the top of the pie in two deft moves. The slits she'd cut in the fold were now little chevron shaped vents, offering tiny glimpses of the apples. With quick hands, she crimped the two crusts together, turning the pan as she went so she was always working on the section in front of her.
"You loved Mickey's gran," the Doctor observed quietly. The attention to detail she was putting into this pie, and the easy way she did the work, told him how many hours she must have spent with the older woman, learning to bake.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
Rose glanced down at herself after she put the pie in the hot oven. "I'm going to clean up while you get dinner started," she said, gesturing to her flour-dusted front. The Doctor nodded, and she disappeared up the stairs.
Alone in the kitchen, the domesticity of the day was impossible to ignore. All the people who'd mistaken them for a couple, walking hand in hand through an apple orchard, cooking together…
He pulled a skillet out of the cupboard and waited for the familiar restlessness to creep over him. The Doctor didn't do domestic—that was a fact. But by the time he'd added the tomato sauce and paste to the meat, he had to acknowledge that apparently, these domestics didn't bother him.
Rose reappeared, interrupting his ruminations. "Are you pouring wine into the spaghetti?" she asked, pointing at the bottle in his hand.
The Doctor poured a few ounces of wine into the sauce, then poured a glass and handed it to her. "Yep! Haven't you ever wondered why everyone says you should have wine with red sauce, Rose?"
She swirled the wine around in her glass and took a sip. "I just figured it was because Italians drink a lot of wine, so it was sorta traditional."
"Well, yes." He added six ounces of water to the thick sauce and stirred. "But! Tomato actually contains alcohol soluble flavours—little subtleties you won't detect unless you're either drinking alcohol along with your meal, or the dish was cooked with some alcohol."
"What, seriously?"
"Yep!" The pot of water was just coming to a boil, so he poured the pasta in, along with a tablespoon or so of olive oil. "Can you set the table, Rose?" He gave the sauce a stir to keep it from scorching, then pulled the salad mix out of the fridge and made two salads.
As the sauce simmered, the fragrant aroma of Italian food blended with the comforting scent of apple pie baking. The Doctor's keen ears could pick up the sound of the pie bubbling in the oven, and he could hardly wait to taste it.
The timer went off just as the pasta came to a full boil. He picked up the pot and carried it to the sink while Rose opened the oven and removed the pie. When he turned around, he stretched out a finger to touch the golden brown crust, but Rose slapped his hand away.
"After dinner," she told him.
oOoOoOoOo
More than once while they ate, the Doctor's gaze strayed over to where the pie cooled on the counter. Rose hid her smile behind her wine glass—for all that he claimed to be superior, he could be so human sometimes.
"The mountain is pretty at sunset," she observed as she pushed her plate back.
The Doctor turned around and hummed his agreement when he saw the way the white peak reflected the pink light of the setting sun.
The natural beauty calmed her, and she smiled at her Doctor. "Thanks for bringing me here," she said quietly. The trip had been for him, but that didn't mean she couldn't benefit too. "I think… I needed a break."
"We all do, sometimes." Something shifted in his eyes, and Rose knew before he opened his mouth that he was ready to change the subject. "Now, is it finally time for pie?"
Rose shook her head and stood up. She took a knife out of the drawer and smiled in satisfaction when the crust crumbled slightly as she cut through it—just like it should. Two plates and a pie server appeared on the counter before she could even ask for them, but instead of letting him take the pie as soon as she served it, she took both slices and carried them into the living room.
"C'mon, let's just sit here in front of the fireplace and relax."
The Doctor followed willingly, and once he was sitting down on the couch, she handed him the pie. She bit her lip as he cut into it with his fork, and when his eyes widened, she let herself smile.
"This is… Rose!" He pointed at her with his fork. "You have definitely been holding out on me."
Rose took a bite then herself and sighed happily when the combination of cinnamon, apples, and flaky pie crust hit her tongue. "Well, it's your turn tomorrow, Doctor. Can your apple butter beat my pie?"
He snorted. "I'm not even going to try."
oOoOoOoOo
The Doctor stared into the flickering firelight. Rose had gone to bed over an hour ago, and for the first night since the Coronation, the TARDIS wasn't urging him to go join her. He had a sneaking suspicion that had more to do with what he was thinking than any change of opinion on her part.
He'd been wrong before. Today hadn't been domestic—it was more than that. Calling it domestic, the way he used the word, meant it was different than their ordinary life, that it was somehow less than their ordinary life.
But today had been just as full as every day was with Rose. She was always a part of every aspect of his life, every day. She wasn't just a companion he dragged around the universe. They cooked together, lived together, spent their evenings together, even fought sometimes.
The Doctor tried to imagine what his life would be like without Rose Tyler, and the attempt made his stomach turn. Not even the reminder that he was going to lose her someday could give him the strength to stoically consider the possibility.
In the back of his head, the TARDIS hummed smugly. Yes, all right, he grumbled as he climbed the stairs. So you were right, and maybe…
Instead of finishing that sentence, the Doctor went into his own room and changed for bed. In Rose's room, he debated for a minute before sliding under the duvet, instead of lying on top of it. Without the excuse of a recent scare like he'd had two nights before this was a dangerous act, but he was starting to think the risk might be worth it.