Work Text:
“Catherine the head chef on my evening class course specifically praised me on my excellent caramelisation of onions. And she said my vegetables were the most precisely chopped she had ever seen anybody do, including herself.”
Jason has just returned from his evening cookery class (his new hobby) practically glowing with pride. Now that he has a girlfriend, Jason has decided that it would help his independence and be economically more feasible if he learns to cook. Unfortunately, his Auntie Serena, who Jason had long held as a good chef, has actually been feeding him ready meals for the past couple of years. Her argument that they were the finest M&S has to offer does not please Jason. Auntie Bernie is also a terrible cook. She has three dishes which she can cook without burning anything. And Jason only likes one of those (Bernie’s falafel). Therefore, Jason had taken it upon himself to seek out a suitable evening class which would teach him cookery. He has a secret plan to pass on his skills to his aunts. They’ll need to be able to cook as they approach old age and may not be mobile enough to go to M&S quite so often.
As it is, Serena and Bernie simply greet Jason at the door warmly, before retiring to bed (even though that’s where they’ve just come from). It seems a bit selfish, the fact that they’re enjoying Jason being out of the house for two hours every week, but when Bernie’s got her tongue in that specific spot (oh yes, Bernie, there, please), Serena suddenly finds she doesn’t mind about feeling selfish anymore.
-
Jason comes home from cookery class and Serena immediately knows that she needs to treat him gently. Bernie has been on a late shift so will be home later, so Serena focuses all of her attention on her visibly upset nephew. He comes through the door with his arms wrapped around his body and his head down, clearly worrying about something. Serena waits him out in the sitting room, knows he’ll be more likely to open up after he’s grounded himself by starting his evening routine.
Sure enough, she hears the kettle flick on and Jason putting a tea bag into his mug (the TARDIS one Cameron bought him for Christmas after finding out Jason’s beloved storm trooper mug had broken). Next, Serena hears two cupboard doors open and close one after the other. Not long after, Jason walks into the sitting room and places his mug and a plate with three digestive biscuits on onto the coffee table. He blows on his tea and watches the steam for a while, his glasses misting up as the seconds pass. Eventually, he puts the cup down and looks up. He wipes his glasses and Serena can see that there are tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. She waits.
“I wasn’t one of the best at cookery class this week,” he says quietly. Serena reaches across and rubs his arm.
“You can’t be the best every week, Jason, we talked about that.”
“Yes, but this week was the week I wanted to be best at. It was shepherd’s pie week.”
Usually Jason brings home his leftovers for them to share. So far, they’ve been brilliant. Serena can’t see why his shepherd’s pie wouldn’t be.
“Maybe you were just having a bad week, Jason.”
“No. I can’t make shepherd’s pie.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t get the mashed potatoes right!” Jason sniffles but it isn’t enough to prevent some stray tears from falling. Serena wraps him into a hug which Jason returns, better at physical contact with her now. They stay like that for at least five minutes, only stopping when Bernie comes through the front door.
“Hello everyone!” Her voice is muffled slightly through the door. “I’m starving, what wonderful delicacy has Jason made toda-” she pauses as she enters the lounge and sees the scene before her. Immediately her expression changes to one of concern. “Is everything alright?”
Serena roughly explains Jason’s situation and Bernie nods understandingly.
“Do you still have what you did make Jason?” He nods and points to a silver foil container on the kitchen counter.
“It’s terrible, we can have the M&S one instead.” He drinks some of his tea. Bernie lifts the foil lid and looks down at what looks like a very well-made shepherd’s pie. Apart from the sunken mashed potato.
“It looks perfectly edible Jason, I’ll give it a go.”
Jason looks at her sceptically but Bernie is already placing the container into the oven and setting it to heat through (the woman still has an aversion to using microwaves herself, dislikes how she can undercook or overcook something in the space of two minutes).
They all sit round the table to eat Jason’s slightly unique shepherd’s pie. The meat is cooked beautifully, it’s just the mashed potato which is so lumpy it has managed to sink into the filling, leading to the mediocre appearance. Jason still looks dejected, despite Serena and Bernie heaping praise onto the pie. As he finishes his dessert (a large bowl of vanilla ice cream), he looks up at them.
“I really wanted to cook us a family shepherd’s pie but I’m just not strong enough to mash potatoes.”
“Why don’t we make it together Jason?” Bernie suggests. Serena looks at her askance. They both can barely stir a pan of beans, let alone make the fluffiest mash to top a shepherd’s pie. Serena has brief memories of the add water and stir mash which her mother used to buy from the shop, thinks maybe she could source some of that to use (surely the terrible taste is only in her memories, it wasn’t that bad, was it?) But Bernie is nodding earnestly at Jason.
“Yes, together. A proper family shepherd’s pie. You do all the filling, and your Auntie Serena and I will do the mash. I think between the two of us we should be able to manage to get the mash okay.”
Jason looks between them, considering.
“Deal. We can have our own shepherd’s pie. A real group effort.”
-
Their first team attempt at a shepherd’s pie is only a little better than Jason’s cookery class attempt. Jason has browned the mince perfectly, so the filling is scrumptious. But the mash which both Bernie and Serena had a go at making is both too lumpy and not creamy enough. Jason rates it next to his original attempt on a specially made table he’s created on his laptop.
“Not bad. But we can definitely do better,” he decrees. Bernie and Serena nod. They’re both brilliant surgeons, they can’t let some potatoes get the better of them.
-
Next time it’s shepherd’s pie night, Serena is in work. She’s stocked up on some M&S ready-made shepherd’s pie in advance, but Bernie has insisted she’s capable. She’s done research. Serena knows she’s done research, had walked into the bedroom to see Bernie sat atop the bed on her laptop watching a YouTube tutorial intently, mouthing words to herself as the man instructed her as to how to get her potatoes perfectly creamy. Serena had rolled her eyes. First, who watched video tutorials on how to make mashed potato? Secondly, who even made video tutorials on how to make mashed potato in the first place?!
It is with a little bit of trepidation that Serena enters the house that evening. On the table is a presentable looking shepherd’s pie. The middle has sunk a bit but there’s still mash on top of it. Jason look very pleased with it. Bernie also looks far too smug. Serena wants to kiss that self-satisfied smirk right off her face.
They all sit down and serve the meal. Serena takes a large mouthful and immediately chokes. Beside her, Jason is also grimacing. Bernie, ever the proud soldier, is bravely swallowing her mouthful and (albeit tentatively) taking a second forkful. Jason looks at her intently.
“Auntie Bernie, why does this mashed potato taste so horrendously sweet?”
“It’s, uh. A variation. The tutorial I watched said a soft potato was needed and it helps to add a bit of cream. So I used sweet potatoes and added a fair amount of cream which I whisked in.” Bernie’s cheeks have taken on a rouged hue. Jason folds his napkin and looks at her as if she is a very small child.
“The ingredients list is there for a reason, Auntie Bernie. I got it from cookery class. Where someone who actually knows what they’re doing teaches people who don’t how to make proper food. Please don’t change things next time.”
“Noted, Jason. I won’t.”
-
Serena’s the one left in charge of the mashed potatoes for the next family attempt at shepherd’s pie. Bernie has been called into the hospital on an emergency after a large pileup on the motorway. Serena surveys the potatoes and the masher sat before her on the workbench of the kitchen. She’s going to make sure her mashed potatoes are much better than Bernie’s. Not that she’s competitive, or anything.
Ten minutes later and Serena has cursed a blue streak, has sliced her finger open trying to use the potato peeler, and has nearly broken her wrist attempting to mash the potatoes. Wiping her brow on a tea towel, she takes a deep breath.
“Come on, Campbell. You can do this. It’s only some potatoes. Why oh why didn’t I find the add water into a bag stuff?”
Serena, feeling a little calmer after a fortifying glass of Shiraz, lifts the potato masher and forcefully brings it down onto the potatoes in the bowl before her. Before she quite knows what’s happening, the potato masher snaps in half, Serena lets go of the bowl in shock, and the whole ensemble of equipment and food goes skittering across the work surface, narrowly avoiding the sink. It is only after she’s let loose a stream of language which Bernie’s old colleagues would be proud of that she realises Jason has been stood in the doorway of the kitchen and has witnessed the whole thing. His face is a picture of bemused shock.
Without saying a word, Jason moves towards the freezer and removes an M&S shepherd’s pie. He has a strong feeling that this might be the best option for their evening meal tonight.
-
“Are you really telling me…” Bernie honks into the cushion she’s holding in front of her face to shield herself from Serena’s playful jabs. “Are you really telling me you tried to mash whole potatoes? That you hadn’t even boiled first to soften them? We boiled them when we did it together! How did you forget?”
Serena, refusing to answer, aims a couple more half-hearted jabs in the direction of her partner, knowing she’ll never live this down.
-
It’s a few weeks before Jason lets them anywhere near his cooking again. He comes home from cookery class with an impeccable Irish stew and looks at them seriously.
“I told Catherine about your failures in the pursuit of mashed potato,” he says. (Serena ignores Bernie’s muttered “I don’t remember the pursuit of mashed potato, was Will Smith in that too?”) Jason gazes at them seriously.
“She says that after you’ve boiled down the potatoes,” he looks meaningfully at Serena, “you can add a little,” he turns to look at Bernie, who ducks her head, “butter or cream as you mash them. She says that to get a good mash, you should pretend the potatoes are somebody or something you dislike. That was you really get a thorough mash. I am not sure how this is effective, because you are mashing potato and not something else. But I said I would tell you this regardless.” He stands. “I look forward to shepherd’s pie night tomorrow.”
Bernie and Serena look at each other, sharing matching grins. Potato mashing just got fun!
-
“Take that Edward, you absolute prat and one of the worst mistakes of my life!” Serena gleefully shouts to the kitchen as she mashes her potatoes. “What.” Mash. “An.” Mash. “Utter.” Mash. “Potato.” Mash. “Faced.” Mash. “Man!” Mash. Mash. Mash. Mash. Mash. She looks at her bowl and sees some thoroughly mashed potato which she begins to fluff. It looks amazing. Probably the only thing Edward has ever helped her succeed in, actually.
Beside her, Bernie appears to be taking out all of her hurt and anger at Marcus over the divorce if the voraciousness of her mashing is anything to go by. It’s a good thing that they bought two new potato mashers after Serena broke the old one. She can see shepherd’s pie night becoming a way of them releasing all of their stresses.
-
Jason proclaims the shepherd’s pie delicious. Serena and Bernie have to agree. Jason’s filling is sublime. The topping is just perfect. Light enough to float atop the filling and fluffy enough to melt in the mouth. Both Serena and Bernie are very proud of their handywork. Jason vows to thank Catherine for her advice.
-
It becomes a regular thing, every shepherd’s pie night. Nobody is safe. Robbie shows up on the ward and has a whole evening of mashing dedicated just to him. Edward and Marcus have their own individual mashing days, too. Several, in fact. Those two have done enough to merit a lot of mashing. After Xavier Duvall’s constant stream of various sexist and homophobic remarks, Serena and Bernie spend a solid weekend mashing him into meals. Alongside shepherd’s pie, they make mash to go as a side with their other meals. They’ve found the food they can make as a couple which is edible and they’re going to stick with it. They also get to mash their infuriating co-workers without getting sacked.
One such co-worker who receives enough mashing to generate a week’s worth of mashed potato is Professor John Gaskell. He tries to get Bernie involved in his latest trial, but she’s not interested. He follows her round like an infuriating salesperson in a furniture shop, trying to flatter her but just annoying her. Even if she had been slightly interested in his work before (she wasn’t), his constant harassment has made her definitely not want to do it for sure now. Bernie mashes an entire sack of potatoes snarling about him and his questionable ethics regarding his trials. By the end of her session in the kitchen, there’s so much mashed potato that they take it round to their elderly neighbours. Bernie has also decided to call up an old friend she has who has more connections. She’s going to bring down the fake science professor if it’s the last thing she does. He’s using all the money which could be spent on her trauma bay, for starters.
-
When she next sees Dom on the roof, he assumes ‘potato mashing’ is a codeword.
“I honestly do not want to know what that means,” he says when she tells him she has a night of potato mashing planned with Serena.
“It means mashing potatoes.” Bernie looks at him, confused. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Copeland.”
They go on to have a heart to heart about how happy Dom is with Lofty, how scared he is about Isaac’s bestseller which romanticises how he treated Dom.
The next day, Bernie presents him with a bowl of mashed potato to heat up in the microwave for his lunch.
“Eat it,” she says. “That’s Isaac I’ve mashed in there for you. If you eat it, you consume all of the hard, bad things which have become something fluffy and positive. It makes you the stronger person.”
“I think, with all due respect Ms Wolfe, that you may have gone ever so slightly mad,” is Dominic’s response.
He eats the mashed potato all the same. It’s the best he’s ever tasted.
-
Several weeks later, Jason sits down with his aunts at the kitchen table. In front of them is an entire three course dinner which he has prepared, a celebration of his graduation from the evening cookery classes. He is now a competent chef. He’s much better than his aunts. The only thing on the table which he has not prepared is the side serving of mashed potato, now a staple addition to all of their meals. (As they eat it, he hears his aunts muttering about Edward and Robbie and Marcus. He really thinks they may have taken Catherine’s advice a bit too far. At least the mashed potato is good, at least).
Jason bides his time, waits until they’re eating the strawberry mousse cake. He clears his throat.
“Auntie Serena, Auntie Bernie.” They look at him.
“Yes, Jason?” Auntie Serena looks at him curiously.
“I have taken the initiative to book you both onto the next series of evening cookery classes. I have graduated as a more than able cook. I think it is time that you both learned too. You’re not getting any younger. And mashed potato cannot be your only food source.”
Serena and Bernie look at each other. Serena looks horrified and Bernie looks a touch amused. Jason continues.
“Catherine says if you are going to go to classes together it may be fun to have a scoresheet to see who makes the best dishes each week. I can be the impartial judge. I’ve already prepared a battle table for each week so we can total up your points once the sessions have ended.”
Bernie’s eyes light up at the thought of a friendly competition with Serena. Serena now also looks considerably more enthusiastic about the notion of spending two hours a week with other people in a kitchen at the local college.
“I say bring it on!” Bernie smirks. “If I’m this good at mashed potato, imagine how powerful everything else will make me.”
Serena rolls her eyes. Is it even possible to mash potato faced men into any other meals? There’s only one way to find out, she supposes…