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Curled up on the couch, Jemma snuggled closer to Fitz as they watched the Great British Bake Off on Netflix. With its British accents and soothing approach to reality TV, it was a show both she and Fitz could enjoy together as a slice of home.
As Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood gently critiqued a contestant’s pastry, Jemma commented, “That looks delicious. I should make us a pie.”
Fitz wrinkled his brow, “Have you ever made a pie before?”
Jemma couldn’t blame him for being confused. She was typically more at home in a lab, rather than a kitchen.
“Well, no, but how hard can it be? I have two PhDs, I’m sure I can figure out how to follow a recipe.”
Fitz pressed a kiss to Jemma’s head, “I can’t wait to try it. I’m sure it’ll be delicious-- everything you do is fantastic.”
Grabbing her laptop from the side table, Jemma threw herself into combing the internet for the best pie recipe. Scrolling through the websites, she quickly landed on making an apple pie, since it was fall and honestly, what was more American than apple pie?
After careful consideration, she decided on a traditional recipe from the Joy of Baking. Scanning the list of ingredients, she mentally catalogued what she already had in the cupboard and jotted down what she would need to grab from the store in the morning.
Jemma laid out her ingredients with surgical precision. Double and triple checking the recipe, she started weighing and measuring out the flour, rolling out the dough and dicing the apples.
She felt confident when she slid the pie into the 400 degree oven.
It looked good when she pulled it out of the oven, but when she sliced into it, it was a disaster. The bottom crust was a soggy mess.
Still, Fitz was a dutiful taste tester and took the proffered slice happily.
Jemma frowned at the pie, “I don’t know what went wrong. Baking is basically chemistry and I followed the recipe exactly. There’s no logical reason why this shouldn’t have turned out.”
Fitz shoveled another bite into his mouth and said, “Tastes fine to me.”
“No, I can do better,” Jemma said determinedly. “Good thing I bought extra ingredients.”
Except her next pie was worse. She course corrected too hard and this time, her crust was tough and chewy.
How many times had she saved the world? She refused to let this pie get the best of her, so she set to mixing up some more dough.
But, then, she turned her back for a second and burnt the top of the pie. Another one ruined.
With her fourth pie, she finally got the crust right, but the filling was runny and practically inedible.
It was a comedy of errors. Tired, frustrated and covered in flour, Jemma slumped over the counter. Their kitchen looked like a bomb went off and a far cry from her tidy lab. Was all this effort worth it? Maybe she was just a terrible baker.
Resolved to try one last time, Jemma measured out the flour and dumped it into the mixing bowl. She added the butter and water and combined the ingredients until she had a perfectly flaky dough. Rolling it out, she laid the crust in the tin and pressed it down. She spooned the apples in and then cut the upper crust to size. Laying it on top of the mound of apples, Jemma crimped the edges and cut slits into the top to vent the steam.
Jemma placed it in the oven carefully and set the timer. All that was left to do was wait. While she did, she worked on putting the kitchen back to rights.
The timer dinged and Jemma held her breath. Grabbing her oven mitts, she pulled the pie out of the oven and placed it on the stovetop to cool. It certainly looked perfect, crust golden brown and glistening.
After letting it cool, it was time to slice into it. The real moment of truth.
“Fitz, get in here!” Jemma called out.
Fitz had been studiously avoiding the kitchen, as Jemma’s mood had soured with each successive failed attempt. He peeked his head into the kitchen warily.
“Look, it’s perfect! You want a slice?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Fitz replied, “Of course!”
Jemma plated him a slice with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce.
Fitz took a big bite, a moan slipped from his lips. Swallowing, he said, “Jemma, this is amazing. It’s seriously the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”
Jemma beamed back at him, “Thank you! I had to prove to myself that I could do it. And the end result is pretty tasty. Mind you, I’m never going to do it again, but it was a fun challenge.”
Fitz looked affronted. “Oi, you can’t give me a slice of heaven and then tell me you’re never making it again.”
Jemma took another bite and it melted in her mouth. “Okay, maybe never is too harsh. It is really delicious. How about we save it for special occasions?”
“So like once a month?” Fitz asked hopefully.
Jemma laughed, “We’ll see. I think I’m apple pie-d out for the foreseeable future, at least. Maybe I’ll make one for Christmas.”
Mullified, Fitz turned back to his pie and happily took another bite.
Seeing how much Fitz enjoyed the literal fruits of her labor made it all worth it. Because this is what baking was all about-- showing love through food and bringing others joy.