#i might just make chibis my 'bread and butter.'

[kharonion]

..

[jashasedai]

Oh Cook! Buttered Roll Guest Stars

Oh Cook! Buttered Roll Guest Stars

Alternate Universe- Tame Racing Drivers

Fandom- Formula 1, WRC, Top Gear, The Grand Tour, Oh Cook!(James May's cooking show)

In an AU where Racing Drivers have been revealed to the public(now called Velos), James May hosts a unique cooking show, and invites special guest stars on to join in the fun.

Robert Kubica and his Racing Driver, Bulka, and Alex Rins and his Racing Rider, Huir, join James for a special Baking edition of Oh Cook: Stig's Kitchen!

Tags: Formula 1, WRC, Top Gear, The Grand Tour, Oh Cook! MotoGP, Robert Kubica, James May, Alex Rins, Ben Collins, AU Tame Racing Drivers, Alternate Universe, James May's cooking show, Rinsy and Huir are the 42 Bakery, Rinsy and Huir are lunatics, Racing Drivers are chibi and adorable

Oh Cook!  Buttered Roll Guest Stars

Amazon Studio/Nikki Morgan’s Kitchen- 2021

“Today viewers, we have some special guests on this edition of Stig’s kitchen,” James smiled at the camera, resting a hand on the little plaster model of Stig wearing an apron, holding a spatula and a ladle in his crossed hands, and balancing a chef’s toq on his white helmet.

Stig had refused to participate in the segment after the introductory episode, when James had bumped hot lentils all over Stig’s clean white suit and it dripped inside and ruined a pair of racing boots.  He was sitting with his feet up on a couch on the other side of Nikki Morgan’s main room, reading a magazine upside down.  He gave James a thumbs up without looking when James did the intro.

Ben, in the armchair, looked up from a Star Wars novel and gave the camera a friendly little wave, though.

“Allo,” Said the friendly-looking Polish man standing behind the big counter.  He waved his left hand.  “Say Allo, Robota.”

The handsome Racing Driver beside him smirked.  [Hello, Robota.]

There was a repeating rev sound from off camera as Stig laughed at the joke.

James went on, “Robert here, has a very special nickname for Robota, he calls him “Bulka Maslam” or “My Buttered Roll” in Polish.  That may sound somewhat strange, but in his homeland it is a common term of endearment.”

“Yes,” Robert said.  “It is a name a mother may call a child, or a friend might call a dear one.”

The Racing Driver leaned in against his match and smiled.

“In honor of this unusual tradition, today we are going to make fresh rolls, using a potato flour that is healthier for Velo stomachs than wheat flour.  Since baking isn’t my specialty, we’ve invited someone who is a bit of an expert.”  James went to the door he usually knocked on to get Nikki, the show’s culinary specialist to come and help him, or test a recipe.

The door whipped open and a hugely smiling face peeked out from one side of the doorframe.  His big teeth were gleaming white and he strode around the corner, waving to the cameras, and walked right into the corner of the counter.  He made a surprised noise and pushed himself away from it, stepping around and slotting in right between Robert and Bulka.

James came back from the door, trying to hide a smile.

[Hello!] Huir gestured, reaching way across both Robert and Bulka in his excitement.  [I am Huir Rins, I am the top step baking expert!  Hello.]  He shook Bulka’s hand in both of his, like he was the mayor granting the key to the city.  Then he shook Robert, then James just as excitedly by the hand.

Then he looked past the camera, stood on his toes and said, [Was that good, Alex?]

The camera switched to Alex Rins, leaning against a cabinet.  When he saw the camera on him his smile froze and he slid partway behind it, out of sight, just staying visible enough to nod to Huir and give a thumbs up.

Huir pivoted his full attention to the bowl of ingredients.  [Now!] He told it, [We will make you into a proper bread.]  He snatched up the bag of potato flour and began to explain to James how important it was to provide your Velo with a diet of foods that did not include things Velos stomachs had not developed to eat in their thousands of years on the Antarctic continent.  He punctuated this lecture with measuring out huge scoops of flour, assigning Robert and Bulka to measure the smaller ingredients, and turning away from the camera to hunt through the cupboards for a bigger mixing bowl.

[We are only making a small batch,] James tried.  [We do not need a big bowl.]

Huir stopped his lecture to look over his shoulder at James.  Then he looked further, towards the camera crew.  His eyes narrowed in suspicion.  [No,] He shook his head.  [There is no purpose in making food for only a few.  We will make a proper sized batch, to feed a stable.  I will pay for the ingredients, you will not need to worry.]  He snapped his fingers at Alex.  [Take Stig and get the other bags of flour out of the Honda.]  He paused leaning over, looking into one of the cupboards.  He straightened up, [And bring my baking pans.  We will need them.]

[Is this enough salt?] Bulka asked, holding a small glass ingredient bowl out to Huir.

The Rider stallion examined Bulka’s bowl of salt while continuing to scoop flour by the cupful into the biggest bowl he found on top of Nikki’s fridge cabinet.  [Yes,] He nodded.  He looked up with a big smile, as Alex shuffled past the camera crew.

“Excuse me, Excuse me, Compermisio,” Alex murmured.  He had a big bag of flour cradled like a toddler in his left arm, and a stack of five baking pans in his right, and slung over his shoulder he had a boxy carry case.  “I thought you would want this.”

Huir squeaked and clapped hands when he saw it.  Each clap released a little puff of flour that collected together in the air and showered down onto the work surface.  [Video watchers, my wonderful and special match has brought my favorite piece of equipment!  Every kitchen is complete once it has one.]  He reached out like he was reaching for a hug, but instead took the carry case from Alex.  [A match, I mean.  Someone to go, pickup and carry things back to you.]  He smiled into the camera.  His hands had been busily unpacking the machine from the case.  It had a bowl upturned over part of it and when he attached the bowl on the top it was recognizable as a baker’s dry scale.

While he started scooping from the floursacks with the sixteen ounce hand scoop, he was describing, in noises as much as his gestures, what a dry scale was and why it was important never to pack flour into a cup to measure it, but instead to let it stay fluffy.  Every few scoops he tipped the scale’s bowl into the big mixing bowl, and his stream of noises never ceased.

Robert had stopped measuring water, and turned his head, eyes wide, when Huir started in on the revs, clicks, and beeps of the Racers’ sound language.  Bulka had finished measuring his salt and was holding it clutched against his chest with his thin arm, waiting for further direction.

James lost the thread of translation when this happened.  He didn’t speak SAS well enough to keep up with Huir’s 7000rpm recitation.  Alex was facing away from the camera, blocking the view of the counter, moving things to the sides of the studio kitchen, making room for the new, more ambitious project.  He wasn’t translating, at all.

“Got it.”  Ben jumped up from his armchair, looked around wildly for a bookmark, then came over to the counter with his finger pinched in the closed book.  “Uhhhh, he started, standing at the end of the counter, out of the way and squinting in concentration.  His head started to bob along with the rhythm of Huir’s noises and his lips started to move, then the words came, in a stream.

“For the best bread, the air has to be in the dough.  The heat makes the tiny air expand, and it makes the dough bubbles, beautiful, delicious bubbles, filled by the scent of love and passion,” Ben stuttered.

Huir dumped the last flour into the measuring bowl.  He revved.

“It is finished,” Ben translated with a huff.

[Now, we must have rosemary!] Huir threw his hands in the air and turned to Alex.  The match was ready with a gallon ziplock of pale green/grey plant stems.  He thrust it into Huir’s hands.  [My match!] Huir took the bag and kissed Alex on both cheeks, then shoved him lightly away and upended the bag of rosemary onto the cutting board.

[What do I do with my salt?] Bulka asked.

[Chop this!] Huir pushed the whole cutting board and its payload of rosemary into James’ hands and pointed him towards the side counter.  [That is your station.]

He took Robert by the arm and pulled the man and the measuring tub of water he’d run from the tap towards the bowl.  [Your stallion will mix the dry ingredients, and then you will pour the warmed water in, slowly, while he scrapes the sides of the bowl.]  He maneuvered Bulka to the other side of the mixing bowl.  [You two are the best team,] He said.  He leaned close to Bulka, just short of pressing their cheeks together. [I see how you move.  There is a famous bond between you.]  He hovered for a moment, staring into Bulka’s eyes, sharing some thought or feeling that made Bulka take a slow, deep breath, and made his eyes shine.  Then, Huir twirled away and Bulka blinked away the moisture.

That was when Huir noticed the ovens.  He stopped stock still like he’d seen a predator and stared.  [What??  These ovens are MUCH too small.  I cannot…] He turned to the door he’d come in by, strode over and banged on it with his closed fist.

It opened and a surprised blonde woman peeked out.  “Yes?”

“The ovens are too small!” Ben translated, coming over from the end of the counter island.  “We will need four this size to cook enough bread, in shifts.”

“I...I have an old oven...in the garage...It was waiting to be picked up for recycling.”

Huir grabbed the woman’s shoulders and leaned in, squeezing urgently.  [Does.  It.  Still.  Work?]

The kitchen was totally still.  Every Velo and human had turned to see what Nikki would say.  The usually unflappable culinist looked across the crowd of faces in the studio kitchen.  She licked her lips.

“Yes.”

“YES!” Huir threw his hands in the air and all the cooks burst into motion, exclaiming and patting each other congratulations.

“AND,” Nikki called over the din, getting into the spirit of things, “There’s another oven in the guest house!”

[I will get the oven from the garage!  I know where it is!] Stig announced.  He had jumped up from his place on the couch to give Alex a high five.  The two of them rushed past the camera crew and down Nikki’s hallway.

Relief washed over the cooks and the camera crew.

The show was saved.