Fan Fiction Friday: Steak au Poivre 
Alton Brown fan fiction crossover index
[INT. MESS TENT — MIDDAY]
The mess tent looks… wrong.
Not bad. Just unfamiliar. Long tables have been cleared. Cutting boards are lined up with military precision. Knives—real knives—are laid out neatly, catching the light.
ALTON BROWN stands at the center, sleeves rolled, calmly inspecting a crate of beef tenderloins like a man assessing a puzzle he already knows how to solve.
The tent flap bursts open.
HAWKEYE
You know, B.J., whenever Colonel Potter says, “I don’t have time to explain,” it usually ends with us explaining ourselves to someone with a clipboard.
B.J.
Or washing something we didn’t dirty.
CHARLES (taking in the scene)
Gentlemen… either we’re being punished, or we’ve died and gone somewhere profoundly confusing.
They stop short when they see the tenderloins.
HAWKEYE
Oh no.
B.J.
That’s not mystery meat.
CHARLES (horrified whisper)
That’s filet.
Alton looks up, smiles pleasantly.
ALTON
Doctors. Perfect timing!
HAWKEYE
Let me stop you right there. If this is about donating blood, organs, or free labor, we’re already very busy.
ALTON
Colonel Potter asked for your help.
CHARLES
Of course he did.
[Potter’s voice drifts in from outside.]
POTTER (O.S.)
Boys! Mr. Brown’s running a cooking demonstration. You’re assisting.
HAWKEYE
Sir, with respect—we’re surgeons.
POTTER (O.S.)
Then you already know how to use sharp objects without crying.
The surgeons exchange a look.
B.J.
He’s got us there.
ALTON
Dr. Winchester... it's not filet just yet. Right now, it's just tenderloin. So--doctors, scrub up and take a station. I'll show you how to prepare the tenderloin and properly carve into filet cuts. Then we will save every morsel for another dish--but tonight, it's Steak Au Poivre.
HAWKEYE
I'm already salivating... Charles, translate that into English.
CHARLES
In Boston, that would be beef tenderloin steaks with cracked pepper crust. The whole thing is delicately covered with a cream and cognac reduction.
ALTON
It's the same thing for supper at the 4077 tonight. Colonel Potter expects a full house, and Klinger is worried that if word gets out, soldiers everywhere will get wounded just to come eat. There could be 150 or more for supper and a proper serving is two medallions. Each tenderloin will average about five to seven--so get cutting. We've got 75 tenderloins to carve up to make sure we have extra.
CHARLES
Excuse me... for the reduction?
ALTON
I understand that you have a bottle of VS Congac...
CHARLES
My personal stock?
ALTON
I promise to make it worth your while. Can you go fetch it please?
[LATER — KNIFE STATION]
The surgeons are at work now, slicing tenderloins under Alton’s watchful eye.
ALTON
Now, you’ll notice these blades have small dimples along the side.
HAWKEYE
That’s either brilliant engineering or acne.
ALTON
Dimples reduce friction. Less drag. Cleaner cuts.
B.J. (examining the knife)
That’s incredible. It’s like… controlled air pockets.
CHARLES
Hmph. Japanese steel. Good balance. Still no substitute for proper technique.
He demonstrates a flawless cut.
HAWKEYE
You ever notice how Winchester always turns food into a lecture?
ALTON
Surgeons do that. As do chefs.
[The smell of pepper and searing beef fills the tent.]
The line outside grows longer. Curious glances turn hopeful.
ALTON
Oh—and gentlemen?
HAWKEYE
Please tell me this ends with lunch.
ALTON
Front of the line.
The knives pause mid-air.
B.J.
I suddenly feel very committed to this process.
CHARLES
As do I.
[NEAR THE REDUCTION SAUCE]
Charles produces a bottle of VS brandy with theatrical reluctance.
CHARLES
I suppose sacrifices must be made.
Alton raises an eyebrow, then casually sets down a bottle labeled Napoleon.
CHARLES (eyes lighting up)
Surely you wouldn’t waste that in a sauce.
ALTON
I wouldn’t dream of it.
He slides the Napoleon across.
ALTON
You enjoy that. I’ll cook with the VS.
CHARLES (recovering his dignity)
Fair… enough.
ALTON (hesitating, then whispering a secret)
Dr. Winchester... that's actually specifically for you from a friend.
CHARLES
A friend? Certainly a dear friend for this! But who?
ALTON (still whispering)
Later...
[SERVICE BEGINS]
Plates move fast. Steak au poivre disappears faster. The surgeons eat quietly—rare, reverent.
HAWKEYE
You know… if surgery ever stops working out, I could do this.
ALTON
Precision. Timing. Clean cuts.
B.J.
Turns out we already trained for it.
Alton watches the line move. Watches people eat.
ALTON
Skill’s skill. Doesn’t matter where you use it.
The surgeons nod, chewing thoughtfully.
[FADE OUT.]
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