#180f

[abluescarfonwaston]

Fuck me its too hot to work.

[kringelorde]

everybody upset that it's hot is correct but please take a moment to pray for me bc this whole time, I've been driving a black car with vinyl seats and no A/C <3

[six-of-ravens]

also, I made a really excellent roast chicken tonight for dinner, but I only got a picture of it before it went into the oven and not after and it just looks...raw and sad, so you'll just have to take my word for it that it was gorgeous and excellent.

[snarp]

I had to stop migrating Tumblr to go the doctor. But don't worry: all's well and Tumblr's well on its way to being 100% ported to an instant-read digital meat thermometer.

They are going to do medical science at me today again and well. I'm tired of it.

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “212 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

[flintandpyrite]

Heyyy! I was going through your cooking tag and saw you mentioned you’d be willing to share your yogurt recipe? I’ve been wanting to get into yogurt making (I easily eat a standard tub a week and that’s just on my own lol.) so I am real curious to see what others are doing/ where they get their cultures etc etc.

Thank you!

Of course! This is the method I use but there are many. If you don’t have all this equipment you can get basically the same results using a large sterilized glass jar and a towel for the incubation step. I prefer the simplicity and ease of the instant pot (and I got mine for free! Check your local facebook marketplace to see if someone is giving one away near you!!) but it’s not an absolute necessity.

When I was eating yogurt every day for breakfast, I would make a half-gallon at a time (8 cups of milk and 4 tablespoons of yogurt). These days I do 4 cups at a time since I'm eating less of it. Remember to save the last 2-4 tablespoons of each jar so you can make more!

Things you will need for this method:

Instant pot with yogurt setting

Thermometer (instant read is best)

Whisk or spoon

4 cups of milk

2 Tbls Yogurt— you want yogurt where the only ingredient is milk/cream and culture. No pectin, agar, “thickener”, sugar, or flavoring. My personal favorite brand is Brown Cow but that’s only available in parts of the US.

Steps:

Place your milk in the instant pot. Press “Sauté” and stir every 30 seconds or so until the milk starts to steam. Check the temperature frequently. You want to heat it to 185F/85C and keep it there for 3 minutes. In the instant pot, this usually means turning the saute function off around 180F and stirring continuously while it continues to heat from the residual heat. Admittedly this is way easier to do on a stovetop so you can try out both methods and see which you prefer. Heating the milk to this temperature and holding it there denatures the milk proteins and creates a better yogurt texture.

Turn off the Saute function and then remove the insert from the instant pot. Allow the milk to cool, either on the counter (which can take 40 minutes!) or in a cool water bath while stirring. Take care to not get any water in the milk. You want to get it down to 110F/43C, which is the optimal temperature for the yogurt culture.

Whisk the yogurt into the milk thoroughly. Place the insert back into the instant pot with the lid on and turn on the Yogurt function, set for 14 hours. I usually do this in the evening so the yogurt is ready when I get up.

When the incubation is complete, carefully remove the insert from the instant pot and place it in the fridge for 1-2 hours to cool. Once it is cool you can scoop it into a jar or container. It is best to allow it to cool in situ because this improves the texture. Scooping it too soon may result in grainy yogurt.

I like my yogurt fairly liquidy (because I mostly use it as a substitute for buttermilk in American baking recipes) but if you prefer thicker yogurt you can strain it through a cheesecloth or very fine strainer at this point. Keep the whey-- it can be used in bread to replace the water or marinades.

[cinemaocd]

Just made the best grilled chicken of my bbq life and it was so damn easy

I have to share

The chicken: bone-in skin on thighs

The prep: open package, place the chicken on a plate and salt on both sides with kosher salt in an even layer.

The marinade: 3 Tablespoons of ranch dressing and a 1/2 cup of buttermilk, or mixture of yogurt and milk.

Place the thighs in a ziplock with marinade and let it sit while you set the grill up. You can marinate longer, or even overnight for improved texture/flavor, but mine only went about 90 minutes before I cooked them and they were fantastic.

Set up the grill half with coals, half with a water bath. Add a few chunks of smoking quality hardwood on top of your coals. You can use a gas grill for this but you won't get the smokey flavor which is a big part of this. If you have a gas grill, you may want to baste the chicken with a bbq sauce near the end of cooking to enhance flavor. You need at least a full size Weber for this, you can't do this on a smokey joe. When your temperature hits 350, close your dampers (I used 1/4 open on top and bottom on my weber) and keep the temp as close to 350 as possible.

Put the chicken on the cool side of the grill, with the skin facing up. Shut the lid and let cook for 45 minutes without opening the lid. Use your vents to keep your heat low and steady. After 45 minutes rearrange the chicken thighs so that they cook evenly. Check and add charcoal if it is depleted, but if you kept your temp under control, it should be fine. No need to add smoking wood, they should be pretty well smoked by this point. Put the lid back on and cook another 45 minutes. The next time you open up, test the thighs. They need to get to at least 165, but they can go a lot higher without drying out.

Open your vents to stoke up the hot side of the grill, adding more charcoal if needed. Keeping the lid on the grill will help it heat faster. When the temperature gets up over 400 put the thighs skin side down on the hot side. As the fat renders out of the skin you will get flare ups. That's fine, you want some of that. Don't let them catch fire and you'll be fine. Use tongs to get the charring on all sides of the meat. This is the point to add some bbq sauce to your thighs if you want. Cook for five-ten more minutes with the meat on the cool side of the grill and the lid on to set the sauce.

When the thighs are at the doneness you prefer (I personally like well done 180F+ on chicken thighs), remove them to rest a few minutes.

These grilled chicken thighs are great as is hot, or cold in picnic lunch, cut up in a salad, shredded for tacos, put in a wrap etc. Serve with BBQ sauce on the side.

[keitheaverage]

hey, don't be sad. fill a glass baking tray with heavy whipping cream and stick in a 180F/80C oven for about twelve hours, let cool down to room temperature, and stick in the fridge overnight to get a delicious Devonshire cream to spread over your morning toast or bagel with some fruity jam or preserves, okay??

[kiwisoap]

I’ve never tried to make yogurt before. Do you have a tutorial you could recommend?

yeah!! the thing about yogurt is that since its really simple to make, there are all kinds of different variations that you can use and still end up with a really good result, so there are about 100000 different yogurt tutorials online LMAO but the gist for all of them is pretty much the same! its basically:

-Heat up some milk to around 180F/82C (i like to do this in the microwave because its so much easier than stovetop). this kills all the bad bacteria in the milk so it doesnt spoil

-Let the milk cool to around 110F/43C

-Add some existing plain yogurt to the warm milk. Make sure that whatever you use says "contains live and active cultures". I like using chobani!

-Incubate the milk for 6-12 hours - methods vary. I usually just put a lid on the bowl and wrap it in towels then stick it in the oven with the oven light on. Usually the heat from the light will keep it around the right temp.

then you have yogurt!!! there are tons of factors that can affect the final product tho, stuff like the fat content of the milk (i use whole milk and usually add some heavy cream to it cus i fucking love thick yogurt), the length of time you let the milk simmer, the amount of yogurt you add to the milk, the TYPE of yogurt you add, the amount of time it incubates, etc etc etc. It's really a matter of trying out different variations and seeing what turns out well!

Also if you want to turn it into greek yogurt, just strain it through folded-over cheesecloth or like, a towel or something. The liquidy part (the whey) will strain out of it and give you a really thick yogurt. Thats my fav method!

[atlas-the-bastard]

ik i reblogged a post abt the lead-in-tampons study the other day, and while I still stand by my tags (that people should use reusable pads/period underwear), I thought I should share some stuff I've found since actually reading details about the study. Dr Andrea Love (microbiologist and immunologist) dissects the study in this very informative and easy to comprehend article, which I think EVERYONE should read but the basics are:

the levels of lead (and other metals) found are MINISCULE, and especially when compared to the maximum accepted levels in other products that contain trace amounts of lead (literally anything made with plants, as that's how lead is in tampons - absorbed from soil by cotton plants)

the conditions the scientists used to extract the metals are FAR more harsh the the conditions of an actual vagina - they used nitric acid (with a pH of 1.2) and 180F temps, vs the average 4.5 pH and 99F temp of a vagina. therefore there is no information about whether lead could actually leach into our bodies (which is the main thing we need to know), but it is likely the scientists tried the experiment using proper conditions and found nothing, then adjusted to harsher conditions so they could at least find something and be able to justify their funding.

there were no biomedical scientists on the team (just. why.) and the results had incredibly high variability

the panic this study caused has been magnified greatly by headlines and influencers using fearmongering and buzzwords to get people's attention, and if anyone bothered to actually look into it, they'd find that the results really aren't as concerning as they appear.

tldr; you can keep using tampons (even though I am personally a reusable-and-eco-friendly period products truther), the levels of metal found are not harmful, and the study itself is a bit bogus.

[irradiate-space]

Posting experimental results on main:

liquid gallium does not wet flesh, but does freeze onto flesh

water wets flesh

water wets liquid gallium

water wets solid gallium

180F water is hotter than I remembered it being

[unsellingconvenience]

Sous vide corned beef (@seriouseats recipe more or less, cured for - week, then 180F for 10 hours). I boiled the carrots and potatoes in the bag juices and some water, but no one liked the boiled cabbage last year so I roasted that at 500F in bacon fat instead. #dinner #stpatricksday #sousvide #cornedbeef #cooking

[bakingneoriche]

Homemade Mascarpone // half the cost, half the ingredients

At my local supermarket Mascarpone cheese, used for tiramisu and other recipes, costs $7-8 per 8oz. and typically has a few preservatives that may alter the taste, so I don't ever use it, especially when making it at home is ridiculously easy.

It takes 10.min of active time, and 14 hours of inactive time (2 hours + overnight in the fridge).

This recipe can be modified to not include any special materials, however an instant read thermometer is absolutely required.

This was my setup. I have a thermometer that beeps when it hits the temp its set at so I set the temp to 85 C and turned my burner on the lowest setting. Then I walked away from it. With how low I set it, it took about an hour. If you are impatient, I have also done this recipe using an instant read thermometer with the stove on high by constantly stirring and very frequently checking the temperature, then removing from heat when it reaches 82 C or 180F instead of the higher end of allowed temperatures just in case it raises a few more degrees due to the heat of the pan.

Then I poured in my acid and swirled the pan hard just until the cream got thick and coagulated. Then I set my pan aside to rest at room temp. for an hour.

I always use citric acid because it's acidity is always consistent, but traditionally it's made with lemon juice. You could substitute the citric acid with 1-2tsp lemon juice, but you may need to add more if your cream doesn't coagulate.

After the hour, I poured my mascarpone into a sieve lined with a fine towel. Cheesecloth works just as well. I put the sieve into a bowl to catch any whey that drains off of it, then covered with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge.

After 12-24 hours it'll be ready. The longer it's in the fridge the firmer it will get, however if you want yours to be really firm add a little bit more acid than normal.

This recipe makes exactly enough mascarpone for my tiramisu recipe.

[rottenbrainstuff]

Oh apparently it’s getting close to American thanksgiving! Your regular PSA from me, who is sad that everyone thinks turkey is dry and pointless, instead of the delicious meat that it can be when treated with respect:

1) brine it. Brining prevents proteins from bunching up tightly when cooked and keeps the meat more tender. Plus it also seasons it right down to the bone.

2) don’t cook a giant bird. It’s impossible to fully cook a giant turkey without overcooking parts of it. If you have a crowd, cook two small turkeys.

3) don’t overcook it. I have no idea why the women in my family cook turkeys all bloody day but you only need to cook it until it reaches a safe temperature. Generally this is considered to be 180F in the thigh and 175F in the breast. Then take it the fuck out of your oven! For most turkeys this is only going to take a couple hours, not all afternoon!

[twentythousandvolts]

did you guys know that the accuweather "realfeel" chart sent me into a psychotic breakdown once because it had instructions for how to react if the fucking temperature was like. "feels like 180F" or some shit and i was like "Oh god its going to Feels like 180F and then i will die" about it

[exculis]

low as your air fryer will go (mine is 180F) for 10 minutes = your pizza is beautifully reheated. thank me later