#Chopped Steak Burger

[rabbitcruiser]

Food in Alberta

Alberta was named after Princess Louise Caroline Alberta (1848–1939), the fourth daughter of Queen Victoria. Princess Louise was the wife of John Campbell, Marquess of Lorne, Governor General of Canada (1878–83). Lake Louise and Mount Alberta were also named in her honour.

The name "Alberta" is a feminine Latinized form of Albert, the name of Princess Louise's father, the Prince Consort (cf. Medieval Latin: Albertus, masculine) and its Germanic cognates, ultimately derived from the Proto-Germanic language *Aþalaberhtaz (compound of "noble" + "bright/famous").

Source: Wikipedia

[tazmiilly]

burger fry for dinnar

[fieriframes]

[This is my son.]

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

FOR THE LOVE OF VINTAGE SIGNS AND THE CLASSIC AMERICAN DINER ESTABLISHMENT.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on quintessential mid-century Americana -- a vintage sign advertising a dining establishment named Mr. Karass' Charbroiled Steaks, Chops, Chicken, Burgers, & Breakfast Special, unknown state & city, USA, undated.

Source: http://bummercalifornia.com.

[big-mayo-official]

chop steak make 2 3 hamburger patties top each with 1 2 slices American cheese and a dollop of sauce ketchup mustard mayo spices onion serve with fries pickles tomato on side

[rubywillkins]

dark mocha, shot of expresso, skim milk and almond milk please. Then egg Benedict(could this be present through the whole fic if u don’t mind, otherwise do what makes u comfortable my love) French toast, hotdog and mushroom burger. Beef stroganoff, beef cheese rolling, beef diced potatoes, sirloin steak, pork chops and potato gnocchi. Could I then please have bottled water then mineral water? All with Oscar piastri please❤️❤️❤️

Sure darling ♥️

Oscar piastri|

Beneath the surface

Pairing oscar × female reader

Dark Mocha dating shot of espresso rough sex skim milk dry humping almond milk vaginal sex Egg Benedict age play (sure darling ♥️) french Toast spanking hot dog size kink mushroom burger pain kink Beef stoganoff "you can take it,you have done it before" beef cheese rolling "Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!” beef diced potatoes “Do you need to use your safeword, darling?” sirloin steak “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” pork chops “So good for me, look at how much you came.” potato gnocchi “Shh, just look at me, baby.” bottled water soaking in bath tub mineral water after care

Oscar’s gaze flickered across the paddock, narrowing slightly as he spotted his girlfriend, Y/N, laughing at something his teammate said. He felt a prickle of unease as his teammate leaned in closer, his expression animated as he spoke. Despite knowing it was probably harmless, a wave of jealousy stirred in Oscar’s chest.

Later that evening, back at their hotel, the tension between them simmered as they unpacked the day.

Oscar slammed the door shut behind him, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. Y/N flinched slightly at the sudden noise, turning from where she’d been scrolling on her phone. She could see the fire in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with barely contained frustration.

“What’s your problem, daddy?” she asked, setting her phone down.

“My problem?” Oscar’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yes, I am,daddy” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms. “You’ve been brooding and stomping around like a storm cloud since we left the paddock. If something’s wrong, just say it!”

He stepped closer, his height and broad frame towering over her, though his frustration was more emotional than physical. “You and my teammate,” he said, his voice low but loaded with intensity. “The way you were with him today. The laughing, the way he was leaning in so close. Do you know how that looked to everyone? Do you know how that felt for me?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “Daddy, we were just talking. He was telling me a funny story—about a coffee spill, for God’s sake. It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Then why did it look so damn intimate?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know how humiliating it is to stand there, watching him act like you’re his, like I’m not even in the picture?”

Her temper flared at his words. “Humiliating? Oscar, he’s your teammate, not some random guy hitting on me. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“Am I?” he challenged, stepping even closer. “Because from where I was standing, it didn’t look like I was the one making you smile like that.” “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?”

“That’s not fair,daddy” she said, her voice shaking slightly now, though with frustration rather than fear. “You know how I feel about you. If you’re so insecure about something so innocent, maybe the problem isn’t him or me—it’s you.”

Oscar’s eyes darkened, her words hitting a nerve. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make this about my insecurities. I know what I saw, and I didn’t like it.”

“Well, maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions and trust me,” she retorted, her own emotions bubbling over.

He stared at her for a moment, his breathing heavy, his fists clenched at his sides. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Good,” she shot back, her chin lifting defiantly. “Maybe now you know how you’re making me feel.”

And then, before either of them could say another word, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against him. The air between them was charged, their frustration bleeding into something more primal.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive.

“Prove it,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.

The tension that had built up between them exploded, the anger and jealousy giving way to a passion that neither could deny. The conversation was left behind as they gave in to the pull of their emotions, the room filling with the intensity of their connection.

He hovered over her.. kissing her roughly... Making her moan... perfect chance to slip his tounge in her mouth...

And pressing and rubbing his clothed dick against her hot and sensitive core..

You were so much into him that you didn't even realise when he removed all of his and your clothes.. and suddenly he flips you you now laying on your stomach...

And inserted in you without a warning in doggy style... He didn't even give you enough time to adjust him... So it will be a bit painful... He likes it in that way when he is super jealous....

He was thursting in to you while spanking you...

Your ass was bright red by now... And only god knows how much he loved it...

"Enough,daddy, please, I can’t take anymore!” you said while still moaning... You knew he was angry but his big cock was seriously feeling so big against you...

"Daddy it hurts..."

"you can take it,you have done it before"

He said while flipping you again and now he was pounding in to you again in missionary...

While he was pounding in and out in you... He was kissing and sucking your breasts too...

After a while when he saw that it was way more painful for you than je expected he said...

“Do you need to use your safeword, darling?"

"no daddy... I like it when you make it hurt"

You said while your nails were scratching and Peirceing his back...

After some time you both came together...

“So good for me, look at how much you came.”

He said while teasing you...

The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and their steady breathing. Oscar lay on his back, his large frame sprawled out, with Y/N tucked against him. Her head rested on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. He lazily ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand tracing light patterns along her spine.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur in the dimly lit room.

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her expression peaceful yet slightly tired. “More than okay,daddy” she whispered with a small smile. “Are you?”

He chuckled, his voice warm and rich. “Better than I’ve felt all day.” But he noticed the way her body sagged slightly against his, her limbs heavy with the pleasant exhaustion of the night.

“Come on,” he said, sitting up and gathering her in his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The bathroom was already filled with the soft glow of candles from earlier, their lavender scent lingering in the air. Oscar turned on the tap, adjusting the water to just the right temperature, and added a generous splash of soothing bath oil.

He helped Y/N undress, his touch tender and unhurried as he carefully folded her clothes to the side. She shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the gentle intensity in his gaze.

He stepped into the tub first, his larger frame settling into the warm water, and then held out his hand to guide her in. She sank against him, her back to his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her. The water sloshed gently as they settled, the fragrant warmth soaking away the last traces of tension.

Oscar picked up a soft sponge and dipped it into the water, squeezing it over her shoulders and arms. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. He gently ran the sponge down her back, moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You don’t have to do all this, daddy” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“I want to " he replied firmly. “You’ve given me so much tonight. Let me give something back.”

He washed her arms and hands, massaging her palms and fingers as he went. His touch moved to her legs, carefully kneading out any lingering soreness. He poured water over her hair, gently combing through the strands with his fingers before rinsing them thoroughly.

“Relax,” he said as he kissed her damp shoulder. “You’re safe with me Shh, just look at me, baby.”

She closed her eyes, melting into his embrace. The water seemed to cocoon them in a world of their own, and the earlier turmoil felt like a distant memory.

After the water cooled, Oscar lifted her out of the tub, wrapping her in a soft, plush towel. He dried her gently, taking his time as though savoring every moment. Once she was dry, he led her back to the bed, where he had already laid out a fresh pair of clothes for her.

He slipped her into one of his oversized shirts, the fabric swallowing her frame, and pulled the covers up around them. She curled into his side, her head resting against his chest once more.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice heavy with contentment and drowsiness.

“For what?” he asked, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her arm.

“For loving me like this,” she said. “For making me feel safe.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart swelling with affection. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in the quiet aftermath of their long night, Oscar felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Whatever challenges tomorrow would bring, he knew they would face them together.

..........................................................................................

Sorry guys for the delay... But I am really sick rn..And I know you guys are waiting for your requests and trust me I would make them as soon as I will be fine ( i have like 20 request pending) Thankyou ♥️

[unlikeable-female-character]

This is the first fic I have written for many many years. After rediscovering this place earlier last year and finding all the amazing Logan fic I was inspired to try my hand. This is part of a larger story that I can’t quite work out - I have bits and pieces of it but can’t quite weave it together. But I wanted to post something just because I feel quite proud of having written anything at all

This is an Old Man Logan! X reader story, set in some alternative universe where Logan doesn’t die at the end of ‘Logan’

it’s pure fluff with an allusion to sex and mention of pregnancy. Hope that you like it!

***

It was fair to say that if Laura could have floated away with sheer joy she would have done. Several times you and Logan have to sit her down and try to calm her. It lasts for a few minutes before she begins bouncing again. You give Logan a look and he just shrugs, smiling but defeated 

‘Let’s get dressed then we can head down to the chapel,’ you suggest

‘You think that’s going to calm her down?’ Logan says

‘No not at all,’ you laugh, ‘but we need to get changed and the mood she’s in it’s going to take twice as long’ 

You grab Laura and take her off into the adjoining room, looking back over your shoulder at Logan 

‘Your suit is in that bag,’ nodding towards the garment bag hanging in the open closet 

Just over an hour later you and Laura come back and Logan can barely breathe at the sight of you both. The 50s style tea dress you’d found in the thrift store hugs you in all the right places, the colour a dusky pink. You have pinned your hair up and placed a few flowers liberated from the hotel room vases into the messy bun. Laura’s normally tangled hair has been pulled back into a slightly wonky French plait (she couldn’t sit still long enough for you to finesse it) and is wearing a dress with a skirt made up of more layers of tuile and flounce than either of you could count. She twirls in front of Logan, making the skirt puff out. He smiles, for the first time in a long time the smile reaching his eyes 

‘You look beautiful,’ he says, then looking over at you, ‘both of you’

You walk to him and reach up to adjust his tie, dark blue against his crisp white shirt, a match to the dark blue suit you had found him. A little tight across the shoulders maybe but not enough that anyone would notice. He’d trimmed his beard, not back to the mutton chops you knew he used to sport but just to make himself a little tidier. You run your fingers through the soft hair and pull him towards you for a kiss 

‘You look incredibly handsome,’ you whisper against his lips.

You swear you see him blush. Plucking one of the flowers from your hair, you tuck it into the button hole on his lapel. 

‘There,’ you say, smoothing your hands down the front of his jacket, ‘Well troops, are we doing this?’ 

‘Yes!’ Laura yells and grabs your hand. 

Logan gives you his arm and you link yours through it 

‘Looks like we are,’ he says softly. 

***

And then - you’re married.  Logan slips the pawn shop ring on your finger and you swear you can feel him tremble. You’re sure you fare no better as you slip the matching one onto his finger. At that point you’re fairly sure Laura would have popped with excitement.

‘You may now kiss the bride,’ you both hear and Logan wastes no time in doing so. In fact the kiss possibly goes on for longer than is comfortable for the others in the room. But you don’t care.  You can faintly hear Laura cheering but otherwise, your entire focus is on your new husband 

Back in the room, you order room service - burger and fries for you and Laura, a steak for Logan, ice cream sundaes and brownies for dessert.  You aren’t sure when you’ve ever felt happier. You keep glancing over at Logan, constantly reminding yourself that he is your husband now. Laura is your daughter. And this life of yours, together, is a whole new adventure 

***

Finally Laura flags. The excitement of the day has finally worn her down and she’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Logan picks her up and you follow him into the adjoining room.  

‘She can sleep in her dress,’ you say, ‘I’m not waking her up now’

You do pull off her shoes, and then tuck her into the bed.  As you wander back towards the door to your room, you see Logan reach out his hand. You take it with no hesitation and he pulls you to him, planting the softest of kisses on your lips.  You smile into the kiss and the excuse yourself to use the bathroom. 

Logan is pouring himself a drink and gestures the bottle at you as you return.  You shake your head 

‘No thank you, but don’t let me stop you,’ you smile 

Logan quirks and eyebrow but pours himself a good measure.  Into another glass he pours a can of soda and hands it to you, clinking his glass against it. 

‘Congratulations Mrs Howlett, you made an honest man of me,’ he grins, and circles his arm around your waist, pulling you to him

‘Honest, huh?’

‘Well,’ he smirks, ‘we can work on that’

You both drink then Logan leans in to kiss you again.  He tastes of whisky, the cigar he smoked earlier, the sweetness of the chocolate he’d eaten. As much as you love when he fucks you, sometimes just his kisses are enough. He kisses like a man who doesn’t know if he’s ever going to experience it again.  Putting his glass down, he takes your face in his hands and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your arms snake around his neck and you mould yourself against his body.

Breaking apart, with reluctance, you smile at him.

‘I guess we should get on with the wedding night,’ you say

Logan smirks

‘Think we might have practised that a few times already,’ he says sighing, ‘it’s been a long day, we don’t have to’

You smile up at him and then reach a hand down to where there is a definite bulge in the front of his pants.  He shifts a little as you squeeze him

‘Oh don’t we,’ you smile

‘Well…,’ he grins, tucking a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, ‘I guess we could..’ 

You turn and Logan helps to unzip the dress, pushing it down off your shoulders, over your hips until it puddles on the floor around your feet. You stepped out of your shoes earlier in the evening but you’re still wearing the stockings you bought. Logan is looking down at your legs, brushing his fingers over the lacy stay ups 

‘I can keep them on if you like,’ you say, your voice huskier than you expected it to sound. The look on Logan’s face makes you think that he would like that very much. 

***

After, you and Logan lay in the crumbled sheets of the bed, spent but happy. You have your head resting on Logan’s chest, running your fingers slowly up and down his stomach as his arm snakes around your waist holding you tightly to him.

‘When were you going to tell me?’ He asks after a long silence

You raise your head and look up at his face. He’s staring down at you under lidded eyes

‘Tell you what?’

He brings his other hand from where it has been resting behind his head and spreads it over your belly

‘This’

You move your hand to cover his and look down at them both 

‘I wasn’t..i wasn’t deliberately keeping it from you…I…’

He lets out a small laugh

‘I know. I’m just amazed you didn’t think I would work it out.  Well…eventually’

You grin at him

‘I should have known better I guess.’

He smiles back

‘Yes you should’

You place your head back on his chest but don’t move your hand from his

‘I was scared. Not of what you’d say but…’

‘I know I’m not ideal father material,’ he says , ‘nor husband material. This whole thing, since you came into my life, it’s been…’

He stops, not sure what to say next. You stroke his cheek and sit up to look directly into his face

‘If I didn’t think you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, Logan Howlett, do you think I would be laying here now?’  You touched his hand still resting on your belly, ‘and this is just…just a miracle I never expected to happen’

Logan sighs and pulls himself up to sit against the headboard of the bed

‘I’m 200 years old, sweetheart. You and Laura and this one,’ he stroked the barely there bump, ‘are the best things that have happened for me in all that time….but I think…I know…I’m dying.  I shouldn’t…’

You put your hand over his mouth and stop him from saying anything more. You further stop him with a kiss

‘I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. I would not be here, in this room with you, wearing this ring.  I don’t care if I have a day with you or another hundred years. I just want to be with you for as long as I can be.’

Logan pulls you closer to him and holds you tight. You aren’t sure if he’s crying until you feel the dampness on your neck. You just hold him, let him cry. Let him realise he is worth all this. Because you know that he is.

[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑 - EARLY RELEASE. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

It was almost another hour before the road parted into the unpaved path that he’d committed to memory so well he navigated it like the back of his hand. 

The drive to his cabin was a rather eerie one. It cut through a clearing of trees, and then the trees occluded again, just enough to make the unfamiliar driver think they’d reached the end of the dirt road, but Reuven knew the way through to come upon the enclave that housed his residence. Tucked deep in the woods, far enough out where no one and nothing could find him without explicitly being made aware, his two-story cabin stood tall against the night. 

It was silent, just as it had been before he’d left. He suddenly remembered his dinner, sitting cold on the table. The thought to offer it to her flashed into his mind. If only she would wake up.

The drive home had been full of doubts. Whether he was doing the right thing. Whether there was another option he should have taken. 

Where else could he have taken her? There was nothing. Not out here, deep in the central west Washington mountains. Nothing but trees and the occasional reprieve of a paved road. His closest friends of late had been those deer he had stocked up in the deep freezer, chopped into steaks and burgers and ground meat. 

At least here she would be warm, he reasoned with himself, as he stepped outside the car.

And goddamn it, he tried. He walked back and forth from the front door to the truck, every fifteen minutes until four in the morning, to see if she was awake yet, but she still never woke. He tried to do the good thing. The right thing. The thing that wouldn’t terrify her half to Jesus when she awoke again.

But it was cold out, and he was worried, even with her clothes now dried, about how she would fare sleeping in the cold all night. The truck only offered so much reprieve from it. The wind, mostly blocked, still found a way to creep in through the cracks and chill everything in the enclosed space.

He’d even sat in the car again, hoping that the slamming door and the weight of his presence would startle her back into consciousness again. To no avail.

It was 4:34am when he carefully peeled open the passenger’s side door, hooked his arms beneath her tiny form, and lifted her into a cradle against his chest, with much, much too ease. So much ease that it concerned him. She was so light, so skinny, he had this terrible feeling in his gut. Like he should wake her if only to feed her.

As he'd done so, she'd made some fitful whimper, and Reuven quickly adjusted his hold on her. Cradling her with his hand gripped at the doughy flesh of her almost non-existent lovehandle, rather than around her rib cage. It wasn't long before her momentary stirring came to a stop, and the girl's head lolled into the nook of his broad shoulder. Her lips, pinked from the cold and her slumber, pressed unconsciously into the soft cotton of his shirt; her buttoned nose nuzzling into him without her awareness all the same.

Reuven’s footsteps were heavy on the hardwood staircase. The stranger was in his arms, one beneath her knees and one behind the expanse of her shoulders. He could feel the dampness of those layers of clothing beneath the outermost of the bunch, and briefly, at the top of the steps, debated peeling them from her skin, so she could dry off properly, but decided against it. How would it feel, to her, to awake and realize she’d been undressed? Violating at best, he was sure. 

He lay her down in the one, and only, guest room he had. It had had no other visitor beforehand. Barren, pieced together with a bed frame and a measly bookshelf, and a dry, devoid fireplace at its feet, adjacent to the door.

He’d built the place with his bare hands. At times, the project had become so complete that his mind-numbing tasks had started to dwindle, and that was how he’d conjured up this guest room . He never had guests. Not in the fifteen years he’d hidden away here. An acquaintance from the town, maybe, sometimes, but that was only a few times a year, if that.  No one had ever slept in the mattress he laid the strange girl down into. Nobody had ever been warmed by the fire he stoked at the bed of her feet, prodding charring pieces of freshly cut firewood into raging and consuming heat. 

The flick of a switch ripped the light from the room, save for the flames. And Reuven, mind wired as ever, lay down, staring at the ceiling, in his own bed just a hallway away.

[rabbitcruiser]

Snack a Pickle Day

Snack a Pickle Day is a day for snacking on pickles. Pickles, which usually mean pickled cucumbers when spoke of in the United States, are preserved in a brine or vinegar solution, and flavored with herbs and seasonings. The word “pickle” is derived from the Dutch word pekel, which means brine. The pickling process was invented around 1440, and many people were making pickles in their homes by the 1600’s. This was helped with the invention of the mason jar in 1858. Pickles are a low calorie food and high in vitamin K, but they may also be high in sodium. Each year Americans eat about 9 pounds of pickles.

How to Observe Snack a Pickle Day

The day should be celebrated by snacking on a pickle! Pickles can be eaten on their own or with a meal. They can be put on a hamburger,or chopped into a relish and put on a hot dog. Sometimes they are served on a stick, and sometimes they are even deep fried. There are many types of pickles to try:

Bread and butter—part of sweet family of pickles; has onions and bell peppers; sometimes have a waffle-esque shape; solution of vinegar, sugar, and spices; name comes from Omar and Cora Fanning, Illinois cucumber farmers who started selling the pickles in the early 1920’s and filed for the name in 1923; name derived from how they traded their pickles for things like bread and butter during rough years.

Cinnamon—bright red and flavored with cinnamon; sometimes a Christmas treat.

Dill—made with dill herbs or dill oil; have been served in New York City since at least 1899.

Gherkins—smaller and usually sweeter; made with Burr or West Indian cucumbers; sometimes “gherkin” is a generic term used for pickles in the U.K., Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand.

Kool-aid—soaked in kool-aid and pickle brine.

Kosher dill—dill pickle with lots of garlic in the salt brine.

Polish—somewhere between kosher dill and sour.

Sour—fermented longer in brine, which makes them sourer.

Sour mixed—sour pickles cut and mixed with other veggie such as onions, cauliflower, carrots, and peppers.

Sour relish—made with finely chopped sour pickles with other vegetables; also called “piccalili.”

Sweet—usually made with vinegar, spices, and sugar; includes sliced sweet pickles, or “cross cuts”, which are cut crosswise into chips.

Sweet mixed—sweet pickles mixed with other vegetables.

Source

[fuckkbrunch]

The final recipe! I saved it for new year's eve dinner. The one that isn't even really a recipe, but if I didn't do it, it would have felt unfinished.

In the very back of the book, there's a 3 page fold out poster on how to make the perfect Bourdain approved burger.

I won't lie, I don't own a meat grinder attachment for my KitchenAid mixer, and wasn't going to buy one just for this. He suggests grinding your own meat, specifically a combo of rib eye, short rib and hanger steak. I settled for a high quality pre ground beef chuck, and a frozen veal cutlet that I chopped up real small by hand.

He claims that the flavour is best if you salt the meat one hour before cooking. There's also no mention of fillers or binders like egg or breadcrumbs, or any seasoning besides salt. So, that's what I did. Just meat and salt.

Other requirements were a store bought bun that wasn't a brioche or ciabatta (too soft and too hard, respectively). Sesame seeds are optional according to taste. A single slice of a large tomato, like a beefsteak. Specifically shredded iceberg lettuce, so that it doesn't yank out when you bite it and slap you in the face.

American cheese. The thin, individually wrapped kind that melts if you so much as look at it. Melt factor is crucial as other (higher quality) cheeses just get soft and greasy on a burger, even if their flavour profile is more desirable.

Since my meat combo was lacking compared to what Tony suggests, I also baked some bacon until just crisp to turn this into a bacon cheeseburger. Which means - in my opinion - that there also needs to be dill pickle slices and onion rounds. The poster does include a burger with pickles on it, so I felt this fit. Unfortunately and hilariously, my last yellow onion had mold hidden under the dry skin layers, so I chucked it.

You can go thin smash burger style, or thick mid-rare patty style, both are acceptable by Tony's standards. I went smash burger style, since I like the browning aspects more than the juicy wet burger style.

He does specify that if you want more than one patty, it must be smash burger style. I went for a single 3oz patty, and my partner requested two 2oz patties with double cheese.

They honestly tasted just like a good, simple, take out style bacon cheeseburger. It didn't have that sub par homemade burger feel to it, I was actually shocked. We had these for dinner two days in a row.

| Bourdain Perfect Burger |

Taste is a 5 out of 5. Even though my meat cuts weren't the same, this was fantastic.

Difficulty is a 1 out of 5. Maybe a 2 if you really grind your own meat.

Time was a little over an hour, only because I waited the hour after salting my meat.

If I ever do invest in a meat grinder, I'm definitely going to try the meat combo he suggests. Considering this comes together so quickly, and tastes so good, it's really a great bang-for-your-buck recipe. Who doesn't love a good burger?

------------

And that's that! We're done! I still can't believe I did it. Some weeks I was doing 4-6 recipes at once just to make sure that if I missed some weeks, I would still keep up. 114 recipes in a year is no joke, that's more than 2 per week! Even during a two month 40+ degree heatwave, I kept it up. I'm damn proud of myself.

So as a gift to myself, I'm going to be getting a Bourdain themed tattoo sometime in the new year. Obviously I'll be posting it here once it's done.

I'm also going to do a final rundown of the cookbook and of my notes I've kept during this whole process and select a top 5-10 recipes. Maybe a top 5 and bottom 5, I'm still undecided. So this won't be my final post.

But I will close this with the final page of the cookbook...

[fieriframes]

[It's a common life and we're with it.]

[resident-gay-bitch]

🦇 Stranger Saturdays 🦇

Chef Eddie x Overworked Steve (Steddie) cw: gets a little steamy at the end, nothing explicit but heavily implied

Steve who’s endlessly busy in his corperate big boy job and doesn’t have time or energy to cook, starts becoming really unhealthy, skipping meals, eating vending machine snacks and McDonald’s when he finally leaves the office at 2 am, and Robin snaps at him about it one day when he’s green, throwing up in his paper bin at work and refusing to go home. She demands he eat better!

So, he hires a private chef. Out the back of his big house he has a pool house that he ads to the advertisement. Basically, he’s offering free accommodation, plus a paycheck for someone to cook him three meals a day.

Enter Eddie Munson, who’s always loved cooking and is slowly losing his sanity as a line cook, wasting away in his grimy apartment one afternoon, thinking about the window he has to get sealed before winter and the new lock he needs on the door and is wondering if he can afford to buy a steak if he omits a few things on his next grocery run because his birthdays coming up, when he sees the add. Obviously, he jumps on it.

Steve, desperate, and a big fan of greasy burgers and diner breakfasts, hires Eddie immediately, doesn’t even meet the guy since he’s so busy at work, and lets Robin handle the rest since she was so adamant on it.

Steve wakes up at 5 every morning and is out the door before 6, and doesn’t get home till after 10 pm most nights, so Eddie keeps missing him.

He’s always sure to have dinner made and ready for Steve before he heads home, then knocks off for the night and either crashes or goes out.

He prepares lunch the day prior and leaves it in a lunch box in the fridge for Steve with a friendly sticky note to have a nice day, along with the ingredients.

He also wakes up at 4 every morning, or just stays up long enough, to have breakfast cooked and plated by the time Steve’s alarm goes off in the morning, then heads back to the pool house to sleep in before he can catch Steve.

It’s not for ages that they actually meet, and Steve feels guilty for never saying hello to the guy slaving over a stove for him three times a day, who’s literally living in his house, but he’s a busy man. Plus, the guy has a great gig, free housing, Nice housing, and all he has to do is cook a couple of meals a day, and can eat as much of the food as he likes?!

Steve does always send him thank you messages with compliments after each meal.

One evening, Steve comes home early. It’s been a very slow, terrible week and Steve just needed a break. Robin sent him home with strict demands to do some self care and SLEEP since he basically hasn’t slept all week.

Cue him walking in as Eddie’s cooking dinner.

He's got metal music blasting, hair tied back into a low bun, ripped jeans on and a tight top, all under an apron. He’s at the stove, stirring something up and banging his head, so Steve can’t see his face.

He turns around, heading to the island, lost in his business so he doesn’t even notice Steve standing in the doorway, and starts chopping up a pumpkin.

And not only is his face fucking cute, all big brown eyes and pink plush lips; he’s fucking hot. Tattoos down the length of his arms, big hands gripping the knife, muscles flexing, veins popping out as he pushes down on the blade to cut through the tough vegetable.

And Steve’s brain melts.

Eddie catches sight of him and actually screams.

They get acquainted quickly, Eddie’s adorably rambling about how grateful he is for the gig, telling Steve he was worried about his next grocery run and the coming winter, and how he’s a struggling musician; and with these paychecks and stability he’s afforded to use recording studios and a decent fucking amp for his guitar, all whilst he chops and stirs and cooks Steve his new favorite soup.

Steve goes on to thank Eddie for all these amazing fucking meals, how he actually feels really healthy again, and is able to do more in his day and sleep better at night, and how he always gets excited to come home to a good meal every night, maybe desert if he’s lucky, how he always loves Eddie’s little sticky notes.

Once the meal’s cooked and plated, Eddie goes to put his own in a take out container and give Steve his space, but Steve insists Eddie stay and eat with him. It’s the least he could do, right?

So they stay and chat over dinner, and then maybe Eddie just really likes Steve’s company, and maybe he thinks he’s really hot, and maybe he doesn’t want Steve to disappear to bed right now because god knows when the next time they’ll see each other is, so he suggests they have dessert.

And Eddie totally doesn’t suggest a fresh, homemade apple pie because he knows it will take ages on purpose, he just knows Steve likes Eddie’s apple pie.

And Steve helps him make it. He lets Eddie boss him around the kitchen and make fun of his atrocious pastry rolling technique, and tries not to blush because Eddie’s putting his big hands over Steve’s and teaching him how to do it properly. And Steve’s never liked people bossing him around before, he’s always been the big man in charge, but something about the way Eddie does it makes his insides tingle.

Once’s the pie is done and ready to eat (hours later), they sit together on the kitchen isle, and Steve’s wondering if it would be unethical to maybe ask this guy on a date because he’s really cute and fucking hot and he thinks maybe they’ve been flirting a bit, and he’s also not getting hard at the sight of Eddie pushing the icecream off his spoon with his finger and then licking it off-

But before Steve can even think any further on that, Eddie’s all up in his space, holding a spoon full of pie and ice cream to Steve’s lips, telling him to open, and Steve’s brain short circuits.

He tries to eat it nicely, he really does, but some melted ice cream dribbles down his chin, and Eddie picks Steve’s chin up and wipes it away with his thumb.

And then, the icing on the fucking cake, he presses his icecream coated thumb to Steve’s lips, and tells him to lick it clean.

Their pie is abandoned until morning, Eddie learns what it looks like upstairs, and Steve definitely gets the self care he needed that night.

When he rocks up at work the next day he’s a whole other person, and Robin is baffled. When he opens his lunchbox, he finds a slice of pie and a little note saying, “Hope you like it, princess, but I gotta say it’s not quite as sweet as your ass.” And then Robin suddenly gets it.

When Steve knocks off at 12 am that night, he flicks Eddie a text “Hope my dinner is microwaveable, I’ll be home in 10, wait for me upstairs?”

And once again, Steve shows up to work positively glowing. Oh and it’s nothing compared to the “self care” he gets on days off.

Steddie in EVERY universe

[ultimatesoupdemon]

as of 2024 the internet is about 149 zettabytes big, for reference one zettabyte is equal to about one trillion gigabytes

one calorie is equal to 2.6 megabytes, and one gigabyte is one thousand megabytes dividing one thousand by 2.6, a gigabyte is about 385 calories multiplying 385 by 149 trillion - 385 x (149 x 1012), we get…

5.7365e+16 calories. in full, this number looks like 57,365,000,000,000,000. 57 quadrillion. wow

but i didn’t want to stop there, i wanted to figure out how many steaks it would take, since steak was the first food that came to mind

a single 100-gram steak is on average 271 calories dividing 5.7365e+16 by 271 gives us 2.1167897e+14 meaning, it would take about 211,678,970,000,000 steaks to eat the internet. 211 trillion.

but, i was wondering, how long would that take?

assuming all 8 billion people on earth are participating, with about a billion chopped off to accommodate those who are unable to eat steak, and each person eats 3 steaks a day

3 x 365 = 1095 1095 x (7 x 109) = 7.665e+12 = 7,665,000,000,000 2.1167897e+14 / 7.665e+12 = 28

that means, if 7 billion people ate 3 steaks every day for 28 years, we would be eating the equivalent of the internet.

i also did other calculations to see how long it would take to eat the internet with different foods

THE INTERNET IS EQUIVALENT TO: 1,147,300,000,000,000 chicken nuggets (if every person ate 30 nuggets per day, it would take 15 years to eat the internet) 124,706,520,000,000 servings of kraft dinner (if every person ate 3 servings per day, it would take 16 years to eat the internet) 194,457,630,000,000 hamburgers (if every person ate 3 burgers per day, it would take 25 years to eat the internet) 2,868,250 grams of uranium (if we fed elon musk 30 grams every day, it would take 262 years to eat the internet)

propriety is dead. eat the internet

tag your homies who you’d eat the internet with

(thank you to @mythbringer-mayhem , @ishankedurmom , and @subparcarrion , who witnessed this buffoonery)

[rubywillkins]

Ruby's Cafe

Welcome to Ruby's Cafe, you can customise your orders of fics from this menu, you just have to select what, and how you want your fic to be..

And voila your fic is ready♥️

I do driver × female reader, driver × gn reader.

Menu

Coffee (tropes)

Americano - Office romance

Cappuccino - Holiday romance

Latte - Grumpy sunshine

Macchiato - Trapped together

Mocha - Enemies to lover(rivals)

White Mocha - Married

Frappe (tropes)

Java Chip - Forced Proximity

Hazelnut Mocha - Only One bed

Macchiato - Playboy in love

Dark Mocha - dating

Mint chocolate - hook up

"You can choose only 1 trope"

Extras

Whipped cream - Sweet sex

Shot of espresso - Rough sex

"You can choose only 1"

Milk

Almond milk - vaginal Sex

Soy milk - Oral sex

Coconut milk - Anal sex

Oat milk - Fingering

Whole milk - Hand job

Skim milk - Dry Humping

Non dairy milk - Mastrubation

Raw milk - Mutual Mastrubation

Goat milk - Penetrative sex

Hemp milk - squirting

"You can choose more than 1"

Breakfast/Appetizers

Eggs Benedict - Age play (Daddy/Mommy)

Avacado toast - Public sex

Omelette - Blind Fold

Waffles - Humiliation

Bruschetta - Edging

Spinach and artichoke Dip - Doggy style

Garlic shrimp - Lactation

Caprese skewers - Breeding kink

Meat balls - Body worship

Cheese sticks - Praise kink

French toast - Spanking

Spaghetti - Hand cuffs

Hot dog - Size kink

Mushroom Burger - Pain kink

Fish and Chips - Hickeys

"You can choose more than 1"

Main Course

Chicken Piccata - “Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

Vegetable Curry - “Move an inch and you won’t be coming tonight.”

Grilled salmon - “Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good.”

Beef tenderloin - “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”

Beef stoganoff - “You can take it, you’ve done it before.”

Mushroom Risotto - “We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?”

Chicken Parmesan - “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Baked Crab cheese - “You look so good with my hands around your neck.”

Crispy squid - “Do you think, you deserve a reward/punishment?”

Cheese shrimp roll - “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit.”

Minced beef Mushroom - “Show me how much you missed me.”

Beef cheese rolling - “Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!”

Beef diced potatoes - “Do you need to use your safeword, darling?”

Butter fried chicken - “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirloin steak - “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?”

Grilled Pizza - “Are you holding back? Don’t.”

Lasagna - “Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.”

Habenaro BBQ shrimp - “It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”

Fish tacos - “You seem more sensitive than usual.”

Tomato roasted garlic pie - “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.”

Pork chops - “So good for me, look at how much you came.”

Potato gnocchi - “Shh, just look at me, baby.”

Chicken nachos - “God, you love it like this, don’t you?”

Honey garlic chicken - “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.”

Lemon chicken pasta - “Do you wonder what it is that makes me scream?”

BBQ chicken salad - “Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough.”

Ham carbonara - “It’s hot when you talk back”

Mini meat loafs - “You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

"You can choose more than 1"

Water

Sparkling water - after care

Mineral water - cuddles

Bottled water - soaking in bathtub

Club soda - pillow talk

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

A) The everything burrito:

B) Kitchen sink ice cream sundae: three sliced bananas, scoops of your choice of up to 8 flavors of ice creams, 8 servings of toppings, mounds and mounds of whipped cream, chopped toasted almonds and cherries. It’s called the kitchen sink because it’s literally big enough to fit a kitchen sink.

(Side note: none of these are made up. I’ve seen all of these food items before)