#I can’t even imagine. I microwave my leftovers in Tupperware.

[cheapcheapfaker]

Sometimes I spook myself out of wanting a kid but then I go out w my friends who have one and relax like “I do not live in suburbia the people who hate having children are reaping rewards in their McMansions”

[szynkaaa]

I more or less watched The Boy!!! And by watching, I mean I skipped more or less through the jump scare parts because I cannot do horror movies at all. I haven’t watched one since 2015 and The Boy was like the first horror movie after five years

Full disclosure, the ONLY reason I started watching the movie was because someone posted a gif of Greta standing close to Brahms who was all sweaty and breathing heavily n I was like “oh shit who dat he hot” and here I am 

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

I did some digging for interviews and generally what people have been saying about the movie, took some screenshots from youtube to put my thoughts and musing together too! 

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her? 

So first of all, let’s start with a low resolution photo I found on IG of James Russell without mask:

which brings me to my first musing/thought/question? 

It’s all under the cut, very screenshot and text heavy, you can find more Brahms drawing at the bottom though  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So at the end of the movie, we are shown a Brahms with a broken mask and his face being burned, indicating that he was in fact in the fire.

I assumed first that the fire was created by the parents to fake their sons death and then he had to live hidden inside the walls? 

But I’ve also heard apparently it was Brahms who set the fire to fake his own death or maybe an eight years old kid really was trying to burn himself down?? 

My other theory is that his parents made the fire and tried to kill Brahms and it did burn him but he survived, and the parents didn’t wanna go to jail sooo to hide everything they made their son live in the walls

i mean the responsible thing would be to turn their kid in and have him treated and stuff;;; listened to a murder podcast about two cases where kids murdered enough kids and how they are doing now interesting read Brahms made me think of those two cases 

I also do not think that the previous nannies were killed. Like, c’mon. You’d report a person missing and sooner or later it would go back to the Heelshire mansion and if the body counts piles up? Can’t look good and I doubt that the Heelshire wants the police investigating them close up. 

Also, when the mom was like “He’s chosen you if you’ll have him” to Greta? Is it just me or the wording or does it sound like a marriage proposal/arrangement xD 

Brahms is a brat and he sees the people around him as his possession or to toy around. But I also do think that he has some abandonment issues but not in the sad tragic kind of way lmao. Even if he was the one controlling and manipulating his parents from behind-the-scene (quite literally I suppose?), he was still told as a kid to live in hiding and that no one can know he is alive. I don’t know much about the human brain, but I can imagine how damaging that must be to his mental growth and set him back in some way? We don’t know too much about his relationship with his parents - but I assume that he must have still loved them in his own twisted way. Can’t imagine that he would have been indifferent about his parents suicide. 

The scene before Greta manages to back out - first he uses the child voice to beg her to come back and promises he will be good. That’s his manipulating Greta, but when that doesn’t work and she tries harder to open the door, he becomes more desperate to keep her there and then completely loses his temper and threatens to kill Malcolm if she doesn’t return. I’m pretty sure homeboy would have killed him anyway. And then later when she returns and he is all heavy breathing and smelling her hair and then jumps up when she shouts Brahms? Idk I def think there is some sort of abandonment issue going on. 

I don’t think he is a child stuck in a man’s body or manchild or whatever. I think that he does know how to take care of himself - but he just chooses to manipulate people with the facade of a kid to do his bidding and cater to his needs. 

Anywhomst, but clearly Brahms is also a very manipulative and controlling person based, based on how the mother was reacting on the destroyed bedroom, she really seemed to be at the end of her wits and just breaking down with her “you promised you’d be good”. It was very heartbreaking to watch and also scary because it really makes you realize just how much power Brahms holds over them?? idk maybe it was just me.

Next point: the CGI mask  + the burns 

So according to some interviews with the director stated that at the first test streaming, people weren’t really scared of Brahms because he was too handsome so they had to slap a mask over his face. The face was done after everything was filmed. I’m thinking the face burns were also added post-production when they were adding the cgi mask. Otherwise, James would have needed to go through the makeup department for some wicked face burns and it would have been visible during the filming and test screening too? Which would imply that at first the fire was supposed to be just  a cover story that their son is dead and it was changed later

Observation/thoughts on Brahms Heelshire

Love how he stands there with his hands behind his back and then nods when Greta tells him to go under the cover

James Russell is 191cm tall. So like. Brahms is really fucking tall. But I notice that most of the time he stands with a slight hunch. Could be due to him crawling through the walls and crawling out of places that requires him to do a lot of crouching. His bed in his hideout made me really sad, I’ll get to it later. 

Since James didn’t get many lines in the ten minutes that he appeared, I do think that his eyes did all the acting. They stand out even more with the mask on, there is just this crazy look on it. I also noticed during my rewatch that he doesn’t seem to blink much or at all. 

Oh yeah, he also peeped on Greta and Malcolm making out on the bed and then cockblocked them. We been knowing that he made a Greta doll and very likely jerked off to it. We also been knowing that he very very very likely wanted to bone Greta at the goodnight kiss scene still waiting for the maskeless kiss scene gimme gimme. I also highly doubt that Brahms has much first-hand experience with kissing n stuff. High key thinking he was trying to do copy Malcolm and do what he observed lmao

When I first watched the scene, I assumed that the hole behind the mirror has always been and it’s just another one of the hidden passages Brahms to slip in and out, but now that I’m looking at the shape of the holes, it seems to me more like the mirror and brick wall were broken at the same time?? If that is the case holy shit boy is s t  r o n g. I mean, he also punched through the closet door like no big deal so really what have the parents been feeding him. 

I’m also leaning toward the fact that he ran there because Greta screamed loudly. I don’t think he was in the room as them when everything went down there, it seemed more like he heard the scream and had to nyoomed over and then punched a way through to get out of the wall. And then went on to attack Cole. He must have known that Greta wanted Cole gone, since that what she whispered to the doll before going to bed. 

Tbh, I fully expected him to murder Cole in his sleep, but Brahms wrote a warning message in blood to tell him to get out soooooo like. Cole you were warned and now you gotta live with the consequences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Brahm’s sleeping corner

This scene was shown at the end after Greta and Malcolm escaped. We also see them briefly during the part where Greta and Malcolm are trying to find a way out and stumbled into Brahms’ hideout. I’m not sure why the rules are slapped on the walls. It seems to me that Brahms is very very very set on that the rules / routine should be followed. In the movie, he called Greta and suggested to her that she should follow the rules, to which she then started doing it.

I headcanon that that’s the routine that he grew up with as a kid and it’s just very very very very very hard to break out of it - not that he is trying to break the routine. 

I’m failing to find a good way to put my thoughts into words, but I guess the rules and routine is sort of his coping mechanism? 

I suppose if you had an OC that you ship Brahms with and want to change stuff around the house, the OC would have to very slowly introduce new rules and routines. Baby steps, yknow.

Brahms has a violin hanging there! Honestly I would be surprised if Brahms didn’t know how to play at least one instrument. The family also has an old ass piano/clavichord (?) and Brahms loves classical music soo yeah. Love me a boy who appreciates classical musical hehe

I suppose the egg boxes are there to soundproof the room more - maybe so he can play the violin? 

There’s also music sheets hung around his attics, it’s not clear on the screenshots but when you rewatch the scene and shove your face close to the screen. Some are hanging next to the violin and there are some taped on the wall next to his bed and porn too

nice to see he has a fridge and microwave, I was concerned that he wasn’t well fed and that leftovers might not be enough, but then again. Dude is 191 cm so clearly he has been drinking his milk

Didn’t take a screenshot of his vanity, but there is a crocodile magnet stuck to the mirror hehe. I do think that he shaves and stuff, otherwise his beard would be much longer??

We can see more music sheets stuck to a pillar on the right. 

Loving the christmas lights that he has hanging there above his bed. It’s cute. 

On the shelf he has a bunch of tupperware and empty bowls. Most of hte things are neatly organized. We can also see some books and a pen

There’s some sunlight streaming inside - I do hope that Brahmsy stays warm during winters.

Here we can see more of the food that he has there - there is also a sink but I didn’t snatch a screenshot of it. I think those are potatoes in the pot? Maybe he does know how to cook some basic stuff, I do wonder if he has a functioning kitchen up there. Probably not for fire safety reasons lol

Yall see that thing on the note sheet covered pillar? Ngl, that’s a whole ass aesthetic right there.

He got a few potted plants up there. Took a closer look at them and it seems like they were healthy. So he knows how to take care of plants, which is nice to know I suppose?

Yes, we all know what he was doing with the doll and what the tissue balled up tissue implies. However, has anyone noticed the size of the bed??? 

If you scroll up a bit to the screenshot of Greta seeing the doll, it looks t i n y. The make shift doll takes up more than half of the space. 

Yall. this breaks my heart. Dude is a beanstalk. I’m pretty sure the bed is from when he was a kid shoved by his parents to live inside the wall, does he have to sleep there in his adulthood too??? 

Even though Brahms strikes me as someone who probably doesn’t sleep much or during normal times, that bed must be so tiny for him. He must be sleeping with his knees bend and shit unable to stretch out :((( 

Brahms: is a psychopath that smashed the skull of a girl and very abusive tormented his parents and then Greta Me: omg he needs a bigger bed that poor thing :(((

Brahms’ DIY corner 

Ah yes, Brahm’s little DIY/creative corner. 

Homeboy got lot of animal traps, cages and taxidermies hanging around, pointing strongly toward that it’s a hobby of it? 

Also at the end where we see him fixing up the doll, we can get a better shot at his desk, and I gotta say the threads and stuff are all very nicely organized. Brahms’s table looks more organized than mine does lmao. 

So we know he is a crafty boy. Not sure how difficult taxidermy is but I imagine it does take a lot of time to learn? Well he had all the time in the world anyway.

So yeah, that’s a wrap. Congrats if you made it to the bottom of my incoherent thoughts and ramblings, have a bonus drawing of Brahms wearing different masks: 

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Happyjuicyfruit!

Merry Christmas, @happyjuicyfruit! I hope you enjoy this gift!

Read on AO3

*****

Chicken noodle soup confessions

Derek nearly chickens out about five times before he even reaches Stiles’ building. The plastic bag in his hand, the one containing far too many Tupperwares filled with any and all comfort foods he could think of, feels too heavy, like he’s constantly off kilter.

He swallows hard. Ugh, fuck, he knows he’s overdone it. Stiles will see straight through him and this chicken noodle soup smelling, over the top gesture of affection. He’s too smart not to and then Derek won’t be able to deny it. Jesus, he should just go home. Has his uniform always felt this constricting? He should’ve changed after his shift, but he had hurried over like an idiot.

He’s just about to step away from the door to scurry back home, when one of Stiles’ neighbors comes hurrying down the staircase. She flings the door open, obviously heading somewhere in a hurry, but stops to hold it open for him.

“Here you go, deputy!” she exclaims.

He catches it on pure reflex, grunting out a stilted thank you. Cursed youths with their decent upbringing. She smiles politely before bustling down the street, heading towards a group of other youths that are waiting for her. It’s their concerned looks, as he just keeps standing there like a goddamn weirdo, that jolts him into motion and to cross the threshold.

Could he successfully hide just inside the door until they’re gone? He glances up the stairs. Stiles’ apartment is on the second floor. Derek has never been over on his own before, it has always been in the company of their co-workers from the station. Derek sighs and slumps against the wall. He’s so close. He should just… he should just do it. Hand over the dumb Tupperwares containing food that he spent hours on, like a lovestruck fool, and face whatever misery comes next. Stiles will be nice about it at least.

Defeated, Derek drags himself up the stairs to Stiles’ door. The doorbell is broken, has been for weeks now, so Derek takes a deep breath and knocks.

There’s a thud from behind the door, a low muttering like a curse and a shuffling sound of fabric against the floorboards. The lock is turned and the door opens, but only by an inch. A puffy, hazel eye appears in the opening.

“Noooo…! Go away, I’m disgusting and dying!” Stiles whines at the sight of his guest. His voice is hoarse and thick, like he can’t breathe through his nose.

The eye roll is automatic.

“The sheriff said that you had a cold. I doubt that you’re dying,” Derek replies drily and trying to ignore his thudding heart.

Stiles gasps, clearly offended.

“Excuse you, I-... is that food?”

Derek lifts the plastic bag.

“Yes?”

The eye narrows and looks at the raised bag in vary contemplation. After what must be at least a whole minute of absolute silence, the door is flung open completely.

“Very well. You may enter.”

Derek can’t help letting his eyes roam over Stiles’ body. He’s wearing gray, woollen socks and Derek can spot the hem of a pair of worn-looking Star Wars pyjama pants beneath the frankly monstrous collection of blankets currently wrapped and draped over Stiles’ frame. The tip of his nose and cheeks are a blossoming, feverish red, his eyes heavy and tired. A couple of matted strands of hair peek out of his blanket scarf.

“Don’t look at me,” Stiles orders with a dramatic sniff of his runny nose. “I’m hideous.”

Derek tries to tamp down on his amusement, to control the twitching in the corners of his mouth. He doubts that he could ever consider Stiles hideous.

“I’ve seen worse,” he replies and steps into the apartment, follows Stiles’ shuffling form into the small kitchen.

“Don’t tell me my dad sent you,” Stiles says. “You can’t let him boss you around like that.”

“He’s literally my boss, Stiles,” Derek replies, placing the plastic bag carefully on the kitchen counter. “But no.”

Stiles pauses, for a millisecond or two, as he tries to glance into the plastic bag without unravelling his hands from his blanket cocoon.

“No? As in he didn’t send you?”

Derek nods.

“As in you willingly stepped into this biohazard, of your own free will , like an absolute madman?”

Derek raises his eyebrows.

“I’ve got a strong immune system.”

Stiles snorts with derision.

“Famous last words, Deputy Hale, famous last words. Now stop chattering and feed me.”

There’s five Tupperware containers in the plastic bag and Derek carefully lifts them out of it. The first contains chicken noodle soup, which garners an excited ooh from Stiles, the second mac and cheese ( aah!) , chili sin carne ( ooh!), tomato soup with croutons (are you going to make that noise for all of them?) and mashed potatoes, meatballs and gravy. The last thing Derek pulls out of the bag is a tub of Ben & Jerry’s. It makes Stiles ooh extra loudly, and he shoots out a hand to grab for it.

“Karamel Sutra, huh? The kinky ice-cream. I can get into that.”

Derek refuses to blush. Refuses.

“After dinner,” he replies and snatches the tub from Stiles’ hands.

The unintended innuendo makes Stiles waggle his eyebrows… and then promptly get a hard-hitting coughing fit that colors his face bright red. Derek nudges him towards the living room.

“Go sit down. I’ll heat something up for you.”

Stiles makes a noise, which Derek thinks is supposed to be a thanks, and follows orders. He disappears through the doorway into the living room, supposedly to crash on the couch, and Derek rummages through the cabinets to find a bowl for the chicken noodle soup. He pours up a generous serving and sticks it into the microwave. While waiting for the food to heat, he fills up a glass of water and places the tub of ice-cream in the freezer for the moment.. He’s sure that Stiles will want some later.

The living room is small and cramped, with a mustard yellow couch that’s far too large for the space. The walls are lined with bookshelves filled with obscure titles, movies and games. There’s a modest flat screen mounted to the only free space left on the walls, and beneath it every console known to man. There’s no Stiles though. Derek places the steaming bowl of soup and the glass of water on the stained coffee table and is just about to call out that dinner is served, when Stiles comes out of his bedroom, carrying a bundle of soft looking clothes. He tosses them at Derek, who catches them reflexively. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“So you can get out of that uniform,” Stiles explains. “Like, don’t get me wrong, you pull it off, but I thought you might want to get more comforta-...” Stiles’ eyes has trailed to the single bowl of soup on the coffee table. “Oh. I thought you were staying.”

Derek hadn’t planned to. Hadn’t dared to assume, or even hoped. However, Stiles looks disappointed. It awakens the butterflies.

“I can stay,” he finds himself saying and Stiles looks up from the table at him again. “I’ll just… go change.”

The smile on Stiles’ lips has the butterflies fluttering like mad. Tamping down on whatever impulsive, ill-advised confession threatening to spill over his lips, he clutches the clothes closer to his chest and makes his way into the bathroom to change.

The bathroom is as barebones as a bachelor pad could possibly get, a little Softsoap dispenser next to the sink, and a hand towel that has seen better days. Eerily reminiscent of his own bathroom. He starts pulling off his uniform, piece by piece, and carefully folds it into a pile. It’s a heady sensation, being this unclothed so close to Stiles, to know that it’s merely a flimsy door between them. Trying to shake off his nerves, he pulls up the clothes Stiles had given him.

Okay, Stiles must have done this on purpose.

Stiles is by no means a small man, albeit not as broad as Derek. Still, Derek knows that there are far larger clothes hiding in Stiles’ dresser than what he’s been given. The pyjama pants, while soft, fit him more or less like a second skin and leaves absolutely nothing, nothing, to the imagination. The shirt, a well worn item with R2D2 on the front, barely reaches below the waist and squeezes tight around his biceps.

He looks downright indecent. This will not work. But what choice does he have? He’d rather not slip into his uniform again. Instead he chooses to carry it, like a well-placed shield between Stiles and his on-display junk as he exits the bathroom.

Stiles has curled up on the couch with the glass of water Derek had poured for him. He looks up at the sound of the door opening, takes one look at Derek and then promptly sprays out the large gulp of water in his mouth. He slaps his hand over his lips, his eyes aghast and thrilled all at once.

“You’re an asshole,” Derek says as he carefully shuffles over to the couch. “Gimme one of those blankets.”

“I think you mean genius,” Stiles replies, looking far too smug while he magnanimously hands over one of the many blankets draped over his shoulders.

Once he’s sure that his crotch is sufficiently covered by the blanket, Derek puts away his folded uniform. There’s another bowl of chicken noodle soup on the coffee table and Stiles nudges it slightly in Derek’s direction.

“You must be hungry too, if you just got off shift,” Stiles says.

Derek grunts out a thank you and settles back into the couch with his bowl. Stiles must have waited for him before starting to eat himself, because he only reaches for his bowl when Derek does. At his first spoonful he lets out an appreciative sound.

“Wow, this is not the canned stuff.”

There are several ways he could play this, Derek supposes. He could feign innocence. He could lie. Just say that it’s fancy canned stuff. Could say that they’re leftovers from when his family came over the other day. He could say anything except the fact that he spent every waking hour after his shift last night with cooking for Stiles.

“I like cooking,” he mutters into his bowl, an admission even if it’s a quiet one.

Stiles is staring, he can feel it. He can feel the cogs turning in Stiles’ brain, can see the puzzle he’s rapidly putting together, just like Derek had predicted. Derek swallows down a far too large bite that nearly wedges itself into his already thick throat.

“It’s really good,” Stiles replies and Derek doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed, if the pity, if the option of denial is welcomed or if it’s just another nail in the coffin of Derek’s hope.

He doesn’t know what face he’s making down at his bowl of chicken noodle soup, but it’s apparently something that jolts Stiles into action because it has him scooting closer, nearly spilling his bowl of soup all over the mustard yellow couch. He places it on the coffee table.

“I mean, it’s really good, and I,” he starts, eager, urgent. “I’m just… I’m thinking about how you came here, like a fool, to willingly catch a cold-”

“I told you I have a good immune system,” Derek interrupts feebly, heart beating faster, but Stiles barrels on.

“-and you’ve cooked food for a small army and you squeezed into my stupid pyjamas and… for me. You did it for me. And I think too much, I know I do, it’s like my thing, and I might be delusional, but does it mean anything or am I just an idiot-”

“You’re an idiot,” Derek blurts, a little too loudly in the cramped space and it makes Stiles swallow the next wave of words and visibly deflate. Derek takes a shuddering breath and puts his bowl away, steels himself. “But I like you anyway.”

He hopes he never forgets the intensifying shade of Stiles’ fever red cheeks or the hopeful curve of his mouth. He’s sure he’ll never forget what Stiles says next.

“You’re kind of a dick. But I like you anyway.”

Stiles’ hand his too hot as it sneaks into his, his palm clammy, but Derek squeezes it back anyway. Stiles leans closer still, bumps their shoulders together. Derek doesn’t try to tamp down on his smile this time.

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – I’m a Sucker for a Deal

I’ve have a bit of a reputation for being frugal. Frugal not cheap. There’s a huge difference. You won’t catch me adding water to stretch out the end of a ketchup bottle (which by the way is just plain disgusting. Who wants watery French fries? Just throw the whole lunch away), but I will keep a take-out container from a really good Chinese restaurant, you know the kind with the black bottoms and frosted clear tops made out of really strong plastic so that they are both dishwasher and microwave safe, to store my leftovers in. But seriously who doesn’t? Like who is actually out there buying Tupperware anymore? Are they even in business or are they now officially shelved next to the Encyclopedia Britannica in a far faraway land, where no one cares.  You know, now that I think of it, it’s a damn shame what the inter-web did to those books. Someone – ones actually took the time to write 32 books of random knowledge for us NEVER to read again. They didn’t even bother to transfer the information to Wikipedia. No, we have to add our own inaccurate facts. But I digress. All of this is to say, I’m not cheap.  You can’t call me cheap because I don’t mind spending money. I just prefer to spend my money on deals so I can get a whole lot more for it.

Future Boyfriend, I know what you’re thinking – “Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!!! I finally found a sensible girl who doesn’t really care about how much money I make. It’s about how we manage it…” Welp, let’s stop all that thinking now before we fall too far down the rabbit hole of misconceptions. You need money.  Not like Bill Gates money, although that would be pretty sweet.  With my frugal Franny tips, can you imagine how far I can stretch 93 billion dollars? But no, you just need to make enough… because I don’t make enough of it to take care of both of us. And then you should let me manage it. I know the trust meter is really high on that one but hear me out. I’m slightly neurotic. And when I say slightly, I mean severely. I pay all of my bills before the due date – in full. I then keep multiple spread sheets broken up by different categories: Home, Business, Charity, Investment, etc.  And I do my own book keeping, which often makes my accountant happy around tax time. Yes, every dime has a place and usually that place is in my pocket. But I’m not telling you that you should let me manage our money because I’m better at it than you are… (And yes I said “our”, but that’s not for now… Hear me out, this conversation is for the future when we reach that level of “ours” course. I’m not trying to jump the gun. I’m just having a simple no pressure early conversation to see if you Future Boyfriend can maybe one day evolve into being my Future Husband. Again, no pressure. I’m trying to say this with the most carefree demeanor so you don’t feel trapped and run away although you are well past the age of running from commitment, but I don’t want to judge you, especially before we make it to the Future Boyfriend stage. Because if you to flee I then have to start all over again and I don’t want to… so, let’s just pretend this is all hypothetical. Please don’t be scared. Please don’t go anywhere… I just found you).  As I was saying, I should be in control of the money not to monitor your accounts, but so you don’t see what I’m spending. Because I admit, I’m a sucker for a deal. I’m smart enough to know that store mark up prices so they can later mark them down and you can feel rewarded when purchasing them. However, I don’t care. I still collect every Bed Bath and Beyond coupon just to go in and buy decorative bath napkins and Keurig coffee refills although I don’t drink coffee, but because I get 20% off each item. (It’s okay, my mom will just drink it when she comes to town). I’m considering converting my guest bedroom into a wine closet, because I’m at every Bevmo 5¢ Wine sale buying bottles by the case like I’m at some Napa vineyard (Yep my mom will drink that too).  And I go out of my way, driving miles in the opposite direction, just to avoid all Macy’s stores. Because these guys keep a sale going. Mother’s Day Sale, Memorial Day Sale, Friends and Family Sale... They have sales about sales then send you sale coupons to take to the sales. (And yes my mom participates in that as well…) Look, I admit Future Boyfriend, I have a bit of a problem. I can’t scroll through Instagram without finding something to buy, my email is cluttered with advertisings about upcoming sale items and my bathroom consists of 4 over flowing drawers dedicated to make up products… Most of which aren’t even open. And although I know this isn’t normal, I’m not a hoarder and I with all of this, I still have a great credit score, so technically I’m a catch. And all of this is possible because I don’t break the bank since everything I buy on sale.   So, don’t come along trying to kill my vibe with rules, regulations, budgets and bitching. Because if you do the first time you run out of toilet paper because you didn’t let me bulk up when Target had them on sale, I’m going to print this out, with a smug smile and tell you, you can wipe your ass with it.

Xo,

Mix

[sashagilljournalist]

Embrace Your Freezer

I think you have heard this far too many times – stranger times are afoot. Stockpiling is a particular point of aggression for me, because there is simply no point in buying far more than you need. If supply is an issue, the answer lies in simply utilising the best appliance at your disposal. Yes, I am talking about your freezer.

There is a multitude of food that behaves rather well if you plunge it into the icy-cold depths of your freezer. But, as always, the question of food safety arises. Here is a crash-course into what freezes well, how to fight the devil that is freezer-burn, and what is a freezer-flop and must be avoided at all costs.

Bread I place this at the top of my list simply because I believe that far too many people have been chucking their Hovis slices into the compost when the slightest bloom of mould appears. Bread is the king of freezer foods. If you buy your bread pre-sliced, you can chuck whatever you believe you cannot finish by the sell-by date into the freezer. If you are a better person than I am, and get those crusty loaves à la Gail’s, make sure to slice them into neat pieces before freezing. Whenever the need for toast arises, no thawing is necessary. Pop it straight into your toaster. You can’t imagine a thing better since frozen bread.

Fruit Sure, you can buy pre-frozen fruit, and there is nothing wrong in that. But if you think you have far more than you need fresh, you can freeze whatever excess you have. Most fruit freezes remarkably well. And while in some cases (I am looking at you, citrus) the texture does deteriorate, if you are using it for baking/smoothies/juicing – no one would be none the wiser. A point of note: pitted fruit does best if you remove their stones before the freeze – trying to pry it out with a knife sub-thaw is not much fun. Avoid the peach equivalent to the millennial avocado injury. Citrus, forgiving my previous dig, is OK if you are using the pulp for a recipe or smoothie – but the zest reigns supreme. Zesting a frozen wedge of citrus fruit is easy peasy. And if you happen to need the flesh of citrus without the skin, just freeze it for whenever you may want to make a casserole calling for that tablespoon of orange zest.

Herbs We are all culprit to buying a pouch of rosemary when a recipe demands it, and leaving the remainder languishing in the produce drawer. If you have far too many fresh herbs than you know what to do with, freeze them (spoiler alert). Herbs are best if frozen in some kind of fat, so what I do is portion them out in an ice-cube tray, a teaspoon per well, and top each up with a glug of olive oil. If your next pasta sauce demands 2 teaspoons of fresh rosemary – pop out two cubes straight from the tray and toss them into your pan.

Soups and stocks I am a fan of the Kallo stock cube. But there have been times (i.e. mid-risotto making) when I have had far too much ready than I need. Instead of chucking it away, freeze them in portions (I like to go for a cup per container), so you know exactly how much to thaw out the next time you need it.

Leftovers I wrote an entire article about leftovers, and it seems particularly prescient to not let whatever you have spare to go to waste. Stews and curries fare particularly well from being frozen – just make sure you portion them according to how much you need for a meal.

Vegetables The list of vegetables that do well from freezing is far longer than those that do not. Onions, garlic, hard veg (squash, root veg, peppers)… Spinach and kale, while of the leafier variety, do well if you plan to deploy them later in a cooked dish and not in a salad. Skin your tomatoes before freezing – by slitting an X at their base, boiling them for 2-3 minutes, then immediately plunging them into a bath of ice-cold water. Their skin will start to shrink back – so peel off whatever remains with languorous ease and pop them into a freezer bag or Tupperware. While most root vegetables fare well, but potatoes do not. Only waxy potatoes do relatively OK, but I advise this only if you want to use them in some sort of stock, as their texture does change. Just parboil them before freezing. As a general rule of thumb – veg with a high water content either should not be frozen (i.e. iceberg) or needs some treatment. Hardier veg is much more resilient.

Tofu Even if food shortage is not an issue, I am a proponent for freezing your tofu.

Baked Goods Do you know how some people have eyes much bigger than their stomachs? I bake much bigger than my stomach. Most baked goods can be frozen. Banana bread, cinnamon rolls, cookie dough – it’s all good. Just make sure to portion them accordingly for future ease. To bring them back to their former glory – a whirl in the microwave is all you need.

Butter FREEZE YOUR BUTTER. I use non-dairy butter, but the rule withstands. And, hey, if you happen to be the sort that makes your own shortcrust – pre-frozen butter is a godsend.

Yoghurt and milk Yes, I am aware that some dairy comes with a warning emblazoned on the side of it – DO NOT FREEZE. But if your intention is to use your dairy in a dish, frozen shouldn’t be a problem. Freezing yoghurt or milk (or non-dairy equivalents) changes the texture of it – no longer silky and velvet but rather (urgh!) lumpy. This resolves itself if you throw it into a biryani or a pasta sauce, but not have any intention of consuming it as you would fresh. Just try you freeze whatever you do not think you can finish as soon as you can – anything a day or so near its sell-by date is risky business.

Eggs Don’t freeze your eggs in their shells. Crack them open, beat them and portion them in containers labelled with how many eggs lie within them.

Cheese Hard cheese freezes well, soft cheese less so. If you find a bit of mould growing on your wedge of parmesan, it is completely fine (and safe!) to cut it off with a generous margin, and freeze whatever remains. Soft cheese should not be frozen at all costs – and if you find yourself in the unfortunate circumstance of finding a bit of mould on your mozzarella. Chuck it. It isn’t worth any risk.

Flours Wheat, rye, spelt, buckwheat, oat… they are the superstar of the freezer. Whenever you need any for a bit of baking, scoop it out and proceed as you would normally.

Nuts and seeds I grew up in a hot climate, so all of our nuts and seeds claimed residence in our fridge or freezer. Nuts and seeds possess a fat that can, at times, go rancid in warmer temperatures. This poses less of a problem if you buy small bags of the stuff that they sell at Tesco. But, if you are a bulk-buy fiend, pop whatever you think you will not employ in the next few months in the freezer. It will save you a lot of money, and heartache.

Cooked rice, grains and pasta Yes, you can freeze these. Rice can be tricky, but be sure to cool whatever excess you have ASAP and pop it into the freezer once it is at room temperature. Pasta can be frozen, but please, only if it is just shy of al-dente. You will need to plunge it onto some hot water to revive it, and if it is already slightly over, you will have a soggy, gloppy mess.

Meat Freezing meat can appear to be a risky endeavour but if you follow a few rules, you’re golden. Freeze it as soon as possible, portioned as you would need per meal. When freezing meat, air is the enemy. Wrap each as much as you can in plastic wrap (or leave it in the vacuum pack it came in) and a further insurance of foil or Tupperware to discourage freezer burn. When thawing (which will be discussed below) – you can either leave it in the refrigerator for a day (smaller portions) or more, or in a tub of slightly-cold water. DO NOT leave it on the countertop, DO NOT microwave it. The 3-month rule applies here for maximum quality, and while a few months shy of that should be okay, the quality of it does deteriorate significantly.

Safe-Freezing Tips

You are now a freezing aficionado. But here are a few final tips about the longevity of frozen food, and just some general freezer-related housekeeping.

How long is it good for? This depends on the food. And while there are a whole list of websites and charts demanding you follow a strict schedule, if you have frozen the food as close to fresh as you can, a lot of it will be OK. But, for the wary, here is a good guide.

How should I freeze? A rule of freezing – minimise air contact. With meat this is crucial, but otherwise, try to use freezer-safe bags or tubs with airtight lids. Label EVERYTHING – with its contents, portions, and date of cooking/freezing. Always try to freeze according to your regular portion size so you can thaw exactly the amount you need.

What should I use to freeze my food? You can buy freezer bags, and containers – but avoid freezing any glass or metal. Glass is particularly tricky as it can shatter (yes, even the freezer-safe ones). Especially if you put anything slightly liquid inside, as water can expand and create cracks your glass container.

How do I thaw my frozen food? You have a few options. You can thaw it in the refrigerator, which is the safest, but also takes a fair amount of time. To speed things up, you can leave it in a bowl of cold water on your countertop, or in the microwave on the defrost setting. Meat, however, should never be let near the microwave in the effort of food safety.

How do I prevent freezer burn? This happens over a period of long freezing, when food loses its water molecules and they rise to the surface and crystallise as ice. Small ice crystals do not pose much of a problem, as they melt fairly quickly. But once larger crystals form, this usually indicates the deterioration of whatever you have had frozen. It is usually still alright to eat this (with the exception of meat and dairy products), but just be prepared for it to be a little subtracted in its original quality.

Image Credit: Theo Crazzolara, Flickr Creative Commons

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Today is Mother’s birthday. As I reflect on the wonderful presence she is in my life, I find myself reminiscing. 30 years of memories with her make me so grateful to have her as my mother, my best friend, my confidant and sounding board. She is the sound of reason, the voice in my head, the one I turn to for advice and comfort, my number one fan, and the absolute best example of unconditional love. I know there will always be nothing but love from her. She is quick to respond with positivity and support, ideas and creativity, and her own personal brand of vivacity. In 60 years, when she’s 112 and I’m 90, I’ll probably have to say goodbye to her, but even then it won’t have been enough time with her. She’s incredible and amazing, and I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s the woman who came to organize my apartment because I didn’t have a chance to do it before the baby was born. She the woman who, when I asked to borrow her giant pot to make some dishes for my family, responded with, “Absolutely!” I see so much of her in me. And I’m sure as my own daughter grows I’ll hear her words coming from my mouth more and more. After all, my whole life has been filled with her.

There’s something about cooking that takes me back to the past. Back to days in the kitchen with Mother. With Granny. Back to my childhood. Chicken and dumplins–the rolled out kind, not the dropped ones, pinto beans, rice, corn bread, banana bread, chicken breast… I made those a few days ago. All of it. All at once. Cooking isn’t a challenge if you only have one pot on the stove and nothing in the oven. Heaven knows I like a challenge. My bonus daughter asked me how I learned to cook. The thing is, I don’t really know. I just watched. Cast iron skillets, Magnalite pots, corningware dishes, pie plates, and cookie sheets. There was magic in the kitchen when I was little. I watched Granny cook endlessly for the first 11 years of my life. I remember sitting on the yellow formica countertops stirring the roux so it would get nice and brown without burning. I remember finding recipes and measuring ingredients to make pies and cookies to feed the people who seemed to always be at Granny’s house. I remember the dumplin pot full of goodness and watching the women of my family make the recipe that was never written. Casseroles and soups and things we made up as we went, those were the magic of that kitchen. I learned to love to cook there, though the practical application and technical skill came later. Training to be a restaurant manager will teach you things about being in the kitchen that you never thought you’d need to know. I know how to do things that no single person ever needs to tackle in their own home, but learning it was useful. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is just as powerful, after all.

My husband is working overnights right now, but he has weekends off, so I’m thankful for the consistent schedule. I’ve been able to prepare meals in advance for him because of his steady hours, so cooking a week’s worth of meat and putting it in separated Tupperware means one less obstacle for his day. This is the easiest part of my time in the kitchen. I’m so thankful for the genius who came up with those pre-cut foil sheets. One per chicken breast, seasoned individually so he’s not eating the same flavors every day, then into our awesome mini-oven below the microwave (originally intended mostly for pizza, I think, but we use it CONSTANTLY). 425 degrees for 45 minutes for thawed and 90 minutes for frozen, then out comes an easy entrée for my hard-working honey to eat on the job.

We have my bonus daughter here for the month. Well, she got here on June 23rd and she goes back to her biological mother on July 23rd, but this is her “month” with us. This is the first time she’s been able to spend the full four weeks with her father and me. There were always scheduling conflicts in the past. It’s been wonderful and interesting having her here. I’m able to see the young woman she’s becoming, and I’m able to influence her in those aspects I find important to being a mature, well-behaved lady that she may not be exposed to elsewhere. Things like not eating in bed, picking up trash, cleaning up after yourself, brushing your hair more than once a day, brushing your teeth and showering regularly, making smart food choices, not needing a dessert after every meal, being responsible for cleaning up your living space, and being observant and considerate are all lessons of the summer in a roundabout way. She loves her baby sister, though she gets bored with her lack of mobility, I think, but she is always willing to help. At 11, she’s showing those signs of teenage “attitude” that I see at school, and her fashion choices are very much on the dress-down side, and so I see a lot of myself in her, despite the lack of biological connection. I actually feel the need to apologize to my mother on a regular basis for my own fashion choices and hormonal attitude at that point in my life. It’s completely different and I understand her so much better looking at it from this side.

She’s the reason I’ve been pre-packaging fruits and veggies, making more chicken and dumplins than I’ve ever made before, and cooking big meals with leftovers. She hasn’t quite learned the kitchen and can’t really cook more than Ramen, and even that’s with supervision, so she makes sandwiches and heats things in the microwave. With the new baby demanding time and energy, I welcome her autonomy when possible. She genuinely seems to like what I cook, especially dumplins. Except for the beans. She said, “I’m not really a fan of beans in general, but if I were, I would like these.” That’s the most back-handed compliment she’s ever given, I think. And I’m pretty sure she was just being nice. You can’t please everyone, I suppose. This is the same child who likes Brussels sprouts and claims to not like cheese.

I find my role as both mother and bonus mom significantly colored by the experiences I had with my own mother. I see what she went through in my own life, and I thank the Lord above I have her to observe, that I grew up watching her deal with life and all of its challenges, especially the ones that come from having children that you’re trying to shape into the best adults possible.

Dumplin’ Pot

Cast Iron

Chicken and dumplins

Cornbread in cast iron

Pinto beans with rice and cornbread

Banana bread

Seasoned Chicken

Chicken in Foil for Baking

I like to cook. I make things up as I go along even more now than I did before. Mother does that. I learned how to make dumplins and pinto beans from her. A little of this, a little of that, season it until it tastes right, though my palm is my measuring cup. Mother learned it from her mother, who learned it from her mother, as far as I know. Those are Mother’s recipes. Nothing is written down with any sense of certainty. Just approximations and estimations, eyeballing amounts in your hand before dusting them into the pot and knowing it just fits, smelling things and picking out the flavors you want, mixing and matching tastes and ideas and feeling that certain something in your gut that makes you add an unorthodox ingredient that makes a dish perfect. Like sugar with sour cream, or peanut butter with honey or bananas, or tomato and mayo on a sandwich. All of those are things my husband just doesn’t get. I follow recipes, too, but I’m not afraid to add a little something here and there to make it my own. I run into the problem all of the cooks in my family deal with, though. Once it’s made, we have NO idea what went in it! I got my own set of wonderful Magnalite pots and pans for Christmas last year, and I’ve had cast iron for ages now. I love them. Magnalite pots and cast iron skillets are the cornerstones of my kitchen. If the kitchen is magic, I come from a long line of witches. The foundations of my happiness in the kitchen are firmly ensconced in Magnalite, magic, and Mother’s recipes.

Magnalite, Magic, and Mother’s Recipes Today is Mother's birthday. As I reflect on the wonderful presence she is in my life, I find myself reminiscing.