#I didn't have any in the fridge so it was a little too savoury

[donuts4evry1]

i finally got around to making gọi sứa :D, it was really tasty

[lindwurmkai]

I honestly doubt most people these days understand what hunger is supposed to feel like. Between diet culture, stressful schedules, poverty and so on, it's not common to be able to eat whenever your body demands it. So we learn to ignore those cues.

Personally, I was convinced I could easily tell whether I was hungry or not for many, many years before I realised I actually couldn't. What I thought of as "hunger" was in fact that advanced stage of hunger where unpleasant physical sensations in the stomach region begin to get involved.

That was, like ... my body yelling at me that it was way past time to eat. But I thought "hunger" simply referred to these unpleasant sensations. Which is why, when I started suffering from chronic heartburn, I would sometimes mistake mild heartburn for hunger because it was limited to the lower half of my esophagus rather than reaching all the way up, and I would wonder why I could hardly bring myself to eat if I was so hungry that it hurt.

Eventually I realised my mistake and got into the habit of trying to deliberately induce that effect where you don't think you're hungry until you open the fridge. Each time I either "felt hungry" despite having recently eaten or suspiciously didn't feel hungry many hours after my last meal, I would open the fridge or vividly imagine eating a variety of foods to see if any of them appealed to me. This way I found out I actually sucked at identifying hunger.

Now I play this little "does food appeal to me or not" game all the time, including when someone asks me if I'm hungry. I still don't know how else to find the answer unless I'm starving because I've already put off eating for too long.

Sometimes it's complicated by a lack of appetite (which is separate from hunger), but I can usually get past that by thinking of increasingly sweet, cold, and semi-liquid foods including ones we don't have in the house. Fatigue or thirst can make savoury, hot, and chewy things unappealing. Once I have my answer, finding something I can actually eat in that moment is another challenge, but I'd rather make myself a little sad by first imagining something I can't have than stay uncertain.

How do people who don't have this problem experience hunger, I wonder? And is this an aspect of alexithymia in my case or was it caused by stuff like rushing to school without breakfast? Either way, what the hell. I only figured it out in my 30s.

[timetraveltasting]

ITRION (3rd c.)

I've had a stressful week of work and am in need of energy, so this weekend I decided to make a very simple Tasting History recipe that powered armies: Itrion, a thin and crispy sesame honey bar from Ancient Greece. While this recipe for itrion is gathered from the 3rd-century Deipnostophistae by Athenaeus Naucratites, the crispy snack was likely eaten centuries earlier, especially by hoplite citizen-soldiers. Most Ancient Greek armies were made up of hoplites. City-state armies, like Sparta's professional standing army, were rare. Each hoplite soldier was responsible for supplying their own equipment and food, which needed to be cheap, travel well, and be easy to prepare. Itrion fits this bill perfectly. The Ancient Greek itrion is a bar whose recipe has remained largely unchanged over a couple thousand years; they are known in Greece today as Pasteli (Παστέλι). There are big companies in Greece that mass-produce these bars, and you can get them in any shop or kiosk. Not bad staying-power for what is often called 'the world's first energy bar'! See Max’s video on how to make itrion here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

Since I already had a packet of toasted sesame seeds at home from another recipe I had made, I actually cheated a little bit by using pre-toasted sesame seeds for this recipe. For honey, I used raw German linden tree honey. I decided to halve the recipe, because I didn't want to end up with too much, and I only had about half the sesame seeds called for.

I used a 9" x 9" pan, lined it with a baking sheet, then added my pre-toasted sesame seeds to a frying pan. While you would think this shouldn't be necessary due to them being toasted already, Max says it is actually important to add the sesame seeds to the honey while they are hot, so I thought it still important to do a bit of extra toasting (being careful not to burn them, of course). When I heated my honey in a saucepan, it didn't foam much, so I didn't have to skim any off the top, luckily. Because I don't have a kitchen thermometer, I eyeballed the amount of bubbles, being sure it looked similar to how Max's looked when his hit the correct temperature (quite bubbling). At this point, I added the hot, toasted sesame seeds, mixing them in for about 3-4 minutes on low heat. They combined really easily, and the proportions of honey and sesame looked correct and balanced. Because I halved the recipe, when I poured the sesame honey mixture into the pan, it didn't spread out to the edges but looked more like a blob shape. I let it cool on the counter, but since it's quite hot and summery in my apartment at the moment, I decided to put it in the fridge to allow it to crisp up just a little faster. When I took it out, I removed the paper, cut the itrion into squares/triangles (my blob shape did not divide so well into uniform shapes!), and arranged them on a plate for snacking. They did not break apart in a completely crispy way, like peanut brittle would, but they were kind of gooey in the centre with a nice crisp on the top and bottom.

My experience tasting it:

I took a small first bite: fairly crisp on the outside, but gooey and a bit hard to chew on the inside. My husband took a large first bite, and found it very hard to chew as a result. I decided to stick with small bites after that! The honey melted in my mouth, and was the main flavour I could taste at first. As I kept chewing, the sweet honey taste gave way to the crispy and toasty sesame seed flavour (which I absolutely love). Overall, the flavours are very balanced between sweet and savoury, and there is a good mix of textures. I could even taste the linden tree flavour, and I would say that whichever type of honey you use to make itrion will likely retain its unique taste once cooked. My husband and I both enjoyed the itrion, and will snack on the pieces through the week. However, I was very glad I halved the recipe and cut the itrion into small pieces, as I do think it's a flavour that you can become bored of easily if you eat too much of it. Still, I would definitely make this recipe again - it only requires two ingredients, it's a very quick and simple process to make, and it will last a week or so of snacking, in my opinion. While the flavour isn't particularly mind-blowing, itrion does make for a great, light snack while still scratching the sweet and savoury itches. And so easy to make! The Ancient Greeks were on to a winner with itrion; there is a good reason this recipe has survived for so long. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Itrion original recipe (3rd c.)

Sourced from Deipnostophistae by Athenaeus Naucratites, 3rd c. AD.

Then there is the itrion. This is a thin cake, made of sesame and honey, Anacreon mentions it like this: 'And I breakfasted on a bit of crisp itrion, breaking it off, and drank a jar of wine.'

Modern Recipe

Based on Deipnostophistae by Athenaeus Naucratites (3rd c.) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

1/2 lb (225 g) sesame seeds

1/2 lb (225g) pure honey

Method:

Line the bottom and sides of a pan (9" x 9" works) with parchment paper. You can use a larger pan if you want thinner itrion.

Place a dry pan over medium heat and add the sesame seeds. Cook until nicely toasted and aromatic, about 5 minutes, stirring constantly so the sesame doesn't burn. Take the pan off the heat but don’t let the sesame cool too much, you want it to still be quite hot when you add it to the honey.

Melt the honey in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly. If any white foam rises up, skim it off. Continue to heat the honey until it hits 260°F (126°C), then immediately add the hot sesame seeds. Stir until combined.

Continue to cook over low heat for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly.

Pour the mixture into the lined pan and spread evenly.

The itrion can be cut after a few minutes. If it cools completely, the cut edges will be nice and crisp. Turn the itrion out of the pan, cut it however you like, and serve it forth.

[albatris]

find the word tag!

thank you @pertinax--loculos for the tag!! :D

my words are multitude, join, escape, wither and whirl!

MULTITUDE

Nat slunk over to investigate. He crouched down in front of the little wooden fence and brushed his fingertips along the greenery corralled inside it, breathing in the tangling scents of soil and roots and dampness and sweet growth. Carrots. Radishes. Beetroot. Ginger. Spring onions. A multitude of other smells, savoury and sweet and spicy and earthy and every shade in between, knitted together so closely he couldn't begin to unravel them.

All things Nat could buy at the supermarket, probably—but everything at the supermarket was so dull, so bland, so sad. These were alive, these were vibrant and bursting. On par with anything Nat could pinch from Alex's greenhouse, or perhaps even better.

JOIN

He put on his best jokey smile, but was quite certain it didn't hit the mark. "If I do end up accidentally murdering one of your co-workers to death," he said, "do you have any preferences?"

Quinn gave this attempt at humour much more consideration than appropriate. "The lady in the cubicle next to me—frilly orange dress, Margaret—she keeps trying to get me to join her pyramid scheme," they said after a while. "And if you see a big burly bald dude taking my lunch out of the fridge, that's Cameron. You'd actually be doing me a huge favour if you ate him. Then I'd actually get to eat for once, too."

ESCAPE

As soon as the air stormed into his lungs, pain exploded through his chest, his throat, his mouth, and in his mouth it was sharp and singing and visceral, like every foreign, jagged, wrong thought in his brain was suddenly pushing out through his skull and down through his gums. His head cracked down against the floor again. His vision dipped black. He felt a trickle of blood escape the corner of his mouth.

He reached a shaking hand to his lips and shoved his fingers through to his teeth. They no longer sat neatly—they had been pushed out of place, some of them forced sideways, others shoved down and almost out completely. Like something from above was asserting itself in their place. Further tracing revealed one of his canines had split down the middle and there was the... the beginning of something there, inside that crevice, breaking through. A sharp, needlelike splinter of bone. Violence, hatching. His touch wandered upwards despite his growing dread, finding more strange, alien lumps lurking under the stretched-thin flesh of his gums.

WITHER

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Quinn said again. "I promise."

Nat tapped furiously on his phone for a few seconds. Then he looked back up at Quinn, whose own phone buzzed to herald an incoming text.

I'll be here, Nat's message read, lonely and withering and dying. No pressure xoxo <3

"Cool, great." Quinn slid their phone back into their pocket and smiled unpleasantly. "Way to guilt trip me for trying to save your life, you fucking drama queen."

WHIRL

Travelers and daredevils and loners and hunters and various connoisseurs of the supernatural... all flopped helplessly in their cheap metal chairs and panting, fanning themselves with their menus, beads of sweat dripping from glistening foreheads into iced drinks. They congregated near overworked standing fans, their only respite from the mind-melting heat, the little machines currently rattling in terror as they were forced to whirl faster than any object known to man.

All adamant not to notice or acknowledge each other, of course. All hell-belt on believing they were the single lone hero perched on the precipice of this harrowing journey, and not just another idiot tourist tripping over themself to leap on any spooky bandwagon that rolled past.

I'm taggin @multi-lefaiye and @vellichor-virgo and @chaotic-queer-disaster and @wherearetheplants and @afoolandathief for test, slip, coax, bridge and shoe!

no pressure of course!

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet. 

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

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