#Oxtail Bowl

[ricebowlmeals]

Oxtail Bowl

For more information about Oxtail Bowl please visit https://ricebowlmeals.com/products/oxtail-bowl?selling_plan=1607074050&variant=42659994042626

[morethansalad]

The Best Plant-Based Jamaican Oxtail

[fieriframes]

[And I gotta tell you something. I need to go to the dojo and work out after that saimin oxtail. Japanese flavors, Chinese noodles with a Hawaiian attitude. That bowl pinned me, bro.]

[xshu]

"Buried Treasure"

Yesterday was “cold” and rainy, today too. Last time The Mouse was at Masa & Joyce Okazuya, item on the menu was intriguing, Okinawan Rice Soup (Jyu Shi Me). Yesterday, the Mouse tried. Okinawan Rice Soup Not jook, The Mouse thinks less simmering, rice and Napa cabbage in broth, green onion garnish, tasty. Buried in the soup, two medium-small pieces of oxtail (buried treasure). Oxtail…

[bitchdafuqyousay]

shout out to my tío’s cooking for single handedly helping me with my mental health, he’s visiting my nana n made sancocho for lunch n just a couple bites healed me

[mermaidchansons]

Warm In December

Terry Richmond x Black Reader

Story Summary: You convince your husband, Terry, to slip away during your annual Christmas Eve party.

Words: 2500+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ minors do NOT engage (you’ll be blocked), pre-established relationship, married reader, cursing, unprotected sex, P in V, fingering, squirting, slight mentions of breeding kink if you squint a little, breath play, good ole fluff

Author’s Note: Short and sweet. Dedicated to my sweet little bby @megamindsecretlair 💕. It’s still Christmas in my heart! - Ashanti

Christmas time at the Richmond house was always a big celebration. As soon as Thanksgiving dinner was cleaned up, Terry was out gathering the decorations from the garage. It always tickled you how quickly your love of the holiday season had infected him. When you first met your husband, he never had much of a yearning to celebrate. But that all changed when you first confessed your love to him at a local tree lighting ceremony. Every year since, Terry added the tree lighting ceremony onto his evergrowing itinerary of holiday related events. Driving around to look at the lights, gingerbread house competitions, and of course, tonight’s main event; the annual Christmas Eve dinner party. 

You waltzed between your guests dancing in your colorful living room. Terry’s friend Mel was DJ’ing a set of black holiday hits, coaxing folks out of an incoming case of the itis. A few people stopped you on your way to the kitchen; waxing about how delicious everything was. An invite to a Terry x Y/N dinner party was coveted amongst your community. You were practically a young Ina Garten in your own right; pulling off elaborate 3 and 4-course dinners with the likes of curried oxtail, whole fried tilapia, and king crab gumbo. Some of your friends would change their entire flight schedule to eat at the Richmond house on Christmas Eve.

“Ooo T, if these folk keep gassing me up, my heads gone get too big,” you said as you balanced a few empty glasses. 

“Let ‘em gas you. You really outdid yourself this year, baby.”

Going all out was expected of you, and Terry was determined to match your fly this year. Eight months ago, his therapist suggested he take up baking as a way to spend time with his thoughts. And now, he was ready to show your guests what he had been perfecting all this time. You leaned against the door frame and watched your gentle giant pull a pan of steaming hot cinnamon rolls out of the oven. He placed the pan down with cautious hesitation, making you bite back a giggle. 

Although you loved that Terry had cultivated a hobby that worked for him, you couldn’t help but still be tickled by it. Your 6’3, former marine, no-nonsense husband was a home baker. And he looked mighty fine doing it too. He wore his nice fitted polo that hugged every part of his muscle lined frame. He stared down intently through his gold-rimmed glasses that sat at the bridge of his nose as he whipped frosting in a bowl. Placing your tray down, you wrung out your hands; biting your lip as you watched his biceps flex with each whip of the whisk. Flashbacks of your quicky before the party popped into your mind. You’d shown him your dress for the night: a short black dress with dusty pink feathers lining the bottom. He must have liked it, the way he made quick work of hiking the dress over your thick thighs; commanding you to watch yourself in the mirrored ceiling while he greedily lapped at your pussy on the staircase. Jolting back to the present, your middle pooled with desire. Terry spread the cream cheese frosting over the freshly baked pastries and you practically moaned at the sight of it. God, I wish that was me.

“If you finna ogle me like that, you may as well give me a hand.” He playfully shook his head under your stare. It wouldn’t be the first time he feigned disapproval at your lust for him. You were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Hastily, you crossed the kitchen to press your chest against his back, hugging his waist. Your gold-adorned hands roamed his chest as you hummed along to the music floating in front of the living room. Terry chuckled and the depth of his voice was like honey in your ears. The wine from dinner made your body hum with lust. Probably should have stopped after the second glass. Red wine always made you horny. Your clit was beginning to hurt from how badly you wanted him. With dinner finished, your hostess duties had been mostly completed. Who would notice if you slipped away?

“Here, taste this,” he commanded.

Terry held up a frosting covered finger and you wasted no time in wrapping your pretty pouty lips around it. Nutmeg and cinnamon danced on your tongue as you sucked down to the base of his knuckle. You watched as his bottom lip raked between his teeth, his stormy eyes flashing with desire. 

“Baby, you’re gonna get in trouble playing around like that.” Terry’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed a groan. Releasing his finger with a pop, you looked up at him with your brown sugar eyes and pulled him in by his belt. 

“You promise, lover?” You bat your eyelashes wistfully, causing him to take a precautionary look around. Making a show of ensuring no unsuspecting guest was in eyesight. 

Terry practically melted when you smiled at him, your multi-faced grill illuminated by the warm lights. You were irresistible and you knew it. Perching on your tippy toes, you puckered your lips at him, causing him to smirk. He leaned down and gave you a small peck, much to your dismay. Greedy.

“Terryyyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the syllables in his name. He leaned down with his lips to your neck, planting an open mouth kiss right where you liked it. His large hands gripped your thick hips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, “you know we have guests. Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess.” His cologne mixed with the smell of the pastries, making you woozy with lust. He was a cinnamon, citrus, and coconut dream. You just wanted a bite.

“I could say the same thing to you. You talking all this shit when I know you’re hard for me.” Straightening back up to look at you, his eyes met yours. You watched as a flash of deviance glazed over those blue-gray eyes. Terry spun you away, pressing his hardened groin against your plump behind. 

“This what you wanted? You wanted to feel this fat dick against that ass, huh?” You could only nod in response, feeling light as air from your husband’s touch. The bass of the music mixed with your ever-quickening heartbeat, filling the spaces in your ears. His touch only worsened it, every caress and squeeze set your skin ablaze. You couldn’t go on like this. You desperately needed friction and he knew it. 

“Mhm, I see them wheels turning in that pretty head. Go set these out and meet me upstairs.” 

“Yes, sir.”

You picked up the glass pan of treats with glee before turning to your husband with your lips puckered. He chuckled deeply and pecked your lips; spinning you around with a smack on your plump behind. Your giggles filled his ears as you walked out. Terry grabbed a jingle bell stirring stick and headed to your shared room. 

After worming your way out of conversations downstairs, you kicked off your feathered heels and hastened up the stairs. Once you entered the room, the sounds of Boyz 2 Men wafted in from below. You bit your lip in anticipation and you stopped to slide down your panties. They were soaked beyond recovery, a usual dilemma that occurred around Terry. Your husband had just wrapped up his teeth routine when you walked in. Already shirtless and ready to please. He made a spinning motion with his finger and you turned with a quickness. Unzipping your dress with one hand, he slipped a thin rod into your right hand. It jingled when you shook it and you rolled your eyes. This game became a tradition ever since your honeymoon at the Christmas markets in France. But with everything that happened this year, you’d almost forgotten about it. A strong hand wrapped around your neck, bringing your attention to the mirror. Your eyes met his and you could have come right then and there. 

“You better keep your eyes straight. You know the rules; every time you come, I need to hear that bell. Understood?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed. Terry made quick work of sliding the dress over your pretty hair, working carefully to preserve all your hard work. He hoisted you onto the cool counter and sighed as he opened your legs. 

Leaning down, he took your bottom lip between yours and lightly sucked. You couldn’t help but moan against his mouth as he kissed you with vigor. His hand slid up from your plush tummy to your chest, kneading and grabbing at any and every part of you. He loved every bit of you. He always had and it drove you crazy; being desired by him was euphoric. 

Breaking the kiss, he put two fingers in your mouth. You sucked them with excitement, making him stifle a chuckle. You couldn’t help it. Your poor pussy was dripping with want; squeezing around nothing. He popped his fingers out of your mouth and slid them inside your dewy walls with no hesitation. You both let out a drawn-out fuuuuuuuuck in unison. 

“I’ve been thinking about this pussy all night, baby. So damn gorgeous in that little dress, working the room. I’m tryna work you.”

“You play too much- oh!” You giggled in between your moans as your husband slightly bent his fingers inside of you. He watched you intently as he worked you into submission. The building tension in your tummy made you clench around his two digits.  Terry smoothed his hand over your breast before squeezing and twisting your left nipple. Your back arched away from the cold mirror as much as it could without inducing a cramp. 

“Look at this pretty pussy gripping me. Let me see it, baby.” Grabbing your face with his large hand, he turned you to the side. You watched your reflection in the mirrored cabinet, with Terry’s thick arm pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your ears grew hot as you watched with your mouth agape. The sight of it made the coil in your middle tighten before snapping completely. You came with stuttered squirts, moaning out his name.

“Good girl. Go ahead and ring that bell, princess.” 

You weakly shook the stick and his mouth covered yours once again. The sound of the jingling bell mixed with the clanking of his belt. He pulled you to the edge and lined up his hardened member with your entrance. You cradled his chiseled chin in your hand, staring into his eyes as he worked himself inside of you. Your pussy stretched willingly to accommodate his size, just as it did before the party. He rolled his hips at a painfully slow pace, making you feel every inch of him. 

“Fuck, I missed you. You good, Y/N?” Terry smirked at your face contorted in pleasure. You bit down on your lip and nodded wildly, failing at holding back the oncoming orgasm. 

Just the stretch alone was enough to get you there. With just a few pumps into you, the jingle bell echoed in the bathroom. It was astonishing to see how quickly the man could make you come. An evil chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he adjusted his hold on you. Hooking his left arm under your knee, he closed in the space between you. You raked your hooded eyes over his body and sent a quick thank you to the ancestors. God, was he pretty. His pace quickened and he wrapped his free hand around your throat, lightly pressing the sides. 

“Yes, just like that Terrence,” you yelled, turned on from the lessened airflow. 

“Just like that, baby? Just like that, huh?” Your eyes rolled back into your head while you nodded. All sense had gone out of the window as he fucked you dumb. Guests be damned. Both of your moans mixed with the muffled singing of Anita Baker and the cacophony of clapping and lewd squelches. He playfully timed his strokes to the beat of Sweet Love and a mixture of giggles and groans erupted from you. 

“Ease up, Y/N,” Terry groaned stiffly, shutting his eyes tight, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’ll come.” What a silly man. That’s everything you wanted. You craved the feeling of him filling you to the brim with his seed. The man had you fantasizing about carrying his child for Christ's sake. 

“Come for me then, daddy.”

His thick brows furrowed and you shook your head, giggling more. The tables had turned and you weren’t about to let up. Watching your 6’3 husband writhe from your touch was so much more than satisfying, it was a drug. You craved seeing him in utter ecstasy, watching it overtake him. What a sight to behold. Gripping the edge of the counter with one hand, you steadied yourself and rolled your hips against him. Terry locked eyes with yours and moaned your name, overtaken by the feeling of you wrapped around him. You got lost in his stormy pools as he quickly rutted into you, chasing his undoing. You squeezed around him once more as an orgasm ripped through you. 

“Fuuuuuuck, Terrence,” you groaned out, ringing the bell sloppily. 

He fucked you through the orgasm, overstimulating you until tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His hips stuttered to a stop as he came, white-hot strands coating your insides and filling you up. Fuck’s and I love you’s trailed into the air while you both caught your breath. You gave the bell rod one more shake, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter. Sharing a peck or two between smiles. He slipped himself out of you with a contented sigh and moved to clean you up. 

Once you made yourselves presentable, you headed down the stairs to rejoin your party hand in hand. Guests were slow dancing to the velvety voice of Samara Joy in the light of the Christmas glow. DJ Mel shot the two of you a knowing look and Terry shrugged before hugging you close to him. 

“We grown, Mel,” Terry said, eliciting a shrug from them. You could only smile and shake your head at the man’s antics.

“We throw a good party, baby. Maybe too good.” Spinning you slowly, he pulled you into him. You pouted while you watched him gently kiss the tops of your manicured hands. 

“Way too good. All the cinnamon rolls are gone and I didn’t get one,” you whimpered sadly and laid your head against his hard chest. He rubbed your back as he swayed you to the music. 

“Mhm, that’s why I made you another batch,” he hummed, the bass in his chest vibrating against your ear. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes and he kissed your forehead. You brought your hand up to caress his face and he pressed a kiss against your palm.

“You’re so real for that, Terrence. Merry Christmas, baby.” A soft smile took over his face when you squeezed his waist with all your might.

“Merry Christmas, princess.” 

Thanks For Reading!

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @jvzmine19 @ashanti-notthesinger

[amethystsoda]

Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon Recipe masterlist - part 1

(project started in July 2023 and ongoing! I'll continue updating as the recipes are posted — all recipes so far were created before they appeared in the anime) part 2

Recipe 1 - Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hotpot

comparison pics / process video / video and recipe commentary

- full list continued after the jump -

Recipe 2 - Man Eating Plant Tart

gelatin hell process 1 + process 2 / failed tart process video / comparison pics of redo / redo video with quiche

Recipe 3 - Roast Basilisk

brining / kfc super shy meme / oven setup and finished bird / planning for recipe 4 / process video

Recipe 4 - Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet (Omelette)

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 5 - Mandrake Kakiage and Giant Bat Tempura

Planning for recipe 5 and 6 / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 6 - Living Armor Soup

comparison pics and commentary on process / process video

Recipe 7 - Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch

planning for 7 and 8 / cooking research / process video / comparison pics

Recipe 8 - Freshly Stolen Vegetables and Chicken Stewed with Cabbage Accompanied by Plundered Bread

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 9 - Naturally Delicious Treasure Insect Snacks

planning 1 + planning 2 / coinbug carving process 1 + process 2 / gem making test / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 10 - Special Interfaith Holy Water and Exorcism Sorbet

planning / process / process video / comparison pics / second comparison with anime

Recipe 11 - Court Cuisine: Full Course Meal

planning 1 + planning 2 / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 12 - Boiled Mimic and Kelpie Oil Soap

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 13 - Porridge made from Grain that was just Lying Around

comparison pics and thoughts / process video

Recipe 14 - Giant Parasite from a Giant Kraken Grilled Plain and Kabayaki-Style

eel defrosting / comparison pics and process / process video

Recipe 15 - Farcille Raspberry Tart

planning for tart / ganache process / final pictures / process video

Recipe 16 - Grilled Kelpie

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 17 - Tentacles with Vinegar + Tentacle and Kelpie stew, prepared with Undine

planning / comparison pics / process video / (fullmetal alchemist stew meme)

BONUS - All the DunMeshi meals so far edit

Recipe 18 - Tentacle Gnocchi

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 19 - “Let’s Cutlet the Red Dragon”

original katsudon attempt from 2023 / katsu excitement / comparison pics / process video / anime comparison

Recipe 20 - Red Dragon Meal

planning 1 / planning 2 / oxtail broth update / pickled daikon recipe / comparison pics / process video: part 1 and part 2 / recipe post

Recipe 21 - Lost Red Dragon "Ham" + Orc Medicine Toast

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 22 - Travel Rations Set for Adventurers

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 23 - Jack-o'-Lantern Potage and Sauteed Dryad Buds with Cheese

planning / pumpkin bowl face / comparison pics / process video / blooper reel

BONUS - (dunmeshi zine chef contributor announcement!!!)

Recipe 24 - Eisbein-Style Cockatrice and Dryad Bud Sauerkraut

planning / sauerkraut poll / comparison pics / process video

BONUS - DunMeshi tiktok milestones!

[sunnie-angel]

hi sun!! sorry i’m late but i’m so excited to celebrate the new milestone with you <3 could i request apple picking + soup?

love you and here’s to many more!!

hello ro my love, of course you can. from one sick person to another i am sending you all the fluff and warm soup you can stomach 💕

the very second you start feeling a little under the weather, jason's dragging out the big heavy bottomed stock pot from where it lives under the kitchen sink

he waves away all of your protests and offers to help, just keeps on chopping ingredients. he tells you your only job is to rest and get better and you're not going to do that by hovering over his soup

jason realizes he's out of fresh herbs only after the vegetables and dried spices have gone in. he hooks the kiss the cook apron around your neck, tells you to keep an eye on it for him, then kisses your forehead before dashing out.

he must break about a hundred traffic laws going to the store but he's back so quickly you barely have time to miss him. jason lets you keep the apron but still won't let you do much more than watch.

jason feeds you little spoonfuls as he cooks, asking if that was too much of this or that, or if you'd like more salt. it's hard to give an opinion because it all tastes good (and with a stuffed up nose it's hard to taste any difference)

when it's finally ready to simmer for a bit, jason does all the clean up by himself. shoos you off to the couch to wait and brings an extra throw blanket with him when he joins you. snuggles up as the warm scent of cooking fills the air and queues up your favourite comfort movie.

you're half asleep by the time the credits roll, but jason gently shakes you awake anyway and presses a bowl of warm, fragrant soup into your hands. he coaxes you into eating it, and shyly you ask for more.

jason's always happy to take requests but he's got a few tried and true recipes he relies on. comforting avgolemono, rich oxtail soup, a well spiced mulligatawny.

you can request more head canons as part of sunnie’s soft autumn

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Yandere Professor Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Chapter: Dog Days.

When your ex Professor Hannibal Lecter kidnapped you after you finished your school semester as his student, you were at first rebellious. Quite the fighter.

The first meal Professor Lecter cooked for you was none other than Oxtail Soup. He wouldn't let you feed yourself. That annoyed you.

Smiling, he used the spoon to fill it with the tasty liquid and held it to your lips. "Say 'ahh'.''

You blew into the spoon and it caused the hot water to splash onto the face of Professor Lecter.

He hissed in pain. He then put the bowl and spoon down. He slapped you hard across the face.

You were shocked. You clutched your face and felt a bruise forming on your cheek. No one ever raised their hand to you. Not even your own father.

"Listen, Bitch." Professor Lecter grabbed the bottom of your chin to make you look up at him. "I am trying my best and I will not tolerate disrespect."

For you whimpered as tears flowed down your eyes. How frightened you were of this man.

Professor Lecter's expression softened in pity and you think regret. He sighed as if he was tired. 

"Please cooperate." He held a spoonful of soup again. 

Slowly, you opened your mouth and sipped.

The next morning, you felt weird. You couldn't understand the feeling. It wasn't pleasant. It was, in fact, ugly. Your head hurt and it was spinning like a dark and creepy carousel.

Your throat itches and feels dry. The worst was your temperature. Both overly warm and then cold. Switching on and off. Causing you to be confused. You were sick.

Lecter wanted to make up for slapping you. He knew this was to be expected. I mean he did kidnap you and it was natural to be scared. He felt foolish for losing his temper.

But, his whole life he was respected. His parents spoiled him and would never refuse him. He was popular at school. And when he became an adult and then a successful Psychiatrist, he was always worshiped and respected.

He didn't like this new treatment.

He wanted you to love him back.

Lecter wanted to remove that chain you were wearing and live a normal life with him as his wife.

Well, he wants you to homeschool his future kids. Other than that, he wants a normal life.

Lecter had to wake early to go grocery shopping. He doesn't eat sugar. Only meat and vegetables.

He got the ingredients to make heart shaped pancakes.

He went to Pinterest to cook simple pancakes. He never cooked pancakes before and didn't want to screw it up. This was new to him. 

Lecter tried his best. He assumed it was okay. He added strawberries and powdered sugar. It looked decent.

He felt nervous. Normally, he was always confident in everything. With you, it was the opposite. He felt insecure. Oh, well. He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe it is because he loves you. In novels and movies, he read that people feel stupid all the time around their crush.

Taking the tray, he added soy milk and gummy vitamins. He walked down the stairs to the basement.

He saw you curled in bed. "Wake up, my dear. It is time to eat." Lecter announced in an authoritative voice.

When you didn't answer, he clenched his jaw in annoyance. The hard way again? So be it. Lecter settled down the tray on the expensive glass coffee table and walked over to you.

He ripped the blanket off your body. And to his surprise, you were still as a stone. That confused him. He felt your forehead and to his horror, you were burning up.

That caused his heart to pound in fear. You were sick! He then checked your pulse and opened your eyelid. A high fever you had. Lecter then covered you back with the blanket and went upstairs for medicine. 

Over the past two hours, Lecter tended to your every need. He gave you pain killers and fed you chicken soup instead. You got better.

But, still weak. Your ex Professor was currently sitting next to your bed pressing a wet rag against your forehead.

You poor thing. He thought. He held your hand lovingly and watched you. 

To his surprise, you began talking in your sleep. He blinked in curiosity. He didn't understand what you were saying at first. Now, he heard it loud.

"Mummy."

Ouch. You missed your mother. Lecter sighed. First you wouldn't accept his love, you reject him, he hits you, and now you are sick.

Everything was going wrong.

He is lost and doesn't know what to do.

Covering his face with his hands and resting his elbows on his knees, the stress and worry of your health caused something strange to him.

He felt tears sliding down his wrinkled face.

The thought of you dying was the worst thought. He cannot imagine you leaving him permanently. That was why he took you away in the first place.

"Why are you punishing me, Name?"

[caribbeanvibesblog]

*Best Oxtail Rasta Pasta Recipe*

INGREDIENTS

-Oxtail

3-4 pounds oxtail meat

2 tsp adobo all purpose seasoning

1 tsp garlic powder

1 tsp onion powder

1/2 tsp ground allspice

2 tbsp wet Jamaican jerk seasoning I used the Walkerwood brand in mild

1/2 tbsp brown sugar

2 tbsp ketchup

1/2 tbsp Jamaican browning I used the Grace brand

2 tbsp garlic minced

3 cups water

3 sprigs fresh thyme

1 medium onion chopped

1 medium red bell pepper chopped

1 tbsp olive oil extra virgin

-Pasta

1 tbsp olive oil extra virgin

1 medium red bell pepper chopped

1 medium green bell pepper chopped

3 sprigs green onion chopped

3 cloves garlic minced

2 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup chicken broth

5-8 ounces parmesan cheese shredded

16 ounces penne noodles

1/2 tsp adobo all purpose seasoning

1/8 tsp ground black pepper

1 tbsp jamaican jerk seasoning Walkerwood brand in mild

1/2 tsp thyme

1/4 tsp paprika

parsley optional garnish

INSTRUCTIONS

Oxtail

In a large bowl, clean the oxtail meat with vinegar and cold water before cooking.

After the oxtail meat is clean, in another clean bowl, season the meat with all-purpose seasoning, garlic powder, onion powder, allspice then add wet jerk seasoning,sugar,ketchup and browning-mix well.

Add thyme, minced garlic, and green onion to the bowl-mix the contents of the bowl well and allow it to marinate for 30 minutes to 4 hours.

In a large, heated pot, add olive oil and on medium high heat, brown the oxtail for 6-8 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium and add chopped onions, and red bell pepper, sauté for another 3-5 minutes.

Add water, give it another stir and allow it to cook for 3 hours (stir the contents of the pot every 20-30 minutes to prevent sticking).

Drain any oil from off the top of the finished oxtail gravy.

Your oxtail meat should be tender at the end of the cook time, if not allow them to continue to simmer on low.

Remove from heat

Serve over pasta

Pasta

Cook noodles according to packaging, then drain and set aside

In a large pot, add 1 tablespoon of oil and garlic then cook for 1-2 minutes on medium high heat

Add the red pepper, green pepper, and green onion then sauté for 3-5 minutes or until tender

Stir in heavy cream and chicken broth and allow it to simmer for 8-10 minutes while stirring every few minutes

Season sauce mixture with all purpose seasoning , pepper, jerk seasoning, paprika and thyme -stir well

Slowly Stir in Parmesan cheese and allow sauce to cook for 5-7 minutes (taste to make sure it’s seasoned to your liking-adjust if necessary )

Add the noodles to the sauce mixture and cook for another 8-10 minutes, stirring every few minutes

Remove from heat and serve!

[ciarafarrellart]

Opinions on soup?

i love soup yum yum yum

tomato soup CHECK

chicken noodle soup CHECK

vegetable soup CHECK

oxtail soup CHECK

what’s better than a hot steaming bowl of soup on a cold wintery irish day

probably a bowl of beef and potatoe stew

[allabout-thebelly]

I was stuffed

Breakfast

Dinner

Second dinner

Sooooo I don’t have any pictures because I was ridiculously stuffed already so you’ll a have to take my word I have three coconut shrimp appetizers and two bowls of Cesar salad

Aftermath

I had to sneak away just to take these pictures I wasn’t planning on eating so much food but the other people we went with were not clear on which dining area we would be having dinner in and I got excited when the oxtail and rice and peas tasted so good ( don’t remember if I mentioned this before but I’m first generation Jamaican American)

But then we went to the other dining area and just kept eating and once again I was stuffed

[allsadnshit]

i may have asked you this before (apologies in advance if i have and don't remember) but what is your favorite kind of soup :-] and is there a difference between your favorite and the one you make most often

my favorite soup will probably always be simple miso because it was the first food my mom fed me after breast milk. it is so simple and nourishing and even though I've played around with changing the recipe, I think the traditional Japanese white miso with scallion, tofu, and shiitake is god in a bowl <3

I am not Japanese but because of their cultural influence on Taiwan where my mom was from, most of the sushi places in my hometown were actually owned and ran by Taiwanese immigrants - so my relationship to that cuisine is stronger than any other despite it not actually being the food of her homeland

I'd say I probably make miso more often than any other soup or maybe even food in general, it's my ultimate comfort meal despite my love of so many other!!! honorable mentions to Taiwanese slow cooked oxtail broths, homemade tomato soup, whole roasted chicken broths, and a good matzo ball soup which I also grew up on my jewish side

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 17

Trial and Error

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: Katya and Viktor finally go to scope out some boats for his Academy project. While at the harbor, she spies a mysterious figure harvesting purple stuff (they were out of Sunny-D), and nearly gets outted by an exuberant Annie. Nasha comes to The Last Drop to talk with Silco and Vander about an opportunity for the revolution.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5.5K

The water was warm. Perfect. Not borderline scalding like the Springs. So close to Katya’s own body temperature that it felt like an extension of her. If it weren’t for the way the water parted and lapped at her arms and chest, she wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to detect it. That, and the rippling across the surface, distorting the starlight’s glittering reflection, confirmed the water’s presence. It was pitch-dark, save for the sparkles above, which shimmered and refracted below, making Katya feel as if she were swimming in space itself.

There was no edge, no horizon line. There never was in this dream. Just her in this infinite space. Her body never tired, her breath was never taken away by exertion. She just swam. Floated.

Sometimes she would hum or sing, and her voice would somehow simultaneously echo off the glittering walls she couldn’t see, and be absorbed by them. The sound thrummed inside her body, and vibrated off of her damp skin.

It was only ever her here. No Viktor splashing behind her, no papa or mama swimming ahead. In some ways, it was nice. In others, it was lonely.

She forged ahead, cutting through the water in a lazy stroke, before flipping on her back and gazing up at the pinpricks of light. She felt her long hair swirl and hover in the water beneath her, swaying like a tangle of kelp. Then, her skin prickled and her body hummed. Katya knit her thick brows together, rolling over and shifting her body to an upright, treading position (although, there really wasn’t a need to tread in this magick-dream liquid). She looked behind her and squinted, even though she knew the action was futile.

Was there someone else here? It felt like it, almost.

She parted her lips to call out.

Then her eyes opened, and she was back in her bed. Squirreled up in her new blanket. The weave was thick and warm, and soft against the skin of her bare legs. The bedroom was still dark, but that wasn’t unusual given the time she normally woke up, and for the Sumps in general. She stretched her hand out of its warm cocoon and pawed at the bedside table, looking for her pocket watch. Once her fingers curled around it, she drew it back and popped it open, eying the time.

Time to get up.

Reluctantly untangling herself, Katya rolled out of bed. She pulled on a pair of trousers and quietly padded out of her room.

By the time the kettle began singing, Viktor had staggered out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and bedheaded. His sister quietly greeted him as she turned the stove off and he teetered toward the kitchen table, sitting down heavily in his chair.

Katya poured the hot water into mugs of tea and bowls of oatmeal, and set them at their respective seats. They shared their breakfast in silence; Viktor eating very slowly, Katya longing for the herbs and spices of Enyd’s oxtail stew.

“I was thinking,” Katya said, stirring the last couple of spoonfuls around her bowl, “that after we go to the Shores, we could go back to the Springs.”

Viktor looked over his mug at her, interestedly.

“An afternoon swim before dinner?”

“You’ll swim with me?” he asked.

Katya took another bite of bland oats and nodded.

“I could go for a swim,” she said, thinking of her dream.

“We should get going then!” Viktor urged; his energy levels suddenly sparked. He gathered his empty dishes and hobbled to the sink, clumsily depositing them.

Katya chuckled, and followed suit.

The Shores – like the Promenade – had the benefit of sunlight. It reflected off the water’s surface in glittering swaths and sharp, blinding bursts. The air was without the dank funk of the Entresol and Sumps; brine and seaweed in its stead. The last bits of the season’s warmth hung on the breeze, ruffling hair and caressing cheeks. But the promise of the upcoming winter months was on the tail end of the wind; crispness and chill ghosting over the backs of bare necks, causing surprise shivers. As such, Katya had brought Viktor’s jacket, even though he argued and groaned that he didn’t need it. She kept it slung over her arm, but she warned him that when she saw gooseflesh ripple over his skin, the coat was going on. And being the younger brother, he was resigned to agree.

The siblings perched themselves on a heap of dry nets, piled on the Shores’ wharf. Katya was relieved that there wasn’t an Enforcer in sight. She dropped the rucksack she had packed in a thankful flumpf at their feet.

The harbor was still on the fuller side, boats not yet having been taken out for their fishing and trade duties. Dockhands, fisherman and mongers, and fishwives traveled to and fro across the water-sogged pier slats, their footsteps calming, echoing plods on the wood. No one paid the siblings any mind; there was work to be done.

Viktor fetched his notebook and pencil from the sack, along with their Papa’s old book on boats. It was a smaller text so Katya didn’t mind bringing it along.

“Here,” she said, holding a hand out. “I’ll hold on to the book.”

He passed it to her and cracked his steno pad open. Many of the pages inside had already been scribbled over – margin to margin, front and back. It warmed Katya’s heart for a reason she didn’t really understand. She smiled. Viktor flipped to a clean page, set the tip of his pencil on the parchment surface, and looked up, his eyes sweeping up and down the harbor. His sister could see in the intensity of his gaze that he was scrutinizing and memorizing the boats present. Their shapes and sizes, the materials they were made from, the mismatched materials that had been used to patch and repair.

He began slowly and carefully sketching a nearby tug boat, his pencil strokes becoming surer and darker as he went. Occasionally, he would write a note next to his sketch, equations and formulae. Katya watched as his eyes glazed over in intense focus, and how his jaw shifted side to side in concentration. A soft, proud smile pulled at her lips like warm taffy; that fondness slid down her shoulders and settled in between her shoulder blades.

The pair sat in companionable silence. Viktor mumbled to himself every now and again, Katya alternated between flipping through pages of the book in her lap, and letting her eyes lazily wander up and down the docks. The tide was beginning its leisurely return to the sea, and slowly, several of the boats in the harbor were taken out before the water became too shallow. She watched as barnacles and mussels that had glued themselves to the pier posts were slowly uncovered. Above, seabirds excitedly gathered in the sky, clicking and squawking their impending delight.

As the water receded, the algae blooms and scruffy marine vegetation became more noticeable. Slicks of slime green coated rocks and seaweeds draped and dripped lazily over them. Most of the plant life were varying shades of green and brown. For Trenchers, working at the water’s edge was really the only time they would see green in the Undercity. The leafy trees of Piltover couldn’t survive the deep dark of the Fissures. What plant life existed there was either equally dark or sickly pale.

There was one exception.

Not wanting to leave Viktor’s side, Katya strained her neck and squinted her eyes towards the mouth of the harbor. She remembered visiting the tidepools with her Papa; he had told her that the purple algae and flowers only grew there – at the opening of the sea, in the littoral caves that cut into the coasts of Piltover and her Undercity. They had fascinated Katya the most, the way they shimmered and seemed to glow from within.

As the tide receded, she thought she saw the purple glimmer on the rocks. It could’ve been a trick of the sun, but it made her smile all the same. She wished she could’ve shown Viktor, but the tidepools and slick crags of the shoreline were too treacherous for him and his cane.

She felt a small hand paw at her side. Turning back, she saw Viktor asking for the book. She passed it over, and then turned to look out past the harbor again. She blinked. A figure had appeared at the edge of the water. A tall, thin someone. In a dark cloak and a wide-brimmed sun hat. A basket was slung over their elbow. They knelt and pawed at the rocks, and puddles between. Occasionally, they would bring up a fistful of purple algae and deposit it into their basket.

Katya’s spine straightened and her brows pinched together. She’d never seen anyone gather it. Papa had told her that it was one of the few inedible marine flora, and its slimy texture and fickle constitution didn’t make it much good for anything else than looking pretty. She couldn’t imagine what someone would harvest it for. Even the flowers, when picked, lost their luster so quickly that they were wilted by the time one brought them home. She had remembered trying, and being very upset when her bouquet hung limply over the drinking glass she used as a vase.

The figure stood and, with steps that spoke of great practice, glided around the large rocks and out of sight. Katya chewed on the inside of her lip and scrunched her nose. The purple halo of the rocks was gone. Gathered up, for some unimaginable reason, into the stranger’s basket.

A little after noon, once Viktor had nearly filled his notepad with sketch after sketch, Katya suggested that they head for the Springs and Oases. Despite wanting to do this next part of their day, the boy grumbled a bit, struggling to extricate himself from the task he was absorbed in. She patiently waited as he finished his drawings and notes, reminding him in a soft voice to take his time. He finally handed his notebook to her, and she stuffed it and the textbook away in the rucksack.

They hopped off the pile of nets – both siblings taking a moment to stretch their legs and backs – and headed for the stairs that would guide them back into the edges of the Undercity. From there, they would wind through the crumbling boundaries of their home city to the Springs.

Once they were halfway up the stairs, a series of shouts from the docks cause both siblings to jump and look around. Katya’s hands gripped Viktor’s shirt tightly and her heart thundered, her eyes frantically looking back at the docks. A flurry of movement grabbed her eye, and the thudding of her heart lessened.

Down on the right side of the docks, near an ancient looking fishing trawler, Annie bounced furiously, waving her thin arms in the air. Beckett was at her side, mooring the small vessel.

“Katya!” Annie screamed.

Even from faraway, Katya could see the wide smile splitting the other woman’s face. She readjusted her hold on Viktor’s shirt and encourage him to keep walking up the stairs.

“Who’s that?” he asked, stumbling a bit as he tried to follow his sister’s instructions and get a look at whoever was yelling at them.

“A patient from the mines,” she lied, her jaw tight.

“Should we go say hello?”

“No, it’s fine,” Katya quickly replied, continuing to urge him up the stairs.

To satisfy her brother, and hopefully shut Annie up, she turned and waved back. And then continued to encourage Viktor away from the Shores.

It had been a long time since Katya swam in the Springs. She hissed in discomfort as she submerged her body in the near blistering water. Viktor giggled at her, and plunged his head underneath the surface. He burst back up in an impressive wave, chestnut hair plastered to his head. His white, crooked smile stood out from the pink of his skin as he egged her to go all the way under. He whooped and clapped when she did, and Katya appeared back above the water laughing.

Their joy rang off the wet rocks of the Springs. Vibrating through the water and humming on their wet skin.

Since Katya was in the pools with him, she allowed Viktor to explore some of the deeper waters. Not so deep that her own toes didn’t touch the bottom, but enough so that his kicks and strokes weren’t impeded by the Terra.

As he splashed and flailed, she took a couple of graceful strokes, reaching her arms over head and cutting through the water like a fish. Then she dove under, undulating her hips and flicking her legs. She swirled through the hot water with her eyes pinched shut, using her fingertips to feel her way. Her head pitched up and she broke through the surface, breathing in the warm, chronically-petrichor scented air. Like in her dream, she flipped on her back and lazily floated, staring up at the sandy colored stalactites above.

“Can you show me that one stroke again?” Viktor asked, as he paddled over.

Living in a port city, their parents had felt it would be important for their children to be able to swim. Luckily, this was a skill both their mama and papa had been adept at. Prior to Viktor’s birth, they would take Katya to the Oases and the small, cleaner beaches on the Undercity’s side of the Pilt, and teach her how to right herself in the water, to float, and to swim.

After Viktor was born, and their mother left, the beaches were swallowed up by chemical runoff. For most of the year, the water in the Oases was too chilled, and would cause Viktor’s limbs to cramp horribly. It didn’t help that the pools there were often full of rowdy, too-rough children who could not be mindful around the handicapped youngster. So, their papa had tried the Springs. Initially fearful that its water would be too hot for any of them – much less his son’s sensitive constitution – both he and Katya were relieved and elated that Viktor’s body responded well to the heat and the amped up buoyancy of the mineral-rich pools.

Together, Katya and her papa taught him different swimming strokes. While Viktor tried, his bent body couldn’t execute the movements as seamlessly; and he preferred just paddling and splashing. He had to live enough in his head most of the time. In the cradle and forgiving nature of water, he allowed himself to drop into his body, and connect with it, move it in ways he couldn’t do on land.

“The firelight one?” Katya asked, wiping her hair back from her face.

Viktor swam to a rock ledge, and clung to it as he nodded.

Taking a breath, she reached out in front of her, aligning her fingertips with her shoulders and then cut her arms down through the water, pulling her upper body beneath the surface. As she propelled forward, her elbows popped up and back, pushing the water behind her hips and legs. Her thumbs grazed the outside of her thighs, hips rolling and legs kicking, before she swung her arms back out of the water and repeated the stroke.

She stopped short of the pool’s edge, and turned to her brother.

“How was that?” she asked with a smile.

Viktor beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Can you show me again? Slower this time?”

She did the best she could to slow her movements so he could watch and take mental notes. After a couple more laps, he paddled to the pool’s center and tried the stroke for himself. Katya treaded at his side offering adjustments when they were necessary.

“Keep your legs straighter when you kick . . . palms facing the ground . . . tuck your belly up as you go under . . . “

It was a harder maneuver even for those who were able-bodied, but Viktor did well despite his limitations. He tried again and again, steadily improving until he started to get fatigued, and his form began to suffer. Panting, he flopped onto his back and lazily kicked.

“It is strange being wet and sweaty at the same time,” he mused through gulps of breath.

Katya chuckled. “Yes, it is.”

It wasn’t long before they toweled off and redressed, heading home before the sun went low and made the Sumps even darker. On their way through an Undercity market, they passed a butcher’s counter and Katya’s mouth watered at the sight of oxtails, all lined up in rows of two. Her heart clenched at the memory of her shared supper. She wished she could’ve bought them, but even for scrap meat it was too expensive.

The next stall was a fishwife’s, the crates around her laden with various sea life. At one end of her counter, a bucket sat with melted ice. Katya peered inside and saw two scraggly tentacles.

“They’re the last of my batch,” the fishwife rasped. “No one wants ‘em.”

Katya chewed her lip. She was tired of oats and beans. She thought of what Enyd had said about teaching herself to cook.

“A lot of trial and error.”

“How much?” Katya asked.

“Ten cogs.”

“Ten cogs! Kecáŝ!”Katya muttered, disbelieving. Viktor let out a small gasp and shifted uneasily next to her. “You just said that nobody wants them. I’ll give you four cogs.”

“Five.”

Katya pursed her lips and grumbled a moment before conceding. The fishwife plucked the tentacles from their icy bath and wrapped them up. She thrust the wet package into Katya’s hands, and swiped the coins from her other palm. The fishwife slurred something under her breath, and it soured the young woman’s mood enough to forgo saying thank you.

As she ushered Viktor along, she noticed small bundles of herbs placed on the corner of the counter. Her eyes flicked back to the fishwife, who was busy counting her sales, and then back to the herbs. Quick as a wink and silent as a secret, Katya’s hand snapped up a bundle and stuffed it in her pocket.

Once home, Viktor limped to the shower and Katya began preparing their dinner.

Trial and error. Trial and error.

She kept repeating it to herself like a mantra as she cut and cooked the tentacles. She melted a scoop of cooking grease in a pan and added the appendages. They snapped and spat and curled. Their color, a dull, rocky gray, shifted into a brighter blue as they sat in the pan. The apartment took on the scent of the sea. The oil around them began to brown and she added the bouquet of herbs. She wasn’t sure if this was how one was supposed to do it. . .

Trial and error. Trial and error.

The smell of woods and something bright – close to lemon – joined the briny scent of the tentacles. A forest butted up against an ocean.

One thing Katya did know was that overcooked tentacles turned rubbery. She turned the stove off and swished the pan back and forth, coating the seafood in the herbaceous fat.

“Smells good!” Viktor said excitedly, appearing in the kitchen.

“I hope it’s good,” she prayed. “Go take your seat.”

He hobbled to the table and sat down as she grabbed plates, and placed a tentacle on each one. She carefully plucked the now damp and muted herbs from the pan. Were they supposed to eat these, too? Could they? She shrugged, put the bundle on her plate, and sat opposite her brother.

Initially, they took tentative bites at their dinner, tasting and testing. It wasn’t bad!

Trial and error.

Fatty and meaty in a way beans couldn’t compare with. The hot grease filled them in a different way than oats. The flavor the herbs imparted made the tougher sections of the tentacles worth chewing through.

Katya untied the herbs, and brought a limp, leafy stem to her nose and sniffed.

“Did the fishwife give you those, too?” Viktor asked.

“Yes. She tossed them in to make up for her unreasonableness.”

She popped the herb into her mouth and immediately spat it back out. Viktor laughed.

Trial and error.

When Silco and Enyd entered The Last Drop that evening, both were taken aback by the crowd. Even for a Saturday night, the tavern was bursting at the seams.

“Are any of these girls from the mill?” Silco asked, leaning close to his mother’s ear.

Enyd’s eyes swept over the crowd. It was difficult to see when there were so many bodies, and since she was so short. It also didn’t help that she had never really committed any other face from Clapper to memory, aside from Amos, Birdy, and Nasha.

She shook her head and raised her voice enough for Silco to hear.

“I don’t think so. I don’t see Nasha, anyway.”

She suddenly pulled away, and hid her face in the crook of her elbow as a sudden wave of coughing overtook her. She recovered and Silco guided them through the throngs of patrons to the bar. They were surprised to see that it was not Vander behind the counter, but Benzo. He hobbled to and fro, addressing customer’s needs, filling orders, and collecting dirty tankards. His color and disposition seemed better; his mood probably bolstered by the fact that he was no longer secluded to a bed.

“Where’s Vander?” Silco asked

He and his mother squeezed in next to Sevika who was seated on a middle stool, sipping the foamy head off her beer. She nodded in greeting.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Benzo replied with a sassy head bobble. He picked up a glass hidden beneath the counter and took a swig.

Silco’s lip curled and he spat, “Didn’t Kat tell you not to drink!”

Benzo blinked, confused. Sevika’s eyebrows quirked with interest.

“Kat? Oh, ya mean Kat-YA? Since when’re you on a nickname basis with ‘er?”

“Are you guys talking about Katya?” Annie cried, suddenly appearing with an empty serving tray.

Silco, Enyd, Sevika and Benzo all jumped at the young woman’s sudden entrance. She slammed the tray on the countertop, her pretty face clouded in a bitter expression.

“Janna, Annie,” Sevika grumbled, rolling her shoulders.

“She totally blew me off today!”

“You saw her?” Silco asked.

“Yeah. At the Shores with her little brother. I was with Becks and saw them leaving. So, I called and waved, and she barely looked at me,” she huffed, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it wasn’t intentional,” Enyd offered. “She and her brother were probably trying to keep a schedule.”

Annie rolled her eyes, dissatisfied with this theory.

“She coulda said ‘hello’ at least,” she grumbled. Pushing her tray across the bar, she told Benzo, “The guys playing with Tolder want another round.”

As Benzo went about pouring a couple fresh pints, Enyd turned to Sevika.

“Why aren’t you at your father’s table playing cards?”

Sevika slurped her beer, silver eyes glancing over at her father. He was engrossed in his hand, smoking a cigarillo and leaned back in his seat. A small mound of coins was piled on his side of the table. The two other Trenchers were pitched forward, their noses in the fan of their cards.

“He told me he didn’t need help with those two,” she answered with a sly smile. “Good thing, too. I wanna sit in on this meeting.”

The thin line of Silco’s lips tightened, and he repeated his initial question.

“Where’s Vander?”

“He’s in the basement,” Benzo said, placing overfilled glasses onto Annie’s tray. “Playin’ with ‘is new toys. I told ‘im I could watch th’bar. Tired of bein’ cooped up anyhow.”

Enyd leaned toward the large man and whispered, “Have you seen Nasha? The girl we are supposed to be meeting with?”

Benzo finished loading up Annie’s tray and waved her off.

“I don’ know ‘er. An’ no one’s come up askin’ fer you or Van,” he replied, shaking his head. His face suddenly split into a grin, and he added, “But not fer nothin’ all o’ this,” he nodded toward the bustling bar floor, “is mostly people drawn here by the Children rumors.”

“So, the plan worked then,” Silco said, satisfied, eying the milling bodies.

Benzo snorted. “Yeah, every now n’ again that coal-dust addled brain o’ yours can come up with a good’un. People been comin’ in, pissin’ n’ moanin’ ‘bout the increased Enforcer activity; n’ askin’ if they can help.”

Silco let the insult slide, too distracted by the new numbers of Brothers and Sisters before him. He beamed at his mother and Sevika.

“Ope!” Benzo hiccupped behind them. “This your girl? She’s comin’ up like she means business.”

Silco and Enyd directed their attention towards the front of the bar. Indeed, Nasha stood a few feet from the door, her head craned over the crowd, eyes scanning. She had removed her bonnet and changed her drab work smock. Instead, she glittered and stood out. She’d pulled her hair into two, large puffs that haloed her head. Her clothes were an artful patchwork of deep, jewel-toned fabrics and brass fastenings. Clearly designed and stitched by her, as they molded to her tall and broad frame perfectly. And because it was unlikely any garment shop in the Undercity carried such things.

She spied Enyd and began gliding toward the bar. Patrons parted readily, some moved by the girl’s innately intimidating energy, and some because they didn’t want to be pierced by the pointed shoulder pads of her jacket. As she neared, they could see that she had literally painted her face. Purposeful and meticulous lines and dots of white and yellow accented her eyes and cheeks.

“Hi Ms. Enyd!” Nasha exclaimed brightly. “I almost didn’t see you.”

“Something I’ve struggled with my whole life,” the older woman joked, her arms flourishing at her sides to present her petite stature.

“Nasha, this is my son, Silco,” she introduced. “This is Benzo, and Sevika.”

Silco politely nodded, while Benzo gave her a finger wiggling wave. Sevika seemed frozen, her eyes glued to Nasha’s face, her jaw slack. A furious stripe of coral bloomed over her nose and cheeks.

“HI!” she cried, far too late. Her body jerked as she suddenly came back online, and she knocked her tankard over. “Oh, shit.”

The blush on her face deepened, and spread to her forehead and down her cheeks. She righted her glass and helped Benzo mop up her mess.

Nasha chuckled and turned back to Enyd.

“Where should we go to talk?”

“Vander’s in the basement,” Silco answered. “We’ll go down there. It’s quieter.”

Carefully threading through people in the crowd, he led Nasha, his mother, and Sevika (who tailed behind after pushing the sodden pile of towels over the bar) to the Drop’s private quarters, and then to the basement.

As the joyful din of the tavern faded, it was replaced by repeated deep, muted thumps, heavy breathing, and occasional grunts.

“Should we come back later?” Nasha joked.

Sevika giggled. Then snorted.

“Shit. Sorry,” she moaned, her face turning red again.

“No, come on,” Silco said, unphased by their guest’s unseemly implication.

He led them to the stockroom, and there they found a shirtless, rumpled Vander, gleaming with sweat. On his hands were the bulky gauntlets he’d picked up from Mek’s the day before. Before him was a large, heavy sack of flour that he had tied to a rope and affixed to the room’s rafters with a rudimentary pulley system. He was punching the bag with such ferocity that it swung to and fro, back and forth. Vander ducked, bobbed, and weaved as his adversary came at him, before laying into it with more hits. The bag, while a sturdy weave, was beginning to split and tear, trails of white flour spilling out like sand in an hourglass.

“Vander!” Silco yelled.

Despite being a mountain of a man, he jumped, clanking the gauntlets together and spinning around to face his impromptu audience.

“Oh! Hey!” he panted, a sheepish grin on his lips. His eyes suddenly landed on Nasha and he exclaimed, “Oh, shit! Is it that late already? Sorry! I musta lost track o’ time.”

He dropped the gauntlets on the floor, and hurried over to a stack of crates that he’d left his shirt on.

“That’s a waste of perfectly good flour, Vander,” Enyd admonished. She let her motherly disappointment of food waste over take her, instead of worrying about him practicing fighting. It was an easier and less complicated thing to focus on.

“I know, Ms. E. ‘M sorry,” Vander breathed, wiping his face with his balled-up shirt. “It was th’most Enforcer-like thing I could find. I wanted t’practice usin’ ‘em before I actually needed ‘em.”

Enyd’s jaw tensed and her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

“Can I try them?” Sevika asked, stepping forward and picking one of the gauntlets up.

“You fight, too, huh?” Nasha purred, eyes raking up and down the other’s body. “Is that how you got that figure?”

“Um,” Sevika warbled, her blush returning yet again.

“Let’s get to business, actually,” Silco said, stepping up to the flour bag and cutting its rope with the knife he kept in his sleeve.

The already split bag dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, and the seams on one side gave. Flour poured out in a misty avalanche that made Enyd put a bereaved hand to her forehead.

“So, yer Nasha?” Vander said, settling his hips onto a crate. “Enyd said ye got some intel on a crooked Piltie?”

“They’re all crooked,” Silco muttered, coming to stand at his Brother’s side.

Vander’s skin prickled at his proximity. He both wished he had put his shirt back on – instead of using it as a towel – and he was glad for the one-less-layer of closeness.

Nasha’s gaze dropped and she walked forward, scuffing her pointed-toed shoes through the flour.

“You’re really going to try and secede from Piltover?” she asked finally.

The flirty mask she’d entered with fell, and she fixed the two men with a firm, demanding look beyond her years.

“Not try,” Silco corrected. “We will gain our independence from them.”

Nasha lifted her chin, regarding him carefully.

“My aunt and I settled in the Undercity about ten years ago,” she said. “We left Noxus because she disagreed with their . . . expansionist politics. With their brutality. Our coin only got us as far as Piltover. The Land of Progress, we had heard. We didn’t have the means to live on their gilded streets; we had to move into their slums. And we’ve never been able to get out. We traded one myopic nation for another.”

She paused, and then added, “I want this information to be put to good use. I want there to be progress on the other side of it.”

“And there will be,” Vander promised. “When Zaun stands together, there will be.”

Nasha seemed satisfied with this. She told the small group what she had imparted to Enyd a couple days prior, and more. She told them about this Topsider’s money problems. About how he was going to pay his gambling debts with stolen coin. About how he was forging curtains and documentation to cover his tracks. About how his ‘package’ would be sent via airship the week after next. And about how he would be securing a private crew to deliver said package.

Some details were still vague, or unknown. Despite this, Vander, Silco, and Sevika quivered with excitement, and Enyd listened carefully. Nasha promised to flush out as much information as she could, and would bring it to the next meeting of the Children of Zaun.

“Thank ye so much fer this, Nasha,” Vander said, his face creased with relief.

“I want a free nation as much as any Sump-born Trencher,” she said. “You should be thanking Ms. Enyd. She’s the one who got me here.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Sevika chuckled. “Silco had to get his passion and doggedness from somewhere.”

It was Enyd’s turn to blush. A light, delicate pink that glowed under her pale skin.

“I just want that money back in the hands . . . of Zaunites. Where it should be,” she said quietly.

The rest agreed.

“If ye want,” Vander said, turning back to Nasha, “if ye head back up t’the bar, Benzo’ll give ya a drink. On th’house. It’s the least we can do fer you.”

Their new member hummed thoughtfully, gently swaying side to side. She reached out and twirled a loose piece of hair from one of Sevika’s buns.

“Show me the way?”

Sevika gawked at her for a moment, before saying, “Yeah. Sure.”

Very overwhelmed and pleased, she led Nasha from the storeroom and up to the bar.

“They’re not of age, you know,” Silco said, elbowing Vander’s arm lightly.

The larger man did his best to seem unphased by the contact.

He tossed a hand carelessly through the air and said, “It’s fine. It’s not like Enforcers are comin’ in here t’card people anyway.”

He winked at his Brother.

Enyd’s mouth split in a proud smile, looking at the two men in front of her.

“The bar is too full of revolutionaries to fit any Enforcers in it anyway.”

Notes: Heeeeey! Hope you enjoyed the cuteness at the start of the chapter because things are gonna start to become less sweet here on out. Things are also gonna start to pick up, too! It's time for this revolution to kick it into high-gear. It's also about dang time for things to pick up between Silco and Kat, no?

If you've made it this far, please comment and reblog! Or visit my askbox. I'm dying to talk with you about this story. Hugs n' kisses!

Coming Up Next: Silco can't wait to tell somebody about this opportunity! Katya seems a good a person as any! The Academy Board makes their decision regarding Rynweaver's concerns. Katya and Heimerdinger go toe-to-toe

Next Chapter

Tag list: @dreamyonahill @pinkrose1422 @altered-delta @beardedladyqueen @truthandadare

[petermorwood]

That was lunch, made quick-and-simple * but dressed up nicely for its photo-op.

* Very quick-and-simple; it was based on a packet of just-add-water oxtail soup, because there are some days when I Could Not Be Arsed, even a simple tomato soup that’s just a couple of tins of tomatoes, an onion, some garlic, some peeling, some chopping, some oil, some seasoning, some cooking, some blending...

Yeah. Enuff said.

However, that didn’t stop me from a few grab-and-chuck-in enhancements - and once I’d announced that, @dduane​ said: ”Write it up for your followers, and take pictures.”

So...

The enhancements were some orzo and a splash of red wine vinegar from the cupboard, sweet paprika, smoked paprika, cayenne (it’s cold today) and ground caraway from the spice drawer, and some frozen red and green sweet pepper from the freezer.

(Side-note - I slice and freeze my own peppers on cookie sheets, then bag ‘em; also onions and carrots, i.e. the sort of thing I’d take from the freezer, weigh frost and all then throw straight into a pot when making soup or stew. Casual approach? You bet... :-> I’ve never done a price comparison, but I bet it works out cheaper-by-weight than buying them that way.)

So I made the soup as per instructions - add water, stir until boiling, heat down and simmer 5 mins - adding everything else at the beginning and extending the simmer to 15 minutes because of the orzo and peppers.

Then it went into a bowl, got garnished with a dollop of plain yogurt and another grind of chilli, and behold:

Soup even with pasta in it works better with bread, and it just so happens we’ve been baking interesting loaves recently.

So, some First Draft and Second Draft herb bread went into a bowl and onto a plate - these, like the cutlery, are mostly meant as photo props - and behold:

For something which started as little more than flour, salt and flavourings, that soup turned out remarkably well; warming, filling and tasty.

As for the bread, the 2-D herb loaf is just as good as the 1-D, but more herby since DD doubled the amount of herbs while reducing the variety. It’s possible for too many different herbs to argue with each other and end up cancelling out the very effect you’re hoping for, something I suspect happened with the 1-D loaf.

2-D loaf used just basil, tarragon and an “Italian Seasoning” (bought as a packet, put in a jar, so no ingredients list, sorry!) which seems to rely on oregano.

Also, confession time, I wrote in the 1-D recipe that DD was using pumpkin-seed oil (since ETA’d to correct); she actually used olive oil since she couldn’t find the pumpkin-seed oil because someone (cough) had put it away without saying where.

The 2-D bread did have pumpkin-seed oil, which affected both the colour and - wow! it’s nice - the flavour. This now makes us both wonder about using walnut, hazelnut and similar unusual oils in an otherwise basic bread recipe, such as the one I bake every couple of days for the house.

Something ELSE to experiment with. :->

[annachum]

What some of the Avengers may make for dinner for the rest of Avengers in tow ( an example ) :

. Tony : Definitely Pasta Al Ragu ( of any pasta that goes well with the Ragu which turns out to be a Carbonelli household recipe ), Antipasto Salad, and also Baked Apples and Pears stuffed with Nuts and raisins

. Pepper : Tomato Soup, Roast Beef with Mashed Potatoes, Gravy and Root Vegetables, and also Gooseberry crumble

. Steve : Apple Pie, Grilled Salmon with Lemon Butter and Mashed Potatoes, and Creamy Mushroom Soup

. Thor : Smorgasbord, Stuffed Roast Whole Tuna, and also Pumpkin Hand Pies, and Mead

. Natasha : Solyanka ( a Russian spicy fish soup ), Black Rye Bread with Goat Cream Cheese, and Bite Sized Syrniki ( a type of Russian cheesecake )

. Sam Wilson : Jambalaya, Crawfish Hand Pie, and Beignets with Fruit Jam

. Bucky : Sarmale ( Romanian Cabbage Rolls ), Bean and Oxtail stew in Bread Bowl, and Miniciunele

. Bruce : Chicken Pot Pie, Roasted Root Vegetables, and Chocolate Ice Cream

. Wanda : Romani Chicken Stew, Challah Bread, and Sticky Rice Pudding

. Vision : Scottish Beef Stew, Roasted Baby Carrots, and English Summer Pudding

. Rhodey : Grits and Shrimp, Tomato and Salmon Soup, and Peach Cobbler

. Clint : Gratin Dauphinoise, Roast Lamb Chops with Mint Sauce, and Pear Crumble

. Laura Vlahos - Barton : Stuffed Grape Leaves, Greek Lamb Stew with Feta and Mint, and Cheese and Fruit platter with Honey

Bonus : Some of the New Avengers ( both possible and confirmed )

. Shang Chi : Hong Shao Rou, Cabbage and Chilli Stir Fry, Rice, and also Green Bean Soup ( a type of Chinese dessert )

. Yelena : Pierogi, Ukrainian Beef and Potato Stew, and Khrustyky ( a type of Ukrainian fried cookies )

. Kate Bishop : Steak Frites, Ratatouille, and Blueberry Cobbler

. Marc Spector : Estofado ( a Guatemalan Pork stew ), Arepas and also Fruit Platter

. Layla : Koshari, Egyptian Stuffed Vegetables, and Zalaiba ( Egyptian Honey balls )

. Shuri : Wakandan Jollof Rice, River Tribe Fried Plaintains, and Chocolate Ice Cream

. Leiko Wu : Manchurian Pickled Cabbage and Pork Belly Stew, Steamed Vegetable Dumplings and Red Dates stuffed with Nuts

. Dr Strange : Nepali Vegetable Stew ( he was in Nepal for a whole year, come on now ), Nepali Lamb Pulao, and also Sheep's Milk Ice Cream

. Hercules : Roast Leg of Lamb, Greek Mezze platter ( with olives, pickles and cheese ), Greek Lemon Rice, and Baklava