#Steamed Meat Patty

[buffetlicious]

Mum packed home from Chong Pang this box of Fatty Char Siu (叉烧) to add to the dishes for dinner tonight. This is my Economy Rice (菜饭) brunch with leafy cabbage stir-fry, steamed minced pork patty, curry chicken and steamed egg over white rice.

[cherryontopstims]

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Cheeseburger stimboard as requested by an anon!

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

still thawing this bun even though my chicken veggie burger only has a 5% chance of coming out of the oven bun-able

[fireandiceland]

Hetalia characters with dishes typical for their country - part 1 (part 2 here)

Italy: Maritozzo (cream bread) -> This Roman milk bread is said to be dated back to times of Ancient Rome. The baked good is filled with generous amounts of whipped cream and somtimes decorated with fruit or pistachio. Young man also used it in courtship by hiding jewellery or a ring in the filling.

Germany: Breze(l) mit Schokolade (chocolate dipped pretzel) -> A baked pastry with sweet or salty toppings, best known for its distinctive symetrical, knotted shape. Dipped in chocolate the soft pretzel is a popular snack at funfairs and markets, but there are also small, crispy pretzels that are to be eaten like crisps/chips.

Japan: 和菓子 (wagashi; plant based sweet) -> Originally meaning "Japanese confectionery" the term now refers to a traditional dessert made from plant based ingredients. It's artful shapes are influenced by season, nature, or even poetry.

France: Quiche Lorraine -> A savoury tarte traditionally made with a filling of eggs, heavy cream, ham, and bacon. Today cheese is often added, though it is controversial among professionals. (In the drawing there seems to be leek added too which is not mentioned in the original recipe either.)

England: Scotch Egg -> Supposedly inspired by the Indian nargisi koftas, this dish consists of a hard-boiled or soft-boiled egg wrapped in pork (sausage meat) which is coated in breadcrumbs and then baked or deep-fried. Often served in pubs and a popular cold snack as well.

America: Hamburger -> A popular fastfood consisting of a patty (traditionally made from ground beef) between two halfs of a sliced bun. There are countless variations made with all kinds of additional ingredients and condiments, including expensive high-end versions with edible goldflakes.

Russia: пирожки́ (Pirozhki; stuffed bread) -> This popular street food is a baked good made from yeast-dough is typically boat-shaped and filled sweet or savory with meat, vegetables, fruit, jam or tvorog (an Eastern European fermented milk product with a consistency similar to curd cheese)

China: 小籠包 / 小笼包 (Xiaolongbao; steamed bun) -> Steamed dumplings made from leavened or unleavened dough traditionally filled with minced pork, traditionally eaten for breakfast. The top of the dumpling is closed by folding and pinching it. Authentical dumplings have at least 14 folds, preferably 18.

[lets-all-calm-down-a-bit]

Do you have any food preference HCs? Like I think Craig would be a very picky eater, wouldn't like much seasoning, etc. Kraft mac n' cheese, chicken nuggets, and pb&j sandwiches are his best friend. Was curious if you have any ideas like that about him or the other characters bc I've been loving reading your HCs so far :)

hmm,,, i have a coffee preference post here regarding stan and kyle, but here are some other hcs i have (:

Kenny:

he has a very diverse pallet. he likes just about any food you give him unless its like, boiled unseasoned potatoes, but he'll still eat it. not particularly picky, but he does have preference for spicier foods or anything with loud and/or complex flavor profiles. he loves flavor bombs!

Cartman:

sweets and savory all the way. hes a southern comfort food enjoyer and a fructose fiend. everything from fried chicken, shepards pie, and ham to ice cream, and blackberry cobbler is on his wishlist. hes mildly picky in that hes not a fan of middle eastern or mediterranean food or things that are "out of his comfort zone." but he's still a big spice eater and loves mexican food in particular.

Kyle:

he was raised to not be picky because it's considered rude, but he's pretty picky in nature so he just learned to get around it. has some sensory issues regarding some cooking styles of vegetables and texture stuff. cant do cooked celery or onion because of the texture unless its finely minced, pureed, or powdered. not a fan of fish because he ate so much of it growing up, and because his mom would make these salmon patties that had would have bones in them so now any time he eats salmon or any fish he feels the need to vomit. (these are real btw. my family and many others made them. they had bones that you were supposed to just eat because they were crunchy enough to do so. nightmarish food istg.)

he also goes kosher in middle school when he connects more with his faith so... no more denny's bacon specials lmao.

Stan:

definitely more picky then the other four when it comes to flavor. doesn't like spicy foods and hates the texture of onions so he has to use minced, pureed, or powdered in recipes. he has the cilantro gene which makes visits to kyle's family for dinner pretty embarrassing. he doesn't like to make a big deal about it but he HAS to tell ms broflovski because if something even has a whiff of cilantro the entire meal tastes like soap and stink bug chemicals. sheila is very understanding of this and doesn't mind too much because the flavor of cilantro can be easily replicated with other herbs/spices. also has a huge vendetta against celery. it does NOT just "taste green" kyle, it's WEIRD and SHARP and the cooked texture is GROSS! hates steamed broccoli but tries to get over that in high school by eating it in frozen meals to get accustomed to it. not a big fan of things that are too sweet. sweets are best when they're just sweet enough to be yummy but not overpowering or super rich. the only "rich" sweet he likes is chocolate torte, and ONLY with black coffee to balance it out and it HAS to be in small alternating bites: like bite of torte, sip of coffee, bite of torte, sip of coffee, and so on.

Craig:

very restricted diet that sticks mostly to bland safe foods. every day for lunch he eats one of those uncrustable pb&js or honey and peanut butter. surprisingly a lot of his safe foods are vegetables of some sort because he ate them a lot as a little kid so hes accustomed to them and they feel "fresher" than other foods that can be overstimulating. they cant be cooked though, only raw. so he loves those veggie platters. broccoli is crossing the line a bit for him though because of the odd texture, so that's iffy for him. carrot sticks, celery, and ice berg lettuce are great though. some other non-veggie safe foods are white meat chicken or turkey, and instant mashed potatoes. he cant do normal mashed potatoes because they taste almost... smotheringly starchy?? the same with baked potatoes. but instant Idahoan brand instant mashed potatoes are lighter and smoother with a different taste. he can do cooked green beans as long as they still taste green and weren't cooked in a broth/grease of any sort, but he cant do peas because they're too mushy and weird.

[lola4563747]

@allhallowsthemepark @shaydystheshadowqueen

Ideas for the Ghoul City food court

Frankenburger menu

Frankenburger: the signature dish of this 50s diner inspired joint, consisting of an 8oz angus beef patty, flame grilled and topped with sharp cheddar cheese, iceberg lettuce, tomato, purple onions, ketchup, Dijon mustard, and butter pickles. Put in between 2 fluffy brioche buns with sesame seeds on top. Served with crinkle cut fries and a fountain drink.

Bride of Frankenburger: instead of cheddar, there’s Gouda,and bacon instead of tomato. Served with fries and a drink.

The Doc’s Mini Sliders: kids can create their own miniature monster of meat with this option! Choices for cheese include American, Havarti, and Baby Swiss. They even come with little toothpicks shaped like electric pylons!

Jiangshi Midnight Wok menu

Jiangshi noodles: basic Chinese Lo mein with all the vegetables and meat that come with it.

White Tiger Fried Rice: Fried rice with Chicken, Beef, and Shrimp.

Phoenix curry: super spicy chicken curry served with white rice, not for the faint of heart.

Sun Wukong Peach custard Bao: named for the legendary sage of heaven from Journey to the west, these sweet treats are modeled after the peaches enjoyed by the Monkey king and his subjects on Flower Fruit Mountain. Peach custard wrapped in sweet rice dough and steamed in a bamboo basket.

Spucci’s Pizza menu

Pizza Margherita

Pepperoni pizza

Cheese Pizza

Spucci’s Spicy Special: topped with spicy Italian sausage, Red Peppers and Pepperjack cheese, this firey dish will slash your tastebuds like teenagers at abandoned summer camps.

Kraken Seafood Shack: located on Gilman Municipal Beach, this restaurant offers fresh seafood.

Kraken’s Salty special: beer and bread battered flounder deep fried with a side of tartar sauce, onion rings, and a small salad.

Frightful Fish Filet: Breaded deep fried Whitefish put in between two slices of whole wheat bread and dotted with mayonnaise and red slaw.

Sunken Shrimp: Cocktail shrimp with a sauce mixing traditional cocktail sauce with mayo and pineapple juice. Covered in shredded coconut.

Just don’t ask for Calamari here, the boss is very sensitive about that.

[misotofu]

naclyoho day 3! i was so hit by the EVIL SLEEPS today but despite it all managed 2 accomplish some stuff

[! Weekly Task] groceries

[! Weekly Task] meal prepped - spiced tomato sauce (underwhelming, ran out of onion because i forgot to check how many i had before groceries, might eventually spice up with chorizo), chinese steamed pork patty with water chestnut (delicious & made enough for four meals)

[! Daily Task] cleaned the kitchen after the small scale meatsplosion i created with the meat patty. i need to buy mixing bowls the plate i was using was Not Big Enough

[! Monthly? Task?] cleaned the bathroom sink! i'd post pictures but the faucet is actually shiny enough that you can see me in the reflection XD i am a little concerned i didn't rinse it off the countertops well enough so i might go and do another just-water wipe of it after posting this <- homepathic levels of chemicals on there

i also bought distilled white vinegar so that i'd be able to descale my kettle (mildly gross) and humidifier (quite gross), but now i'm thinking i should get a spray bottle and microfiber cloths so i can clean the mirror while i'm at it :)

the pork patty in question:

[image id: a picture of a chinese steamed pork patty, with sweet soy sauce and scallions on top]

[whiskeysmulti]

Comfort Food (A KHR Fanfic)

Fandom: KHR Word Count: 1,023 Prompt: Stormy Night Ship: implied unrequited 2795 (Tsuna x Kyoko) Characters: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Nana Event Host: @flufftober

There was nothing better after a long hard day than coming home to a hot meal his mother prepared. Nana's cooking was Tsuna's favorite and probably the reason why he had over two hundred favorite foods but hamburger steak would always be his favorite. A simple cooked burger patty seasoned with just salt, pepper and garlic, no binders, fillers, or mixers added and grilled to perfection in a pan, essentially a fried burger.

Hot, seared perfectly to get a nice char around the edges, so flavorful and juicy that Tsuna would have to wipe his mouth again with every bite. So big and round he often needed two hands to hold it and a napkin tucked into his shirt like a baby's bib because as soon as he sank his teeth into it, hot juices squirted out directly into his mouth and overflowed, running down his face and chin. So thick he needed both hands to handle it, the burger was a once in a lifetime dining experience in itself.

A good burger cooked to perfection needed minimal toppings if any at all when seasoned correctly and cooked medium well to well done. He wasn't certain what type of grade of beef was used, just that it was absolutely delicious. He thanked the cow that gave up its life for this meal, it truly was a dining experience that he wanted to savor without ethical practice brought to mind.

No matter how bad his day was or how many kids picked on him at school nothing filled his stomach better or warmed his soul more than his mother's home cooked burgers. Every flavor-packed bite was a little taste of euphoria when he dug in and every time his mother made them, Tsuna usually had at least three. Comfort food was just that, comforting after a long hard day and today was a day when Tsuna needed more comfort than he cared to acknowledge right now.

He really was a loser and no good as he'd always been called, and it just made his day so much easier to come home to whatever his mom had cooked honestly. But Tsuna also understood mom was busy most days so those hot home cooked meals might have to wait sometimes and some days well he'd have to learn to just make it himself without burning down the house.

Tsuna couldn't wait to once again have a mouthful of that hot, thick and juicy meat, hamburger steak was his favorite. The scent was savory and warm as he watched the steam roll off the top when he cut into it and noticed all the juices flowing out. It was tender and well cooked as it just fell apart on the fork and melted on his tongue. Hot and savory and melting on his tongue hamburger steak was something that always made Tsuna feel better. It was and always would be his number one favorite food out of possibly two hundred or more he liked a lot.

It wasn't even the taste or texture that made it his top favorite, it's the fact that whenever Tsuna had a bad day it's one of the first things his mother would fix for him. For a kid who got bullied as much as Tsuna did, you would expect his mom to be making him hamburger steak every night, right? Sometimes it was prepared just for comfort after a hard day of school, other times it was made for a special occasion like his father returning from a long week on the road for work.

Tsuna looked at the plates on the table, it was just enough for him, his mom and his friends if they stopped by. He thought about it as he looked at the empty spots at the table, his life was like that sometimes. Just sitting at a table alone, waiting for others to join him, and returning home to mom's cooking as a comfort when no one had shown up before. But slowly he started making friends, he started letting people in, people slowly started noticing him and Tsuna's empty life slowly started to become filled with love and more than enough friends to fill up the empty void in him, more than enough to fill every seat at this table right now if he invited them all over at the same time. An abundance of warmth and love had come into his life and filled his heart just like his mom's cooking could fill his stomach and warm him up when he'd had a bad day, his friends were there to do the same on his worst days even if Tsuna didn't think anything could make him feel better, they could.

"Tsu-kun, how was school?" That cheerful grin always greeted him after school, apron and oven mitts on as she carefully stirred a pot or pulled something fresh and hot out of the oven and honestly just his mother's kind smile and concern always made his days a little better and warmer. And then the food was an added bonus, always cooked perfectly, it was no surprise when Tsuna's friends showed up for dinner as well, his mother was an amazing cook and Tsuna honestly wished he had her skills in the kitchen, or at least could do a little more than instant cup noodles and reheating leftovers.

It didn't matter how bad his day was, or how many kids picked on him that day or how much trouble he got into, there was nothing that mom's smile and a hot plate of juicy, tender hamburger steak couldn't fix for Tsuna. However there were some complicated questions that his mother seemed to always ask at dinner time and Tsuna in all honesty didn't have any kind of answer for them.

"Do you have a girlfriend, yet, Tsu-kun?" That was actually the hardest one to answer, as Tsuna wasn't exactly interested in anyone but one girl that he feared he'd never get but that could wait.

"When's dad coming home?"

They both had their fair share of questions that neither of them could answer right now.

[lennonhead]

in front of Kita-Sendai Station, there's a bento/okazu stand that somehow sells food for less than buying the ingredients and making it yourself. it's even cheaper than buying pre-made meals that the grocery store. here is what I have tried from them so far:

mapo tofu (with rice): typical Japanese mapo tofu. what's not typical is that it was 200 yen. 200 YEN! for a fresh-cooked meal! I got it on a whim while passing through and I became very interested in the shop since then

buta shogayaki (pork in a ginger sauce, with rice): this was two meals worth of food, plus I saved some of the pork to put in instant noodles afterwards. it was 400 yen. no filler at all, not even any vegetables besides one sad leaf of lettuce, just meat on rice (my brother would like it)

deep-fried gyoza: 7 gyoza were 180 yen. the flavour was good, and not many vegetables inside them either aside from ones that add to the taste like green onion. I personally prefer steamed dumplings, but beggars can't be choosers

beef tendon korokke: 80 yen, not the cheapest korokke in town. a korokke is like a potato patty which is covered in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. this one had a strong "Japanese" taste. for comparison, the beef korokke at Lawson has none of that and winds up tasting like shepherd's pie. there was definitely beef, but I didn't notice the texture of the tendon much. beef tendon is not that popular in Japan, so I presume they meant just leftover scrapings of beef. overall I did like it and would get it again

I shall report on more whenever I pass through the area

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (4/44)

***This chapter contains vore!***

Chapter 4: Eaten

Patty watched in horror, scarcely believing anything she was seeing was real, as the clear lid was pulled open and a gargantuan hand snaked in through the opening to grab her. She squealed with fright and ran, hitting the glass hard and bruising her knee, but the impossibly huge fingers closed around her anyway. The floor dropped away beneath her, along with the other humans as they gawked up at her from below, appearing like toy figurines from such a grand height. 

Bucky slammed the lid shut and carried Patty toward the kitchen. “No!” Patty screamed. “Unhand me, you-“ She couldn’t finish lobbing her insult before Bucky smothered her cries with the tip of his finger over her mouth. She was whisked away into the Giant kitchen, a sprawling chaos of hot stoves, rushed chefs, and platters of food lined up on the countertops. The air was full of hot steam and a cacophony of noise: yelling, chopping, clinking, clattering, banging, sizzling and popping. Patty’s head was spinning.  

She was slapped down onto one of the countertops, but still pinned with a hefty Giant finger so she couldn’t run. “Chef Cruor, this human’s for table 9. Special order.”  

“Alright,” a deep gloomy voice replied. The Giant chef stalked over to the counter and regarded Patty coldly. He had a snobby, sallow face with a thin nose and dark hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. His wavy dark hair was tied back in a ponytail so he wouldn’t get hair in the food as he cooked. He picked up Patty in his gloved hand impassively and lumbered over to his station, where he was already preparing the appetizers. He had baked miniature rolls that resembled croissants. He slapped down a cold cut of salami and spread cream cheese over the surface while Patty observed apprehensively. 

He pressed Patty into the sticky bed of cream cheese, ignoring her screams and thrashes, and rolled the cold cut around her body. He then stuffed the human into one of the croissants by wrapping her tightly in the soft, flaky crust. Patty tried to move her arms and legs, but they were firmly pinned to her sides. She felt like a pig in a blanket. The chef prepared a few more appetizers, sans human meat, and arranged them in a circle around her on a dinner plate with the square footage of a living room. 

“Take this,” Chef Cruor insisted, shoving a human-sized pill, barely a crumb on his finger, into her face. Patty would have refused, but Slim Jim’s advisement echoed back to her. In a snap decision, she chose to trust his words and reluctantly swallowed whatever it was that the chef gave her. She didn’t know what the pill was for, but at this point she had nothing to lose. She was going to be eaten and killed regardless. Perhaps the pill would mute her pain, sedate her, or make her pass out. She didn’t want to be conscious while being chewed up or digested. 

“Order up! Human appetizer for table 9!” Chef Cruor belted out in his deep voice, setting the plate on the counter. Patty felt a wave of nausea as a waitress scooped up the plate and hustled over to the customer’s table, bobbing her up and down with the jerky motions of her rapid footsteps. Red and white swam before Patty’s eyes in a dizzy rush. 

“Here you go,” the waitress announced to the customer in a sickly-sweet tone as the plate clinked on the table. Patty looked up and gulped with fear as she finally beheld the Giant who would consume her, along with two other Giants sitting at the table. She knew, deep down, that screaming and struggling and pleading would be useless when she saw the ravenous, delighted look on his gigantic countenance. 

“Thank you, miss,” he said absently to the waitress as she dashed off, not taking his predatory gaze off the plate. He drew in the plate closer to his massive torso and reached his hand over. Patty squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, but he picked up one of the snacks next to her instead and popped it in his mouth, keeping his eyes fixated on her. He chewed it up and swallowed with deliberate, exaggerated movements, calculated to frighten his human meal, and his technique worked. Patty watched his Adam’s apple pulse in his throat as he swallowed, and she realized she’d soon be following. He picked up another mini croissant and ate it with a devious smirk. Patty trembled in her salami straitjacket. 

“P-please… don’t eat me!” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. The Giant seemed to delight even more in her misery. He pinched his human-in-a-blanket appetizer and raised it up to his face, grinning wide. His lips and teeth parted in hungry anticipation, strings of drool dripping down inside the cavern of his maw. Patty screeched in terror when he moved the appetizer toward his mouth and bit into the flaky crust, peeling it off with his teeth and scooping it inside his mouth with his fleshy tongue. He swallowed, and Patty, being so close, could hear the squishy sound of saliva and lubricated food sliding down his throat. 

“No! Stop!” she protested louder as the white rows of teeth approached a second time, this time gripping the salami and unrolling it into the Giant’s mouth. He slurped it up, and Patty heard the same squelchy swallow, watching as his jaws tightened and his throat muscles clenched in a rolling wave down his neck. Her limbs were free to flail about now, but she was still pinched between the Giant’s fingers, covered in cream cheese. His mouth opened again, and his huge tongue splatted against her feet and raked against her body all the way up to her face, licking off cream cheese and replacing it with a slick coat of slobber. He rotated her around in his fingers and licked her again, then opened his mouth wider. Patty’s scream was cut off as she was forced into his mouth. 

Patty was horrified to behold the walls of teeth closing shut all around her, trapping her inside a room of red flesh. What she had feared most was morphing into reality. This was real. She was going to die. She was going to be eaten. She flew into a frenzy, surging away from the yawning abyss behind her and clawing at the teeth, desperate to be let out, but the Giant whose mouth she was in had other plans. He easily slammed her down with his heavy tongue, squishing her against his teeth and sucking the rest of the cream cheese off her body. He rolled her around on his tongue, humming with pleasure. 

Patty wasn’t sure whether it would be worse to be masticated to death by the molars, or to be swallowed alive, but she wasn’t given much time to think it over as she slipped towards the dark void at the back of the mouth. She found herself staring down the gaping black hole of his throat. A breath of warm air passed over her face and tousled her hair. She jerked away, but the tongue pushed her headfirst into the chasm and the muscles contracted around her, mercilessly swallowing her down. 

She believed her bones would snap, or her ribcage would cave in, from the crushing force as she was sucked down in darkness black as pitch. She felt nauseous and claustrophobic as she dropped in a controlled fall the long, hot distance down, as if burrowing to the center of the earth to the molten core. Her mind was scrambled with hysterical panic. She couldn’t imagine the horrors that awaited her at the end of her journey, but they were approaching whether she was ready or not. She had no control over her fate. 

The Giant rubbed his belly and moaned with satisfaction as Patty squeezed through the opening to his stomach and splashed inside. She thrashed violently in the festering cauldron of acid, slapping the stomach lining uselessly with her fists and feet. Her tracker contacted the wall and lit up, to her shock, cutting through the blinding darkness with a bright light. Patty was unaware that the device on her arm had a built-in flashlight. She fixated with unbearable distress on the churning, wrinkly, fleshy pink interior closing her in. The stomach shifted with rhythmic movements, stirring the acid pooling around her body to digest the Giant’s meal. 

Some indistinguishable sludge slopped down from above and plopped down into the bubbling acid. Patty aimed her flashlight up to the top of the stomach to see more mush squeezing out from the muscular sphincter that guarded the ingress. She wouldn’t be able to reach that high or climb out. She was trapped. She pummeled and body slammed the walls around her, hoping that perhaps she could upset the Giant’s stomach and force him to expel her. 

“Mmmm... I love it when they squirm around inside,” the Giant thundered all around her, like the omnipresent voice of a deity. Patty shrank into herself, alarmed by the powerful voice. She realized then that anything she did would be futile. The only physiological response she had observed had been a slight quickening of his enormous heartbeat, suggesting her thrashing excited him. He swallowed her whole on purpose, to enjoy her struggling. That’s why he wanted an “unwilling female,” as the waitress had put it. Patty slumped against the squishy, throbbing stomach lining, full of despair. She didn’t want to give him what he wanted. 

She was going to die. There was no escaping her fate. She was done for. All because of her irresponsible roommate Jenny and her damned drugs. She was going to die a horrible, stupid, pointless death, without having accomplished anything of substance in her short, wretched existence. She was full of regret as she reflected on her life choices. She regretted not calling her parents from jail and saying final words to them, for fear of disappointing them. She regretted “taking a break” and not finishing college. She regretted investing all her effort into a failed relationship with her boyfriend who ended up dumping her. She regretted that she never had the chance to explore and discover her passion. She regretted not doing more with the time that she had. All her regrets snowballed into a painful realization that she had wasted her life, and it would soon be over. She could never get it back. Everything felt so far away now, out of her grasp. 

As she lamented, the organ she was inside rumbled loudly, making her shudder. She snapped out of her daze to consider her immediate position. She didn’t know how long it would take for her to be digested, but the thought of watching her flesh boil off her bones horrified her. She tried to climb away from the lake of acid, but she had nowhere to go, and the folds in the lining were too slippery to serve as handholds. She had to accept what was inevitably going to happen, but truthfully it was too appalling to even contemplate. 

The Giant continued to talk to the other Giants at his table, his voice booming through his guts alongside his heartbeat and breathing, but Patty didn’t pay attention to the irrelevant snippets of conversation. He ate his dinner, and the chunks rained down into his digestive system on poor Patty. She stewed in half-digested food and misery, waiting to die. However, as the food around her dissolved in the acid, Patty noticed that she remained intact. In fact, she became aware that the acid didn’t burn her skin or even so much as tingle. What was going on? She was baffled and a bit afraid. While she certainly didn’t want to be digested, she was still stuck inside the Giant’s belly. How long could she stay alive in here, if the acid didn’t liquefy her? She didn’t want to find out. 

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

[csolarstorm]

Having to be so choosy about food because of bad digestive problems sucks. But the problem isn't as bad if you can manage to cook/steam stuff over a stove and dice foods up really small, based on your needs and liking. (I have an adapted knife because of my bad hand so dicing is easier, so mileage may vary.)

Savory Crepe with Sausage

Note: A tablespoon is just the volume of the bigger of the two spoons you eat with.

2 Tablespoons Flour (any)

2 Tablespoons Milk (any, I used coconut)

1 Egg, any size

Salsa

Frozen breakfast sausage, 1 patty or 1-2 links

Optional: Diced onions

Seasonings: Whatever you like. I had two mixes called "Tex-Mex" and "Hot and Spicy".

Microwave the sausage like the directions say. Dice the sausage until it resembles ground meat. Set aside.

Scramble the egg in a bowl, and then mix in the flour, milk, salsa, onion, and seasonings. There will probably still be some lumps. Then add a little bit of margarine to the batter in and mix it in enough to break it up. (It doesn't mix in smoothly, but it will melt while cooking.)

Take the diced sausage and add to it some of the salsa, onion, and seasoning, and mix it up a bit.

Melt some margarine on a skillet. Then once it's hot, pour on the batter and swirl it until it covers the bottom of the pan. Once the edges curl up, pour the sausage mixture into the middle and carefully fold one side over the sausage. Flip the now closed crepe. Continue flipping the crepe occasionally while the inside cooks more, and then then take it off once the outside is brown.

Eat like that. Hope you like it as much as I did!

[buffetlicious]

Economy Rice (菜饭) that mum brought from her morning trip to the market. She got me steamed meat (pork) patty, curry chicken & potato and stir-fried medley of cabbage, black fungus and carrot over fluffy jasmine rice.

[ontologicalmoki]

 @clawedandcute​ I found it! 

It started with this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32049478 In which some Tatooine cuisine is described. 

Then @clarabrighet and @lurking-latinist helped me or at least listened to me ramble about more tatooine food items based on the selection described in that fic. The list is based on the one tatooine food we do know about, blue milk, the fact that Anakin eats bugs and must have learnt that from somewhere, and what I already know about desert cultures’ cuisine. Boba Fett hadn’t come out yet. Here:

Grape mellons - watery, not very sweet

Jawa berries - small, very sour berries that grow in rocky places

desert soy - not actually a bean but a soft nut that grows on bushes

barley - the one staple crop that grows, but its more like buckwheat than a cereal. 

Yellow pepper - from the seeds of a scrubby plant

Desert pear - sweet tree fruit with a short season, has a rigid exterior that has to be cracked.

crumbleroot - the starchy root of a thorny plant which, as may be indicated by the name, is really hard to harvest. by the time you dig it up and wash the dirt off it will be broken into a hundred little pea-sized chunks. Kinda sweet like jicama, kinda spicy like radish. 

citron - a short, herby plant with a heavy root ball that when cracked has a sour flesh inside with a high water content.

mango - actually more like a giant snap pea (or an ice cream bean if you know what that is). hard exterior and with hard, fatty fruits on the inside.

And of course, blue milk and bantha meat.

Food items:

Curried blue beans (made with desert soy, blue milk, and sand pear) served with fried raptor egg

Little candies made of spicy bean paste and shaped like Jabba the Hutt

Bantha steak strips, seasoned with pepper and sweet bark, with blue cheese and citron slices, served over steamed crumbleroot

Little cakes of mashed crumbleroot, sage, sweet bark, bantha meat, and Jawa berry, all wrapped in a mango leaf and baked

Dune worm stew, mostly dune worms and just a little gelatinous broth, with sage, citron leaf, yellow pepper, barley, and melon chunks. (Dune worms are hard to cook and fragile and so have a narrow range of uses. They are however abundant).

Skewered sand hopper, broiled and served with roasted grape melon and desert pear and dusted with yellow pepper

Jawa Berry pie, which is actually more of a Jawa berry, sage, sweet bark, bantha bacon, and barley scramble, baked in a tin without a crust, served with blue cream and honey on top

Desert soy and grape Mellon curry, served with fried egg and bright yellow with how much pepper is in it.

Egg wraps, where you fry an egg into like a tortilla and wrap stuff in it. Popular fillings are bantha meat, yellow pepper, refried soy beans, citron (often mashed up with sage and crumbleroot into a sauce), Jawa berry jelly (a powerfully sour substance to be used sparingly), desert pear, blue cheese, and yet more egg

Boiled barley sautéed in butter with crumbleroot, sage, sweet bark, and bantha bacon (or beetles).

Cubed bantha meat, marinated in pepper, sweet bark, and citron, scrambled with crumbleroot, raptor egg, and desert pear, and simmered in blue milk

Hard candy made of Jawa berry jam and honey

Citron pie, which is a glassy citron, honey, and sage marmalade (swirled with Jawa berry jam if you feel fancy) in a crispy barley crust, drizzled with a grape melon wine reduction, decorated with sage blossoms

Blue milk custard, served on a fried desert soy patty, with honey grape melon sauce, dusted with powdered sweet bark.

Just a soy patty fried in butter and smeared with either Jawa berry jam or citron marmalade. At its highest form it’s served with fresh blue cheese and citron leaves

Hutt candies but collectible, in different colors and looking like different members of the hutt family. (There’s a popular childrens game that involves passing them around a circle quickly so as not to be the last one in the middle, whose hutt gets smashed with a plate and eaten. Bean paste is very satisfying to smash)

A bean paste ball with a candied beetle in the middle, rolled in crystallised honey

[msbarrows]

June 18 - Still annoyingly hot, spent a lot of time just lying or sitting still with a cold drink near to hand and a fan pointed at me. Cleaned the inside of the shower stall while I was in it cooling off anyway. Made beef and macaroni stew with lactose-free cheese; bit heavy for a hot day but it's a one pot meal that only has an element on for about a half hour.

June 19 - Weather still hot. For supper I made a big bowl of barley salad and fried up a couple of hamburger patties.

June 20 - Less hot but still not feeling like doing anything. For supper I made toad-in-the-hole, steamed mix veg with curried mayonnaisse, and the leftovers of yesterday's salad.

June 21 - Weather finally cooling down again. Baked a loaf of oatmeal bread. Made macaroni with meat sauce and a salad for supper.

[teddybasmanov]

A question that has been torturing me for years:

[rustbeltjessie]

Reasons I Am Not Working On My Novella Today

I sat down at my desk, wrote a few lines; a passage about The Alley and the coffin full of vintage pins. How you were supposed to pay for them—a quarter in the early days, fifty cents by the last time I visited—but I don’t think anyone ever did. And then I had to find the pins I stole all those years ago, as research (I said to myself). All those one-inch badges for punk and new wave bands. Blondie, Buzzcocks. The Clash, The Cramps, Tom Robinson Band. Those pins are mostly older than I am, and I’ve had them since the end of the last century; the metal backs are tarnished, the images stained, peeling. All the old songs stuck in my head, a scratched record playing a single groove, as I sifted through my bag of badges. I pulled them out one by one, found myself lost in other places, other moments, a sea of words and pictures once cultural signifiers, now significant only to my memory project. I stuck my finger on one which was not fastened, pricked myself on that rusted spindle of the past, and I got timesick.

A memory came; sudden, unbidden. Of a drive from Chicago to Michigan, late November, maybe December. Passing through a slivered crescent of Indiana, cupping the lakeshore, the smokestacks of Gary cinereous, up past the dunes, crossing the stateline, the New Buffalo Welcome Center with its tiny ersatz lighthouse, say yes. Yes, heading further into Michigan, the northeast curve of I-94, the surge of the hills heavy with snow, the woody, gnarled fingers of winter-dormant grapevines. All those vineyards in West Michigan, near St. Joe, Benton Harbor, Coloma. And the sun setting off to the west, over that inland sea, disparate streaks of orange and peach commingling into gold-limned coral, the last light before the long night reflecting, lurid, a starshot wound, upon the hills and snow.

Break off from I-94 at Marshall, continue north/east on I-69, and eventually you’ll reach Flint. My childhood; the earliest place I remember enough to call home. The children of Flint, the people of Flint, still are drinking leaded water. My childhood no idyll, but I had clean water. My childhood, not idyllic, but now I remember Flint in flashes, three-dimensional images in full-color Kodachrome turning through the ViewMaster of my mind. Click: the bruisy, rose-vanilla dusk inside the lilac bushes in our backyard; the stale-penny smell left on palms and fingers after playing for hours on jungle gyms, monkey bars. Click click. Sticky swirls of strawberry & cream cheese oozing from oven-warm croissants at John K.’s bakery. The thagomizic glass spines of Autoworld, a Godzilla-sized misstep, a fossilized monument to Flint’s failing industry.

How hard it is to raise children in this ever-failing world. How the water is full of lead, schools leaded with bullets & disease.

Today is my oldest son’s birthday. My son, a vessel of noise; the bleepbop of the video games he plays, the stories he hums as he runs back and forth and back across the house. Today I found a Valentine’s Day project from back when he was in school, where each classmate wrote down what they liked about each other. The ones for my son read: I like you because you make cool noises. I like you because you play video games. I like you because your favorite color is light blue. Oh my little boy blue, my humming baby blue-boy. How many years I spent worried no one would like him, his sounds, obsessions, only to find those were the very things they liked most.

Today is my oldest son's birthday, and he requested a big breakfast. I spent the late half of morning baking biscuits, toasting hashbrown patties, frying up bacon and chicken-apple sausage, making omelets thick and gooey with tomatoes off the vine, green onions, spinach, colbyjack cheese. I fell into a breakfast reverie, a diner daydream. Fat scent of butter and eggs, coffee strong and black and steaming in the pot, sizzlepop of meat in the skillet; I could makebelieve I was in a place all griddle and chrome, walls grease-stained and hung with old records by Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers.

As I diced and fried, I listened to a jazz playlist. “Peace Piece” piano swelled up around me, a lonesome meditation, and then another memory. Of a boy I once loved, who knew how I loved that piece, and one Christmas tracked down the sheet music for me. He gave me a painting, too. His heart splattered on a canvas, a heart so blue, floating in a pastoral sea of violet-gray. I thanked him for the ornamented melody line, I shunned his painted heart.

He often said things to me, unintentionally cruel things, so I cut right back. Cruel, on purpose. A month point five post-Christmas, I broke (up with) him on Valentine’s Day. He cried for two hours, while I watched, aghast, said nothing. Harsh or sweet. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, that time. I only knew I needed out.

And oh the cruelties we visit upon each other’s hearts; accidental, with purpose. Oh, the undulations of our affections.

There I was, “Kind of Blue,” and Miles Davis on the playlist, too. I remembered: nights at the Jazz Showcase, place of legends; gin martinis and the infamous table Miles once set fire to. Thought of angels jazzing over the Loop, legendary bop angels, hark the dark heralds with their trumpets, setting fire to the night, its sea of stars.

More jazz and I got ready to make art. Donned my tomato-red beret and felt self-consciously arty, had to take some self-portraits to commemorate it, daddy-o. Baby, oh, I remembered my art and writing room from that flat in Bayview, and the vintage kimono I owned. A silky thing, butter-yellow, a dragon and flowers embroidered abloom upon the back. How I’d wear it while snapping photos of myself; myself writing poems or jazzing on my ukulele or draped across the futon, smoking expensive cigarettes from a chintzy plastic holder. How it caressed me like a lover, how I felt beautiful whenever I had it on. What I wouldn’t give to have that feeling back.

A different playlist; this one of piano and accordion en français, and I cried, my tears viscous, Gallic, remembering another room, this one in Brooklyn. Remembered the boy I loved there, who would squeezebox-serenade me with valses. Un deux trois mornings we fucked in the gray gloom, three nights starshot with white powder and we sat by the open window holding cigarettes (Galouise, or hand-rolled) between our yellow-stained fingers, watching the drip of snowmelt on fire escape and past that the wind blowing the trashcans across the brickwalled alleys.

In the midst of tears of memory, I drew a crow. Spent an hour or more getting the shading just-so; layering bluish-gray over dark gray over black, over ultramarine, over cobalt. And oh the crows outside my window, and the weather so bitten-cold. November. The sky gray, clouds alluvial, loops and scallops etched into the silt.

Gray, cold, and I wanted a hot toddy. Mixed ginger tea, bourbon, clover honey, squeeze of lemon, drank it while feeling the weight of time, the press of the squeezed and undulating years. Then time to make dinner. Stirred pots of cranberry and rosemary, orange smiles of butternut squash salted with maple syrup and coriander seed-beads. As it cooked I checked Facebook and saw another new book by a poet oh, so much younger and wondered, as I always do, why not me? Wondered if they’ve had more opportunities, or worked harder, or if they’re just better, oh. This envious jealousy I choke on is a sour apple, a shriveled grape from a dormant vine that makes the bitterest wine.

It doesn't improve my poetry, or write my lines, or bring any opportunities. And all the success in the world won’t stave off death. I remembered that when Low came on the radio, Mimi’s clarion angelvoice singing. I don't need a laser beam. Rest your drunken mind. I remember the last time I visited Duluth/Superior, that time I went north to chase the autumn and run from love. How I scaled that rusted out-of-use railroad trestle with my squeezebox in hand and sang a lullaby to the captains of industry and the inland sea.

And now I lay me down to sleep on the banks of another, sick with remembering. Goodnight starshot voices, goodnight angels. Old songs, old rust, accordion waltzes. Fingers of smoke and pennies, bourbon and the sky, goodnight. Goodnight all the cruel rooms, the boys, and all. Of the time.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, 11/13/22