#Today I slightly altered a bread recipe

[nfinitefreetime]

What I did today, again

I have made Levi Bread before, and I’m pretty sure I’ve even posted about it on the site before, but after ten years and a million-plus words if I wanna repeat myself once in a while I’m gonna do it. I did make a slight alteration to the recipe and used slightly more diabetes-friendly whole wheat flour, and squeezed some orange juice into the mix as well, but otherwise the recipe is…

[atths--twice]

Chapter Four 

Mid June 1996

Fox took off his suit jacket and tossed it, not caring where it landed. His tie was next and he dropped it as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt. Walking into the kitchen, he paused as he saw a note on the dining room table.

Fox,

There are some casseroles in the fridge. Mrs. Puckett made you one of her famous apple pies and insisted I buy some vanilla ice cream when I brought it over, so there’s some in the freezer. I hope your day wasn’t too stressful, although I know it most likely was.

Love, Dana

It was the love that kept him rooted to the spot, ignoring the growling of his stomach. He stared at the word and despite the horrible day he had, he could not help but smile.

Two weeks after Samantha had let her in, he had waited outside the shop until everyone left the knitting group. Knocking on the door, she had silently allowed him inside, her hand grazing his arm. As they drank their tea, he had pushed a key with a teal ribbon looped through it, across the table to her.

“What is this?” she had asked, staring at him.

“I… I know it’s forward-”

“Incredibly so. Two months we’ve known each other. We’re not… we don’t…” She had shaken her head and he had sighed with a nod.

“I know. And I’m not asking anything from you. I just…” He had sighed again and ran a hand across his mouth. “I’m not usually a trusting person, but I trust you.” He had stared at her, trying to tell her so much, but the words getting caught in his throat. “I can’t explain it, but I trust you.” She had stared at him and slowly nodded, her hand covering his and he had grasped her fingers like a lifeline.

So, for the past few months she had come into his apartment like a fairy ninja- small but mighty. She had left him encouraging notes, items she had knitted- her mind obviously needing to shut off for a while, and food. So much food, that sometimes he had to take it to his neighbors as he would never eat it all before it spoiled.

As the preparation for the trial began to consume him, she had become his saving grace, showing up when even he had not known he needed her.

Bringing over a movie, popcorn, and candy one night, they had sat silently in the dark, her hand in his, her thumb stroking in slow circles.

One afternoon, after a long night of insomnia, he had woken to find a small bouquet of daffodils in a vase on his dining room table.

To brighten even the darkest day, the accompanying note had said and he had smiled, his fingers tracing over her words. 

One night he had gotten up, once more unable to sleep and intended to take a drive to help clear his head. When he opened the door however, he had found a brown paper bag. Inside there had been two boxes of tea and a black tea kettle in a box. One box of tea had been flavored and the other only chamomile.

To help you sleep, she had written on the box and he had shaken his head as he brought the items inside, wondering when she had been there and why she had not brought it inside.

He had unboxed and washed the tea kettle, filled it with water and took two bags of chamomile from the box. Pacing as he waited for the water to boil, he had thought about calling her, but decided to wait until morning.

He drank his tea slowly after it had cooled slightly. Taking out the needles and yarn, hoping the combination of the two would help, he had knitted a few rows before his eyes had begun to grow heavy. Drinking the last swallow of tea, he had set his knitting down and put the mug in the sink. He made his way to the bedroom and fell into bed with a sigh, finally able to sleep.

During all of the stress and worry, she had been there, helping to keep him sane.

Shaking his head as he set her note down, he walked into the kitchen to get a piece of the apple pie Mrs. Puckett had made. She was an amazing cook and when he had the time again, he wanted to ask her for some recipes.

Opening the fridge, it sat front and center, causing his mouth to water. Taking it out, he placed it on the counter and took out a knife, setting it on the counter to grab a plate, foregoing dinner for a slice of something sweet.

“Really? Without me?”

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, not having heard the door opening.

“Sorry,” Dana said with a smirk and he shook his head, his heart pounding.

“I didn’t hear you come in. Maybe I should rethink that key I gave you.” He narrowed his eyes at her and she hummed.

“I don’t think you really mean that.” She opened the freezer and took out the vanilla bean ice cream, placing it beside the pie. He smiled at her choice, as she always chose the most decadent of brands, insisting that ice cream was not the place where one should save money.

“I don’t mean it. You’ve got me there.” She hummed again as she took out the silverware and ice cream scooper.

“Come on, I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could have some of this pie.”

“Oh… you’ve been waiting for me?” She stared at him and he knew she had, knowing what today had been. “Right.”

He nodded and lightly rubbed her back before he took down two bowls and cut the pie. She added two scoops of ice cream for each of them, placed spoons inside the bowls, and took them to the table. He poured them each a glass of milk, put the ice cream back in the freezer, and joined her.

They ate and drank in silence, aside from their occasional hums of pleasure. When it was down to the last bit of ice cream, she looked at him and he sighed. Setting his spoon down, he nodded.

“It was hard,” he said quietly. “Hearing my partner talk about that day, hearing her version of events… Even though we were both there, what we saw and experienced was similar, but also different. Our stories line up, but what I remember is slightly altered from hers.”

“What did she say? You can talk about it now as she’s already had her time in the stand?”

“Yeah. I’m up tomorrow. So…”

“I understand.”

“She told them that that day we had been called out, following a lead on a case. We didn’t know there was anyone in the empty building, weren’t sure anyway.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We had our weapons out, just in case, sweeping the rooms as we cleared them. I didn’t see him. Didn’t…”

And then suddenly he was back there, in that room, hearing the sound of footsteps as everything seemed to slow down. The kid walked in front of him and stopped, a gun in his hand.

Yelling for him to drop it, his partner Eve Lansing, appeared beside him. They both yelled for him to put the gun down but he did not, holding it on them, his eyes scared. His arm swung towards Eve and Fox saw his finger squeezing the trigger.

He stepped in front of her, shielding her and aiming his weapon at the kid. They shot at the same time, the kid’s shot hitting his shoulder and his own hitting the kid’s chest, dropping him to the ground.

“After that moment… it’s a bit hazy. I remember hearing Eve screaming my name, heard her calling in our location, and then the pressure of her hands on me. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up the next day.” He opened his eyes and looked at her.

Tears were running down her cheeks and her hands were covering her mouth. His leg began to bounce nervously, not knowing what to say. She wiped her eyes and reached for his hand. He grasped it and she shook her head.

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “Why… why did you step in front of her? You… you nearly died.”

“Eve has a husband and a little girl, not even two years old. I couldn’t… she couldn’t grow up without her mom.”

“Oh, Fox.” She reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her, closing his eyes once again. “I’m so sorry that happened. So sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I would never want that.” He shook his head, tears pricking at his eyes. “But I had to protect her and her family.”

He felt her nod and he held her tighter as they sat in silence, finding comfort in being held.

____________________

He stood on the large porch of his family’s lake house, the September air warm, and took a deep breath as he looked out at the water.

“So... how long are you planning on staying out here?” Samantha asked, setting down a bag of groceries. He turned around and smiled at her.

“I don’t know. Maybe a month?”

“Or as long as you can stand being away from Dana,” she teased and he shrugged, knowing she was right.

“The trial is over and even though it went as I had thought it would, I quit my job. I just couldn’t go back there. These past few months have been hard, despite the positive aspects of it-”

“Like Dana?” She grinned and he nodded with a smile.

“Especially Dana.”

“Ooooo, Fox and Dana sitting in a tree,” she sang and he tried to grab her. She escaped his grasp, laughing as she did.

“How old are you?” he asked and she stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

“So when is she coming up?” She started to empty the bags of groceries and he joined her.

“What makes you think she is?” She gave him a look and he laughed.

“Wine, chocolates, these cookies which I know Dana likes… yeah you’re not the only detective. Oh... you know what I mean.” She shook her head and he nodded, taking the cookies from her.

“Friday after work and she’s staying for the weekend.”

“Reeeeeeally?” she drawled with a grin and he shook his head.

“Nothing like that. Stop.”

“What? Really?”

“We’re taking things slow. It’s what I need right now. I don’t want to mess this up. She means a lot to me.”

“I know she does. I can see it.” She smiled and patted his face. “You deserve a woman like her.” He smiled and they continued putting away the groceries.

__________________

“I can’t believe you made this yourself. It’s so good,” Dana said, dipping her bread in the remaining tomato sauce on her plate and putting it in her mouth.

“Are you suggesting I can’t make a meal?” he teased and she smiled.

“I wasn’t directly, but…” He laughed and picked up their plates, taking them to the kitchen. She followed with the other dishes and they quickly cleaned the kitchen.

“How about a glass of wine on the porch?” he asked and she smiled.

“That sounds great. I’m just gonna use the bathroom real quick.”

Pouring them each another glass of wine, he brought them onto the porch and went back inside for a couple of blankets. It was warm during the day, but the nights were sometimes chilly.

When she came out, she was wearing the gray cardigan he knew she loved. The pockets were deep and she had often expressed how all clothes should have similar pockets.

He handed her her glass and a blanket as they sat in the porch chairs. They were quiet as they listened to the water lapping against the dock and the crickets singing around them.

“Dana?”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to thank you for these past few months.”

“Fox-”

“No. Please let me say this,” he said, setting his glass down and turning towards her. “I didn’t… I knew I was angry and I knew I was taking it out on people who didn’t deserve it, but it’s as if I didn’t know how much until we spoke. Until you shared your story and it seemed okay that I was feeling the way I had been. My therapist told me, but…” He smiled at her and she reached out her hand to him. He took it and stared at her fingers as he ran his thumb over them.

“You saved me, as corny as you may think that sounds, you did. Your kindness and acceptance when others had judged me for what happened, it meant everything to me. You didn’t have to do that, you could have asked me to leave and I would have understood.” He shook his head as he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles as he stared at her. “Thank you, Dana. For seeing me. For saving me.”

“Fox…” She pushed up from the chair and sat on his knee, her arms around his neck. He held her, his heart beginning to repair as she whispered his name, her fingers rubbing his neck.

The first time he kissed her, a bullfrog croaked very close and extremely loud, causing him to jump, and she laughed against his lips.

_______________________

“So you think I can do this?” he asked Mrs. Scully quietly as they stood at the food table decorated with witches and ghosts. They were taking a break from the usual knitting and he was adding his latest baking endeavor- peanut butter and marshmallow squares.

“Yum!” Emilia said, grabbing one and running away. He laughed and looked at Mrs. Scully.

“Seriously? You think I can.”

“I do. And I’ll help with anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

And so a secret project began, one that was incredibly difficult to hide from Dana as she was always with him, but he would not have it any other way.

He took two weeks away from her, telling her he had a vacation planned with his mom and sister. But, there was no vacation planned and instead he went to Mrs. Scully’s home and she showed him how to knit and purl, use different needles, and knit in the round. He was overwhelmed at first, but as he became more sure of himself, he found he could do it.

He knitted until late in the night, finally finding his insomnia good for something. It was not a perfect job, but for his first attempt, he was quite proud of how well he did. Mrs. Scully did have to step in sometimes when he simply could not figure it out. The needles fairly flew, as though enchanted, when they were held in her capable fingers.

He smiled as he watched it taking shape, excited for the moment when he would be able to show Dana what he had accomplished.

He had asked what her favorite color was, which yarn she would pick if she were to give a gift to someone she really cared about. She had smiled and walked to the wall of yarn, taking down the periwinkle.

“This one. I always think I’d like to make something for myself in this color, but…”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know. It seems too… nice to use on me. Like it should be a special occasion or I don’t know. But I would definitely make someone else a gift with it.” She had smiled and he nodded, touching the soft yarn.

Someone had called to her and when Mrs. Scully had walked by, he asked her to get as many as he would need to make Dana a sweater, because she deserved to have something made for her with that yarn.

It was finished just before Christmas and he was nervous with excitement on Christmas Eve when she came over to spend the evening with him.  

Snow covered her gray knitted cap and her coat when he opened the door, surprised she had not let herself in.

“I couldn’t get to my keys,” she laughed, her hands full of bags of gifts. He took them from her, but still she stood in the doorway.

“Have you become a vampire? Do I need to invite you in?” he teased and she laughed, shaking her head. “Then what…” She pulled something from her pocket and he laughed when she handed it to him.

“No bullfrogs tonight,” he whispered as he held the mistletoe over her head and leaned in to kiss her. She laughed, grabbing handfuls of his shirt, and kissed him back.

Lifting her slightly, he brought her inside, spinning her around and setting her back down. She giggled as she took off her hat and unbuttoned her coat.

“God, it smells good in here,” she said as she took off her coat and he smiled at her dark green sensible sweater.

“I’m glad you think so, I’ve made everything from scratch.”

“Have you really? You’re becoming quite the chef.” He smiled and she kissed him again before walking into the kitchen and sniffing loudly.

They had a delicious meal of ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls he had made that were nearly lighter than air. She ate three of them and had two helpings of ham before she groaned and leaned back, rubbing at her stomach.

“Seriously, that was delicious.”

“Thank you.” He smiled and she grinned. “Should we open gifts?”

“Yes!” She jumped up and he laughed, watching her take out the gifts from her bags.

Soon there was a little pile before him where he sat cross legged on the floor. A stocking was laid on top and his eyes widened.

“I uh… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“You’re dealing with the Scully women now. You’re lucky I didn’t show up with a tree and decorations. Next year that might be different, so be prepared.”

“Next year?” he asked hopefully and she stared at him.

“I hope so,” she whispered and he nodded happily. “Okay! Stocking first!”

“Then you should get yours too,” he said, nodding to the green stocking hanging from the fireplace. She jumped up excitedly and he laughed. Coming back to join him, they sat staring at each other as they held their stockings.

“Same time?”

“Okay!” She smiled and they dumped out their stockings.

He laughed at the things she had placed inside. A little magnet shaped like a ball of yarn, chocolate kisses, a Rubik’s cube, and two spatulas. She laughed at hers: a bullfrog figurine at full croak, dark chocolate bars, a pack of sticky notes for all the notes she liked to leave, and a lapel pin that said You keep me in stitches with a ball of yarn in the background.

“Thank you,” she said, putting on her pin with a smile.

“And thank you!” He pretended to mix stuff with the spatulas and she laughed.

The other gifts were from her and her mother. Mrs. Scully gave him a cookbook and new plastic mixing bowls. Dana had made him a dark gray scarf and a cap to match. He put them on right away, pulling her close for a kiss when she adjusted the scarf.

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her again. She hummed and kissed him before pulling back.

Standing up, he left the room to get her gift, his heart racing. Sitting down in front of her, he handed her the square package wrapped in snowman paper and tied with a green ribbon.

She smiled as she untied the ribbon and slid it off the package. Ripping the paper, he let out a breath, swallowing hard. She lifted the lid and set it down beside her. Peeling back the red tissue paper, she gasped, her eyes lifting to his.

“What? Oh, Fox.” She took the sweater out of the box, shaking her head as she looked at it. “You made this?”

“I did.” He swallowed again and she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s not exactly perfect.”

“It is.”

“You haven’t even seen it all.” He laughed and she shook her head.

“You made it. And it has pockets. I love it.” She stood up and he did too, watching her taking off her sweater, and putting the new one on over her camisole. “You’re sneaky, asking me which yarn I would use for someone else and getting it for me.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking at the way it fit her perfectly. “Turn around, let me see.” She did and when she turned back around, her hands were in the pockets and she smiled happily.

“This is so beautiful. I can’t believe you did this.”

“Your mom helped.”

“Sneaky, the both of you.” She smiled and took her hands from her pockets and placed them on his face. “I love it. I… I love you.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“God, Dana. I love you too. So much.”

_____________________

2010

“Hey! What did I tell you about using the wooden spoons?”

“To use the scorched ones.”

“Right! Let’s switch!”

“Dad! Where’s the chocolate sauce?”

“Top shelf, love! The stepstool is in the pantry if you need it.”

“I can reach it, I’m tall enough!”

“Daddy!”

“My love!”

“Whose idea was it to have this many children?” Fox laughed as he turned to look at his wife and she shook her head with a smile.

“I believe it was you, my dear,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her as their oldest daughter made a disgusted sound.

“I don’t remember the last one being part of the deal,” she teased quietly and he remembered how the last one had come to be.

“Blame the bottles of wine and the fact that your mother volunteered to give us a weekend away.” He grinned and she smiled, tracing a heart with her finger, right over the one tattooed on his chest.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Dana had said to him the night after he had asked her to marry him, her fingers tracing the scar from the bullet wound that had led them to one another. “Or outside your chest. I love that about you so much.”

The next day, they had gone to a tattoo shop at her insistence, and he had a heart tattooed over his old scar, asking for it to be teal, like the walls in the yarn shop.

“The color of happiness,” he had said and she had smiled as she watched the teal heart cover the puckered skin.

Every one of their children had asked why he had a blue heart instead of a red one, their small fingers tracing it as they were held in his arms.

“Blue doesn’t always mean sadness, my loves, sometimes blue can be the happiest color in the world.”

“Like Mommy’s part of the shop?” they had asked and he had nodded with a smile.

The little shop had grown over the years as they bought the building next door and turned it into a cafe. The name had changed as well, and was now known as Knit Knacks and Snacks. People came in to eat and then join in on a knitting lesson, taught by Dana’s mother, Dana, or their oldest daughter.

And every night, when the shops were closed, the little family would turn on music and get the Knacks side of the shops ready for the next day. The Snacks side… Well, many new recipes were created after hours with many willing tasters ready to try anything with chocolate.

“Dad! The biscuits!”

“Oof!” He stepped away from Dana and ran to the oven, opening it to find they were the perfect color. “Crisis averted!”

“Hooray!”

He took the biscuits out and everyone came together to the counter. Six plates were laid down, a biscuit placed on each one and cut in half. Cut strawberries in a sugary liquid were scooped onto the biscuits, soaking it in deliciousness. Freshly made whipped cream was placed on top and the plates were distributed.

They all sat down and ate their special Friday night treat, the youngest getting it all over his shirt, his grin red and happy.

Fox looked at all of them, this family of his and he shook his head. Dana took a tissue from the pocket of her periwinkle sweater and wiped their son’s face, with a shake of her head.

“See how handy these pockets have been?” she asked with a smile and he laughed.

His heart was full and he felt happier than he ever imagined was possible. "I love you, Mulder clan." 

"Wuv you too, Bab.” Came their responses, all of their mouths full of strawberry shortcake, and he laughed once more.

[imaginesebastian]

TLC

A/N: I wrote this over the span of...forever. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get something to you guys. This goes with a slow burn request and a smut request sooo 18+ my darlings!!:)

Warnings: Smut and cussing 

Weddings. 

Your distaste for them had grown since graduating college. With every friend that got pregnant or hitched, you pushed yourself further into a hole of self-loathing and doubt. 

Unfortunately, this is one particular wedding that you had to be at. Your best friend stood at the alter with a small tear running down his face. You couldn’t help but scoff, he was marrying a woman after meeting her 8 months ago. Something about him knowing that they were soul mates or some other bullshit that you didn’t believe. 

“Jesus christ. . .” you muttered under your breath as the wedding march began playing. You put on a smile, standing up and turning back to look at the woman in a traditional white dress. Her hair was curled perfectly and cascaded down her back in a waterfall. She was perfect, it was no wonder that Bucky was so into her. 

When she reached the front of the alter, Bucky sighed with content. “Hi James.” You heard her whisper. 

God. . . nobody calls him James. Who the fuck does she think she is?

“Hi Jess.” He responded, his smile just as wide as hers. The crowd laughed, Bucky leaning back and fanning his face as he looked over her in the dress. You rolled your eyes. 

“We are gathered here today. . .” and here was the part where your brain shut off. You looked anxiously at your hands, playing with the ring on your thumb while you felt the pit of your stomach drop. 

He looked at her with so much. . . comfort. Like she was her home. You couldn’t help but think back to when at one point you hoped that he looked at you like that one day. 

It was pathetic. Of course you were in love with your best friend, what kind of cliche are you? He wanted you to be one of her bridesmaids, he said he wanted you to be a part of the wedding but you had to politely decline. The hurt in his eyes made you nauseous, but you didn’t necessarily get along with Jess. It’s not like you could fake it until you made it in this scenario. 

Of course you didn’t start off the friendship with an attraction to him. It only started when he called you darlin’. Or when he stayed at your apartment one night while you showed him every one of your favorite video games from Mario Bros. all the way to The Last of Us. 

His admiration for modern technology left a childlike wonder on his face for what was to come. His metal arm was the closest thing he had experienced to “super advanced” until he saw the graphics on the PS4. He would tell you stories about the 30s and 40s, and with every word you couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him. 

You wanted to tell him, but you kept putting it off and putting it off until eventually he found a girlfriend. As wrong as it was, you hoped every night that they wouldn’t last. That he was meant for you. Surprised was an understatement when he told you of their engagement. “She proposed to me. . . how weird is that?” 

“And does anyone have an objections to this union?” The priest spoke with a light chuckle laced in his words. You struggled to stop yourself from standing up, from yelling at her while Bucky watched, from running up there and throwing yourself on him, confessing your undying love for him. Life doesn’t work like that though. 

“Okay, James and Jessica. I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest grinned, “you may kiss the bride!” 

You looked away, swallowing while meeting eyes with Steve. He gave you a small empathetic look while you shook your head. You could feel your eyes prick with tears but you didn’t want to give anything away. 

The music played again and they walked down the isle hand in hand. Finally, you were able to walk away. You covered your shoulders and walked towards your car, opening the door and sitting in it. 

You debated turning on your car and driving away. You debated never speaking to Bucky again, starting a new life and wishing him the best in life. You couldn’t throw away your friendship though. 

A sigh left your lip while you wiped away the one tear that managed to slip out. Soon, you heard a knock on your window. 

“Hey darlin’,” Bucky stood on the other side of the slightly fogged glass, causing you to panic and wipe your face of any tears. You put on a smile and opened the car door, “Hey Bucky! That was some ceremony, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah! It was gorgeous, better than I could have imagined.” 

An awkward smile fell on your lips and you looked away with a cough. “Hey, so as much as I would like to stay, I’m not feeling very well so the celebration aspect is gonna have to be saved for another time.” You attempted to grin but you couldn’t quite muster up the energy. 

“Awh,” his face dropped, “but how can I celebrate if I don’t have my best friend with me?” 

“You’ll get there.” You sent a wink his way, before you got into your car and started it, leaving Bucky there with an astonished look on his face as you pulled out of the church parking lot. 

Five years had never gone by so quick. 

“Alright Mrs. Willems, we’ll have that ready for you by tomorrow. Thank you so much for your order!” You talked happily into the phone, writing down a cake order and pinning it to the cork board in the back of your bakery. 

After the wedding, you decided it was probably best for you to move on. As much as it hurt to end the friendship, it was better for the both of you. you couldn’t go on in pain. 

It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears but finally you were able to open your dream bakery. Amazingly enough, the business was booming, and you’ve even taken up catering. 

The New York Tribune named it the greatest bakery on the south side of NYC. You’ve had a few Food Network shows feature you and the business started growing. 

As the night closed off, you began counting the till and cleaning. You told the night crew to head home, they’ve been working really hard and you wanted to reward them. 

“130, 140, 150. . .” It was in the middle of counting the till that you heard a small knock on the door. You looked up and moved the glasses on your nose away from your face, walking towards the lock. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry we’re clo-” you looked up and met eyes with a tall, blue-eyed beauty who you hadn’t seen in quite a while. 

“Bucky?” 

“Hey. . . I saw your face in the newspaper.” 

You swallowed your nausea, not knowing what to do. “I- uhm. . .” 

He smiled, something you wished you could have woken up to every morning for the past five years, “I knew you would be able to do it someday.” 

Your hands started to shake and before you could stop, you found yourself opening the door wider and making room for the super soldier to enter the small bakery. He inhaled through his nose, the smells of freshly baked cakes and breads filling his senses. He remembered you playing around with recipes all those years ago, and it wasn’t until he saw your face again that he realized just how much he had been missing you. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “it took a lot of work.” 

His back was still turned to you as he spoke, “Yeah, but you still did it.” 

You studied the curve of his back, and how he had somehow become even more muscular than you remembered. His hair no longer rested above his shoulders, instead it was cut much like the 30s haircut you remember from the photographs. The ends curled at the top, your breath almost catching in your throat. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You questioned, pushing your hair behind your ear while you stepped from foot to foot awkwardly. 

“Yeah. . . I was wondering if you could make a cake from me.” 

Your chest heaved, “Well usually I’ll tell someone to come back during our operating hours, but I’ll make an exception.” You walked behind the counter and pulled out an order form, leaning forward and taking a pen out of your apron. 

“So, what’ll it be Mr. Barnes?” 

“A vanilla cake, decorated with blue and pink frosting,” of course it was a gender reveal cake. You almost scoffed but you held in your annoyance for a moment, you had done plenty of gender reveal cakes before, “Ah, Jess is pregnant! How exciting. Okay, and the filling? Will it be blue or pink?”  

“What? No, no,” Bucky leaned on the other side of the counter, “Strawberry filling, and across the top I want the words, ‘Happy Divorce Day, Cheater!’ Written in black.”

You looked up, your brows furrowed immediately, “You two are getting a divorce?” 

Bucky nodded, his bottom lip being drug in between his teeth, “She, uh, she slept with her co-worker. Has been since before we even got married apparently,” a chuckle left his mouth, “she hates strawberry filling.”

“Oh my god. . . I’m so sorry.” You knew that bitch didn’t know what the fuck she had. Of course she’d fuck it up with Bucky, and she’s gonna hate herself for the rest of her life.

“You know, I always knew that something was off, but I was so blinded by infatuation that I ignored all the red flags.” He spoke, almost as if this isn’t the first time in five years that you two had spoken. Like you never had left in the first place. 

At this point you put the pen down, clasping your hands together in front of you and listening intently. “I don’t think I ever really loved her. I lost five years of my life on her.” 

You nodded, mostly in agreement but you had hoped he took it as a note that you were listening. He paused, his eyes meeting yours for a split second. You loved him. You knew that for sure. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I can’t imagine that.” 

“Yeah, well you know. . . Life goes on.” Bucky grinned, “I’m 100 years old and 5 years doesn’t seem that long at the moment.” 

You smiled back, the first time you had smiled sincerely since he had arrived. “How about you and I go back and make this cake right now.” You suggested, motioning for him to hop over the counter and follow you to the back where the giant mixer sat, cleaned and untouched. 

“Okay, you grab the-” a screech left your mouth as you felt arms around your waist, “Bucky, wait!” 

“(Y/N),” he sat you down on top of the counter, “I didn’t come here for a cake. I came here to ask me something.” 

You smiled, “and what would that be, Mr. Barnes?” 

“Did you like me back then? Ya know, more than a friend?” Bucky said, his arms on either side of your thighs. 

You laughed off your shocked cough, “Bucky what are we, 12?” 

“Answer the question, darlin’.” 

You looked away from his eyes, “I loved you. More than anything else in the world.” 

“Loved?” he questioned. 

“Love.” You sighed in defeat, your cheeks turning red. 

“I’ve always loved you too. I was dumb and stupid for marrying her. I thought you’d never love me and I thought the only thing I could have possibly done was move on.” Bucky lifted your chin up to meet his eyes and softly and slowly, pressed a kiss to your lips. 

Your body froze, almost as if you couldn’t believe what was happening. Without thinking, your hands found themselves at his shoulders, your palms touching his prominent collar bones as your skin burned against his. With one quick motion, you pushed him away. 

Bucky stepped back, shocked as if he didn’t expect that to happen. He wiped his mouth, the expression on his face made you nauseous with guilt. You knew it had to be done though. 

Your blood burned in your veins, you could feel your ears heating up while you took a deep breath, “Did you really think that you could come here out of the blue and do that?” you hopped off of the counter, “because in all honesty, that shit hurt more than it did help. You think I want to be your rebound girl?”

The shock from Bucky’s face was replaced with furrowed brows, “Reboun- what the hell are you talking about? You’re not a rebound?” 

“You came here after filing for divorce! What do you want? Do you want sex? Because I’m not here just for that.” 

Bucky’s mouth fell agape, “What kind of a man do you think I am?” his voice was much louder than before, “Do YOU think it was nice of you to leave me? Ignore my phone calls and emails, for five fucking years? Our friendship ended, with nothing being said to me! I was oblivious! It took Steve three years to tell me you were in love with me and I had assumed at that point you moved on! So tell me, again, why the fuck you think what you did was okay? I was a mess!” 

The nausea became stronger, “I-” 

“No! I’m not going to give you time to explain yourself, I love you too! Did I ever think the feelings were reciprocated? No! Because you did such a good job at not letting a single fucking person know what goes on inside your head,” he poked my forehead, “I thought I knew what was happening, so I moved on. Is that somehow my fault because you never told me you loved me?” 

“Bucky-” 

“So I come here, yes after five years, professing my love for you and what am I met with? Anger?” Bucky paused, as if he was waiting for a response. 

You swallowed, “I didn’t know how to work with my feelings so I figured I’d let them be. Leave you to be happy with your new life.” 

“Jesus christ, (Y/N), let me kiss you! Please!” Bucky almost cried, his eyes watering with frustration while you struggled internally with things you had masked away behind the facade of happiness for so many years. 

You were the one who tried so hard to forget. You knew it was impossible, but pushing your feelings down was the only way that you knew how to cope with the impossible task of forgetting Bucky Barnes. 

Slowly, you took a step towards him and pressed a small kiss on top of his quivering lips. You expected a lack luster response, for Bucky to smile and pull away. However, quickly his hands pulled you closer and he inhaled your scent as if it was the last time he was ever going to see you. 

You couldn’t breath, but you didn’t care. You were finally in Bucky’s arms and this was something you wanted for so many years. 

He lifted you back onto the table and your hands came to his cheeks, your thumb stroking his cheek bone delicately as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. Before you could process what was happening, he laid you down on your back and hopped onto the table, straddling your thighs and slipping his shirt off of his body. 

“Bucky this is unsanitar-” 

“(Y/N), shut the fuck up.” He whispered, a grin on his face while his lips met yours once again. It didn’t take long for you to melt back into his touch, his hips grinding on yours. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long baby. You wouldn’t believe it.” His hardening member pressed into your thigh and you could feel yourself becoming more and more wet by the second. 

Suddenly you felt like your chest was being crushed, you pushed Bucky off and stood up from the table. “I- I need a bed.” 

Bucky’s chest heaved, “What?” 

You grabbed his arm and lead up towards your upstairs apartment, “Fuck me, on a bed.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

You walked up the stairs and felt Bucky’s hands on you the whole time. It didn’t take long for you to start throwing off your clothes and rush to the bedroom. 

Before Bucky could take off his boxers, he took a moment to look over your body. You could feel the sense of euphoria he had, his tears were long gone and were replaced with sweat, and love. 

In a second he was back on top of you, ripping off your panties and kissing his way down your body. A moan left your mouth as his lips wrapped around each nipple, his hand rubbing his finger on your clit. Of course he knew exactly where it was. 

His lips continued trailing down, turning up into a smile as he finally met your heat. 

You couldn’t help but let a more primal moan bubble from your throat. There was nothing hotter than seeing Bucky’s face buried in between your legs. Your hands gripped his hair and pulled, resulting in an even bigger moan from him. 

“I have wanted to taste you,” he took a breath, kissing your thigh, “since I first laid eyes on you.” 

“Then keep doing it.” You motioned for him to continue as you could feel yourself becoming so close. He bit his lip before inserting a finger into your sex, curling it upward while using his tongue to skillfully flick your clit. 

Before you knew it, you felt heat rise up from core and your legs shook from around Bucky’s head. “Ah, fuck!” You yelled, crying out Bucky’s name and grinding your hips harshly. 

Bucky didn’t give you much time to recover, pressing his cock against your sex before inserting it slowly. So slowly it was almost painful. 

Bucky didn’t move for a second, instead soaking in the absolute pleasure that the two of you were receiving after years of repression. His chest collapsed on top of yours, kissing you and biting your lip between his teeth. His hips finally started to move, but he stayed low and as close to you as he possibly could. 

Your nails dug harshly into his back and he thrust into you, the speed picking up. His icy blues bore into yours before his lips kissed your neck.

Way too soon, you felt heat build up in your core again. You tightened around him, pushing him over the edge. He fell on the bed beside you, grabbing you close and holding you tightly as you both came down from a long awaited high. 

“I think, that was the greatest sex I have ever had in my entire life.” Bucky stated, his face red. 

“Ah, not so much stamina for the super soldier, aye?” You teased, noticing how out of breath he was. 

“I’ve never felt anything like that before. I had to hold on from cumming while I was eating you out.” He praised, kissing your forehead. You blushed, never really one to be open about these sorts of things. 

“There’s more where that came from.” You whispered, leaning up and kissing his lips. 

Maybe these last five years were exactly what the two of you needed. Some time apart lead both of you to realize your feelings for each other and inevitably, fate would have you two together. 

Sometimes, all love needs is a little time. 

[chimpukampu]

Time Traveler’s Bug 01

Summary: It was summer when Adrien, an ex-superhero and a widower of three kids, found his wife's unconscious-but-alive body near her grave. How did it happen? What is she doing there? And why does she still have the Ladybug Miraculous?

(or alternatively, Ladybug got hit by an Akuma and transported to the future)

Fatherhood wasn't easy for Adrien.

As a baker, he had to wake up before sunrise to proof his bread - which isn't a problem considering the number of early morning photo shoots he had done when he was young - and to start baking those batches he already prepared a night prior. Once done, he would fill in the display trays with his fresh goodies, check the backroom to double-check the inventory, then wait for his assistants to come in before he could climb upstairs for breakfast.

It was a summer break so he wasn't expecting to see Emma lounging in their dining area.

"Going somewhere with Kara?" he asked as he planted a kiss on his daughter's neatly combed hair.

"With Janice," she corrected with a grunt "And Hanson. I swear I'm just third-wheeling every time we hang out! Worst of all, those two are so oblivious to their own feelings! I'm like, am I living in a coming-of-age slow burn fic?"

He chucked at her gesticulations, then began to pull out some ingredients" You know, when your Maman was around your age, she used to third-wheel your Aunt Alya and - "

"- and Uncle Nino every time they hang out until you came along and it became a double date." she interrupted hotly "Papa, I'm only thirteen years old! I'm nothing like Maman, and I don't - I don't have time on those kinds of stuff!"

The blond turned around then pinched her cheeks lightly with endearment "That's why you're my favorite daughter."

"But I'm your only daughter." she pouted indignantly.

"I know." he winked cheekily "Go get Hugo so I can start making pancakes."

"Oui." Emma drawled, pushing herself away from the table then walked lazily towards her sibling's room. A few minutes later, she emerged with a yawning five-year-old in her arms.

"M'ning, Papa" Hugo greeted groggily as he settled himself on his elevated chair.

"Good morning, my little munchkin." Adrien cooed when his son reached out with a sloppy kiss "Want some pancakes?"

Somehow, that perked him up "I want choco-banana!"

"One order of choco-banana, coming up!" the blond announced happily as he poured in the pancake mixture into the heated pan, then side-eyed his daughter who was fetching the plates "How about you, Em?"

"Probably a choco-banana - "

"Copycat!" Hugo interjected.

"- and a blueberry?"

"Can't say no to my little Princess," Adrien chuckled, tossing some fresh blueberries into the smaller batter.

"Papa! Papa! I want blueberry, too!"

"Now who's the copycat," Emma bopped her little brother's nose much to his chagrin.

"Additional blueberry pancake for the little Prince, coming up!"

Adrien didn't mind indulging their notable increase of appetite. After all, he grew up in a very strict diet, and it was something he didn't want his children to experience.

He was about to flip the last piece when he heard a faint alarm sound coming from the other side of the room.

"Em? Why don't you check Louis and see if he has something to do today?"

"As if you can wake Lou up during an apocalypse." the girl muttered between bites.

Turning the stove off, Adrien approached his eldest son's room, but instead of rapping the door, he yelled dramatically "Oh no! It's ten thirty AM! What am I supposed to do now?"

"Ten thirty AM?!" a panicky voice echoed inside, followed by a loud crash "Oh no! M. Leduc will kill me! I'm late, I'm late, I'm…I'm..."

Adrien didn't hide his snickers when the door swung open, revealing a mop of dark hair with furious green eyes "Papa, you liar! It's just six thirty!"

"Good morning, my sleepy Kitten. Want some pancakes?"

.

.

.

Raising three kids alone wasn't easy for Adrien.

Aside from preventing typical sibling brawls, he had to learn how to give them his undivided attention all at the same time.

"...and that's why Mme. Lavillant chose me to represent the class!"

"That sounds lame, Em," Louis commented, "What do you think, Papa?"

Adrien's fork hovered near his mouth. Huh, what was the topic again?

"Papa, are you listening?"

"Of course, my little Princess. You reported a bully from a different class, and your classmates praised you for your actions, that's why they nominated you as their Class President."

A triumphant huff told him that he guessed it correctly.

"What about this Saturday?" Louis probed.

"What's with Saturday?"

"Papa!"

"Of course, of course, my Kitten! How can we forget your fencing tournament!" Adrien chuckled unabashed when his son pouted indignantly "Papa and Hugo and Emma will gonna be there with a megaphone and a huuuge banner that says 'Excel and Power Pointe!"

"Papa!"

"That's parry-fect, Papa!"

"Em!"

"Don't be a sourpuss, Lou!" Emma replied, wiping her happy tears "It's best to foil your enemy with puns!"

Louis couldn't help but slap his forehead then groaned inwardly when his father and his sister shared a fist bump.

The sound of the doorbell caught everyone's attention.

"I think that's Janice," said Emma as she stood up and kissed Adrien's cheek, followed by Louis who slipped his duffel bag on his shoulder.

"I don't want to be yelled again by M. Leduc," the boy said before his father could ask. "I'll try to be back for the picnic."

"Me too!" Emma added.

"If you say so…" Adrien trailed off when he saw Hugo's mess, then winced when he noticed how his clothes were smothered by milk and maple syrup.

"Gotta go now, Papa!" the two said in unison then looked at the picture frame of Marinette longingly with a smile, "See you later, Maman!"

"Don't forget to buy your Maman her favorite flowers!"

They answered him with a noncommittal hum.

"Those kids..." he shook his head with a wistful sigh, then stared at his wife's beautiful image "They really got your stubborn attitude, you know. And your tardiness."

"Is tardiness bad, Papa?"

"Very bad, Hugo," he replied, eyeing the maple syrup that was about to drip to their carpet "But not as bad as your catastrophe. Why don't you get Rubber Ducky for me so we can take a bath?"

"Oui!"

Hugo immediately hopped from his chair then padded towards the bathroom.

"I don't know about you, Mari, but I know for sure I don't eat like Hugo," he muttered audibly despite knowing that no one will give him a reply.

.

.

.

Being an ex-supermodel and a celebrity wasn't easy for Adrien.

He didn't want to use his fame when he took over Tom and Sabine's Boulangerie Patisserie, but people would still identify him even though he hasn't been in the spotlight for years. His marital status wasn't helpful at rejecting his rabid fans either, in which he, later on, confirmed much to his mortification, that him being a 'Daddy' was more appealing to the public than his 'Eligible Bachelor' status years ago.

He had fired five staffs for incompetence and filed two police blotters of Harassment and Invasion of Privacy before he got Pierre, a laid off pâtissier, and Jules who, at that time, was badly looking for a job. Unlike the others that he interviewed prior, they weren't intimidated by his or his wife's status, so he hired them on the spot.

It was a slow afternoon so Adrien decided to give his assistants a break. He also brought Hugo down to the bakery with a promise of a strawberry tart if he conducts himself properly, in which the young boy agreed, while he manned the cashier.

The interiors were slightly altered compared to what he recalled back when he was in collège, with a bit of woodwork on the display shelves and pieces of furniture that weren't sturdy enough to handle the weight. The aroma of butter and vanilla were still permeating the air just like what he remembered, but with a slight whiff of cocoa coming from the tempered chocolate he was yet to be stored in the fridge.

Tom used to call him his protégé.

When his in-laws were still in Paris, he would handle the front while Sabine does the packaging and Tom on the baking. It was a routine that they find more convenient, though overwhelming at certain times, especially during peak season. But once the rush dwindles down, he would go back to the kitchen to learn more about the Dupain's way of bread.

Or according to his father in law, the whey of bread.

Under his tutelage, he learned more about baking techniques, decorating tips and some recipes that were foreign even to his wife. He was proud of how he barely made mistakes or accidents on his first attempts, and his recreations were always better than his previous students.

And that includes Marinette.

When his wife died and eventually inherited the bakery, he promised Tom and Sabine that he will preserve, as much as possible, all the furniture and fixtures as each piece in the building have sentimental values, but his in-laws only laughed at his mushiness.

"You can sell the bakery if you want," his mother in law told him "Marinette wouldn't mind."

As if Adrien would let go of his wife's beloved home.

"Bonjour! How can I help?" the blond greeted when a lady entered the premise.

"I'd like to get five of your pain au chocolat, a box of macarons," she recited upon reaching the counter, then clicked her tongue as if trying to remember something "And...uh, what's your best seller here?"

He smiled toothily "Aside from our croissants that are very well known in this arrondissement, our chouquettes and petit fours are quite popular too. Our Spinach Quiches are in demand especially for young adults, and our brioche - "

"Uh, are you Adrien Agreste?"

Adrien smiled widely as he tried not to wince or show any signs of discomfort.

"I knew it! I immediately recognized you from my daughter's pull-out magazines! Oh, you have to meet her - she just divorced her second husband so she's pretty much available in the market! She's a very charming lady, and has a pleasing personality…"

This is the main reason why I preferred to stay behind the ovens, the blond sighed dismally as he bagged her orders.

"You're an invalid?!"

He barely listened to the lady's ramblings that he almost missed her reference to his condition.

"Got a problem with that, Madame?" he asked, slipping the fifth pain au chocolat into the pastry bag with a tong.

"Well, you can't walk straight," she pointed out bluntly "Can you even bake?"

"Rest assured Madame that all of the bread and confectioneries that you're seeing in this bakery are made by me." he flashed her his best customer service smile then punched her bill "That's €18.35 in total."

"Any special discounts?"

"We don't offer special discounts."

She was mumbling incoherently as she hands in the payment, but before she could accept her purchase, a tug on her sleeve caught her attention.

"Hey, old bag," said Hugo while sporting his best impassive look "Papa is not an invalid, imbecile."

"Hugo!"

"W-why you…" All the blood in her face has been sucked out as she shrieked, then gave Adrien a deathly glare "This bakery is horrible! Worst customer service ever!"

"But Madame, I'm - "

"I will never, ever, set foot on this atrocious place again and I will rate your business a one-star in Yelp!"

"Madame! I think you forgot your - "

SLAM!

"- pastries."

Adrien winced when the lady stormed outside the door and slammed it shut so hard he thought the glass would shatter on the impact.

After a few beats of silence, he hovered his gaze towards his sheepish son who flinched when their eyes met "Care to explain yourself, Hugo?"

"She called you an invalid," he muttered while worrying his lower lip. "And Maman told me that it's a bad word."

"And you think imbecile isn't?"

Hugo shrugged nonchalantly "Google never said that it's a bad word."

The blond took a sharp intake of breath, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers "Hugo?"

"Oui, Papa?"

"Just...go upstairs and fetch your things, okay? We're leaving now...for the picnic."

"Oui, Papa," was his glum answer.

Adrien waited until his son was gone before he jerked his head towards his two snickering assistants.

"Who among you taught my son how to cuss?!"

"Not me, Boss," said Pierre with a scoff, followed by Jules who simply shook his head "Besides, kids are too smart nowadays."

"You mean, too smart to know how to access blocked sites."

He squeezed his eyes shut much to their amusement "I think I'm having another headache."

.

.

.

Being a widower wasn't easy for Adrien.

His wife has been a constant presence in his life - his first love, his partner in and out of the mask, his best friend...his soulmate.

He couldn't imagine his life without Marinette.

And now that she was gone -

"Papa!" Hugo's annoyed voice broke his reverie "Hurry up or the bus will leave us behind!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming...geez..." he chuckled, picking up their picnic basket "You know that Papa can't walk that fast anymore, remember?"

His youngest might be stubborn, but he was wise enough not to rush ahead like most kids at his age do in public. He was even considerate enough to stay still whenever they travel together, and not even hesitate to say 'excuse me', 'please' and 'thank you' on strangers who helped them along their short journey.

Louis was already waiting for them at their bus stop.

Taking the basket from his father's hand, he explained "M. Leduc allowed me to leave early when I told him about Maman's birthday," then added "Else I will boycott the competition and he'd lose his best fencer."

"You sure have a big ego, Lou."

"Bold of you to assume that I have a big ego," he countered with a sneer "Besides, where do you think I got that gene from?"

Adrien ruffled his eldest son's hair much to his displeasure.

They were about to approach the cemetery gates when they spotted Emma running towards them with a bouquet of pink and red roses.

"I thought I'm going to miss you, guys," she huffed, trying to catch her breath. "You have no idea how many trips I've made just to find Maman's pink roses."

"And here I thought you went to Grasse to buy her flowers."

"Shut up, Lou."

"Hey, hey. Quit fighting, you two," Adrien admonished lightly "We're here to celebrate Maman's birthday, not to hold a wrestling match."

"Oui, Papa."

As the four headed towards their destination, he listened to his kids random banters. Hugo would join in from time to time, sometimes he would ask them about certain words that they were using, and their interactions warmed his heart.

He couldn't help but see his wife's creativity in Emma, her bravery in Louis, and her wits in Hugo. And in their smiles, he could see the woman he knew and loved.

It's as if Marinette never left him alone -

"Papa?"

"Huh?" he blinked, confounded at their curious stares.

"You were spacing out, Papa," Louis added with apprehension "We've been calling your name several times but you're not responding."

"Are you okay, Papa?" asked Hugo.

"Oui, my beloved munchkin," Adrien responded with a smile "I'm - "

Years of superheroing made his instinct reacted towards danger, that he immediately leapt and covered his three children with his body before they could hear the loud crash.

"W - What was that?!" Emma sputtered when the smoke began to disperse.

"I don't know…" her father muttered under his breath, pulling his kids up as he assessed their conditions "Are you three alright?"

They answered him with a nod.

"Okay, now I want you guys to stay here while I - "

"Papa!" Hugo pointed out a spot behind them "There's smoke coming from Maman's!"

"Wha - Louis! Come back here!" Adrien yelled when he saw his son rushed towards the grave, then choked when his daughter hastily followed "Emma! Why you…ugh."

Why are my kids so ridiculously impulsive?

"Didn't I tell you to stay…" he trailed off when the two stopped their tracks, and when he reached them, he immediately noticed a spotted figure sprawling on Marinette's grave.

It has been years since he last seen Ladybug in her pigtails.

She was sporting the same look back when they were collège, with a onesie-styled red tight suit with black spots and a multi-functional yoyo clinging on her side. He recalled how she despised her first costume, and how she was jealous of his because of the pockets.

Now is not the time for reminiscing the past, he scolded himself as he approached the superheroine.

He barely registered the shock that marred on his children's face when he pressed his two fingers on Ladybug's neck, then sighed with great relief when he felt a steady pulse. He tried not to spill any tears when he cradled her gently and examined the scorching marks on her skin.

"Papa?" asked Louis who was also on the verge of tears "Is that...Is that Maman?"

Adrien shook his head, biting his quivering lip to keep his emotions at bay "I'm not sure, Kitten. I'm not so sure…"

But one thing for sure, he thought fervently, that this Ladybug is none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The girl he later on married and became Marinette Agreste.

[peaxchymilk]

Back on track! | Day 4/90

Didn’t write yesterday but long story short, my health was still a little wobbly yet got increasingly better as the day went along! I am all better today. I did slightly overeat yesterday, but I don’t think it was that bad (I didn’t track but was probably slightly over 2000 kcal). No biggie whatsoever. The reason for that was entirely my fault: I made cinnamon buns (I LOVE BAKING).

As they are homemade I could alter the recipe a little bit and make slightly smaller ones, so each is about 220 kcal only! I also didn’t add any glaze/frosting. You can find the recipe here.

DAY 4: 

Woke up at 5.30 am as I had a big day ahead of me. Had a bit of cereal (Nestle wholewheat fitness cereal) with some milk, a cup of tea and one cinnamon bun. I then left to a Safe Driving Centre to complete a safe driving course as it is required of new drivers (I’ve had my license for a year now). This took up my whole day - I came home past 4 pm. Before this I went to the bakery and picked up a sesame covered bun which ended up being my lunch. 

Obviously came home starving so I had 2 meatballs in tomato and pepper sauce that my grandma made with some bread. I also ended up having 2 apricots and a piece of 85% dark Lindt chocolate.

The only workout for today was my 100 butt challenge because I was drained. I had my "dinner" at 5 pm therefore I ended up hungry pretty soon so I finished my day with a banana and some leftover yogurt.

End calories: 1423

[tableandteaspoon]

Chocolate Croissants

Two weeks ago today, I was on the verge of closing a major deal that would transform my company, I was the picture of health, and I had the very definition of a tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend. Life was good. The next day, the deal would be put on pause, I’d stop shipping orders, start exhibiting many painful symptoms associated with COVID-19, and my boyfriend and I would part ways. While I’m keenly aware that all of us are experiencing varying levels of hardship, I think it’s fair to say that my hand was among the weaker of those dealt. What’s that adage about you making plans and God laughing?

As much as I’d like to give in to what Anne Shirley so aptly described as “the depths of despair” by lying in bed all day listening to every emo song in my iTunes collection while licking my wounds, the people I’ve most admired most during this time are the ones strategizing for how we come out of this by taking charge of what our post-Corona future looks like. Due to the fact that I’m not in a position to manifest anything significant to help relieve us from this uncertainty, I’m going to offer you what I do best by teaching you how to make delicious luxe treats for your palate that take little time and make a big impact.

When I kindled the idea to restart this blog by posting on Facebook, many of you asked for recipes that were easy, from the pantry, delicious, and most importantly, looked decadent without much effort. Upon reviewing these requests, I opened my pantry and toyed with the idea of a lemon-based pasta dish. But then realized my freezer held something even better. Trader Joe’s Chocolate Croissants. If you’ve ever tried your hand at croissants, you’ll immediately recognize the extreme amount of effort that goes into making these layered confections. Frankly, I wouldn’t recommend it from an effort/throughput perspective. But I unequivocally would recommend purchasing the frozen version, and then altering it slightly to impress your spouse, roommates, or even just yourself (because they’re that good).

The gist of the frozen delights is to take them out of the freezer, let them rise on a baking sheet overnight (something that feels like an accomplishment in and of itself) and then bake for twenty minutes. If you want to elevate your game, there are myriad options. An egg-wash pre-bake takes them to the next level aesthetically by transforming the dense bread-like dessert into a shiny pastry, dark chocolate shavings produce an other-worldly taste, and finally – but perhaps most importantly – a buttery chocolate bourbon dipping sauce completes the Parisian bakery meets New Orleans fantasy in a way that I can’t even begin to describe.  So – without further ado – here are the instructions you need to create each version of the masterpiece at home. Sending lots of love and gratitude to each of you. xx tt

INGREDIENTS:

Trader Joe’s Frozen Chocolate Croissants

One Egg

One Chocolate Bar

INSTRUCTIONS:

Whisk one egg together and then brush or put a teaspoon of egg wash onto each croissant

Let cool, then grate chocolate on top of each croissant 

CHOCOLATE BOURBON SAUCE

INGREDIENTS: 

2 tbsp salted butter

1/2 half cup half & half

2 tbsp brown sugar

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

1 tsp vanilla

1/4 cup bourbon

INSTRUCTIONS:

Heat butter in a sauce pan

Add half & half, bourbon, and sugar until the mixture begins to bubble lightly

Remove from heat, and add chocolate and vanilla 

Combine until smooth

[furmark6-blog]

The Evolution of K2FC, a.k.a. Kenji's Kimchi Fried Chicken Sandwich

[Photographs: Vicky Wasik, except where noted. Video: Serious Eats Team]

I visited the Serious Eats test kitchen in Brooklyn back in October of 2018 to shoot this video about my Korean fried chicken recipe. The date is relevant because now, over half a year later, the fried chicken I cook in the video bears only a slight resemblance to the one I currently serve at my restaurant, Wursthall.

Nor is it very similar to the one I served four years ago at a strip mall in the San Gabriel Valley, during a pop-up event for my first book tour. Or the one you may have seen me make a couple years ago on Guy's Grocery Games. In fact, I've been playing with some iteration of the concept of a kimchi-brined fried chicken sandwich for many years now, so what you're seeing in this recipe and video are really just a snapshot of a dish that's still evolving. Heck, there are two distinct versions in the video alone!

First things first: Calling it "Korean fried chicken" is a misnomer. Korean fried chicken is an actual, defined thing: chicken fried with an eggshell-crisp coating of cornstarch slurry. I even have a recipe for it.

The recipe I'm talking about today is more like Southern-style fried chicken with Korean flavors. It takes some influence from Nashville hot chicken and fast food chicken sandwiches as well. On the menu at Wursthall, we've been reluctantly calling it "K2FC"—Kenji's Korean fried chicken. I get embarrassed seeing my name printed in the menu like that, but my partner insists.*

* Strangely, it's a secondhand kind of embarrassment. I look at the menu and think, Ooohhh, who's that Kenji guy who decided to name a dish after himself? Yikes.

The very first time I made this sandwich, it was at a friend's house in Jamaica Plain, near Boston. The idea of marinating chicken in kimchi brine had just struck me. I already knew that pickle juice makes a great brine for fried chicken—aside from adding flavor, the high salt content alters the protein structure of the chicken so that it retains more moisture as it cooks, and the acidity has a tenderizing effect. The same should work with kimchi brine.

So we tried it. It was a pretty quick-and-dirty affair—essentially my Five-Ingredient Fried Chicken Sandwiches, made with kimchi in place of pickles—but it was promising.

The next batch was a little more involved, using my buttermilk fried chicken recipe as the base. I brought that version to an event my old boss Ken Oringer was throwing for the 15th anniversary of his restaurant Clio (which has since been taken over by his sashimi bar, Uni), featuring a 20-course tasting menu cooked by alumni of the restaurant. Nineteen of the world's leading chefs, and me with a fried chicken sandwich.

I'd been planning on serving it with a mayo spiked with gochujang (Korean fermented chili paste) on mini Martin's potato rolls, but Alex Talbot, half of the husband-and-wife team behind Curiosity Doughnuts and the seminal blog Ideas in Food, suggested making a dill-pickle mayonnaise instead, so I went with that, and boy, was it delicious. My friend Jamie Bissonnette, the chef at Little Donkey in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and Toro in Boston and New York, was at the dinner and texted me mid-service to proclaim the sandwich "totally craveable." High praise!

I decided to keep working on the sandwich, serving it at a series of pop-ups in New York, Boston, Los Angeles, and San Francisco during my book tour, each time offering a slightly different version.

This rendition features Stella's classic biscuits with black sesame seeds folded into the dough.

By the time I brought it to Serious Eats, this was where we were: chicken thighs brined in kimchi juice, along with buttermilk, eggs, garlic, salt (just enough to account for the added liquid from the buttermilk), and soy sauce (soy sauce contains proteases that can help tenderize meat), as well as ground black pepper and gochugaru, a Korean chili flake that offers a lot of floral aroma and a bit of heat. You can read about more Korean pantry staples right here.

The sauce starts out like a Nashville hot chicken–style hot oil. I combine oil with chilies (more gochugaru), along with black pepper and garlic, then heat it up until it's sizzling and toasty-smelling.

If you want to keep it real simple, this is a good place to stop. The fried chicken dipped in hot chili oil is delicious all on its own.

But I decided to continue by emulsifying that chili oil into a sauce with gochujang, honey, cider vinegar, and a little soy sauce. It comes out with a sweet-hot-vinegary flavor profile—not unlike Buffalo sauce, but with a deeper, toasty chili flavor.

Next, it's time to dredge and fry the chicken. My standard fried chicken dredge is a mixture of flour and cornstarch, along with a dash of baking powder. The cornstarch and baking powder help the chicken to fry up extra light and crisp.

To this base, I add some more gochugaru and black pepper, along with black sesame seeds and garlic powder. (Garlic powder works well in dredges and spice rubs, where fresh garlic is likely to clump or burn.)

The real trick here (and in literally every single one of my fried chicken recipes) is to drizzle some of the liquid brine into the dredge and massage it in with your fingertips, creating little clumps of breading that add texture and surface area to the chicken as it fries.

Some folks like to rest their chicken after dredging and before frying. I find that the flour over-hydrates this way, producing a crust that's a little leathery. Instead, I prefer to fry immediately after dredging.

My frying vessel of choice at home is a flat-bottomed wok. The wide, flared sides make it easy to flip and maneuver the food inside, while also catching spatter before it hits your stove or countertop.

Peanut or soybean oil is excellent for deep-frying, delivering crispy crusts and neutral flavor. Canola or vegetable will work, too, though the chicken won't end up quite as crisp. I aim to keep the oil at 275 to 300°F (135 to 149°C) the whole way through.

Once the chicken is fried, I drain it, brush it with the sauce, and sprinkle it with a spice blend containing gochugaru, black pepper, black sesame seeds, and a touch of sugar.

Serve the chicken on a toasted potato bun, with a smear of kimchi mayonnaise (which is just drained kimchi, chopped and mixed with mayonnaise); plenty of dill pickles; and a pile of shredded cabbage. It's pretty tasty!

Even tastier is the version we made on Stella's biscuits. You can find the basic recipe in her book, BraveTart; here, she tweaked it by folding black sesame seeds into the dough.** For that version, I went extra light on the sauce, omitted the kimchi mayo, and instead added a drizzle of honey.

** Another version of these biscuits involves adding sliced scallions along with the sesame seeds, which you'll hear Stella mention in the video. Her final recipe doesn't include the scallions, but you can go ahead and add a handful if you want.

[Photograph: J. Kenji López-Alt]

Folks who've been to my restaurant know that the dish in this video is pretty strikingly different from the fried chicken and waffles we serve daily. But, in fact, the Wursthall fried chicken was directly inspired by the black sesame biscuit sandwich!

The chicken starts out essentially the same, though we also add some gochujang to the brine. I've written previously about double-frying chicken—that is, frying it, letting it completely cool, then frying a second time before serving—and that's the technique we use here.

The idea is that after the first fry, moisture from the inner layers of breading eventually starts to spread out, causing the whole crust to soften a little. The second fry drives out moisture a second time, leaving you with an extra-crisp crust. We fry our chicken in 225°F (107°C) soybean oil, to an internal temperature of 155°F (68°C), then chill it and re-fry it to order, at 300°F (149°C), until it's crisp.

After coming out of the fry oil, it goes for a dunk in chili oil, which we flavor with gochugaru, black pepper, cumin, garlic, and ginger. Then it gets a heavy dry dusting of gochugaru, black pepper, cumin, salt, and sugar.

Instead of a bun, we make scallion cornbread waffles, a modified version of my brown butter cornbread—we increase the ratio of regular flour to cornmeal a bit, and reduce the amount of fat, for a little more structure—to which we add scallions, cilantro, and black sesame seeds, before baking in a Belgian waffle iron.

To finish the dish, we spread the waffles with kimchi butter (kimchi, butter, and gochujang combined in a food processor); place the chicken on top; drizzle it all with honey; and add a pile of our lacto-fermented dill pickles and a big splash of our house hot sauce (which is simple: Fresno chilies, fermented for two weeks, then blended and adjusted for seasoning).

[Photograph: J. Kenji López-Alt]

All the same basic flavors and techniques are there; they're just rearranged a bit to fit a restaurant menu and production schedule.

So that's the current State of the Fried Chicken, and it's gonna keep changing. We're now discussing changing our current chicken schnitzel sandwich to a pork schnitzel sandwich and adding a spicy fried chicken sandwich to our menu, which will no doubt start with some past version of this one as a jumping-off point.

Since I'm not really one to keep recipes secret, attached to this article you'll find a recipe for the version of the sandwich shown in the video, plus another recipe for Stella's black sesame buttermilk biscuits. For the restaurant version, if you own Ed's book, Serious Eater, you've already got that recipe in your hand as a thank-you gift. If not, you can probably piece it together from my description here—or just wait. Eventually we'll publish the full recipe publicly, too.

This post may contain links to Amazon or other partners; your purchases via these links can benefit Serious Eats. Read more about our affiliate linking policy.

Source: https://www.seriouseats.com/2019/07/kimchi-fried-chicken-sandwich.html

[busbysbakery]

What temperature should I bake bread | Awesome baking tips

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What is the best temperature to bake bread?

The oven temperature for baking bread will affect many features of the breads taste, texture, smell and appearance. So today, I'm going to share what temperature I bake my bread at so you can follow along at home.

The temperature I bake the majority of my bread at is 230C (450F). For some breads I'll turn the oven down to 200-210C (390-410F), halfway through.

This article is going to explain why

Why is oven temperature important?

Alongside the quality of the dough, there are a few ways to adapt it during the baking stage. Bakers can change:

The length of baking time

The oven temperature

The humidity/use of steam in the oven

The power the oven has to return to temperature after opening the door

These all make a difference to the bread, generally, the more intense these factors are, the stronger and darker the crust will be. However, today we are going to focus on the temperature of the oven. 

First off here's a first-hand account of what happens when baking bread at high temperatures.

What happens when baking at high temperature - A case study

In the case of oven temperature, for crusty bread an overly high temperature is not always the best thing:

I worked in a bakery where they would crank the oven up to the max before dropping it down once the bread went in.

Despite dropping the heat, the oven temperature started at 500C (930F)!

It took a while to cool to a more standard baking temperature of 220C (430F) and to be honest, it never really dropped close for the first 10 minutes.

The bread's crust coloured quickly and well, it looked ready to take out really early on. Many of tones of colour on the crust too, it looked nice. The baking time reduced to about 2/3's of a normal bake. The crumb was extra moist as less moisture escaped.

But the crust was never crusty.

I didn’t like it

...It was flimsy...

That’s not good bread. As there was more moisture in the bread, at the end of baking it would rise up into the crust. The crust absorbed the moisture making it soft and not crusty.

The Maillard reaction

The Maillard reaction is actually a combination of reactions which occur as heat is applied to food. These reactions generate colour and flavour. There are many variables that contribute to the amount of colour and how the aroma of the reaction alters the bread. These include the temperature of the heat, the number of sugars and amino acids (protein) available, the ph value and many more. Some areas of the Maillard reaction are still unclear. 

You can check out these two articles which talk about the Maillard process in more detail:

https://bakerpedia.com/processes/maillard-reaction/

https://www.seriouseats.com/2017/04/what-is-maillard-reaction-cooking-science.html (check out the comments at the bottom, some really helpful knowledge there)

The Maillard reaction applies in bread baking as well as cooking other foods. The second of those articles covers the difference between frying steak to gain benefit from the Maillard reaction, as opposed to broiling.

This reaction and caramelisation should not be confused with each other. Caramelisation is created by heating sugar. Caramelisation and the Maillard reaction work separately but can be used in conjunction with another to change properties of bread.

Best baking temperature for bread

The standard bread baking temperature is somewhere between 220C (430F) and 230C (450F). This temperature gives the best combination of all the factors to make a nice coloured bread.

Small breads (like crusty rolls) should be baked at around 220C (430F). As should bread with toppings (e.g. seeds or tiger paste) as they become less appealing after too much colourisation.

Bread baked at high temperature

Bread baked at high temperature take less time to bake. They have an increased rate of the Maillard reaction, generating darker colours. The browning will add flavour to the bread.

Soft bread rolls are baked at high heat, typically 250C (480F). The top heater of the oven is used if the capability is available. The heat quickly caramelises the sugars in the top surface for a thick, coloured crust and a soft, moist crumb.

When baking baguettes the oven should be set to 250C (480F). This helps draw the characteristic butter-like flavour from the flour and makes them crunchy, but soft.

Pizza is baked at 450-500C (850-930F), sometimes higher. This temperature is not achievable in most domestic ovens so wood or gas-fired ovens are usually used. The high temperature draws sweet aromas from the crust whilst leaving the dough interior nice and soft. The bake time for a pizza is generally under a minute in this heat. When making pizza at home with a cooler oven, try adding sweeteners and olive oil to the dough recipe to help speed up the colourisation.

Some Italian breads are baked at high temperatures, especially some of the regional flat or sandwich breads. These breads are moist in the inside and slightly char'd on the surface. The blackened crust perfumes the bread, making the flavour of the bread deliciously deep and aromatic.

Bread baked at low temperature

Low temp baking creates bread with less colouring generated from the oven process. These doughs contain a large amount of fat and sweeteners. This makes the bread crumb moist and lowers the temperature the crust browns through caramelisation.

Brioche is baked at 200C (390F).

Dropping the temperature of the oven midway

Bread that goes into the oven at a high temperature will often have the heat reduced midway through the bake. Sourdough, for example, might go into an oven at 230-250C (450-480F) and the temperature is dropped after 20 minutes to 200C (390F).

Bread baked this way benefits from the early colouration of the crust from the first segment. Whereas the second, cooler period focuses on baking the core of the bread. 

This technique only really works if there isn't another bread to go in straight after it comes out. This happens most of the time in a bakery causing a delay for the oven to reheat.

Best baking temperature for sourdough

The usual bake routine is to preheat the oven to 250C (480F) with a baking stone inside. Once the bread goes in with steam the temperature is going to drop a bit which is fine. Change the oven setting to 230C (450F) and bake for 25 minutes. After this, oven the oven door to release steam (or open the damper if you have one) and drop the heat to 210C (410F). Bake till the bread sounds hollow when tapped. This should take a further 15-20 minutes.

Of course, you can change the temperatures around to suit your oven and your bread. You might want to experiment baking at a higher temperature to start with and drop a little more to 200C (390F). You can also bake at a stead 220C (430F) throughout. They are all perfectly acceptable ways to bake sourdough.

Cold start oven baking

There is a wave of bread bakers out their who do not preheat their oven, they put the bread in a dutch oven, turn the oven on and let it do it's thing. The gradual warmth proofs the bread in a kinda long, powerful, oven spring. Moisture is retained in the dough by keeping the lid on the dutch oven. The moisture replaces the need for additional steam thus allowing the dough to rise. 

A cold start speeds up the final proof time so bread made in this manner will go into the oven underproofed.

It's often argued that bakers get bigger bread using this technique. Although it is very hard to do a direct comparison. Creating the perfect testing environment with the same dough, the tension from shaping it, the temperature of the oven and heat temperature of the baking stone are hard to recreate perfectly.

As the bread baked like this is exposed to cool temperatures from the oven, less Maillard reaction occurs. This leads to bread with a lighter colour.

Users often experience an unpredictable rise also. The cold start technique can be used by beginners to help prove bread higher. Though it is a bit unpredictable for me to recommend. The cold start method is not used in commercial bakeries as the oven does not have enough time to cool between bakes.

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If you are enjoying this guide, please take a moment to follow Busby's Bakery on social media by clicking on the links. If you think other bread bakers can benefit from this site, please share the page with them. It just takes a second and it really helps my motivation to keep writing more articles.

Changing oven temperatures at home

To put into practice some of these tips, its worth using the oven temperature to "fine-tune" a bake. Cranking it down slightly midway through the bake if there is too much colourisation or increasing it to create a more moist crumb. After a bit of experimentation, you should find the best temperature to bake bread for your oven.

The temperatures provided are guides, they may change from oven to oven as some operate more fiercely than others or have their heating elements at different distances from the baking bread. It's always best to follow the recipe you are using for the first bake, then use these tips to make adjustments as you see fit.

If you have not read my article on how adding water to an oven creates oven spring, I really advise you to. Oven temperature works with oven spring to alter the behaviours of bread in the oven.

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[beckypatterson1]

Mmm Mmm Sauce Recipe

Wow!

You guys definitely challenged me with your submissions yesterday!!

Thank you so much for sharing what random ingredients you had in your fridge and pantry. I came up with some pretty great solutions.

A testament the power really is in the sauce :0)

QUICK RECAP: 1) I’m sharing with you my “secret ingredient” to writing recipes and making instant meals from whatever I’ve got: SAUCES. In post #1 I explained how a simple sauce can turn a bunch of random ingredients into a real, satisfying meal. I also showed you how all the best cuisines (i.e. French, Italian) use sauces as a defining characteristic. In post #2 I gave you BASIC MEAL FORMULA (starch + protein + vegetable + sauce) with 10 super simple examples of it in use so you see exactly how it works (woot!) and why sauces are transformative. I’m also giving you five more examples today from your submissions plus my MOTHERLOAD universal sauce recipe that goes with everrrrything.

This is a great opportunity for you to learn “how I do it” and start pulling meals together on your own from whatever you have on hand.

As promised (!!)

This is my MOTHERLOAD “universal” it-goes-with-everything sauce. I usually serve this sauce as a cold salad dressing but I have also used it as a “gravy” (lightly heat it on the stove) for steamed veggies and I’ve mixed it with cooked rice and vegetables for a baked casserole. It’s even magical over a baked potato with peas.

FYI--my omni friends like this sauce so much they practically drink it. 

Mmmmm Mmmm Sauce (makes about ⅓ cup)

¼ cup cold water

¼ cup nutritional yeast

1-2 tbsp Dijon mustard

1 tbsp pure maple syrup

Juice of ½ lemon

1 tbsp miso paste

Combine all ingredients in a blender and whiz until well combined. Chill until serving (it thickens up a bit and gets better with age).

Add more miso for a miso-flavored (Asian-inspired) option, more lemon juice (or lemon zest) for a lemony sauce, more Dijon for a tangier variation or vinegar for a punch. You can also substitute tahini (or a nut butter) for the miso and a whole new flavor profile is ready for you to play with. Additionally, you can slightly alter this dressing by adding 1-2 tsp curry powder, 1-2 tsp dried dill (or fresh), toasted sesame seeds, tomato paste, smoked paprika, or any other herbs and spices you like.

When quadrupling this recipe, I add a can of chickpeas or navy beans. Now you’ve got enough to party!!

It really is the MOTHERLOAD sauce :)

As delicious as it is though, my family does tire of it (and barbecue sauce, and marinara, and teriyaki, and all the other simple sauce examples I suggested yesterday).

This is why I have a list of 122 sauces

and 69 oil-free salad dressing recipes

that I call upon to bring my meals together, especially when I haven’t been to the store in a while.

Without that list, I couldn’t write recipes or pull meals together out of my butternut at 6pm. That list/compilation of sauce recipe is my end-all-be-all-food-bible.

I’ve written close to 5,000 recipes at this point in my career and I’m still shocked at how a quick whisk-it-together sauce transforms “random ingredients” into a real, satisfying MEAL.

I could eat beans and rice with a side of broccoli or kale, sure. I get that “food is fuel” and that those healthy things are a meal… but anytime I do that, it feels like I’m missing something…

... Before I know it my head is in the fridge or pantry looking for that missing thing.

WHEN I USE A SAUCE? That doesn’t happen.

If you can relate, I encourage you to start using more sauces and dressings. Take my suggestions, examples, the Mmm Mmm motherload sauce recipe above, and run with them.

The basic meal formula makes it so easy. Plug and play!

If you’re ready for more, or you’ve been thinking,

“I want your list/compilation of oil-free sauces and dressings Lindsay”

I’ve got great news for you.

You’ll have an opportunity to get all of my sauces and dressing recipes tomorrow.

Look for this email because it is a limited offer.

I’m so glad I got to share my knowledge and love of sauces with you! It lights me up to know that you’ve found my meal formula helpful.

Speaking of that, here are the five more examples of the formula. (Thanks again to everyone who submitted their list of random ingredients yesterday)

  1. “Bowtie macaroni, lentils, and Brussels sprouts”

Three good options: Toss all of them with balsamic vinegar or a balsamic vinaigrette (add Dijon for a twist) or with marinara. If you like spicy, mix Sriracha into vegan mayo or yogurt and toss to coast everything for a chilled or slightly warm salad. I recommend roasting the Brussel sprouts if you can. 

  2. “Farro, kidney beans, half a green bell pepper, some celery”

Sounds like a Cajun meal! Saute veg, Add Creole Red Pepper Gravy. 

  3. “Spaghetti, canned green beans, canned carrots.”

I’ve got just the gravy! Dijon Gravy (⅔ cup water, 2T nutritional yeast, 1-2T Dijon, 1-3 tsp Italian seasoning, 1 tsp miso (optional), 2 tsp cornstarch. Whisk together heat over low). Toss canned vegetables in with pasta 1 minute before it’s done to warm. Drain, toss with gravy for a sauce, adding soy or almond milk to thin if desired.

  4. “Udon noodles, tofu, frozen pea-carrot medly.”

That’s definitely a job for Pad Thai Peanut Sauce. 

  5. “Quinoa, black beans, bananas”

Oooh! I get to share one of my secret gems! Have a Belize-inspired meal with my Lime Dressing (3T veg broth, 1-3T white vinegar, juice 1-2 limes, 1-2 tsp maple, ¼ tsp garlic powder and chili powder (or hot sauce), few dashes of cumin, whisk, chill). If you have frozen mango, you could go simpler with my Mango Lime Dressing (blend together 1 cup mango, juice ½ lime, dash ground ginger, Sriracha or other hot sauce if desired).

  6. “Pls tell me how to use chipotle hot sauce. I have most beans, hummus, bread, tortillas, salad, frozen corn, rice, pasta, quinoa.”

That hot sauce is used an a substitute for the paprika and chipotle powder in my Smoky Chipotle Dressing! (1/4c vegan mayo or hummus, ⅛ tsp liquid smoke, dash of smoked paprika, very light dash chipotle powder). Spread on a wrap and add black beans, spinach or salad mix, and tomatoes if you have them).

  7. “Do you have any recipe that uses apricot preserves?”

Sure do! My Instant Sweet and Sour Sauce (¼ c apple cider vinegar, 2 tbsp apricot jam or preserves, dash garlic powder, hot sauce (optional). Toss over roasted cauliflower and shelled edamame or baked cubed tofu. Serve over rice.

If you’re wondering how I knew what sauce to pair with each…

Or you’ve been thinking...

“Your compilation of sauces and oil-free dressing recipes would be great Lindsay, except I don’t know what flavors go with what.”

You will really love what’s coming next.

With each sauce or dressing, I’ve included EXACTLY what beans, lentils (or tofu), vegetables, and grains go well with it, making my Basic Meal Formula foolproof.

Imagine finding a can of kidney beans, looking to see what sauces go with kidney beans, and then getting vegetable and grain suggestions for a full meal to go with it. MAGICAL!!!

A few people have asked if I use oil (I don’t) or weird ingredients like pomegranate molasses (I don’t x2).

I created all of these sauces and dressings out of staple ingredients you have on hand such as herbs, spices, vinegar, almond or soy milk, hot sauce, soy sauce, mustard, etc.

This means you will always have p-l-e-n-t-y of options. They’re also super easy, just whisk together and go!

If you’re ready to transform ordinary ingredients into extraordinary meals…

If you want to be more satisfied at meal time and not looking for that “something else” after…

If you’d like to cook more intuitively and with ease....

And if “minimalist meals” that work sounds perfect right about now…

Don’t miss tomorrow’s email!!!

You will have the opportunity to get my new cookbook, Happy Herbivore Gets Saucy, 191 Oil-Free Vegan Sauces and Salad Dressings, early at a discounted price.

This is your chance to get all of the sauce recipes and dressing recipes I use to write recipes and make meals, plus a list what foods they go with so you can always use the meal formula to make an amazing meal with canned beans, frozen rice, and veggies you’ve got.

If you want my “secret ingredient” a.k.a. my tried-and-true (191!) sauces and dressings, you need to read tomorrow’s email.

Look for this email because it’s a limited offer.

Lastly, I’m so proud of you for seizing this opportunity to learn how to create “minimalist” meals effortlessly and cook more intuitively.

Anytime someone cooks for themselves I feel like we’re winning the war against the evil processed food industry.

Talk soon, Lindsay

from Recipes Blog https://happyherbivore.com/2019/05/mmm-mmm-vegan-sauce-recipe/

[wineanddinosaur]

Mind-Blowing Paella (Wine Spectator)

I thought I knew something about rice. Then I travelled to southeastern Spain.

In early winter, I had lunch at a simple restaurant called Paco Gandía in the hilly wine country of Alicante province. It was a life-altering experience, certainly changing my perspective on the possibilities of rice and the meaning of “paella.”

I didn’t get there by accident. I came for lunch with members of the Gil family of Gil Family Estates—best known for their powerful Cabernet-Monastrell blends from their boutique El Nido winery in Murcia province to the south.

“Rice is my favorite meal,” said Miguel Gil, who compares all paella (both the Valencian word for “pan” and the name for the rice preparations from around the area) to that of his late mother.

Paco Gandía, in the modest town of Pinoso (pop. about 7,500), attracts winemakers from the region and food lovers from across Spain. It was once declared the best paella in the world by Spain’s most famous avant-garde chef, Ferran Adrià of the now-defunct El Bulli. The restaurant serves one humble paella, made with rabbit and snails over a hearth fire fueled by year-old vine cuttings.

Robert Camuto

No shellfish here: Rabbit meat and snails are the Valencian tradition.

This, according to some purists, resembles the original recipe from the Valencia countryside of the 19th century. That was before it migrated to the coast and seafood was added—and before it became bastardized into the modern surf‘n’turf jumble you can find most anywhere in the world today.

“No! No! No!” Gandía said when I mention paella with chicken and shellfish. “That would be like mixing a good wine with soda water.”

Gandía and his wife, Josefa Navarro, who begins preparing her rabbit broth at 5 a.m. every day, have been running the restaurant as a duo for 33 years.

“It is a dish that is poor and elaborate at the same time,” said Gandía, leading me back to the kitchen where Josefa stood guard over a pair of large round pans licked by flames from bushels of vine cuttings. The contents of the pans boiled and sizzled as the air filled with the smell of slightly sweet vine smoke, which flavors the rice.

Robert Camuto

Vine cuttings fuel the hearth.

“If you make the flame too high, you burn the paella,” Gandía explains. “If you put the pan too low, you kill the flames.”

After appetizers like scrambled eggs with blood sausage and liver with onions, Gandía brought out the paella in a large, hot, round pan he set in the middle of the table. We all dug into the thin layer of yellow saffron rice, dotted with snails and pieces of rabbit.

A new one on me, we used paella forks—sturdy, short-tined, half-spoon utensils made for both scooping paella and scraping the crisped layer of rice, called “soccarat,” from the bottom of the pan.

Gandía demonstrated the technique of vigorous paella scraping, then puts a helping of the crust on my plate.

“It’s the best part,” he said.

It was. The crunch of caramelized soccarat, the rustic flavors of rabbit and snails, and the perfume of saffron and vine smoke melded into a pure pastoral feast that paired perfectly with concentrated reds—the more Monastrell the better.

I later checked in with Valencia area culinary star Quique Dacosta, who has perfected a dish of soccarat without the paella—sort of like making bread crust without the loaf—at his signature, 3 Michelin–star, avant-garde restaurant in the Alicante city of Dénia.

At 46, Dacosta has thought a lot about rice: He has written a book on contemporary rice, has four restaurants in Valencia, and is opening a rice restaurant called Arros (rice in Valencian dialect) QD in London this coming May.

“Soccarat is a defect of the paella that has developed into a virtue,” said Dacosta philosophically, before he went into the chemistry of rice, fat, broth and fire.

Robert Camuto

Chef Quique Dacosta at his Valencia restaurant

In the Valencia region, which is famous for its short-grained rices brought there by Arabs in the 8th century and grown for centuries in the Albufera wetlands, “Everyone has a different version of paella—everywhere you go.”

The varied recipes came from a time of scarcity when people used what was at hand to flavor their rice, Dacosta explained. From province to province and town to town, there are debates not only about which cultivar of rice to use and what the essential ingredients are (fresh beans were also a traditional component of the dish) but even about how and when the broth is prepared and when the rice is added.

“Paella is so deep a tradition here that, if you cook the beans in it more or less, someone will argue with you,” he said. “Every day there is a debate on paella—it is a matter of state.”

I don’t know about you, my friends, but rice preparation is my kind of debate.

source https://www.winespectator.com/blogs/show/id/Going-Native-In-Europe-Mind-Blowing-Paella

[archienewling]

Sarah from Room for Tuesday is hosting a Blog Hop Cookie Swap! The participants are linked at the end of the post, and everybody is sharing a different cookie recipe today. There are some great ones, but I’m also enjoying the peek into everybody’s kitchens.

Coffee walnut cookies are so easy to make, which is great because they’re the first thing I’ve baked in our new oven! I think there’s always a bit of an adjustment from one appliance to another, but in our case we jumped from a 100-year-old cast iron antique to the double-oven range of my dreams. That’s a full post of its own for another day though — let’s get to the cookies, shall we?

I love sweets and baked goods, but not when they’re too sugary. These are cookies, but they’re scone-like in taste and texture (and thus can be justified as a perfectly fine breakfast item).

COFFEE WALNUT COOKIES • 1-2/3 cups flour • tsp baking powder • 1/2 tsp salt • 2 tbsp instant espresso powder • 1/4 cup sugar • 1/4 cup light brown sugar • 3/4 cup plus 2 tbsp butter, softened • 2 eggs • 1 cup walnut pieces • optional: chocolate chips

Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt together, set aside. Cream the butter and sugar together. Add eggs, one at a time, then the espresso powder. You can also use instant coffee in a pinch, but the coffee flavor will be far more subtle. Incorporate the flour mixture, then fold in walnuts. These are fantastic with chocolate chips too, either incorporated into the dough or added on top.

I first made these cookies after a recipe by Nigella Lawson, from her 2005 cookbook How to be a Domestic Goddess. I’ve altered the recipe but stay generally true to the original. (Her book is one that I’ve turned to again and again. We’ve made her banana bread too many times to count).

I spoon the dough onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper. I don’t have a great gauge on time and temperature, but do know that these are very forgiving cookies. In our old oven, I would make these at the “warm” temperature (it ranged from warm, to hot, and then very hot) for about 6 minutes. They’re supposed to be baked at 350° for 10-12 minutes but they were done sooner than that in my new oven too. So basically bake them at whatever, check on them, don’t let them burn. Scientific! (Like I said, these forgiving. My baking methods are all skewed from working with the antique range for so long, but these cookies have a high success rate with all kinds of variables.)

I know this looks like the world’s tiniest batch of cookies. I need to buy new baking sheets now that we’re going to bake in an oven that can fit something slightly larger than a postage stamp!

So… first look at the antique stove’s replacement? I wish the lighting were better. I really do! This was a rainy/snowy winter day and I needed the lights on, which makes the photos not as pretty as they could be. I’m not planning a full renovation of the kitchen right now, but obviously the CornuFé is a huge upgrade. I have no shortage of ideas for a full renovation that would of course utilize the new range, but I also have smaller incremental changes in mind that would add up to a perfectly lovely kitchen for years to come.

Anyway! Thanks for stopping by for the coffee walnut cookie recipe! I’d love to hear from you if you make them. And be sure to visit each person linked below for another recipe.

  BLOG HOP COOKIE SWAP   • Making it Lovely • Centered by Design • Bria Hammel Interiors • Place St. Russel • Anita Yokota • Simply Grove • Room for Tuesday • Francois et Moi • Life on Virginia Street • Boxwood Avenue • Coco Kelley • Erin Kestenbaum • Kate Lester Interiors • House of Hipsters • Jojotastic

© 2018, published by Making it Lovely as Coffee Walnut Cookies | No comments | This post may contains affiliate links; I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on my links.

The post Coffee Walnut Cookies appeared first on Making it Lovely.

[thecreativecochrane-blog]

Hello Everyone and welcome back! If you’re new here welcome for the first time, you’re gonna love it!

As you may or may not know, today (April 26th) is National Pretzel Day in the United States. In celebration I am sharing a recipe for some amazing chocolate chip soft pretzels. Therefore, today I won’t be posting a thirty minute meal, as I normally do for “Thirty Minute Thursday” but this recipe can be made super quickly, I’m talking in about an hour.

Now, I’m not sure these are not technically pretzels, but they’re shaped the same, taste pretty much the same and are freakin’ delicious. Also, they’re much easier than actual pretzels, in the sense that there are fewer steps.

To make these I used a dough, thats pretty much a play on homemade pizza dough, so if you’re in a real bin, you could actually probably substitute some pizza dough instead of actually making the dough as well.  However, if you do decide to make your own dough heres the recipe:

You will need:

2 ¼  cups of all purpose flour  + extra for kneading and dusting your surface

1 tablespoon active dry yeast

1 tsp brown sugar

½ teaspoon of salt

2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil

2/3 cup baking soda

1 cup warm water + 8 cups boiling water

¼ – ½ cup mini chocolate chips

1 tablespoon butter-melted

Start by adding your sugar and active dry yeast to the lukewarm water and gently stirring it. The aim here is to activate the yeast , which will help the dough to rise.  Set this aside for approximately 10 minutes, until it develops a layer of foam.

Next, add all the dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl, and stir together until combined.

To the dry ingredients slowly add in the wet ingredients starting with he yeast + water. Mix all of the ingredients together until they are fully combined. A slightly sticky dough will begin to form in the bowl.

Once your mixture begins to form a dough, lightly flour your counter or other surface, as well as  your hands. Turn the dough out onto your floured surface and begin kneading the dough. If it’s slightly too sticky, knead in a little bit more dough and dust your hands lightly with a little bit more flour.

Once you have achieved a dough that is no longer sticky, start incorporating your chocolate chips. Since the warmth from your hands and the dough will begin to melt them slightly, you’ll need to be a little bit strategic about this step. I like to place the chocolate chips in the middle of my slightly flattened dough and then wrap the dough around it and then knead, to try and avoid direct contact with my hands. Avoiding melting is pretty impossible but I think that the streak of chocolate running through the dough look super pretty.

Next, lightly grease a medium sized bowl and place your dough in the bowl, in a warm area to rise for roughly half an hour.  Nearing the end of this half hour wait, beside to preheat your oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

Remove your dough from the bowl and place onto a lightly floured surface. Next,  form your dough into a sort of “flattened ball” shape and divide it into 8 relatively even sections. Of course you could divide it into more or less sections depending on how big you want your finished pretzels to be. However, I find that 8 pretzels gives me a nice sized pretzel for a snack, but now so big that if i wanted two I wouldn’t feel too guilty…

Next, work with one section at a time and roll it into a long tube shape. How long to thin you make your tubes will essentially determine the thickness of your pretzel and how large of a “gap” is present within your pretzel shape.

Traditionally, when making pretzels the formed pretzels are actually soaked in water boiled with baking soda. This alters the chemical pH of the dough allowing it to brown faster on the outside giving the finished product that trademark brown shiny outer crust and soft interior. By all means, you could completely skip this step but your result will be slightly more on the bread-side than the pretzel side.

To boil your pretzels, simply bring 8 cups of water and 2/3 cups of baking soda to a boil in a large pot, gently place your formed pretzel shapes into the pot individually and allow them to boil for 30 seconds. Remove your pretzels with a slotted spoon and gently shake off any extra liquid.

After boiling (if you chose to do so) transfer your pretzels to a greased backing sheet or a baking sheet with a silicone mat lay out your tube of dough into the shape of a pretzel. Ive mentioned these many, many times on my blog thus far but they’re freaking amazing. They minimize cleanup and prevent pretty much everything from sticking to the pan.

Bake for 10-15 minutes, depending on how chewy or crunchy you’d prefer your pretzel. I normally take them out about a minute after they get that nice golden brown colour to them as you can see below. This way they’re almost the consistency of a dense bun.

Remove your pretzels from the baking sheet and enjoy. One really awesome thing I like doing with these is cutting them in half and buttering them and eating them almost like a bagel. So delicious and goes great with a morning coffee!

Thats all for today guys! I hope you enjoyed todays recipe and have a happy National Pretzel day!

As always, if you’d like to keep up to date with everything that I am posting, use the form at the bottom or right hand side of this page to follow The Creative Cochrane. If you’d like to see more, including behind the scenes and sneak peeks of upcoming posts be sure to check out The Creative Cochrane on Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest and Facebook.

Make even more delicious food by visiting my other recipe posts such as:

  Soft Chocolate Chip Pretzels | National Pretzel Day Hello Everyone and welcome back! If you're new here welcome for the first time, you're gonna love it!