#better have my avocados

[1988-fiend]

YYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

NOW THAT IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!!!

YES WAR IS OVERRRR

[lucalicatteart]

A few silly little small sculptures that I made with some of the leftover clay from the main one I did recently

[wizardnuke]

does anyone know if we have to roll that rock up the hill again tomorrow

[gideonisms]

incredibly autism take on food. love it. i am also a sensory seeking food autistic. today for dinner i requested something “garlicky and flavorful” ended up with noodles and dumplings

soups can so be flavorful but a lot of the time they’re just not like that out in the world and it’s soooo disappointing. shockingly easy to make though (onions n garlic, veg, crap ton of spices bloomed in the oil, good broth, blend, SALT)

See I would never trash talk a dumpling but once again I think they are vehicles for other flavors. In MY opinion although soups are easy to make most of them just taste like Onions and Chicken Broth to me and I'm like where is the spice where is the intrigue where is the zest for life

[bugs-are-buddies]

the combo of ARFID with pregnancy food averisons/cravings really is a two headed beast because on one hand most all food is bad and awful but on the other hand is equivalent to an orgasm when you get the exact food you crave

[mistress-light]

I'm so happy with my new blender (to help me with my diet). Got my fridge stacked with fruits and veggies to blend.

[deer-trees]

Not to be a bitch but can someone tell me how it is possible that a 5 star rated restaurant on Doordash can cook a burger medium but still manage to burn the outside and leave the entirety of the very thick patty so bone dry that three ketchup packets felt like absolutely nothing, bc I didn't know that was even possible until today......... I am usually not one to dunk on fry cooks ever bc of my time working at a TGI Friday's but also congratulations buddy this is the worst anyone's ever done it!

[bonddogsaint]

I am a craving based lifeform and I approve this message.

However, about vegans and B12:

My vegan flatmate tells me that they simply don't peel or overwash their veggies before they cook them. Their B12 levels have been tested and look great, year after year.

"craving a food means your body needs something that food can offer" now what the fuck does my body need with an ice cream

[medicinemane]

Sometimes with people on youtube it's "upload what I fucking followed you for, not this junk"

And I'm not talking about when they go off on a side project or something, I'm not talking like if you followed someone here for some fandom and now they only talk about The Art of War

Literal example, followed on guy for global economics videos, I don't fucking need positivity videos from you, I definitely don't need videos on how to get rich (mate... I already ain't buying coffee, fancy cars, or whatever the other two things you said were, I literally own my house, I'm only not investing and I still ain't rich... out of touch aussie), and I sure as hell don't need a video about some mr beast challenge

You kinda get what I mean with this of "post the shit I followed you for"?

[swiggityswell]

don't guillotine me but...

[just-a-chill-ranter]

Had the most sexy taco for breakfast yesterday.

[queenerdloser]

okay so i did that tomato poll and now i'm thinking about it and like. why DO we try to talk people out of disliking food? why is this a thing. i can't count the number of times where i'll casually say "oh i don't actually like tomatoes" and some random person will look at me like i've personally kicked them in the face and go "HOW can you NOT LIKE tomatoes???!!!??" idk man! i'm just a human being with taste preferences! like it's such a weird reaction to have.

like! and then people will try to talk me out of my food dislikes by listing stuff they think i should try with it in or listing off all the good things about that food that makes it too good to dislike or s/t and i'm just like. okay i'm glad you love the taste of ripe tomatoes or w/e but it still doesn't change my taste preferences. still doesn't make me like their soggy ass texture. why are you evangelizing this food to me right now!!!! just let me dislike it!!!!

idk it's just really weird. and maybe i'm more sensitive to it bc i had my taste preferences regularly disregarded when i was a kid by parents who thought if i "really tried it" i'd suddenly and mysteriously like it, but it's still weird that we can't just like. accept that some people just don't like foods that we like & move on with our lives.

[sugary-sheep]

tired of anorexic tgirl shit, fat girl fall is coming up and you WILL be eating whether you like it or not. my mission to every trans girl is to gain (at LEAST) 5 pounds before the end of the year. if you can afford to eat three square meals a day, you'd better act like it. high calorie food is your friend!! i love you meat i love you cheese i love you avocado i love you sugar i love you oil. mood too low to make food? eat ice cream!! or cold meat and cheese sandwiches!! cold sandwich texture bad? try the cold cuts on their own!! get peanuts if you like them, they're tasty and good for you and high in protein and fat!! pretzels!! toast!! have cereal for dinner!! spam is really tasty if you crisp it up in a pan!! pickles!! canned beans!! frozen salmon is really easy to cook in a pan (make sure to get out the pin bones). eat it over rice (it can be microwave rice) with storebought teriyaki sauce and you've got a banger fucking meal. cut up some green onion into the bowl with kitchen scissors and you've got vegetables in the meal too!! I've gained 18 pounds since the start of the year and I've never been happier with my body. skeletal twig tgirl season is OVER. it is time to feed yourselves.

[autobahnmp3]

i have a very hectic and random night routine

[ms-demeanor]

Hey also you know that post about getting better at cooking and handling meat and stuff?

Meat is really expensive and it goes bad pretty quickly.

If you're a new cook and you're trying to figure out how to pan-fry something so that it tastes good, might I recommend tofu?

I'm not saying "treat tofu like meat and try to replace all your favorite meat dishes with tofu" (though, I mean, if that sounds good - go for it), I'm saying "it's a lot easier to practice heating a pan and flipping objects in a pan for a meal and seasoning objects in a pan when the objects in the pan cost two dollars instead of ten dollars."

Tofu lasts a lot longer in the fridge than meat does, is easy to season, and you can easily learn how to pan-fry it into a tasty snack (or main course) and only requires a little extra prep. You can also pretend that the tofu is raw meat (the texture isn't dissimilar) and start practicing for things like how to take it out of a package or cut it on a sanitizable surface, etc.

My favorite way to cook tofu is to press extra firm tofu for at least half an hour (you can get a cheap tofu press for around ten dollars, or you can put it between two plates with some books on the top plate - this is that extra prep i was talking about - tofu cooks best if you press the excess water out), then slice a 14oz cake of it into 8 slices. I lay these flat and sprinkle cayenne pepper, mushroom powder, and smoked paprika on all of the slices, then I rub it in and flip the slices and season the other side the same way. I cook it in a frying pan with a thin layer of avocado or olive oil over medium heat, flipping every two minutes until the flat sides start to crisp up a little. Just before the last flip I add about a tablespoon of tamari sauce (you can use soy sauce, I've just got allergies) to the pan, sprinkling it over the tofu so that both sides get a little bit of sauce on them.

I have that with steamed vegetables and with jasmine rice (with two teaspoons of rice wine vinegar per 3 cups of dry rice and 4.5 cups of water). I also make a honey-siracha-mayo sauce that I dip the tofu in.

It's really good. And now I end up eating leftover rice and sauce with fried eggs for lunch at least two days a week and that's also really good.

This has become one of my go-to low spoon foods because it's so easy to make, it's filling, it tastes good to me, and it has become extremely easy for me to keep a stock of tofu in the fridge compared to the effort of keeping un-expired meat in the fridge.

I find that a 14oz pack of tofu feeds two adults for one meal, though I can stretch that to three meals if I'm the only one eating.

It makes a very cheap, filling, easy dinner that I can keep the ingredients around for without too much concern for food waste or anything going bad (the tofu that I get lasts about a month in the fridge and these days I just buy three packs every time I'm at aldi and cycle in new stock - it costs $1.50 per pack)

If you're interested in becoming a better cook, rather than worrying about actual high-risk products like raw chicken that can be seriously dangerous and also cost a fair amount, tofu has a pretty low barrier to entry while also being a good way to learn on a new ingredient that has some similar properties to raw meat.

[kashverse]

Hey! Not 100% sure if your requests are open, but can I get an SMAU of you doing a double take at a random hot guy the boys and you walk past on the street? Crack would be so funny lmaoo! Thanks, love ur work!😆🤭

read till the end to see choso in cosplay (not clickbait)

it was supposed to be a simple grocery run. a peaceful, uneventful, married couple activity. you and nanami were at the organic section—him carefully selecting the perfect tomatoes, you texting him from two feet away about getting more oat milk. normal. civil. domestic.

then it happened.

a man—tall, broad, effortlessly stylish—walked past you with a bulging bag of groceries. your eyes followed him. your head whipped so fast you swore you heard your neck crack. and beside you, nanami stopped mid-reach for an avocado, eyes slowly narrowing. “really?” he muttered, voice dangerously calm. you blinked at him, confused. “what?”

“nothing.” his jaw twitched. nanami kento, mature and self-assured, was obviously not sulking.

but you saw the way his grip on the avocado tightened. saw the micro twitch in his brow. your dear husband thought you were checking out grocery bag man. except you were not. oh, no. this was far worse. you turned to nanami, eyes wide, voice trembling with despair.

“he took the last loaf.”

nanami’s expression barely shifted. “what?”

“the last loaf, kento. the ethically sourced, imported-from-a-french-village, aged-like-fine-wine, vegan-friendly bread you waited weeks for—he has it.”

nanami’s world shattered. his entire soul left his body.

the betrayal, the injustice, the absolute audacity of that man, casually walking out with his bread like he didn’t just ruin two people’s week. you grabbed his arm before he could start forward. “babe, no.”

his fingers twitched, torn between rationality and primal rage. “he doesn’t deserve it,” he whispered, haunted. you spent the rest of the grocery run in silence. nanami didn’t even flinch when the cashier told him the total. he was mourning.

ah, evening walks. a staple of married life. you and geto, hands intertwined, nodding politely at neighbors like you were the wholesome, friendly couple everyone thought you were.  then you saw him. a man striding down the street, his pants fluttering with each step. the most perfect pair of bell-bottoms you had ever seen.

you grabbed geto’s arm, halting mid-walk. your jaw went slack.

“sugu—”

his expression darkened. his fingers tensed around yours.

“so that’s your type?”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“oh, nothing.” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. it was a ‘hmm, my love is a traitor’ smile.

you turned back to bell-bottom man.

“he’s wearing the exact pair you’ve been looking for.”

geto froze. the tension evaporated. he squinted. studied. analyzed.

“…cotton blend,” he murmured.

“definitely imported,” you added. you both stood there. staring. geto’s eyebrows twitched.

“i need to know where he got them.”

“we could follow him.”

“we absolutely could.”

and so, two grown adults—former sorcerers, parents, functioning members of society—spent the next ten minutes covertly (not covertly) stalking a man for the sole purpose of inquiring about his pants.

it was a good day. you and toji had just finished at the butcher, a prime cut of steak nestled in your bag, and toji was already humming about grilling it up with butter. then you saw the officer.

your head whipped around so fast toji felt it. his shoulders tensed. his jaw clenched. a cop? a cop? that’s what you were into? he could deal with gym bros, maybe even pretty boys, but an officer?

…he was gonna have to commit a crime.

toji was seething. fuming. trying so hard not to snarl about how he could handle you better than some uniformed pretty boy. then you leaned into him, tugging his sleeve.

“look at his gun.”

toji blinked. “huh?”

“that’s a customized SIG. high-end, lightweight, reinforced barrel—”

oh.

oh.

toji let out the deepest sigh of his life. his entire soul exhaled. you weren’t ogling some officer’s ass. you were checking out his gun.

for the first time ever, toji felt defeated by an inanimate object.

there were three things gojo satoru could not tolerate:

being ignored

being ignored in public

being ignored in public while you were looking at another man

so when he caught you staring—staring—at some guy while he, the love of your life, stood next to you in all his six-eyed, beautiful glory, he reacted in the only way he knew how. loudly.

“are you actually serious right now?” gojo gasped, clutching his chest. “ogling another man? in front of me? your one true love?”

you didn’t even look at him. you were still staring at sunglasses man, an impressed hum under your breath. gojo clutched your sleeve. “babe, look at me. me."

“he’s wearing chopard.”

the air changed.

gojo stopped breathing. his hand went limp. his pupils shrank. his jaw—previously running at a hundred miles per hour—snapped shut.

“ch-chopard?” his voice cracked. you nodded, grave.

now both of you were wailing.

“we could’ve been him,” gojo cried. “we could’ve been walking around dripping in wealth!”

“he looks so effortless.”

“his life is together.”

you both mourned the lack of chopard in your lives, heads bowed in devastation, like you had just witnessed your futures slipping through your fingers. that night, gojo went home and bought three pairs online.

sukuna had seen it. the way your eyes lingered. the way your gaze flickered over some gym bro’s barely covered pecs like you had just discovered the meaning of life. he crossed his arms, seething. “seriously?” you, completely unaware of your impending doom, glanced at him. “huh?”

“you checked him out.”

you blinked. “no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“read his shirt.”

sukuna’s eye twitched. but fine. he’d play your little game. he begrudgingly looked over, prepared to see some cringe gym brand logo, only to be met with the words:

“I ❤️ MY PARTNER.”

in bold. right across the pecs.

sukuna froze. the world went silent. for once in his entire existence, he felt true, undeniable embarrassment.

“…oh.”

you smacked the back of his head.

the next day, sukuna walked into his gym wearing that exact shirt, except his was customized.

“I ❤️ MY PARTNER MORE THAN YOU LOVE YOURS.”

choso was panicking. he had seen you do it. the double take. the slight pause in your step. the way your eyes lingered on another man. his hands clenched into fists. his heart dropped into his stomach.

his brain? already drafting up worst-case scenarios. his soul? leaving his body. his spirit? crushed.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispered, eyes pleading. you blinked. “what?”

“i saw you looking at him.”

you glanced at the man in question. he was carrying a big shopping bag filled with sanrio plushies.

“…babe.”

choso swallowed. “just tell me now so i can emotionally prepare—”

“babe, i was looking at the plushies.”

choso went silent. the blood drained from his face.

he stared at the bag, then at you.

back at the bag, then at you.

then back at the bag.

“oh,” he whispered. he didn’t sleep that night. he spent hours on his phone.

on valentine’s day you opened the door, expecting something sweet—flowers, chocolates, maybe a heartfelt love letter. instead, you were met with choso.

in a inflatable cinnamoroll costume.

his entire body was swallowed by the plush suit. his face? peeking out of cinnamoroll’s giant, smiling head.

“…choso?”

“do you like it?” he asked, voice muffled through the fabric. you did not know whether to laugh or cry. he shuffled closer, arms outstretched.

“i’m your sanrio plush now.”