#but a medium warm temperature is perfect

[isfjmel-phleg]

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[queenpiranhadon]

𝙰/𝙽: This was actually really cute and really fun to write <33 This is apart of @pretty-sparkle-bomb 's Dynamight GZG event so go check out the other works once they're released!! Here's my masterlist!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): Nothing really, Bakugou experiences a breakup (not with you) pining, coffee shop AU, I don't think reader's gender is specified but it's written with f!reader in mind <3

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): CEO!Bakugou x Barista!Reader

Katsuki Bakugou wasn't a man for sweet things.

That was the first thing you noticed about him when he first came into the coffee shop.

The CEO of the well known company known as Dynamight, he came in to the cafe where you worked regularly with a pretty woman you eventually came to realize was his girlfriend.

They were a nice pair, and though you felt a little guilty for it, you couldn't help but check out the CEO himself. He had gone viral on the internet only a year ago for becoming one of the youngest successful entrepreneurs of all time, launching his spicy food globally. With striking red eyes, spiky hair that looked like it would be soft to the touch (not that you would, even though you really wanted to), and his voice, god his voice, you could go on and on about how husky and gravelly his voice was, deep and commanding, one could immediately tell he was a businessman just from his authoritative tone.

However, he was kind. You could see it in the way he always opened the door for his girlfriend, treating her with the utmost care.

They were the perfect couple.

From what you could tell, he was a man of routine. Because every single day, without fail, he'd order the same exact thing. Two medium iced americanos, one with milk, and one without. It came to the point where you'd always start off your morning by making said two cups before anything else, knowing they'd come by to pick it up anyways.

Until one day, he came alone.

He didn't order anything this time, instead just quietly shuffling into the booth he normally took with such a hollow expression on his face it pained you as well.

You weren't close, you and Bakugou, but seeing his gentle demeanor gone in an instant, replaced with such a cold and hard shell made your heart clench.

It was strange, though you felt fleeting moments of attraction for the man (you'd never overstep boundaries though, respecting his relationship (?) ) and yet, you...cared.

It was strange, you thought, how you frowned and told your coworker to cover for you for a few minutes, and this time, stepping out of the routine you were used to.

It was strange, not making the americano you were used to, now trying something new.

Thinking about Bakugou, and what you noticed of him from the past few months of daily coffee visits, you decided that maybe, just maybe, he needed something new too.

Adding a few ice cubes to make the coffee relent its hot temperature, you put a lid on the cup and walk over to his booth, placing it on his table.

"Here." you say softly. "On the house."

Bakugou looks up at you and blinks, surprised, staring at you as if he was drinking you in for the first time ever.

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to do, internally panicking that you overstepping your boundaries.

"You looked a little, uh...downcast? I figured getting something in your system might make you feel better." You smile gently. "I know it's not what you usually order, but I figured a change of pace might be nice."

Bakugou clears his throat and coughs out a thanks, under his breath. It's not much, but you feel your heart warm all the same.

You watch as he sips it gingerly, eyes widening as he tastes the sweet flavor.

"Is this...caramel?" He murmurs, surprised.

You swallow thickly, nervous. "Yeah, I made a caramel macchiato for you..! ...Do you like it?"

Bakugou smiles, a rare, genuine soft smile, as he clears his throat and takes another sip. "Yeah, s'good...m'not usually one for sweet things, but...I think yer right. Maybe I needed a change of pace."

You smile warmly and look back at your coworker, who's calling you over to help out in the kitchens.

You look back over at the blonde apologetically, his eyes still trained on you, nodding in understanding as you tell him that you're needed elsewhere, but to not hesitate to call you if he needed anything.

As you walk away, you don't notice the red eyes still trained on your retreating form.

Bakugou scolds himself. His girlfriend has dumped him only last night and now he can't get your damn smile out of his head.

When you return from the kitchen, you see Bakugou's booth empty, sans a $50 tip and a card that reads "Call me." with a number on it.

You can't help but feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, trying to tame your flustered face as you quickly pocket the money and card and rush back to your counter, now replaying your interaction with the man over and over in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't a man for sweet things.

But you? You might be the exception.

[kitchenwitchtingss]

WITCHY SAGE BUTTER ROLLS

These things are really like garlic rolls meet cinnamon rolls but with delicious sage butter!

They are perfect if you have a little extra time on your hands, and can be served alone or with a dinner, stew, or any type of soup and it pairs pretty well.

Quite the crowd pleaser ^_^

INGREDIENTS

For the Tangzhong:

2 tablespoons  bread flour

2 tablespoons water

4 tablespoons whole milk

For the Bread:

4 cups Bread flour

4 tbsp sugar

1/3 cup milk

A full packet of Instant Dry Yeast

2 large eggs

Half a stick of Salted butter

Pinch of Salt

For the Egg Wash:

1 large egg

1 tbsp water

For the Sage Butter:

7 tbsp Salted butter

1 tsp garlic salt

2 tsp ground sage

1 tsp thyme

2 cloves minced garlic

DIRECTIONS:

Heat the Tangzhong ingredients over medium heat until they become very thick, about the consistency of a very thick brownie batter. It should be congealed enough so that it doesn't slide off the spatula very easily. This should take no longer than 5 minutes. Let it cool down completely (If you add it in hot, you will risk killing the yeast and the bread will not rise.

(What is Tangzhong?) Its a mixture of flour, milk, water that really steps up your game when it comes to the fluffiness of the rolls. Once you try adding this to your basic breads, you wont go back!

Bloom yeast in warm milk (Put in the microwave for about 15 seconds, it should be lukewarm, not hot. Add Flour, a pinch of salt, and sugar into a stand mixer with the dough hook attachment.

Crack egg and milk into the yeast and with the stand mixer’s dough hook attachment, mix into the flour mixture. Add in Tangzhong. Add butter 1 tablespoon at a time and mix until the dough is elastic. Then mix for another 5 minutes. If the dough looks too dry, add a tablespoon of water, and repeat until smooth. If it is too liquidy, add a couple pinches of flour.

Put the bread dough in a lightly greased medium bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise at room temperature for 2 hours. In the meantime, make your sage butter by beating your salted butter, garlic, and herbs.

Flour the workspace and roll the dough flat to about 1/4 inch thick. Smear all of your butter mixture onto the dough. Roll as you would a cinnamon roll, from the widest side of the rectangle to the other side.

Cover for 2 more hours for them to proof. Then combine egg and water to form your egg wash and brush it onto the rolls briefly before putting it in the oven. Put in the oven at 350 F for 25 minutes or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

[forkfulofflavor]

Coffee Crème Brûlée Ingredients: 2 cups (473ml) heavy cream 1/4 cup (50g) granulated sugar, plus an additional 1/4 cup for topping Pinch of Kosher salt 5 large egg yolks, room temperature 1 Tbsp instant espresso powder 1 Tbsp Kahlua (coffee liqueur) Hot water (for the water bath) Directions: Prepare the Ramekins: Preheat the oven to 300°F (150°C) and position the rack in the center. Place 4 ramekins in a 9×9 baking pan and set a large kettle of water to boil. Warm the Cream Mixture: In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the heavy cream, 1/4 cup sugar, and a pinch of Kosher salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sugar fully dissolves. Incorporate the Egg Yolks: In a large mixing bowl, whisk the egg yolks. Gradually pour in the warm cream mixture, a little at a time, whisking constantly to temper the eggs without cooking them. Add Espresso Flavor: In a small bowl, dissolve the instant espresso powder in Kahlua. Stir this into the cream mixture, then strain the custard through a fine mesh sieve into a measuring cup or bowl with a spout. Bake the Custards: Pour the custard mixture evenly into the ramekins. Fill the baking dish with enough hot water to reach halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Carefully transfer to the oven and bake for 25-35 minutes (up to 40-45 minutes for deeper ramekins) until the custards are just set. The centers should have a slight jiggle when gently shaken. Chill: Remove the ramekins from the water bath and allow them to cool on a wire rack for about 4 hours. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for a minimum of 2 hours, or up to 2 days. Caramelize the Sugar Topping: When ready to serve, sprinkle 1 tablespoon of sugar evenly over each custard, rotating to cover the surface. Using a kitchen torch, melt the sugar until it caramelizes and forms a golden-brown crust. Serve immediately. Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cooking Time: 35 minutes | Chill Time: 2 hours | Total Time: 2 hours 45 minutes Kcal: 310 kcal per serving | Servings: 4 servings Coffee Crème Brûlée is a luxurious dessert that combines the rich, smooth texture of traditional custard with bold espresso notes. The infusion of Kahlua and instant espresso powder brings out a deep, coffee aroma, balancing beautifully with the creaminess of the custard. The final touch is a caramelized sugar crust, creating a satisfying crack with every spoonful. Perfect for special occasions or a touch of everyday indulgence, this dessert will impress any coffee lover. Its unique flavors and elegant presentation make it an ideal choice for entertaining or a cozy night in. Serve with a touch of whipped cream or a dusting of cocoa for added elegance.

[kaijuno]

Street Corn Chicken Rice Bowl

Ingredients:

For the Chicken:

1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons lime juice

2 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

1/2 teaspoon onion powder

Salt and black pepper, to taste

For the Street Corn:

2 cups corn kernels (fresh, frozen, or canned)

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

1 tablespoon sour cream

1 teaspoon lime juice

1/2 teaspoon chili powder

1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika (optional)

1/4 cup cotija cheese or feta, crumbled

Fresh cilantro, chopped

For the Rice:

2 cups cooked white or brown rice

1 tablespoon lime juice

1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped

For Toppings (optional):

Sliced avocado or guacamole

Diced tomatoes

Sliced jalapeños

Extra crumbled cotija cheese

Lime wedges

Directions:

Marinate the Chicken:

In a small bowl, mix the olive oil, lime juice, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper.

Place the chicken in a resealable bag or shallow dish and pour the marinade over. Marinate for at least 30 minutes or up to 4 hours in the refrigerator.

Cook the Chicken:

Preheat a grill or grill pan over medium-high heat.

Grill the chicken for 6-8 minutes per side, until the internal temperature reaches 165°F (75°C).

Let the chicken rest, then slice into thin strips.

Prepare the Street Corn:

If using fresh corn, grill the cobs until charred, then cut off the kernels. For frozen or canned corn, heat in a skillet.

In a bowl, mix mayonnaise, sour cream, lime juice, chili powder, smoked paprika (if using), and cotija cheese. Stir in the warm corn and cilantro until fully coated.

Prepare the Rice:

In a bowl, toss the cooked rice with lime juice and cilantro.

Assemble the Bowls:

Divide the cilantro-lime rice into bowls. Top with sliced chicken and a portion of the street corn.

Add optional toppings like avocado, tomatoes, jalapeños, extra cheese, and lime wedges.

Serve:

Serve warm with extra lime wedges for a fresh squeeze of citrus. Enjoy!

This vibrant and zesty dish is perfect for a fresh, satisfying meal!

[simplyspellbound]

Persian Love Cake for Beltane

This honey syrup soaked cake adorned with rose petals and fragrant with cardamom is the perfect dessert to represent an amorous holiday full of love. While traditional recipes include bannocks and honey cakes, this persian delicacy truly fills the senses and corresponds beautifully with the height of spring. 

You can find the full recipe here from the above photo, but my version is below. 

For the cake: 3/4 cups granulated sugar 1/2 cup canola oil 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom 3 large eggs 1/4 cup milk 1 cup almond meal 1 cup all purpose flour 1.5 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt

For the syrup: 1 cup honey 1 cup granulated sugar 3/4 cup cold water 1/2 teaspoon rose water Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease a 9 inch square pan.

In a large bowl, mix 3/4 cups sugar, canola oil, and eggs, until well combined.

Add the remaining dry ingredients and stir until smooth. Pour into the cake pan and bake 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

While the cake is baking, combine all syrup ingredients into a pot over medium high heat and bring to a boil. Turn down to low heat and simmer 5 - 10 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to sit until cake is out of the oven.

Allow the cake to cool for ten minutes and then slowly pour honey syrup over cake. It will take a moment for the cake to absorb all of the syrup, so if you pour all of it right away it may spill over!

Let cake come to room temperature before cutting. Serve warm or cold! Adorn with chopped pistachios and edible rose petals optionally. 

[heartbranches]

Sopapillas

I went into the tag to look for more sopapillas and all I found was blasphemy. What is all of this cinnamon sugar nonsense?

NO.

THESE ARE SOPAPILLAS

Puffed pillows of love and fried dough. You bite the corner off to put honey in. Or if you're feeling frisky, you can stuff them with chicken or beef or beans and smother that sumbitch with green or red chile. Or put ice cream in there. Sky's the limit.

Here's the recipe for you, for I am a generous Katie.

Equipment

1 cast iron skillet or medium pot

1 spider or strainer to help remove the sopapillas from the oil

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 tablespoon honey

3/4 cup whole milk

Canola oil, peanut oil or lard for frying

Instructions

To Make the Dough:

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Next, create a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the honey and whole milk.

Using a spoon or your hands, mix the dough together until it forms a sticky mass. Cover the bowl with a clean kitchen towel and allow the dough to rest for about 20 minutes.

To Fry the Sopapillas:

I know frying this is a bit of a bummer but I’ll say that with these it’s needed and worth it.In a cast iron skillet (or medium pot), add enough oil so it reaches 3-inches up the sides of the skillet/pot. Heat up your oil to around 300 degrees. (Right before we fry them off, we’ll heat it up even further.)

Lightly flour your work surface and rolling pin. If the dough is at all sticky (it shouldn’t be after it rested) feel free to sprinkle it with a bit of flour so it doesn’t adhere to the surface.

Dump the dough onto the counter and roll the dough into a thin (1/8-inch thick) square. (It doesn’t have to be a perfect square either, just do your best.) Cut the sopapillas into 4 x 3-inch rectangles. Again, the measurements don’t have to be exact, you can definitely eyeball this.

Before you fry them up, be sure to get your honey ready. Line a baking sheet or plate with a few layers of paper towels or clean kitchen towel. Heat the oil up again to 375 degrees F.

Drop the sopapillas in the hot oil, frying two to three at a time, for about a minute, flipping them over at the halfway point. (If they don’t puff up, they’ll still be tasty! But it may mean the dough isn’t rolled thin enough.)

They should be lightly golden brown—not too crispy. Transfer them to the bed of paper towels to drain. Repeat with the remaining sopapillas.

These taste best straight from the fryer to a plate to being consumed but if you want, you can keep the sopapillas warm in an 200 degree pre-heated oven while you fry up the rest.

Serve them alongside some honey and apricot preserves.

Notes

Tips and Tricks:

Test a single sopapilla. I always do a test to make sure the oil is the right temperature. If the first one doesn't puff up, it means it's not rolled thin enough. A simple fix with the rest of them!

[oyesmendes]

pancakes & coffee for two

masterlist

it was the stream of sunlight and the cool sheets of daniel's side of the bed that woke you up. you hadn't opened your eyes, but your hands felt around the bed for the warm body that you craved, and it was no where to be found. frowning, you opened you eyes to be met with the blanket fully covering your body, and his side of the bed empty. its supposed to be winter break, off season, no morning workout commitments, yet the australian was no where to be found in your shared bedroom.

you made your way out of the room, and the sound of clanging of bowls and utensils brought you to the kitchen.

"danny, what are you doing?"

you lean against the wall, arms folded loosely in front of you. he grins at you, whisk in hand as he stirs up some form of liquid in a metal bowl. the metal bowl from your prized kitchen aid, which was bought with your first paycheck, cradled in the arms of your boyfriend.

"morning love, i'm making pancakes." he tells you, shifting his attention back to the ipad that was propped carefully in front of him.

"you- you're making breakfast?" you look at him, wide-eyed. then your eyes scan the room, and the table was absolutely battered - carton of eggs left wide open, flour all over the countertop, chocolate chips, blueberries and bananas laid all across the surface.

"oh don't look so scared honey, i've got things under control."

and when daniel meant he had things under control, he meant spooning the pancake batter straight on to your induction stove.

"DANIEL!" you shouted, but it was too late. at least half the ladle of batter was spreading onto the surface. you ran over quickly, turning the stove off and take the items from his hand.

"use a pan, babe. please." you nodded towards the wall lined with perfectly shaped pans for frying, boiling, grilling - you name it, you had it. there's a sheepish grin on daniel's face as he picked out a medium sized pan, placing it on the induction stove right next to his disaster. you grabbed a wet cloth, wiping the now half cooked batter off the stove.

you rinsed the cloth at the sink, and daniel hugged you from behind,

"m'sorry, just wanted to make breakfast for us."

"its okay danny," you spun around to face him, "how about this? i'll make us the pancakes, and you can make the coffee? i've got some new pods we could try."

although reluctant and sad that you had banished him with a job that pretty much only required the hit of two buttons, daniel agreed to the arrangement. you started preparing the pancakes, while he chose two matching mugs from the cupboards and placed them by the coffee machine.

he took his job seriously, pouring the oatmilk with much precision into the frother, and making sure he got the temperature of the milk just right. you watch as his tongue sticks out with his concentration, pouring the now warm and fluffy milk into the mug.

two shots of espresso, one cube of sugar, and a splash of milk for you.

you return your attention to the stove. its not long before you were flipping multiple pancakes and you must admit, he did a great job with the batter despite the mess. the house was filled with the aroma of sweet, buttery pancakes, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee made you smile. he hands you your mug as you waited for the next batch of pancakes to cook, and you couldn't help but moan when the coffee hits your tongue.

"mmm, this is good danny." he takes the mug back, setting it on the counter so you could get back to the food.

"at least i could get one thing right."

"aw don't say that, you made a perfect batter for the pancakes. its a job well done." you gesture to the stack on the plate. he wraps his arm around your shoulder after you cook the remaining pancakes, and you both just stand there for awhile - admiring the view out of the window overlooking the city.

"just don't take my stove as a hibachi grill again please." you joke. daniel squeezes you closer to him, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"i promise i won't."

"good. now eat up because you're on clean up duty."

a/n: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP IDK WHY I DID THIS!!!! reposting bc i dont show up in the tags???

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[alexander4202]

He/him ftm trans

I regularly go out into the woods at night with my torch, sometimes I smoke some weed so I’m more vulnerable. I’ll lay my coat on the floor, strip completely naked, and lean against the tree with my legs spread wide. My pussy is already soaked so the smell easily wanders around the forest on the wind.

So far, no one’s found me and fucked me. But I still do it every night still in the hopes I’ll be caught. Tonight I decide to lay somewhere different, and by chance I don’t lay my coat down first because it’s soft and mossy. It feels nice against my skin as I spread my legs and feel the cool air on my throbbing t dick. I close my eyes and tilt my head back as a chill runs through my body.

Suddenly, I feel the moss start to move under me. Before I get a chance to investigate it grows rapidly around my torso and ankles and pins me to the ground. I grab at it trying to pull it off me but it catches my wrists and pins them down so I’m spread eagle out on the forest floor. I try to scream but I know I’m way too far in the forest for anyone to hear me.

Vines start coming out of the moss, all different sizes and shapes and thickness. A couple have suckers on the end and they start to explore my body. I know this kind of plant, it grows new plants by using humans as the perfect incubator. The plant monster’s seeds need somewhere warm to germinate, and a humans womb is the perfect temperature. And then when the seeds grow big enough they kill the human and use it for fertiliser. I panic because I don’t want to die, I just wanted to be fucked!

A thick vine goes for my mouth and plunges inside, the end flared up so I can’t get it back out of my mouth. I try biting but the vine is thick and strong and I barely make a dent with my teeth. The vine throbs then starts pumping warm nectar into my mouth, and I have no choice but to swallow what fills my mouth. My head starts to feel fuzzy and my body gets warm. I’m so horny. I need to be fucked right now. My t dick is throbbing and I’m dripping cunt juice out of my pussy. The vine leaves my mouth when it’s deposited the nectar and I stop struggling against the vines and moss.

The moss uncovers my body and the vines wrap around my limbs to lift me into the air and hold me comfortably. I look down and see a vine with a suction cup on the end wander towards my clit, dripping more of the nectar as lube all over my body. It grabs onto my clit, pulling it out of its sheath and starts sucking on it firmly. It’s so wet and warm but so sensitive it’s painful and I scream in pleasure. The vine keeps doing it’s job as more vines start grabbing at my nipples and asscheeks and going towards my mouth.

My legs are pulled wide open and an enormous vine comes out of the ground up towards my dripping cunt. There’s no way it would physically fit without tearing me open, it’s as thick as a tree trunk with a tapered off end. The point gets to my hole first and starts pushing inside slowly. It feels amazing rubbing against my pussy as it slowly forces itself into me. The stretch burns and makes me cum explosively, screaming and thrashing as the suction cup vine keeps sucking on my t dick.

The enormous vine suddenly thrusts the few inches it needs to get the thickness into me. I scream as I feel myself tear open around my pussy hole. I can feel warm blood drip down around my pussy but instead of concerning me it makes me moan with pleasure. The huge vine starts fucking me, the tapered end prodding at my cervix with quite a bit of force.

I feel a medium vine dive into my asshole and start filling my intestines with expanding vines, filling my body and making me scream in ecstasy. The vines holding me up grab me harder as the enormous vine starts fucking me at a brutally fast pace, splattering blood all over my thighs as it wrecks my pussy and slowly batters it’s way into my cervix. The vine fills me up as much as physically possible without ripping my womb open. I scream and cum again, squirting like crazy ass over the fast pumping vine.

I see bowling ball sized seeds travel through the vine on the way to my pussy. There’s 12 all together I count and I dread them going inside me. But part of me loves it and wants the plant to use me as it’s breeding bitch. The vine realises the nectar is losing its effect on me so it shoved a vine into my throat and down to my stomach to pump it directly into me.

The first seed tries to pass into my pussy but takes a while to fit, then it reaches my cervix and can’t stretch it any wider. It tries for what seems like hours, fucking me to try loosen my cervix and let the seeds pass into my womb. When it realises my cervix isn’t budging, the vine takes matters into its own hands and uses a thorned vine to shove into my pussy and up to my cervix. I scream as more blood drips out of my pussy around the huge vine. The thorns slice my cervix open and the first seed rips me the rest of the way to fit.

I’m screaming and cumming non stop now, squirting everywhere and dripping blood and pussy juice all over the forest floor. Every seed passing into me is agony but I endure it because the pleasure is other worldly. I’ve never felt this good in my life. I’m addicted to the nectar and the feeling of being fucked in all holes and used to incubate.

The vine takes care of me for the next 4 weeks while it’s seeds grow inside me, my stomach is insanely distended with seeds but the vines support my stomach. The vines haven’t left my holes yet, all of them keeping me alive and happily fucked so I’ll keep cumming and moaning. The plant plays with my clit in all sorts of ways, sucking, whipping, wanking it off with smaller vines. Then before I go into the labour the plant doesn’t want me to lose focus from birth so it uses a thorn to slice my t dick off completely.

*birthing the seeds in next part*

[mariacallous]

Little did I know growing up that when my family made what we called “tomato rice,” we were actually fixing a dish with a long history. I just knew that my father ate it as a child, and it was simple to make by mixing some tomato sauce into the rice pot, along with water and salt before cooking. Sometimes we also added a box  of defrosted frozen spinach if my mother or I had remembered to take it out the freezer in advance. 

This beloved and seemingly simple dish, like so much food, has a complex history. The Moors introduced rice to Spain in the 8th century, making it part of the cuisine that the Jews shared. In the early 16th century, conquistadores brought the tomato back from the New World to Spain. From there it spread eastward across Europe, reaching the Ottoman Empire and beyond, although when is disputed, ranging from the 16th to the 19th century. 

Since all the modern countries that were part of the Ottoman Empire — including Turkey, Greece and the rest of the Balkans, Lebanon, Iran and Italy – have some form of rice with tomato as part of their cuisine, I’m with those that say the tomato traveled eastward from Spain with the conversos or secret Jews who fled Spain in the 16th and 17th centuries. In fact, when the tomato reached Italy later in the 16th century, one name for it was “the Jew’s apple.”

So it’s no wonder that tomato rice, most often called arroz kon tomat in Ladino, is very much a part of Sephardic cuisines. Jews were welcomed into and thrived in the Ottoman Empire as they fled Spanish persecution beginning in the 14th century and in great numbers following the expulsion in 1492. Stella Cohen, writing about Jewish food from the island of Rhodes in “Stella’s Sephardic Table,” notes that “for the Sephardim in Turkey this pilaf made with ripe fresh tomatoes is also known as arrosito a la Judia (rice the Jewish way).

There are variations, of course, from country to country and family to family. Fresh tomatoes or tomato sauce? If using fresh, are they chopped, crushed or grated? Onions or no onions? Peppers or no peppers? 

Versions of the Italian recipe are made with tomato paste, sauce or crushed fresh tomatoes and might add garlic, bell peppers, fennel seeds and/or capers. A Persian version called “dami gojeh firangi” is made with diced potatoes and turmeric in addition to crushed fresh tomatoes. Turkey’s iconic dish of tomato pilaf is often made with medium or coarse bulgur instead of rice. And then there’s the recipe in Vefa Alexiadis’ “Greek Cooking Kitchen” that uses fresh tomatoes and ketchup, clearly an Americanized version.   

For Aylin Edelman, who grew up in Izmir on Turkey’s western coast, it’s her favorite comfort food. Her mother uses grated fresh tomatoes cooked oil to intensify their flavor before adding the rice.

“It’s a dish that brings back childhood memories of hot summers with juicy tomatoes grown under the Aegean sun. Whenever I go back to Turkey, this is the dish I ask my mother to make.” 

Ninety-year-old Paulette Nehama also has fond memories of the dish they called “summer rice” in her childhood in Volos, Greece. 

“It was most often served cold or at room temperature in late spring, summer and early fall. although my family ate it year-round.”   

In my family, too, tomato rice was always in season, warm in winter but cold or room temperature the rest of the year, making it perfect for summer cookouts and picnics. It’s a dish that makes me feel connected to my family’s Sephardic heritage, with both of my father’s parents coming from the Ottoman Empire. 

Recently I decided to try making an updated version of the dish incorporating roasted tomatoes because I so love them, along with onions and roasted garlic. Instead of the tomato sauce of my childhood, I use tomato paste cooked a bit for richer flavor. I also added cardamom, a popular ingredient in many rice dishes, and thyme for a more complex flavor. In fact, it has so much flavor, I recommend making it with water instead of broth so you can really taste the tomatoes and other ingredients. 

As good as this dish is freshly made, it is delicious leftover and will last in the refrigerator for five or six days, so make the full recipe even if you’re not serving eight people.

[flannel-cladpika]

Hot Cocoa - Human!Sweden x F!Reader

A/N: Wrote this many years ago, but decided to come back to it and touch it up a bit.

TW: Fluff

The sound of wood being cut was the first thing to greet your ears as you opened your eyes. 

You looked out the frost-covered window beside your bed, only to see the familiar tall stature of your blonde housemate out in the mid-calf deep snow, wielding an axe and cutting up logs in only a sweatshirt and thick pants.

You reached for your phone on your bedside table. It was still only 7 in the morning and the current temperature outside was -28 degrees C.

You sighed. "He knows better than to go out without his coat."

You'd known the "Nordics" since childhood, and had grown up in the same neighborhood as them for a few years. Even when they all moved back to their homelands, you all still kept in contact regularly.

When you had decided to moved into an apartment in Sweden, you were welcomed by all your friends with a party and booze, which ended with a very drunk Matthias needing to be cared out the door by Tino and Lukas while Emil and Berwald looked on in a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

However, about a month into your stay, your apartment was flooded due to a plumbing issue, and left you with nowhere to stay for at least a few months. Berwald came to help you pack up everything that could be salvaged, and even offered up his home for you to stay in. You had agreed, thankful for his generosity.

You didn't know that you'd be finding yourself still staying there a year later, since the house was three times the size of your apartment and Berwald had insisted that you stay with him instead of going back to that "run-down place". He had a point. The place was old and there was always something that needed to be fixed.

Even after having stayed with the Swede for over a year, you still worried for his health whenever he went out into the cold underdressed.

So, after climbing out of your comfy nest of blankets and putting on the fluffiest coat in the closet along with your thickest sweatpants and snow boots, grabbed Berwald’s parka and headed out into the snowy wonderland.

“Berwald!” you called as you opened the back door, stepping outside and immediately noticing how the snow came up to your knees.

Said man stilled his axe at the sound of your voice. The male turned to see an image that made him almost chuckle.

There you were, trudging through the deep snow, bundled up in the large white fluffy coat he bought you (which he bought because he thought you looked cute in it), carrying his parka in your arms. You looked like a little snowshoe hare.

However, he soon became worried once he remembered how cold it was, and instead walked towards you to meet you half-way.

You reached up and put the large coat around the Swede’s shoulders, sighing as you did so. “Ber, I know you’re used to the cold, but you’re still human, and you need to stay warm! How many times must I remind you?” you scolded softly, not a trace of malice in your tone.

The man’s eyes softened at your actions, proceeding to put his arms through the sleeves of the winter garment. “Tack.” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

You smiled. "You're welcome. Now, I'm going to head in and go make us something warm. I'll see you inside." 

He nodded and turned back to the pile of yet to be chopped wood.

Stepping through the snow, you made your way back, taking off your coat and snow-covered boots once inside and changing into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt that said 'Let Me Have My Coffee First.' It had been a gift from Berwald, and while it was too big to wear out, you found that it made the perfect sleep-shirt.

You contemplated what to make as you looked through the fridge and cabinets. Having found milk, heavy cream, and chocolate, you decided that hot chocolate was a good option.

Just as you grabbed a medium pot that was hanging, you heard the back door open, letting in a small gust from outside.

You peeked out from the corner of the kitchen to look at the man who'd just come in.

It was a little comical. 

There he was; coat, pants, and boots all caked in snow, and a large arm-full of chopped logs in his hold. His hair and eyelashes still had snow stuck to them too, reminding you that you should’ve brought him his hat too.

You smiled a little before returning to the kitchen, hearing the blonde setting down the wood in the metal firewood holder next to the fireplace in the living room.

"I'm done with the firewood." the man stated aloud in his usual monotone and heading upstairs, likely to change out of his current clothes and into something more comfortable.

"Ok! Just starting on the hot cocoa!" you called from the kitchen, pouring the milk and heavy cream into the pot as you put the heat to medium-low.

After a bit, you heard Berwald come back down the stairs and head into the living room. You heard him opening the flue of the chimney and putting logs into the fireplace as well as the sound of him striking a match.

You smiled at the thought of a nice warm fire to sit by.

You continued to smile as you absentmindedly stirred the milk and cream, making sure the mixture didn't scorch.

After a few minutes of stirring and then adding the chocolate and a bit of cocoa powder to undercut the sweetness, you finally turned the stove off and went to grab two mugs from the cupboard.

Unfortunately, the mugs were on the top shelf and you couldn't quite reach them, though it wasn't without trying.

Suddenly, there was a toned chest pressed against your back and a muscular arm steadied on the counter to the your right while the other reached up and easily grabbed both the handles of the mugs you were hoping to get.

"Here you go." Berwald said, backing up to hand you the cups and look into your eyes as you turned around to face him.

You had to suppress the blush that wanted to creep onto your cheeks from the blonde's close proximity. He wore a pair of black sweatpants that seemed to hang off his hips, and a grey t-shirt that hugged his form just enough that you could make out the faint outlines of his muscular figure.

"Thank you." you said as calmly as you could, turning back to the stove with the mugs.

"No problem. I'll go get some blankets." the male stated, heading off towards the hallway closet.

You let out a small breath of relief before pouring the chocolatey contents of the pot into the two cups and adding some mini marshmallows from the pantry.

You walked into the warm, fire-lit living room with the two mugs in hand. Berwald opened up the large fuzzy blanket he'd grabbed and motioned for you to get under the covers. You carefully sat down next to him on the couch, offering him the mug that said "Viking Life" on it.

The icy-blue-eyed man hummed in satisfaction once he took a sip of the hot beverage, a miniscule smile on his lips.

"It's good." he stated plainly.

"Thanks." you replied, scooting slightly closer.

"(Y/n)?" the man asked, turning toward you .

"Yeah?" you responded turning your head to face the man whom you'd slowly grown to love over the past year.

Just as you faced the blonde, he leaned down and kissed you, catching you off guard. It wasn't forceful or needy, but it wasn't entirely chaste either. It felt like a kiss that you’d give your spouse as you left for work. 

Your cheeks bloomed with a red that would’ve put the Danish flag the shame.

“W-Wha-” you began, before being cut off.

"Jag älskar dig. I want you to marry me." Berwald said without a hint of hesitation or jest.

Your eyes widened as you took in that information. After a few moments however, you began to laugh.

"Is something funny?" Berwald asked, genuinely confused.

You sighed. "Ber, you can't just say you want to marry me when we haven't even dated." you explained.

"Do you love me?" the blonde asked, still straight-faced and no sign of being nervous.

You blushed at the question, but shyly nodded.

"Do you not want to marry me?" he followed up.

The blush on your cheeks only reddened. 

"I never said that." you replied.

"Then what is the problem?" the Swede inquired, seeming not to understand the issue.

"Berwald, we haven't dated or even had any kind of romantic relationship. Wouldn't you say that it's a bit too early for us to get married?" you asked.

The Nordic man pondered your words for a moment. He’d loved you for a long time, and from your reaction to his kiss and your answers to his questions, you felt the same.

"No, I don't. We have lived together for over a year and we've known each other for a lot longer. I love you and you love me, so I don't see any problem." the man stated, as though he wasn't talking about one of the biggest decisions of a person's life.

"I-I, b-but...umm.." you stammered, trying to think up a rebuttal to that statement.

"Well, y-you don't even have a ring for me, so-" you started.

But you were promptly cut off by the man before you fishing into his pajama pants pocket and pulling out a little velvet box. He opened the lid to reveal a modest but beautiful silver ring with a small icy-blue gem in the center.

Your jaw dropped at the realization that he was completely serious about this.

"Will you marry me?" Berwald asks, a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

You sighed with a chuckle. There was just no convincing him, was there?

"I will." you answered with a smile, kissing the man’s chocolate-flavored lips as he put the ring on your finger.

-THE END-

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for a while! I swear I’m not dead! Just been low on motivation and inspiration. This took A LOT of rewriting, as I wrote this many years ago back when I was in high school. I’d say about half of this is rewritten or completely new additions to the original draft.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed!

Translations

* Tack - Thank you

* Jag älskar dig - I love you

[the-hinky-panda]

The Dog: Part III

Mike has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It’s not so much what you said, “Be sure to give me five stars on Uber,” but your reaction after you had said it. He caught the look of abject horror that crossed your face when he opened the backseat door to let Bono out of the car. The fact that you cared enough to be embarrassed by such a bad joke was adorable. 

You are adorable. 

For the first time since his diagnosis, you were the first person that greeted him after a seizure who didn’t have that pinched, worried, pitied look in your eyes. You understood his condition, probably better than he did at the moment. It takes him a moment to acknowledge the feeling that he felt riding home in the car, having a normal conversation with another human being. You didn’t fuss over him or the condition. You didn’t try to make friends with Bono with the high pitched baby talk some strangers have tried. You showed him where to find heat features if he wanted them and left it at that. Everything you did put him at ease. 

He felt comfortable. 

He unlocks the front door and opens it before turning back to see if you’re still there. You are. He gives you a wave, which you return before pulling away from the curb. Bono sits on the edge of the porch, wounded nose sniffing the air as he watches the dark orange Subaru drive off. When it’s out of sight, Bono stands and follows Mike into the house. He stands still while Mike unhooks his harness and leash and hangs them up on the coat rack by the door before he goes into the kitchen. 

Mike rubs his forehead tiredly. “Guess it is about dinner time, huh?” 

But Bono didn’t go into the kitchen to beg for food. He had opened the refrigerator and picked up a bottle of water, bringing it over to Mike. He took it with a sigh.

 “I’m going to have to teach you how to bring me the whiskey instead.” 

Bono’s ears drop slightly and Mike scolds himself. He had been reading through the material that had been given to him on Bono and his training. Tone was very important to a service dog of Bono’s nature and anytime Mike sounded displeased or frustrated, Bono picked up on it, sometimes interpreting it as a correction and not a statement. To make up for the  lapse, Mike opens the water and takes a significant drink before scratching Bono’s head. 

“Good boy. Buen perro (good dog).” 

***

He dreams about the attack again that night. The metallic ring of blades being unsheathed. The whistling of the machete’s through the air. The stinging bite of it as it cuts through clothing and skin. The wet slap of blood being sprayed over the bodega. It becomes so repetitive that there’s a rhythm to it: ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Stop. 

Ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Stop! 

He wakes up once again, hands raised in an effort to shield his face, his neck. Bono is already in his lap, nosing his way into the invisible circle that Mike’s arms, in their defensive position, have created. He brings his arms around the dog, hugging him close. There’s no one here to see him, to see him buried under the emotional rubble of this act of violence. He finds a new rhythm as he runs his fingers through the soft, medium length fur along Bono’s sides. As he focuses on the dog’s heartbeat and the sound of his tail thumping against the down comforter. 

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Stop. 

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Stop. 

Mike lets his head drop, buries his face into the side of Bono’s neck.

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Break. 

***

Of course the next day is beautiful. Sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is a perfect seventy degrees. Mike is sitting on the back steps of his home, drinking a cup of coffee, and throwing a tennis ball for Bono. Buds are starting to appear on the bare branches, birds are starting to fill the warm air with their songs. It literally is the perfect day. Bono trots back over to him, bright eyed, tail lazily swinging from side to side in a sedate show of contentment. 

Mike thinks about you. Your kind eyes, dark red hair, freckles splattered across your nose and cheeks. He can’t stop thinking about you and that grimace of a smile at a poor joke. The delicate cant of your hand as you pointed out the heat features in your car. The sadness that clung to the corners of your eyes and mouth when you spoke the name of your brother. You were alone in this world, just like him. But your isolation wasn’t self-imposed, not like his. 

He made the choice to dedicate his life to bring down Oscar Papa. He knew what he was sacrificing, the normal life with a wife and kids and white picket fence on Long Island. Now he sits in the nuclear fallout of his decisions, searching through the ash for anything worth saving. A house that’s in desperate need of some upgrades. An ex-wife who liked the idea of being a cop’s wife but didn’t like the reality of it. He can’t even purchase a new vintage car to do work on anymore because thanks to the seizure disorder, his driver’s license has been revoked. He’s not exactly a catch for anyone. 

But you won’t leave his mind. He closes his eyes and sees you smile. He takes in a deep breath and feels your hand in his. When he reached out for comfort last night, he had Bono, he was thankful for Bono. But he had wished for a human touch. Someone to put their arms around him, hold him against their heart, and remind him that he survived that attack for a reason. Bono drops the tennis ball, wet and slimy now, from the multiple times it had been in his mouth, at Mike’s feet. On a whim, Mike throws out a question. 

“Do you want to go to the beach?” 

Bono’s ears perk up immediately and he tilts his head to the side. 

Mike sighs. “Beach?” 

Bono spins twice, tail wagging at a faster rate. 

Mike pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app. Looks like he’s going to Orchard Beach today. 

***

You’re more beautiful than he remembers and Mike doesn’t know how that’s possible. 

Your hair is braided, a thick rope of mahogany. You’re wearing a faded Queen shirt, a pair of ripped jeans that are rolled up to your mid-calf to keep the sand on just your skin and not in the folds of the denim. You’re throwing a frisbee for a dog with red and white patches, the dog running at full speed and leaping into the air to snatch the disc, and run it back to you. 

He shouldn’t interrupt you. You’re here on your day off, relaxing and enjoying the time with your dog. He’ll only be invading, stealing away your moments and attention from your beloved pet. He shouldn’t even really be here. 

“Is that Bono?” 

Mike turns to see an older woman with straight iron gray hair and a weathered face. She’s smiling widely, not at him, but at Bono.  She has a young dog herself, outfitted in a “service dog in training” vest. She’s trying to get her dog to sit and stay still while Bono is wagging his tail and dancing from foot to foot. The younger dog settles and the woman waits with folded hands. He realizes with a start that she’s waiting for him to give permission for her to pet Bono. 

“Yeah,” he answers, slackening the leash so Bono can go over to her. “Yeah, this is Bono.” 

She bends down and reaches towards Bono who happily pushes his head into her hand. “That’s my sweet boy. I am so happy to see you again.” She tuts. “What happened to your nose, Bono?” 

Bono’s tail is swinging with enthusiasm, his ears perked up and twitching as her voice rises and falls. He’s listening to her. Mike clears his throat. “He, uh, had a run in with the neighborhood cat.” 

She makes a sympathetic nose and scratches his neck, under his collar. “Well, he always was a curious little boy.” 

“I take it you’re the one who trained him to be a service dog?” 

“There’s a team of us,” she answers, smiling brightly, “but I worked quite a bit with this one. Oh, he was a little love from the beginning. Always wanted to be close to us. Had an innate ability to know who was going through a difficult time. When he was a year old, he went and sat with one of the volunteers with his head on her lap for over an hour. She told us later that she had lost her mother that week. And Bono knew that. You have a special dog.” 

He’s beginning to realize that. “How did Bono come to your training facility?” 

A frown crosses her face. “Poor thing was found in a storm drain with three of his littermates. They were just dumped there, shivering, wet, and dirty. They were named after classic rock singers with one name: Sting, Cher, Selena, and Bono. They were about six weeks old when some teenage girls found them. A couple trainers went over to the shelter and temperament tested them; Bono was the only one that passed so we took him.” She’s quiet for a moment before her sharp blue eyes skate over the scars on his hands, the raised skin that disappears under the fabric of his henley. “You’re the police officer that was attacked by the Bronx gang.” 

Mike nods. “I am.” 

She gives Bono a loving look, swipes her thumbs over his muzzle. “You’ve got a good dog, here. He’ll take good care of you.” 

Mike thinks of last night, of waking up from that nightmare and reaching for Bono. “He already has.” 

“That’s good to hear.” She straightens back up, gives her dog a treat and praises him for sitting quietly. “If you need anything, have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call the training center.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” 

“One last thing,” she leans closer to him to share this secret. “I used to bring him out here to Orchard Beach to train him how to maneuver through a crowd and find seating options. He loves the vanilla ice cream at the end of the boardwalk.” 

Mike laughs slightly. “Good to know.” 

She pats his elbow. “Take care of yourself.” 

He watches her move off down the walkway before turning around and seeing you leaning on the rail that separates the boardwalk from the sand. You have your head resting in the palm of your hand, a contented smile on your pretty face, as you watch him and Bono. Your smile widens when your eyes meet. 

“You came.” 

“I did.” 

“Good.” 

He feels like he takes in the first full breath of air in years. 

You introduce him and Bono to your dog, Shasta. She’s a high energy spaniel about the size of Bono. You describe her as friendly, very sweet, but also quite dumb. She looks incredibly happy though, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and cropped tail wagging. You encourage him to let Bono off the leash so he too can play with your collection of balls and frisbees, but Mike’s unreasonably nervous about it. You pick on his hesitation immediately. 

“Service dogs are trained to stay close to their handlers. Bono isn’t going to run away from you. If anything, you’re going to have to give him a command that tells him it’s okay to venture away from you.” 

He doesn’t trust anyone, hasn’t for a long time. But you’re so different from anyone else that he’s ever met that he finds himself unhooking the leash from Bono’s harness. You hand him a ball and he throws it but it’s Shasta who picks it up, makes three circles around you, before dropping the ball about five feet away from you. You pick up the ball with a groan and hand it to him again. He holds the ball in front of Bono who looks at it and then looks at him. This time when Mike throws it, he gives the command “Go play” and Bono takes off like a rocket after the ball. 

Mike’s never seen him run like this. His backyard isn’t big enough for Bono to gain enough speed for the full body elongation of a gallop. It actually brings a smile to his face to see Bono acting like a genuine dog. You must take note of the drawing realization on his face. 

“You were a police officer, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You go to any bars after work? Or a hard case?” 

His heart stutters slightly, muscle memory of walking into a cop bar once and getting the surprise of his life. He coughs slightly to get his heart back into rhythm. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Well,” you toss a frisbee with an elegant flick of your wrist and both dogs chase after it. “Bono is a working dog. He needs some downtime too.” 

That makes sense. “He seems to enjoy this.” 

You give him a half smile. “Yeah, he does.” 

He’s tired of being alone. He’s tired of living an isolated life. It’s been too long since he’s shared anything with another human being. He’s allowed his whale hunt for Oscar Papa to rob him of anything that could have been seen as an exploitable weakness. Papa is behind bars awaiting trial. Even though he wanted Mike dead, the leader of BX9 seems content with the condemnation of early retirement for Mike. He can start his life again, and what’s more, Mike actually wants to start it again. He picks up one of the balls and throws it for the dogs. 

“You know what else I found out that Bono likes?” he asks you. 

“What?” 

“Vanilla ice cream.” 

Your half grin becomes full fledged. “What a coincidence, that’s Shasta’s favorite too.” 

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 28: Butler Juice (Red)

Butler juice comes in different colors, flavor changing with temperature. This flavor was a long time coming and is perfect for the holiday season. It’s a combination of pomegranate with cranberry and mulled with spices, best served warm. Enjoy plain, or if you want to make it an adult beverage, with spiced rum (or even mull with a sweet red wine). Glass cocktail mugs are perfect to serve it in, even if serving alcohol-free, and is a warm cup of holiday cheer. It’s sweet, spicy, but with the addition of a little tartness.

The recipe is similar to the one I did for orange Butler Juice, with cinnamon sticks, star anise, cloves, a sliced orange and allspice berries, minus the ginger.

BUTLER JUICE (RED):

24 oz plain pomegranate juice (look closely at the bottles to make sure it’s not mixed with another juice flavor)

8-12 oz cranberry juice (or cherry if you’d rather, again, look closely at the bottles)!

3 cinnamon sticks

8 allspice berries

2 small star anise pods

10 whole cloves

1 large, whole sliced orange

Pour in juices in a medium to large pot and add the spices and orange.

Bring to a simmer on medium-low heat, then reduce the heat to low and cover. Let the drink mull together for an hour or two.

Ladle into a cocktail mug and serve, strain the juice into a container to store leftovers.

Enjoy your time off from work or school, and have a happy New Year!

[cactus-buds]

A zesty and tasty BBQ recipe for London Broil with a marinade made with citrus fruits. The meat is grilled to perfection and served with a bright Cilantro Gremolata.

Ingredients: 1 London Broil about 2 pounds. 1/2 cup orange juice. 1/4 cup lime juice. 1/4 cup soy sauce. 2 cloves garlic, minced. 2 teaspoons ground cumin. 2 teaspoons paprika. Salt and pepper to taste. For Cilantro Gremolata:. 1 cup fresh cilantro, finely chopped. 1/4 cup red onion, finely chopped. 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice. 2 tablespoons olive oil. Salt and pepper to taste.

Instructions: Mix orange juice, lime juice, soy sauce, garlic powder, cumin, paprika, salt, and pepper in a bowl. This will make the marinade. Put the London Broil in a big plastic bag that you can close again and again, and pour the marinade over it. Put the bag in the fridge for at least 4 hours or overnight, making sure to squeeze out any extra air before sealing it. Warm up the grill over medium-high heat. Take the London Broil out of the sauce and let it sit for 30 minutes at room temperature. The marinated London Broil should be grilled for 5 to 7 minutes on each side, or until it's done the way you like it. Prepare the Cilantro Gremolata while the London Broil is cooking. In a bowl, mix the chopped cilantro, red onion, lime juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Take a 10-minute break after cooking the London Broil before cutting it across the grain. Put some Cilantro Gremolata on top of the grilled London Broil slices and serve them. Have fun with your London Broil Marinated in Citrus and Cilantro Gremolata!

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cook Time: 15 minutes

Pierre Mercer

[forkfulofflavor]

Pumpkin Chip Banana Bread Ingredients: 3 very ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 1/2 cups) 1 large egg, room temperature 2/3 cup pumpkin puree 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 5 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled 1/3 cup brown sugar 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon sea salt 1 cup dark chocolate chips, divided 1/2–1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (optional) Instructions: Preheat Oven and Prepare Pan: Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a bread pan, or line it with a parchment paper sling that spans the length of the pan and overhangs the edges for easy removal. Mix Wet Ingredients: In a medium bowl, mash the bananas until smooth. Add the egg and whisk together. Stir in the melted butter, vanilla extract, pumpkin puree, and brown sugar until well combined. Combine Dry Ingredients: In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, sea salt, baking soda, baking powder, and pumpkin pie spice (if using). Combine Wet and Dry Ingredients: Pour the dry ingredients into the bowl with the wet ingredients, stirring until just combined. Fold in 3/4 cup of the dark chocolate chips. Add Batter to Pan and Top with Chocolate Chips: Pour the batter into the prepared bread pan, spreading it evenly. Sprinkle the remaining chocolate chips over the top of the batter. Bake the Bread: Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. If the top is browning too quickly, tent a piece of foil loosely over the bread during the last 20 minutes of baking. Cool and Serve: Allow the bread to cool in the pan before slicing. Enjoy warm or at room temperature! Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cooking Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes Calories: 280 kcal | Servings: 8 slices Pumpkin Chip Banana Bread is a delicious fusion of fall flavors that combines the sweetness of ripe bananas with the warm, spiced notes of pumpkin. Dark chocolate chips add a decadent touch, making each slice rich and satisfying. The bread has a moist, soft texture that pairs perfectly with a hint of pumpkin pie spice, adding a cozy twist to traditional banana bread. Ideal for breakfast, an afternoon snack, or dessert, this bread is perfect for cozy autumn days. Serve it warm to let the chocolate chips melt slightly, creating a gooey, indulgent treat. It’s an easy, delightful recipe that’s sure to bring warmth and comfort to your fall season.

[daydreamingyuta]

A Rainy Day with Doyoung

“We could play Jenga again.” You say, unenthusiastically. 

Not because Jenga wasn’t fun, but you and Doyoung had played at least thirty times over the past few days. 

“I just wish it would stop raining.” Doyoung says looking out the window at the rain pouring down. 

“It’s not going to stop today, but it is supposed to slow down in an hour!”

It had been raining for the past three days. You usually loved the rain. It was the perfect weather to stay in and read or watch a movie. But this much rain was starting to get annoying. 

“All I want to do is go for a walk in the park with you, just to get out the house.” Doyoung says, stretching while still looking out the window.

“Well.. since it’s going to stop raining so hard, why don’t we go?” You say, your face brighting up at the idea. 

“Won’t we be wet? and miserable?”

“Not if we bring an umbrella! Didn’t you ever play in the rain when you were little? It will be like that!”

⸻

You two got to the park right at the perfect time. It stopped pouring and now there was just a medium, steady rain. Doyoung holds the umbrella with one hand while the other arm is linked with yours. The temperature feels really nice, a little bit on the colder side but not unbearable. 

As you walk around you noticed that you are the only two at the park. Usually it’s packed with people but because of the weather, it feels like you and Doyoung have your own private park just for the two of you. 

The continuous sound of rain and the occasional birds chirping is so relaxing. Since spring is approaching some flowers have already bloomed. Doyoung took you over to some and while he picked you one, you couldn’t help but admire how pretty the water droplets on the flowers are. 

Doyoung placed a little flower in your hair. He wanted to take a picture of you so he handed you the umbrella while he stood a couple feet in front of you to get the perfect shot. He was getting soaked but he didn’t seem to mind because the way the rain was making his hair flat and stick to his face was making you laugh. And nothing was better to him than hearing your perfect laugh. 

After your walk, you two decided to get some hot coffee. Right near the park was a little cafe. It looked like the only person in the cafe was the shop owner, an older lady wearing the coziest looking sweater with a cat playing with a ball of yarn on it. You two walked in, but the owner scolded Doyoung and told him go back outside because he was still soaking wet and was making a mess on her floor. He apologized profusely and went to wait outside while you got the coffees. 

Once you met him back outside, you two walked some more while drinking your coffees, letting the heat warm your hands up. 

“What do you want to do when we go back home?” Doyoung asks.

“I kinda want to play Jenga again!” 

“No y/n! I always lose.”

“I know, that’s why it’s so much fun for me.”