#but i looked up cherry blossom seeds and came across this one spanning over a mountainside and loaded it up in creative

[nullsgameart]

Cherry Blossom House - Pt. 1

- Minecraft (2011)

- Build by NullsGameArt

[satyr-syd]

Title: roots that twine together Chapter: 5/7 april flowers bring may showers Author/Authors: @satyr-syd Day/Prompt: 5/Spring ~ Health (@bokuakaweek​) Rating: G Warnings: None Side Pairings: None Summary: Akaashi Keiji knows the natural world better than anyone in his village. That is, until Bokuto Koutarou, a boy with mysterious powers over plants, makes him question everything he thought he knew.

Akaashi gets sick and has feelings.

Read on AO3

When spring comes, and the winter winds tire, and the rice seedlings peek out of their pots, Akaashi lies in bed, imprisoned by a fever.

The spring sickness isn’t unfamiliar to him, but he hasn’t experienced it in a long time. This time is different. Before, when he was forced to watch out his window as the children played, he had someone to care for him. When he was younger, and he got sick, his mother used to rub circles on his back and feed him green tea and suguki.

Eyes green like bamboo. Short, fluffy hair like a chick’s down. Hands worn and cracked like the clay they molded, but brimming with the warmth of a kiln.

This time, he’s alone. The house is empty. Besides himself, it’s usually empty, but the emptiness feels as vast as the spanning fields of rice, as endless as the night sky, as lonely as the open ocean.

He hears footsteps in the hallway. Akaashi props himself up on his elbows just in time to see Bokuto walk into his room.

“Akaashi? You don’t look so good,” Bokuto says. And just like that, the emptiness dissipates, and the world feels infinitely small, like this room, with the two of them, is the entire world.

Bokuto insists on taking care of him, and Akaashi doesn’t have enough energy to say no. But even if he did, he wouldn’t refuse Bokuto’s help anyway. Akaashi prefers to be self-sufficient, but he understands the importance of accepting help from others. Right now, he needs help.

And he wouldn’t miss the chance for Bokuto to see this side of Bokuto. He treats him with a kindness and tenderness he usually reserves for the most delicate of plants, wiping the sweat from his forehead, guiding food and water into his mouth, helping him outside to go to the bathroom. He hates how weak he’s become, he hates how he gets in the spring, that Bokuto has to take time out of his training to care for him.

“Just focus on healing, ‘kaashi,” Bokuto tells him. “Until then, I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

The words are a memory come to bite back and a promise for the future. They pierce his heart with the sweet sting of an arrow dipped in nostalgia.

His mother died in the spring.

All of nature around them, springing to life, growing slow, too slowly, while his mother withered away.

The summer before, the worst heat wave the village of Fukuro ever saw crashed upon their crops. The blazing sun stole water from the river, from the canals, from the leagues of rice paddy fields, leaving a dry, cracked bed in its wake. Autumn came. The rice harvest was fruitless; the villagers desperately scavenged the lake of brown stalks, bringing back few barely salvageable parts that could barely feed a family, let alone a village.  Edible roots in the hills and mountains beyond grew few and far between. Animals dropped dead and their flesh rotted when exposed to the sickly atmosphere, before the villagers could use their meat.

The heat took, and it took, sparing no one. They were helpless against the destructive forces of nature. They could fight against animals, against men, but nature was not an opponent they could hope to beat. No war was fought, no weapons were wielded, no blood was shed, but the destruction was violent and merciless, crueler than man could ever be.

Akaashi was eleven. Eleven was old enough to understand the passive horror of dried-up earth. Old enough to witness its destruction and remember. Old enough for a wave of terror to build up inside him, taller as the fields grew shallower, and as the canals began to crack, and as heat hung in the air, bulbous and heavy. That wave grew taller and stronger over time, until it crashed against the shore when he finally understood the consequences of the pitiful harvest.

Winter came. The villagers starved. They rationed what little they had, leaving more for the women and children, but it was never enough. A monster by the name of hunger made a home in his belly. It stomped loudly in his bowels, crashing at the sides, howling morning until night. The other villagers had their monsters, too. Akaashi could see it in their jutting ribs and hollow faces.

The winter was horrible, but with spring in sight, the villagers finally had hope that the monsters who kicked and yelled in their stomach would finally be silenced. In the spring, they planted their crops, and sowed their seeds, and fixed the broken canals, in hope the next harvest would save their lives.

His mother, known for her delicate disposition and sensitive health, succumbed to the power of nature. Her pottery wheel sat untouched - all the clay had dried up in the summer. As winter progressed, her limbs shrunk to sticks, her skin dried and cracked. She shivered in the cold, and kept shivering when the weather began to warm up. Akaashi and his father tried to give her their portions of food, but she refused to eat it, insisting they needed it more. Soon, she stopped eating all together.

Akaashi remembered the night before she died. She hadn’t left her bed in so long, the blankets molded to her skin and her hair seeped into her pillow and she became one with the cot. He knelt by her side, trying to give her water, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - open her cracked lips.

“I’ll take care of you,” Akaashi had told her. “I promise.”

She was too weak to give him more than a small smile.

And the next morning, she was gone.

Nature was cruel. His mother was far from the only casualty of that year’s war with the environment. It was a one-sided battle. In the face of starvation, they were helpless. There was not enough knowledge or supplies or willpower to fight back, so they lost, and lost badly. It was a loss that damaged their spirits. It took years to recover from the physical toll on the land and the emotional toll on their hearts. Yet, even as the fields flooded like they used to, even as the flowers bloomed again, a fear lingered among them. A fear that this would happen again, and they’d once again by powerless.

So Akaashi determined he would learn all he could about nature and plants. An arsenal of facts from which grew a sharp intuition. His knowledge would be a weapon, wielded with the utmost care and cleverness.

And the next time nature chose to take from them, Akaashi would know how to fight back.

Bokuto comes to visit him the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that, until the days blend together in a mix of exhaustion and insomnia and the stickiness of illness. It coats his skin and sticks in his throat and presses against his skull and Akaashi’s pretty sure he’s dying.

“My mother died in the spring,” Akaashi tells Bokuto.

“I know,” Bokuto tells him.

“I don’t want to die, Bokuto-san.”

“You won’t die.”

“Please don’t let me die.”

“I promise, I won’t let you die.”

“You promise?”

“I promise on everything that matters to me.”

The stickiness invades his mind, and everything becomes hazy and slow and a little bit off. Sleep and awake, dreams and reality, blend together until he’s not sure what consciousness feels like anymore.

He lays in bed - is this a bed? Maybe he’s outside, laying under the cherry blossom tree. He can’t tell if he’s covered in a blanket of wool or petals. His hand moves slowly across his chest, but it’s hard to move, like he’s dragging it through mud. Mud - he must be in the fields after all…

Was that a knock at the door? Akaashi wants to sit up to go get it. But his head it too heavy, too heavy to lift, and maybe he could just lay here and sleep.

A figure floats into his room. He tries to call out, to greet the figure, whoever it is, but his mouth doesn’t want to form words right now.

It comes closer and closer until it’s leaning over him.

Eyes green like bamboo. Short, fluffy hair like a chick’s down. Hands worn and cracked like the clay they molded, but brimming with the warmth of a kiln. They run over his forehead, leaving burning trails behind.

“Akaashi? Are you okay?” she asks.

She’s come back, come home to take care of him. It’s alright, his mother is here, she’ll take care of him like she always does. “Mother…?” He reaches out towards her face -

“I, uh, Akaashi, it’s me, Bokuto - are you - ”

His eyelids flutter. No, he’s not at him, he’s in the fields, lying next to Bokuto. He’s frowning, frowning, and Akaashi wants to press his fingers in his cheeks to make his frown go away but his arms are still sleeping, trapped under the blanket.

This isn’t right - his hands are trapped under the blanket, but he never brought the blanket to the cherry tree - and he’d just heard the door knock, so this must be the dream...

He’s looking at his mother again. Her cheeks and hollow, hollow, and her skin in paper thin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t…” he tells her. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“No, silly - I’m the one taking care of you,” she says, with a laugh that sounds like Bokuto’s. Or does Bokuto’s laugh sound like hers?

Akaashi doesn’t know anymore. But all this thinking is making his head pound, and his face is covered in tears and sweat and wet wet wet -

Keiji, Keiji, Keiji…

His mother calls him to the pottery wheel and guides his hands through the wet wet wet clay. He turns to smile her but she isn’t there anymore, she’s left him alone and without her guidance he falls forward, caught onto the pottery wheel. He spins around the wheel until his head rattles, and everything - everything looks dark...

After the night of his delusions, the fever breaks.

Akaashi is sure he’s been through hell and back, even if he doesn’t remember much of the trip.

But Bokuto is there, with soup and a smile and a strong, guiding hand, to ease him back into life on earth.

“Here. I brought you soup. I added some suguki, since you said that helps with fevers. Oh!” Bokuto sets the tray bowl down next to him, and reaches behind him. “And I made you this.”

Bokuto reaches behind him and pulls out a halo of blue. A crown of forget-me-nots.

“Um. I see you looking out the window, and you look so sad. I thought, you probably miss nature, right? Since you’re stuck in here, I thought I’d bring the nature to you...” Bokuto twirls the crown nervously, eyes shifting back and forth. “Kaori taught me how to braid the stems together. It took me a few tries to get it right, but this one turned out perfect, didn’t it?”

“It’s…” Akaashi runs his finger through the petals. They really are nurtured to perfection. The amount of control Bokuto must have exercised to create this is incredible. He’s come so far, these past two and half years. Though he still has lots to learn. “...a little uneven on this side, isn’t it?”

“Akaaasheeeee!”

Bokuto has a power Akaashi desires like nothing else. He can keep things alive, make them grow. If Akaashi had had Bokuto’s powers, he could have saved his village. He could have won the battle against nature. He could have saved his mother.

Akaashi places the crown on his head. The leaves sit lightly in his hair, the overgrown leaves brushing against his ears and tickling the back of his neck.

He notices Bokuto looking at the crown, slightly discontent. He leans forward and tilts the crown a little. “There!” he says. “Now...it’s perfect.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi tells him, meaning it with all his heart.

Akaashi didn’t have Bokuto’s powers. He couldn’t have saved the village. That tragedy was six years ago, and he can’t afford to dwell on it any longer. Right here, right now, the villagers are alive and healthy and thriving. The village has recovered, and they have moved on. The next time disaster strikes - as it always does - they will be prepared. Akaashi is ready to put his knowledge of crops to the test. And with Bokuto by his side, he’s sure they can make it through anything.

There is one thing Akaashi remembers from the past few days. “Do you remember when you said...you said you’d promise of everything that mattered to you that I would live?”

Bokuto nods.

“What did you mean by that? What matters to you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto looks at his fingers in his lap, tapping nervously together. “Um, well...you do,” he says.

Akaashi’s cheeks blush, and it’s not because of his fever. He feels warm down to his toes, yet light as a cloud. It’s a feeling he’s often felt around Bokuto, but hasn’t had a name for until now.

Akaashi gives him a genuine smile. “That’s not very smart, to promise I’ll live on my own life.”

Akaashi sees the words slowly process. Suddenly Bokuto clutches his hair and embarrassment. “Ahhh why do you always have to be right?”

He smirks. “It’s in my nature.”

Akaashi hates the spring. Spring is plagued with bad feelings, bad memories. But maybe, he can build new ones, and he won’t have to hate spring any longer.

[arcisfoodblog]

As part of celebrating me reaching the big 4-0, Chantal took me for lunch at Librije’s Zusje** in Amsterdam.

About the restaurant Librije’s Zusje (literally Librije’s Little Sister) started in 2008 in Zwolle as an offshoot of Jonnie and Thérèse Boer’s much lauded De Librije (which holds 3 Michelin Stars since 2004 and currently #34 in the World’s Top 50 Restaurants of the World).

They ventured out into another restaurant, hotel and a cookery workshop located in a 18th century former women’s prison, a short walk from De Librije. Sidney Schutte, Jonnie’s right hand man at the time, who had been acknowledged as SVH Meesterkok –  the highest degree of culinary proficiency one can achieve in The Netherlands – already in 2006, was the first to head the kitchen of Librije’s Zusje. The restaurant got awarded a first Michelin Star the same year. Schutte left for Asia in 2009, but the second Michelin Star was awarded in 2012.

Chantal and I had been here late 2012 with a special combo package, including an all-in dinner, a room and breakfast the next morning. A lot of the architecture of the prison was kept: the heavy doors of the old cells opened onto a small lobby and a second door giving access to the bedroom and the bars on the windows were still there. It was truly memorable, not just in view of the copious amounts of amuses, food and alcohol, but also in view of the fact that we had a giant hot tub right in the middle of our room, bacon hanging from a clothing line (including mini clothing pegs) at breakfast and the delicious home-made lemongrass infused peanut butter that we got to take home.

Jonnie and Therese were approach by Waldorf Astoria to create a high-end gastronomic restaurant and manage the entire food & beverage concept for its new luxury five-star hotel that would span 6 monumental buildings right on the Amsterdam canals. And so it was that the second sibling of De Librije, also called Librije’s Zusje, saw the light of day on May 1, 2014. The location in Zwolle closed per December 31 of that year to make room for De Librije itself. The restaurant is located entresol on the ground floor of the Waldorf Astoria hotel on the Keizersgracht and has great view on the hotel garden. The interior of the restaurant is in line with the rest of the hotel: classical, elegant and luxurious which you already notice the moment when you set foot in the hotel lobby.

Familiar faces were welcomed back to head up Librije’s Zusje. The Maitre d’ is Sascha Speckemeier. He worked previously at De Librije and other high-end restaurant like La Vie*** in Osnabrück, Palais Coburg** in Vienna and most recently at Ultraviolet by Paul Pairet in Shanghai. Furthermore, Sidney Schutte, after his his stint in Hong Kong among others at Richard Ekkebus’ Amber** and as Executive Chef in The Landmark Mandarin Oriental, returned to become the Executive Chef.

Combining local ingredients with Asian influences and produce, bold flavours and a lot of creativity, Librije’s Zusje really took off as from the start: by the end of 2014 the restaurant was awarded 2 Michelin stars. Quite an astonishing feat only seven months after opening and the first time in the Netherlands that a new restaurant with a new kitchen team was awarded two Michelin stars from scratch. Most recently Schutte was bestowed the Chef of the Year 2017 Award by Gault Millau.

About the Menu: There were two 6-course set lunch menus: one regular menu (EUR 124) and one entirely vegetarian (EUR 112) from which you could choose the number of course you would like.  We decided to go for both entire menus and opted for the accompanying wine pairings (EUR 66 per person). As we wanted to be surprised and declined to have a look at the menus when asked, it also meant that the “damage” only become apparent when we got the bill…

The food: We recalled that back in 2012 we were surprised by the number of amuses and that hadn’t changed. The “parade” seemed almost endless, we actually had to resort to a second glass of the very nice Henriot Blanc de Blancs champagne (which turned out to be a lofty EUR 24,50 per glass).

#1: Tamarillo Sorbet Ice, diced Oyster, Sunflower seeds, all covered in Coffee foam

#2a: This is what you get if you mash-up culinary ingenuity, the Darda-bahns from the 80s and Dreamworks’ Turbo animation movie: Crispy fried Snail with Lemongrass infused Pea purée

#2b: Crispy Puff with Thai Curry and Micro Basil

#3: Various preparation of Shiitake mushroom, Za’atar and cured Whiting Roe

#4: Cracker with creamy Grey Prawns with Smoked Paprika and Enoki Mushrooms. The deep-fried prawn heads were edible too. It really took me back to Thailand, where these were often sprinkled over a Pad Thai.

#5: Crisps made from Oak smoked Peppers, Egg Yolk, Olive and Mexican Tarragon gel

Honorable mention for the spreads that came with the equally excellent homemade sourdough bread: on the left a butter made from smoked goat’s milk and on the right an extra creamy butter made from milk from (Dutch) Jersey cows.

1a: Scallop & Smoked Seaweed | Shiso | Palo Cortado Sherry | Passionfruit Dashi Broth | Cockles | Black Cardamom

1b: King Trumpet Mushroom | Smoked Buttermilk | Dill | Magnolia | Leek

On every table, under a cloche, there was a spongiform object. After the first course our waiter lifted the cloche and doused the “sponge” with a bright orange liquid. Without offering any explanation, the cloche was placed back. Adding to the mystery, this process was repeated after our 3rd course and it was removed from the table after the 5th course…

2a: Carabinero | Short Rib | Roasted Bell Pepper | Ginger | Watermelon | X.O. Crème A caribinero is a Spanish deep water prawn which was thinly sliced and covered the short rib which was slow cooked, pulled, dried and deep-fried for extra crispiness

2b: Crispy Watermelon | Phyllo Pastry | Marinated Tomberries | Horseradish

3a: Cod Loin | Fenugreek | Morels | Carrot | Pecan | Rabbit Kidney

3b: Carrots & Caraway | Flaxseed | Fermented Garlic | Morels | Pear | Green Olive | Smoked Remeker Cheese

4a: Pigeon | Mole | Sesame-Yoghurt | Tomatillo | Pumkin Seed | Daikon | Pecan

4b: Kohlrabi & Grapefruit | White Asparagus | Tulip Bulb | Lavender-Egg Yolk | Walnut | Coconut-Hollandaise

5a: Pan Fried Foie Gras | Red Cabbage | Coconut | Peanut ‘Anchois’ | Coriander

5b: Cacao | Beetroot | Cepes | Blue Cheese

Pre-Dessert: Tremella | Sea Buckthorn | Orange Blossom | Caramelized Butter Ice Cream

Finally, we were explained what this sponge-like object was: a Tremella. It is type of “jelly fungi” which actually is a parasite of other fungi. They come in many sizes (from 5 mm to 150 mm across) and shapes (cushioned, leaf-like or this varietal that is  cephaliform: brain-like, lobed and with folds and ridges). The texture is indeed gelatinous, but with a slight crunch and it does not have much flavour of its own. It did remind me of when I had sesame/soy marinated jellyfish for dinner in Thailand although that texture was more rubber band-like). I was also told that this type of Tremella is also commonly used in Asia for soup bowls as a substitute for flat rice noodles.

7a. Cerisa Cherries & Blue Cheese | Pandan Milk | Celtuce

7b: Taco | Sweetcorn | Popcorn | Butter Ice Cream | Jalapeño | Lime

We could actually relive part of our lunch via the little chocolates that came with our coffee and tea (EUR 9). Each of them mirrored the flavours of dishes that we had earlier that afternoon. Chantal didn’t find the idea of pigeon, scallop, cod and goose liver flavoured bonbons very appealing, but was assured that they were entirely vegetarian and just flavour and spice profiles of the dishes were conveyed. And they did: they were spot on. A very clever conclusion of the lunch!

Left: (clockwise) Tomatillo, Scallop, Pigeon, Cacao, Tremella and Cerisa Cherry. Right: Separately, we got also the Goose Liver one.

Just when we thought that the lunch had come to an end, we got another foamy amuse with tomato dust that we could drink straight out the cup.

On our way out we were said goodbye by Sascha and were presented a mini jar of honey from the beehives they have on the hotel’s rooftops. Overall, the service during our lunch was highly professional and the staff very knowledgeable, friendly and attentive without becoming stuffy or too stiff.

Although the 6 courses and plethora of amuses was enough to skip dinner that night, the dishes themselves were not heavy at all. No dense and creamy sauces, but all very fresh and vibrant instead. It was a true culinary adventure, drawing from both Asian and Mexican cuisines. Due to the bold yet refined and sometimes surprising and contrasting flavours in the food, it was quite a pleasant surprise that the wine pairings worked out very well. The only slight derailment was the overwhelming acidity in Chantal’s Kohlrabi dish, not only overpowering other ingredients but also the wine. However, our absolute highlights were Chantal’s Crispy Watermelon dish and my Carabinero dish. A must-visit and we will definitely return!

Librije’s Zusje**, Amsterdam As part of celebrating me reaching the big 4-0, Chantal took me for lunch at Librije's Zusje** in Amsterdam.