#but then I ended up dumping the jam into the whip cream cause I didn’t have space in my fridge to store it

[bunibelles]

Strawberry shortcake cupcakes 🍓 ~

I made these a few weeks ago I just forgot to post :’D

[great-jenna-bake-off]

Season 3 Episode 6: Queen of Puddings

I started watching GBBO at least four years ago, and yet I still do not know what a pudding technically is. Sometimes it seems to just be a catchall term for “dessert”. This VOX article claims that “A British pudding is a dish, savory or sweet, that's cooked by being boiled or steamed in something: a dish, a piece of cloth, or even animal intestine,” which is confusing, because I don’t think I did any of that for this week’s bake. (There were certainly no animal intestines involved.) But whatever a pudding is, this week I made the Queen of Puddings, at least as defined by Mary Berry.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/queen_of_puddings_79904 

Step one was to grease a ¼ liter shallow ovenproof dish, which I do not have. Off to a great start! In my defense, there is only so much room for baking equipment in my apartment’s kitchen. I dug this dish up from my parents’ house and went with it because it was oval-shaped, like Mary’s example photo, but it definitely doesn’t qualify as “shallow”. 

Good enough.

Next up was to make a custard. First, I heated up milk, butter, lemon zest, and sugar in a sauce pan.

Does this count as “boiling or steaming” something?

Then, I carefully poured my warm egg mixture into a bowl with my egg yolks, which I had already separated from the whites. I whisked it together, and a custard was born.

Custard!

To make this custard more substantial, it is poured over a base of bread crumbs. Mary’s recipe specifies “fresh” bread crumbs, but I did not have a bunch of semi-stale bread lying around, so pre-packaged bread crumbs it is.

I told myself after my last bake that I’d stick to the recipe moving forward. Clearly that lesson did not sink in.

Crumbs + custard

I put my dish into a roasting tin, filled the tin with water, and stuck the whole thing in the oven.

At least my dish fits in the tin.

While my custard baked, I turned my attention to the next element of my bake: jam. Mary’s recipe suggests that you can use store-bought jam if you don’t want to make your own, but I have never made jam before and figured it was one of those things that was bound to come up sooner or later. Plus, I knew the bakers would have to do it, and I wanted to stay in the spirit of the competition. So I gave it a shot.

I used a mixture of raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries, since that’s what I had on hand in my freezer, but it seems any “summer fruit” will do.

I had some trouble getting my frozen berries to fully reduce into a cohesive sauce, and after what felt like ages of cooking time, my jam still seemed a bit watery with big chunks of fruit.

I guess this also counts as “boiling something”…

I decided to run my jam through a strainer, which didn’t help my watery-ness issue one bit, but I managed to mash the bigger pieces of fruit against the strainer to make them more sauce-like, and reincorporated it into the strained juice to produce something that could pass for jam, albeit a very runny one.

It’s a pretty color, at least.

Meanwhile, it was time to pull my custard out of the oven. I think I overcooked it slightly, but I had trouble getting the custard to set as much as I felt it should.

I baked the custard for about 35 minutes, instead of the 20-30 specified by the recipe.

While my custard cooled, it was time to make meringue. Luckily, I had some egg whites just sitting around that I had to separate from their yolks for the custard earlier. It’s always nice when a recipe doesn’t waste ingredients. Those egg whites and a bit of sugar quickly became meringue.

Thanks, KitchenAid stand mixer!

Finally, it was time to assemble. First, I put my jam on top of my custard. I vastly overestimated how solid the custard was and dumped a whole bunch of jam right on top, which caused it to mix in a bit with the custard. I quickly realized that it was better to gently spoon the jam on top of the custard.

Hopefully didn’t mess up the layers TOO much.

Next, it was time for meringue. I piped little poofs all over the top of the dish.

I’m actually very proud of my piping on this one.

And with that, the whole thing was ready to go back in the oven to brown the meringue. Not too difficult, all said and done. But would the bakers agree?

Sarah-Jane isn’t feeling too confident heading into the technical, as per usual. “You just have to kind of draw on everything you know about… everything… ever… in the space of five minutes,” she says.

I think Sarah-Jane might be my spirit animal.

Ryan has somehow never made custard or jam before, which leads me to question his GBBO preparation techniques.

Even I’ve made custard before!

Mary explains that the Queen of Puddings is many families’ favorite pudding, which I guess presumes that said families eat a variety of puddings on a regular enough basis to choose a favorite.

I’m really hung up on this whole “pudding” thing, I know.

As the bakers prepare their custards, Mel explains that they shouldn’t bake their custards too long or the surface will crack. I’m now thinking back to my own custard, which definitely had some cracks in the top. Whoops!

I mean it will be covered in jam and meringue… no one will know. 

Next, it’s time to move on to the jam, and Brendan seems to be some kind of jam savant, explaining that he’s looking for a soft-set jam. After all, he says, “There are some advantages to being older… you learn the setting point of jam.”

Showoff. 

Like me, John has some problems with the jam running into his custard, although his are much worse.

“Mary’s going to slap me in the face,” he moans.

The bakers seem intimidated by the meringue layer, which I find confusing. Meringue just… isn’t that hard?

Here, Danny whips up a second meringue, worried that her first one was too runny.

Finally, all the puddings are in the oven. 

Classic GBBO on-the-floor oven-watching pose.

Brendan seems to have gotten a nice golden brown color on the top of his meringue. Will this be the key to a technical challenge win?

Like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

During the judging, Mary announces that the glass dishes they gave the bakers were part of her evil plan, so she and Paul can see how even the layers are on the puddings.

Feeling grateful for my ceramic dish right about now…

Unfortunately, James has overcooked his custard, which means it came out watery. 

Would I fall victim to the same pitfall?

In the end, Brendan’s lifetime of jam knowledge proves useful, and he takes home the win.

It does look like a rather royal pudding. 

My pudding was ready to come out of the oven, but would it be fit for a queen? First, here’s Mary’s example pudding… 

That’s a very elegant shallow dish.

And here’s mine.

Look at that piping!

The slice admittedly didn’t look too delicious, but there’s a reason Mary’s photo only includes the dish – I just don’t think this one is meant to look pretty on the plate. The show also didn’t really showcase what the bakers’ slices/scoops of pudding looked like. So I’m pretty sure mine is about right. Also, Mary’s recipe said to serve with “pouring cream”, so that’s what the puddle is around the pudding, not melted custard. (The bakers did not seem to do that in the show).

I thought my Queen of Puddings was pretty regal, actually. The meringue had good volume and was nicely crispy, and the jam and custard layers actually held up on the plate. But now it was time to see if my esteemed panel of judges would agree.

***

Matt’s Review: I was actually full from dinner when I dug into this pudding, and I was worried it was going to be too heavy. But as soon as I took my first bite and felt how soft and airy it was, I quickly ate the whole thing. Turned out, that’s a purely mouth-feel thing and I got a horrible stomach ache. But it was worth it. It’s a bread mush with surprisingly complicated flavors—sweetness was potentially the least pronounced one there. The fluffy texture (which I have to assume Jenna nailed) really let you focus on those flavors. It’s a balancing act, and the pudding landed it gracefully. I have no way to fairly judge presentation, but I will add that there’s nothing better than having a Tupperware full of pudding arrive at your door.

Wilson’s Review: Beautiful presentation, clearly defined merengue structure. Some nice peaks, clearly have a steady hand with the piping. But, the color’s a bit light isn’t it? In the future maybe keep it in the oven for a touch longer, or up the heat. Cutting it open you’ve got some nice defined layers, well done. Flavor is good, you can really taste the summer in the jam. The lemon isn’t really coming through, and that’s a key element to balance the sweetness of the jam and the crisp of the meringue – need that acidity. Overall a very good bake, worthy of being served on anyone’s summer table. 

***

Final Thoughts: As Matt mentioned, the pudding was delivered to him in the least royal of ways, dumped unceremoniously in a Tupperware and left on his doorstep. So sadly he didn’t get to witness the beauty of my pudding in its original form, and personally, I thought it looked great. I also enjoyed eating it – the meringue was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and the custard was smooth and creamy. The jam was definitely a little runnier than a store-bought variety, but I did like it enough to use the leftovers on toast for several breakfasts, so it worked out well enough. And to Wilson’s point, it needed a little more browning on the top of the meringue – perhaps I should have used the broiler at the very end to get that nice golden color. Overall, this was not a particularly tough bake, which was a nice change of pace after trying to get pie dough to defy gravity for the last bake. I still don’t know what a pudding is, but I did enjoy eating it.

[headoverhiddles]

Waking Up Slow - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut/Fluff]

Synopsis: The first morning after Marilyn comes home from a tour, you two take it easy in bed.

Notes: Set now, (Heaven Upside Down era) after the Twins of Evil tour. Lots of Marilyn being a cute goofball! 

You yawn, and stretch as the sunlight seeps under the blackout curtains like light reflective honey.

"Damn. What happened last night?" Marilyn's scratchy morning voice brings you to full attention. You give him a cozy smile.

"Probably the first normal night you've had since you got back from the tour."

He eyes you. "Normal, okay. Nipple tassles? Strap on?"

"As I recall... you fell asleep on me while we were watching Texas Chainsaw and drooled all over my tits."

"Kinky."

"Oh, yeah. I think your last words to me were, "I bet Leatherface shoves the chainsaw up his ass while he masturbates", then you passed out."

"Welp. That's what happens after a forty day long binge," he yawns too, frowning in utter disorientation. You wipe some of his remaining eyeliner off with your thumb, and kiss his forehead.

"I'm pissed about that, you know," you murmur. He hesitates, waiting for the inevitable mother-henning he's been used to with past partners. You just cuddle into the nape of his neck. "I'm pissed I wasn't there this time to binge with you." He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you fondly.

"I fuckin love you, (y/n)."

He drags his fingers across your panties by accident, then realizes he doesn't want to do it by accident but on purpose. He bites his lip, fingers barely grazing where you need him, and as you make noises, he starts to laugh.

"What?" you laugh with him.

"You sound like--" he giggles.

"Oh my god, I sound like the girl from the hotel room next to us that one time in Florida, I know," you laugh, and he buries his face into your shoulder, snorting.

"Ah, ah, ah," he imitates annoying, high pitched female moaning.

"Stoppit," you laugh.

"It was like watching porn."

"Really bad porn."

"I was getting jealous," he grins.

"I know, like, it was a Sunday at 4 am. Invite us or shut the fuck up."

He bursts into laughter again, and you slide over top of him, humming. You straddle him, his hands holding your ass as you slowly move, comfortably grinding against his prominent morning wood as he gently runs his tongue along your lower lip. 

You two lay there, making out for about three minutes straight, his hand every so often moving up to rub your lower back, then back down to play with your ass. His eyes never open-- it's something so distinctly Marilyn. He's self conscious in ways that astound you, but you respect it, and in some small way, you can tell he appreciates the sensation of it all with his eyes shut. It overwhelms you with warmth, and you sigh softly.

"Mmm, I could do this for hours," you whisper. He stares up at you, eyelashes fluttering.

"But then we'd never get to the good part." You giggle. "Baby, daddy's got a taste of the icing, but he wants the whole damn cake," he mutters, giving a sexy little snarl and kissing you again. He starts to grind his cock more heavily against you, and you have to laugh at how impatient he gets.

"I thought you said waking up slowly would be nice after all the chaos," you tease, keeping yourself just inches from his lips. He gives you a petulant look.

"You know I never mean what I say."

You laugh again, and he squeezes your ass. He sits up, half of his hair messed up in a wild bedhead. You stroke it out, and collapse against him, wrapping your arms around his comfy, chubby middle.

"I'm super horny," you whine.

"Yeah, that's really good then, cause so am I."

"You're always horny."

He smiles, and as you really stare at him and take in how beautiful he looks in the morning, you see his cheeks tinge pink.

"That's... a true statement."

He reaches below the covers again, and grazes your panties. You moan softly, and he lifts his chin.

"That little touch feel good?"

"Mmm."

"What do you say?"

You feel a little fire light inside of you, and smirk. "I want more." Marilyn chuckles.

"Oh. Oh, so that's how it's gonna be. What do you say, little slut?" He threads his fingers through you hair and gives a gentle pull. You grin.

"I didn't get enough, I wanna cum."

"Mmm, try again."

"Mm mm."

"Mhmm, come on... say you need me. Say you want this dick inside you... pounding you good, sweetheart..."

You let out a huff, feeling your body betray you.

"I need you."

"That's right," he coos.

You roll down beside him, pouting because you lost the intimidation game. Marilyn rolls over, and lays over top of you, supporting himself on his forearms.

"Don't be like that, baby. I need you tooooo."

"Hmph," you pout, looking away. He strokes the hair from your face.

"Maybe... this would make you happy. Hm?" His low voice sends shivers through you as he brings a hand to pull down the covers, and he closes it around your breast, gently massaging it.

"Mmm," you sigh, still trying to pout. Fuck, that feels good.

"You know you wanna beg for it," he whispers. "Go on. Beg for it."

"I don't..." You gasp as he tweaks your nipple, and uses his other hand to tease your inner thighs. He knows all your weak spots.

"Mmm?" he encourages.

"I don't..." You swallow your protests. "Fuck, I want it."

"You want it?"

"I want it."

He slips two fingers into your wetness and uses his thumb on your clit. He leans down to kiss you as he pumps his fingers deeper, curving them with each thrust.

"Ahh," you moan, one hand clenching the sheets. One of his rings is still on, but it's the pentagram one, so there's no sharp edges and it's stretching you even wider, so fuck it. You realize quickly that you shouldn't just be lying there. You reach forward, and Marilyn groans softly into your mouth as you take his cock in hand.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart," he whispers. The bed creaks as he begins to rock his hips into your fist. You use the lubricant of the precum dripping from his dick. A few seconds later, you start to wriggle your hips down, grinding, rolling your hips so every pump of Marilyn's fingers sends electric jolts through you.

"I'm... coming, oh god," you gasp, and he grimaces.

"Shit, me too, baby, me too..."

You both hold onto each other, moaning each other's names and staying there for a few minutes; you have all the time in the world, and you're not going anywhere.

"So," you sigh contentedly, wiggling your hips back into his crotch to fit comfortably, "Let's watch the end of Texas Chainsaw, since you fell asleep."

"The ending, where my boy Leatherface jams an entire chainsaw up his asshole?"

"He does NOT--"

"Pretty sure he does."

"Regardless," you put a hand on his chest, "I've got an idea. Before we do, I'm gonna go get us some coffee at the Starbucks down the hill. Let's do spooky things today, it's my day off. Yours too."

"What? Where are you going?" he moans, giving a petulant whine.

"Coffee!"

"I taste better."

"I beg to differ," you wrinkle your nose playfully, pulling your panties back on, "You need a shower."

"I don't want coffee, I want absinthe."

"Well, I'm gonna get you a coffee to put absinthe in, then. What kind?"

He sheepishly looks out the window, and you grin.

"Pumpkin spice?"

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone it's mine."

"Of course not," you play along, "Both are totally for me, what are you talking about?"

He grins too, ducking his head, and slides out of bed toward the bathroom.

"Don't be long. My dick already misses you."

"Your dick has abandonment issues," you retort, slipping on a thin camisole.

"I'd prefer to call it separation anxiety."

You roll your eyes. "I'll be back in 15."

"5."

"Fuck you, I'm not the six million dollar man."

You head down the hill, and grab the coffee as Marilyn showers the forty day long tour binge off back at the house. When you get in, you find him toweling off in the bathroom, and slide him his coffee. He glances at the name written in black sharpie on the side.

"Charles Monroe. Very amusing." Despite the sarcasm in his voice, he bursts into a little fit of childish giggles, as you sit up on the counter.

"I got yours with whip, mine without," you say, licking the spice off his lid, "I've got to keep my figure for riding you."

"Oh yeah?" he says, swiping a big glob of whipped cream off his. "Yeah?!" Your eyes widen, and you try to escape, but he catches you first and wipes it on your face. "You could have just gotten whip on yours, and dumped it on mine, so I had double," he murmurs, eating the cream off your lips. He kisses down, licking up all the extra he missed down your neck, between your breasts. You moan, looping your arms around his neck.

"That's really nice..."

"Let's start our spooky day off, mmm," he mumbles between kisses, "With more spooky sex. With spooky whips... and spooky chains... and chainsaws... mm, sounds like a song I should put on the new record..." He starts singing really terribly. "I wanna fuck yoooour vajayjay... with spooky chains and chainsaws... ayyyy...."

You give him two thumbs down, and he picks you up off the counter, swinging you back into the bedroom and falling onto the bed with you again, kissing down your neck.

You laugh, tilting your head back as his lips go even lower.

"Write a better song, and maybe I'll fuck you again."

"I don't need... anybody else... when I think about you I fuck myself, ohhh--"

"It's touch myself."

"Naaah, I do more than that."

You grin, squealing as his lips make it to your panties.