#buttered noodles

[catfindr]

[thefearedashantis]

Buttered Noodles 

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Summary: James is understanding of your food sensitivities

Warning:  food sensitivity/sensory issue

*I personally dislike my food touching and creamy textures. Plus this is short and horribly written but what can be done.

- jermaine (シ_ _)シ

“That bush looks like a head of broccoli”

You don't say it because the bush necessarily looks like broccoli. It's simply the urge to talk nipping at you. The need to Distract yourself. Foods all that's on your mind at the moment. The bushes lining the street are the only things in your field of vision where its fixed out the car window.

Besides, what other food could a bush possible resemble but one of many tasteless greens.

James doesn't respond with anything other than a concerned glance. Usually on drives you'd be lounged out in the passenger seat, playlist cued up, serenading him with raspy heavy metal. But there you sit, stiff as a plank. Quiet except for the occasional mumble. Hands knotted in your lap placing wrinkles into your pretty clothes. Mouth pinned into a thin wobbling line. 

You'd met his friends before. They were kind so that wasn't the source of your stress. The trouble arose around the fact that it had been in a pub setting, where the only requirement was drinking and nodding along.

But this would be different. This was big.

A birthday dinner. Where you'd have to sit up straight at a dining table and contribute to conversation, answer and ask questions, smile. All while eating your meal in the same timely manner as everybody else. Not too slow and not too quickly. Not itty bitty spoonful's and not gaping mouthfuls. You'd have to pause between bites, swallow, have a sip of your drink and repeat. Not staring at your plate, make eye contact occasionally.

You've always been very sensitive with food. You grew up in a clean plate household. Only by the grace of the universe were you able to find someone as understanding about it as James. Exactly why you don't want to embarrass him in front of his friends with your pickiness.

You would try your best to stomach whatever was placed before you but boy would it be hard. When certain textures or smells or mixtures made your mouth watery and your palms sweaty.

Food touching. Utensils scraping. The mushy sound of chewing and the wet gulp of a swallow.

However, You'd grind your teeth and bare with the horrors if it meant making a good impression.

“I made sure to tell Moonie you have trouble with certain foods.” James is talking lowly as if afraid to startle you. 

“Huh?”

“Oh, I told Remus some of the things you don't fair well with-

Your eyes grow to twice the size in alarm "You shouldn't have put him out that way Jamie!"

The slight wobble of his head is done in apology. All you'd get, because he wasn't actually sorry. The movement sends his glasses slipping down his nose. You reach out on instinct to adjust them for him. "Its no stress mouse, he was happy to make sure you'd be accommodated"

And how would that appear. Everyone enjoying a full homemade roast dinner while James’ girlfriend poked and prodded at some frozen chicken strips and potato wedges? 

"I can eat whatever he prepares" Could and Would.

"You can. But you don't have to. Remember that." The grounding weight of his hand finds its place on your thigh and your shoulders immediately slump with a release of tension. "Take a breath for me love"

You've squeezed your fingers so tightly your nails have dug bloody crescents into your palms. They burn. Your face warms in a rapid flush. Maybe it wasn't too late to throw yourself from the car. 

"Yeah"

"If you start to feel icky we can always find you a safe food alright? It puts nobody out to make sure you’re well fed"

Icky. James' word for what was, in your head, unreasonable upset and stubbornness. There was a time when more cruel terms were hurled at you. When you sat in the kitchen until the morning doves began to coo. A plate of pasta long cold on the table. You liked pasta. Would have eaten the pasta if only the sauce hadn't been pre added for you. White and thick and slimy. Buttered noodles by themselves were delicious. But you weren't allowed to get yourself a fresh plate until you ate the one already given to you. Even if that meant going to school the next day on an empty stomach and not a wink of sleep. 

"Yes mum" You have to bite your cheek to keep from smiling at how thoughtful you actually found his actions, feigning upset by purposefully avoiding his gaze. He sees through this of course.

"There she is"

And you know by the crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he grins at you that James would gladly join in with any alternative option if it would make you feel more comfortable. Confident. All you had to do was ask and he'd do anything for you. 

[bugatron]

can we hear it for buttered noodles????

a heaven sent for autistics 🙏🙏

[noturaverageceleste]

[m0nk3y-bl0g]

"Come on, pretty lady; give mama some sugar~"

"Not until 'mama' takes a shower. I love you, but not when you're all sweaty and stinky post-workout."

"Ah, but you don't have any argument when I get sweaty and stinky while we-"

"Go take a shower!"

[fireopals]

Sometimes I think about how the author of the offical Neopets cookbook likes Community lol

[idalupenis]

I am a 31-year-old woman who still makes buttered noodles for dinner at least once a week

Why yes, I am autistic, how’d you know?

[vancrecipes]

Buttered Noodles

Ingredients

Chicken bouillon

1 tsp Salt

Packet of noodles

1 stick of butter

1 tbsp minced garlic

Parmesan cheese

1 tbsp garlic powder

1 tbsp parsley

Instructions

Boil 2 cups of water in a pan

Add chicken bouillon and 1 tsp salt

When the water is boiling, add a packet of noodles

Save a cup of the pasta water on the side into a cup. We’re going to save it to thicken the sauce later.

Drain noodles and set aside

Melt a stick of butter in the pan and add 1 tbsp minced garlic

Add pasta water into pan

Put noodles back into pan

Add Parmesan cheese

Add seasoning: 1 tbsp garlic powder, 1 tbsp parsley and more chicken bouillon

If sauce is too thick, add more pasta water

Source: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL1S5wX1/

[ladyofdecember]

Not me trying to drunkenly recreate Abed's buttered noodles before realizing that this dish already exists 😅🤔😅

[more-in-a-bottle]

omg just had more buttered noodles #buttered noodles

[cartoon-food]

[fresh-shoes]

Is this culinary genius?

[lokilysolbitch]

i wasn't a buttered noodles type of person and if anything i'm a olive oil and gnocchi type of person but i was making mac n cheese and it smelled super good when i put the butter in so started snacking on the buttered shells while i was getting the cheese ready

and then i like. kept eating the buttered noodles

and then i ate half a pot of of just. noodles and butter and salt

normally i don't like it but if you add some salt. it's. it's good

[foodfoodfoodffoods]

BUTTERED NOODLES WITH CHICKEN, BAGUETTE, AND A RICE CRISPY TREAT YAAASSS

[moons-aligned]

A Bowl of Noodles

I want love to be this illustrious form an simplicity. Love, although often complicated can be concentrated down to something as simple as a “look” from across the room signaling for home base. Home is comfort - embracing yourself from within, allowing the walls and your lover to see just how beautiful your skin is from inside and out. Music remains a constant regardless of background or center stage - we live to feel the rhythm. The kitchen is where the magic happens. A simmering pot, a rolling boil; a handful of noodles and the rest is history.

As the night starts to calm down it’s natural to retreat to the corner of the sectional. Huddled together with one bowl and two forks waiting for the steam to die down. The noodles, coated in a creamy Alfredo sauce, tossed around with chunks of broccoli and diced peppers. They hate broccoli and I hate peppers, but somehow it works. I adore the flavor of peppers, but the texture makes me cringe. They hate broccoli but love the aesthetic of rogue florets throughout the sauce. We make it work as we combine our tastes, finding a medium between the two.

I appreciate how we can come together on the difficult nights. One bowl of angel hair, a few knobs of butter, a small splash of pasta water sprinkled with some Parmesan cheese. Buttered noodles has the power to carry us to a safe place. Although together we envision something so differently; when biting into the warm, rich strands it’s almost as if you can look into our eyes and see us floating back to that safe place we hold so dear.

I often find us encountering eventful evenings where we question the status-quo of lasagna. Sometimes it’s good to break a tradition, sometimes layers aren’t what works. Relieving stress through breaking up hard lasagna noodles, creating a mosaic in the boiling pot of different shapes prepared to make a new creation. I am a scientist when I’m mixing sauces and adding vinegar to cut the sweetness while being overzealous with the basil. The kitchen permeates with the smell of browned onions slow cooking with Italian sausage, a smell that I don’t mind rendering. All ingredients finally meet in a giant baking pan - the noodles and sauce are combined within an instant, met with a continuously moving wooden spoon creating the fusion. The Italian sausage and onions are folded in and the rest is history as the cheese begins to coat the entire surface like the first dusting of the winter. The processes is as follows, mix the pasta, add more cheese, mix the pasta, add more cheese. This process continues until your arm starts to hurt. This is a creation made with love and a motive to change the precedent on a timely dish. Proudly, we created something equally, if not more delicious.

Patiently, we practice our patience waiting on the cheese to melt and the top to crisp. We scoot the pan to the side to make room for lasagna’s best friend, garlic bread. Magically, both dishes end at the same time. Once the food has been removed from the oven, we’re met with the option to wait and suffer or to eat and suffer. We choose to wait, until we start picking out lasagna noodles. Haphazardly blowing away the steam but making no impact on the heat. The pain exists, but it’s worth it.

We sit together again, with our bowl of noodles, this time with a new sauce and different noodles. One bowl, two forks, and a bowl of noodles. At that moment, I realized that’s all I ever needed. Just you and a bowl of noodles.