#cassia bark

[auraeseer]

Bananas foster the people . . .

[bowserbowser29]

I WILL find a way to fit Clove and Cassia in my AU

Oh yeah, and here are some cool reformed designs & lore if they were to become good in the Archie universe

[bnbc]

LOOK WHO

[punk-in-docs]

A song of brides and hounds: part III

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 4.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter - mainly violence and some gore, also Caracalla being a nasty little bitch -- enjoy!

The servant girls’ hands are kind.

They undress you softly, and handle you with such reverence. Strip from you the ruined stola and tend your wounds.

They wash your feet, ply your cuts with a herbal paste of yarrow and uva ursi, wrap you in bandages. They rub new sweet smelling oil onto your unwounded skin.

Pick off your old jewellery and finery to be discarded. Slip you out your shoes. Lay you bare. Stood before them in naught but your skin as they tend you.

One is wetting, oiling and combing your netted hair to silky serenity again. Another is cleaning the wound on your elbow. All traces of dirt - and your previous life along with it - slowly removed.

Stood you in a shallow golden tub of warm water that laps at your ankles. Milky with oils and soaps. They put rose petals in the water. You watch them swim and dip.

You beg for one of the girls to keep the fibulae broaches that held your now damned dress to your shoulders. Your very last essence of home. Venus was enshrined in those very broaches. They gave you hope. Carrying a small kind piece of goddess with you. Laying your devotion to the majesty of the ocean on your simple shoulders.

They guided you to rooms draped in blue and gold. Stars moulded on the ceiling with the ornate marble that drips from every wall and corner. Giving the false illusion of a night sky. The flat ceiling between them clouded with bursts and puffs of dark blue that indicated churning night clouds. Boundless skies. Endless seas.

It felt like showing all the maps of the world to a caged bird.

Soft feminine blues befit these chambers. Statues and devotion to goddesses crown the walls and doorways. Urns of large stemmed white flowers. One wall holds a table lined with a huge offering of fruits, dried and fresh. Some bread and cured meats and oiled small fish. And an amphora of wine and goblet for after your bathing.

The air in here is scented all floral herb and clean. Too clean. No hint of sea salt or dried weed that tumbles on the shore to bake in the sun. It’s unfamiliar.

The huge slab of the cushioned bed is draped with silks and gauzy canopy curtains the colour of dove feathers. You don’t want to look at it. You dread thinking what will happen in it tonight.

A large maw of balcony gapes at another side of the room. This shows you the wall of rain outside. The violent tumble of thunder that must be shaking the very hills and peoples of Rome.

You feel as if the sea is raging because you’ve been stolen from it. Now it seeks vengeance on the land. Lashing and storming mercilessly until you’re found. Back where you belong.

Unlikely. It will have to rage on.

You stand, undressed, unseeing. Uncaring for the wealth of the room you’ve been pulled into.

The maid behind you, Oriana, a sweet and silent blonde, is scooping your hair back from your neck to comb and ply it with vanilla and orchid oil. Dark sweet musk.

Geta had specifically requested it.

Your head servant is a maid called Aeliana.

She has an accent you can’t place. It’s pretty, her tone husky. She had wonderful raven hair spilling silky and free over her shoulders, eyes dark as cassia bark, almond shaped. Long lashes. The epitome of tranquil beauty.

The colour of her dress is different to the rest of them. Indicating her higher status. Rusty red and it readily compliments the natural darkness of her skin. She wore golden bangles threaded on each wrist, and her touch is cloud soft.

She has a scar that intersects down from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and cheek and ends there. Skin twisted and healed shiny. An old wound. It makes her striking to look at.

Worse still; She catches you staring.

Lowers her eyes as she tended you. Layering the sticky wet herbal treatment to your wounded elbow.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lady?” She lapses into silence for a moment or two.

“If you’d prefer I could send for another handmaiden to come tend you-“ She asks. Not harshly. There’s a hint of shame to her tone.

You look to her. Fearful of offence.

“I am not displeased. Forgive me. To stare so openly is rude.” You mutter. Eyes falling to your feet again. You watch rose petals sway on the water. You swallow thickly.

If she’s amused at your asking her, a servant, for forgiveness, she doesn’t show it. She calmly counters;

“You are Empress Salacia of Rome. You are allowed to stare at whomever you wish.” She tells you plainly.

Your eyes water. You bite inside your lower lip before you respond.

Not yet I’m not. And I don’t want to be.

“How came you by the scar?” You ask. Knowing full well you won’t like the answer. She gently washed your shoulder with a cloth.

“The Emperor.” She tells frankly.

At your doe eyed expression of horror she elucidates.

“Not Emperor Geta. His brother, Caracalla. Emperor Geta’s temper may be foul and quick to boil. But, Caracalla he is… far crueler.” She explains.

Your mouth purses into a thin line.

Oriana has finished oiling your hair. Now she was styling it into waves. Decorated with ornaments of netted gold. Geta requested it down as opposed to the normal bridal style. Emperors have what they want.

“What was the reason…” You sought. Fearing the answer.

“I was too slow in bringing his wine one night.” She offers. Plucking a vial of oil from the side table and coming back to rub it into your bare arms.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Ignore the tickle of tears that threaten your scrunched eyelids.

This is the savage world you must inhabit now. Try to navigate with sharper hungrier teeth and deadlier instinct. You don’t feel ready. You must become lionhearted and fierce. Carry knives. Be ruthless.

You hear your mothers reverent voice in your head. Sweet sea child. You were not made that way.

“I am sorry for your pain. Aeliana. But I am grateful for your warning.” You decide.

She nods. “I thank the goddess’ for you. Empress.” She smiles at you.

Before going to the side to fetch your tunica recta, and the belt you’d wear on your waist in a knot of hercules. Which tradition dictated only Geta was allowed to undo.

Your husband.

You wince. Aueliana notices.

“Your majesty?” She seeks. Sensing your unease.

“I am nervous.” You tell her. You confide your worry in this woman with kind eyes and soft hands.

“It is expected of a bride to be nervous.” She awards you.

“I’m not a normal bride.” You confirm fearfully. She can see them shaking in your gaze. Threatening to breach your lash line.

She nods in understanding. You’re sure they all knew. The reason that placed you here. Spread like wildfire on dry plains through the servant halls.

“I know little of managing a husband. Of… starting a family.”

“If I may, your majesty. Your family is a noble one, yes?” She asks.

You nod. You lived in one of the richest houses in Corsica. You were never lacking in money or ribbons and new jewels. But at best you were a senators daughter. Not the ideal stock for an Emperors wife. Not the type to be governing one great nation.

“My grandmother is a well known seer in these parts. A healer. Purveyor of white magic. Many a time she has seen things that have yet to come to pass…” She explains as she wraps the belt around your waist. Speaking as she does.

“She foretold your arrival. Said the future of Rome would be written by rain and storm, when blood spills on the ancient serpent stone.”

Serpent. Synonymous with the Traitor. Two faced and shedding skin. Blood spilling, the death of your Brother. Rain on the rocks- this storm hammering down. You can’t believe it.

“What if Rome is your destiny?” She explains. Her voice kind and brave as the candles flicker and the storm rages on.

“Then I pray the goddess’ convey me the strength to survive it.”

“I will pray too.” She takes your hand. It feels like kinship.

They stepped you out of the tub and began to pat you dry with cloths and then dress you.

With each pass of their hands wiping the water from your skin, it removed you further and further from yourself.

Aeliana rubs a sweet balm like texture onto your pebbled nipples before she robes you. Said it was to increase your fertility. She also lines your eyes with burnt kohl.

They pulled your dress on around you. Let it fall into beautiful waves. You stood sedately and let them manoeuvre you.

Your skin positively draped with as much fragrant oil as it could take. Anointed with your new life as it drips off you in unbearable sweetness. Decorations not of your choosing put into your hair, on your ears, around your neck, on your arms. Strangled by someone else’s finery.

Slid fine golden sandals onto your feet. Aeliana brought a flame red veil and pinned it in place over your head. It floated down to your shoulders. Securing a crown of myrtle flowers over it.

It may have been gauzy fabric; rich and fine. But it felt like iron to you. Iron veil and a crown of thorns.

When they finish readying you, they bow and leave you alone to eat the fresh bread and fruits. Drink the sweet wine. Night closes in around you.

You didn’t ever picture the night before your wedding being like this. Alone and noiseless save for rain. You pictured the noise and gaiety of your sisters, dancing in their fine dresses. How they’d carry golden stalks of wheat to signify your prosperous marriage - how it would bear fruit. Be blessed by gods and fortune.

Your mother would bind your hands to the man you’d marry. To the man you’d love.

And you are here. Miserable in cold indifference. Clothed in perfumed oil and silence. With only your dour thoughts for company.

You pick at your offering of food. Feeling the milky eyes of those female deity marble statues watching you carefully. Judging. Maybe even disappointed.

When the doors next shudder open as the guards outside push them open, a divine older woman comes striding slowly, surely, into the room. Confidence woven into her steps like the very fine lavender purple cloth folded around her shoulders. A beautiful sage green palla. Her hair is dark and braided masterfully on her head. Shot through with bolts of silver.

You recognise her from coins. From statues. The Dowager Empress of Rome. Julia Domna.

She looks wise as Minerva. Goddess of education indeed. All of Rome had heard tale of not only her beauty, but her mind. Sharp as an arrowhead. A gentle mediator between her rabid sons.

Out of sheer politesse and nerves, you bolt out your seat and bow your head to her. Words shrivel on your tongue. Royalty is stood before you. Here you are plucked from the dungeons. You feel unworthy.

“Rise, my child.” She bids you. Holding out a hand laid with jewels on nearly every finger. Standing before you. Close enough to discern some of your beauty through the veil.

She examines you. Not unkindly. The way you’d expect a mother to examine the vessel that will carry her sons legacy. She’s discerning.

“Let me see my sons choice then…” she bids. Hands crossed in front of her, diplomatically, as she lets her deep set, serious eyes become acquainted with all of you.

Choice? Or chattel?

She walks around you. Eyes your hair. Your build. Your hips. The way you’ve been presented like a prized sacrificial swine before the crowds on Saturnalia.

And she doesn’t appear to find you lacking

“Goodness. You really are beautiful.” She says. It sounds mournful. Introspective. As if she didn’t intend on you hearing it.

“He’s made a fine choice.” She lauded

“Corsica, I hear you hail from?”

“Yes, Dowager.”

“I want to know one thing.” She says. Voice hard as newly forged steel. A shiver runs your spine. So she could be terrifying if she wishes.

“Are you a traitor against Rome?” She demands. “There are spies who would conspire to align themselves with this great house, under false guises, to murder my sons.” She speaks, crossly. Eyes aflame.

She has bite after all. Lions teeth and knows full well how to use them.

“I am no spy. I am not a murderer I have no guise. Like you. I only want to protect those whom I love.” You answer calmly. Placid easy waves. Gently now.

She smiles. Though something curious still lurks in her eyes.

“Then we are on the same page.” She awards slyly. You feel as if you’ve passed a test.

Her smile crooks on one side. Relieved.

She turns to the doors. The great sway of her earrings are big as chandeliers as she moves. Stunning gold. Bands of gold also cross her well formed upper arms. Every inch a woman of gentility and riches. She is perfumed with lavender. Oil made from dried plants fetched all the way from purple fields in Aquitania.

“My son grows impatient to see his bride. Come. Salacia. It is time.” She offers her arm to you.

Apparently your destiny lays in wait.

~

The wedding was a short and simple affair. The Dowager Empress led you to the grand rooms where they were to be held.

Grand, just like the rest of this humongous sprawling palace.

When you see Geta, he is clad in so much gold and armour. A blinding white cloak draped off his form. Armour golden. Carved with gods and victorious hero’s of battle. Golden laurel crown adorns his head. His smile at the sight of you makes you blush with attention.

You are suddenly grateful for the veil. It manages to hide you from every stranger in this room. You can make out Caracalla. Some other senators. Other guests you’ve no idea who.

The celebrant, a rather portly priest, ordered the evil spirits away. Asked for the fire spirits to bless you. He invoked Janus to watch over you from single people to a joined couple. New beginnings.

When it is time, he takes your hand and carefully threads an engagement ring on your finger. It is weighty, pure gold. An imitation of two dog heads joined together. A round sapphire cradled between their mouths. As if they’re fighting for it.

Remus and Romulus. It reminds you of him already.

You dare to meet his eyes as he does it. He looks ravenous. Umbra catching you where you stand. Swallows you whole. You don’t think you can get used to it yet.

“Wherever you go, there also go I, as your wife.” You speak.

The dowager Empress binds your hands together with blood red linen as the rest of the vows are read. The way his fingers turn and grip the inside of your forearm - firm pressing, hot like a brand - it makes you shiver.

Then comes the time for the marriage to be sealed with a kiss. Hands freed.

Your stomach is squirming unpleasantly as your stranger of a groom steps forwards to lift your veil. When he lifts the red gauze from your vision, you keep your eyes lowered until the last moment.

You feel the urging of his eyes. You could hear the fierce nature of his words as if he’d spoken.

Look at me. Salacia.

He looks entirely too boastful. His perfect little nymph. Caught and landed at last.

Hepulled you in by your waist. Locked his hand around your back. Gave you a kiss that was certainly gentler than before. Softness of his lips was maddening when the rest of him was all armour and metal. But you still felt the edge of his teeth on your lower lip. Bursting new pain from where it had split.

It was official. You had been dragged out a golden net cast in the sea. And now property of the Emperor of Rome.

You had no time to let your thoughts wander. There’s been quite the celebration planned for after. He walks beside you as congratulations ripple around you from nobles, senators, generals and high officials of the courts.

You ignore the way Caracalla sneers a particularly vile look your way when you pass him. Plotting.

You are lead to an opulent triclinium. Open to one huge side, guarded by pillars, which overlooked a garden where fountains trickled and plants bloom even in the storm that’s still brewing. Spitting rain on the landscape.

There are torches at the sides of the rooms, huge bowls boasting orange flames that lick at the walls, and freshly plucked flowers, still green branches and fronds sit in urns to the side. Filling the room with petals and heady nectar scent.

There’s a huge swarm of lectus’ in the centre of the room. Bronze laid with cushions. All pointing towards a huge table were bread and wine goblets awaited. You’re not used to how the room echoes. Unused to the sheer amount of people and formality that fills it.

The wine is poured freely by silent servants who sweep in and out. Some of them carrying plates as huge as carriage wheels. A whole roasted boar with grapes spilling out its mouth is brought in. Trays upon trays of cooked moray eels, cod and oiled anchovies. A whole platter of stewed nightingale birds, arranged around stalks of herbs and plums.

There’s fruit and bread the like of which you’ve not seen before. White bowls filled with cut purple figs and waxy oranges. Apples and yellow golden pears on tiered stands. Grapes and dried apricots heaped in dishes. It’s dazzling. So much wealth thrust before you.

You have a cup of sweet honey wine and take some of the unleavened bread. Watching as others around you gorge and toast with their goblets. Drinking strong wine and telling jokes and bawdy stories.

You feel disjointed from it all. You feel the Emperors eyes pass over you. The dowagers too. You are a source of mystery and intrigue.

Plucked from misfortune and placed here at the feet of gods.

You do feel when your new husband slides some pieces of fruit, or fresh breads onto your plate. A small bunch of sweet red grapes. His head may be cocked to conversation in this room. But his attention remains somewhat on you.

“Eat. Wife. I do not wish to force you.” He commands you. Prodding food and more wine in your direction.

Nursing his own cup and barking at the servants when he wanted more. You know his tongue must be stained with the taste by now. Sour purple. You wonder if you’ll taste it later in another of his animalistic kisses.

It feels like there is a boulder in your stomach. You swallow. You sip. You try to breathe. It all feels too restricted.

“Refill my wife’s cup.” Geta demands of the nearest servant. You flinch at his cutting commands.

You meet the servants eyes for a second and flicker them a smile. They look to the ground as they fill your cup. Their poor hands shake. You thank them. They don’t respond.

You’ve a feeling his plying you with wine has more than one ulterior motive. To make you loosen. Make you pliant. Make you slip down easier in his crushing grip.

“I have no appetite.” You admit weakly.

You can’t stomach the way the fat on the meat before you glistens. These poor stewed birds with clipped wings. The gutted boar. Glistening fat and dead meat. Same as the way of those poor flayed men in the coliseum.

Butchered animals. One and the same. The way blood sprayed out on the biscuit brown dirt under the sun. The way viscera glistened bright when spilled free from once living flesh. How these animals looked served on a platter. There’s no difference.

You take some grapes. Pick them from the vine. Bite into some apricots. The fruit rots on your palate. Fine sugary flesh and it bursts on your tongue like ripe putrefaction. You place it gently back on your plate.

“Do they not have fruit in Corsica?” He asks. It’s vaguely mocking.

“We had lemon trees in the gardens. An olive tree in the courtyard. Over 200 years old.” You state quietly. Not taking your eyes off the plate in front of you. You picked and prodded at it.

“You have more now. You are Empress. You have anything you want.” He impressed on you.

“I miss the ocean. The sun on the shoreline. My sisters.” You mutter.

“Don’t risk sounding ungrateful.” He threatens.

Geta followed the path of your reluctant hand with his eyes. He then scans across all of his guests. People of the senate. Rich merchants. Fellow royalty.

They come to snipe and drink wine and watch this new wedded spectacle.

“They are all dull.” Geta decided.

You wonder if the only source of amusement he could delight at was seeing people being beaten to black and blue paste in the coliseum. To have to see the spray of blood to feel something.

“They are intrigued. Their Emperor has placed a traitor in his marriage bed.” You comment.

Geta turned to you. “That sounds like treason to my ears.” A warning.

“Perhaps.” You answered. Boldly.

“But is it inaccurate? It is what they are all thinking.” You add. “You’ve wedded yourself to someone disloyal. Someone who is not their kind. They are curious.”

Geta scans his eyes over everyone again. Their laughter. The flow of wine. The way they stab and cut into food and fruit like they’re half starved. None of them quite meet your eyes.

Perhaps they don’t wish too.

His hand finds the meat of your thigh. Flesh firm and warm.

“They will believe what I tell them too. Wife. You only need worry about your loyal duty to me. Nothing else.” He makes clear.

You go back to pushing bits of fruit around your plate. Taking no more sustenance.

“No doubt you are unused to such finery.” Caracalla pipes up. Seeing you toy with your food. “I wonder what they eat in Corsica. Peasants sea food?”

You meet Caracalla’s eyes across the tables and mountains of rich food.

Getas eyes were dark. Fired by lust for you. That’s what you saw in them when he looked at you.

The same could not be said for Caracalla.

You saw nothing. Just darkness and his love of cruelty. Geta unnerved you. But it was Caracalla who scared you most. It was like gazing into a tomb. A bare skull eye socket. You’re certain nothing but darkness refracted back. Splintered twisted darkness. The purest distilled form of malice.

“Perhaps you are jealous, brother. The fact that I will have heirs meant for the future of the empire. And you will… not.” He snaps. Petulant.

“If she makes it that far.” Caracalla sneers. Daggering a smile right at you. A sneer that make you feel cold. He’s twirling a dagger in his other hand. Eyeing you with sick lustful interest.

He wants your goodness too. He wants it so he can spoil you for himself and ruin Getas legitimacy. By whatever means necessary. Geta has cruelly inserted you into this feud.

“And who’s to say the heir will be yours… who knows where her eyes will stray.” He jabs. Eyes widening as he leers.

Geta stabs into his food. Glaring at his smaller twin all the while. Eyes dark as shadow cloaked black jewels.

When some servants near you move from pouring wine, the sight of the persons impeded by them, slowed your world to a halt, ringing gongs in your ears when you caught sight of someone you recognized.

Macrinus.

The food in your mouth turns to ash which you can hardly stomach swallowing. Your gaze locked on the man as he lays content at your wedding feast. Drinking wine and roaring laughter with Caracalla. Garbed in robes of rich Aquarian blue trimmed with gold pattern.

Exactly the gracious easy way he had been when he dined with you and your father in his home.

His smile remains as he locks eyes with you. And raises his glass in a toast in your direction. You hear him drink to your new name with a blazing smirk aimed your way. “Empress.”

You mumble a pithy excuse. You don’t know if anyone hears you or if they’ll even look up from their plates when you get up and rush to leave.

Caracalla snorts as you race from the room on the verge of tears.

“She’s a flighty one. Your Empress. So full of tears.” Caracalla comments loudly. Cruelly. Turning his head to meet the acid stare of his brother - and the Dowager Empress as she lowers her goblet from her lips. Eyes cool as metal.

“Maybe if you shoved your cock into your broodmare, brother, as you doubtless plan to do this night. Maybe that would settle her down? Or maybe a good beating from the guards will see her right, make her see her place… maybe let a few of the guards bend her over a lectus and see to her first? Loosen her up a little for your uses.”

“Caracalla. Enough.” The dowager snaps. Lightning power in her voice. Tone fashioned from a fury storms could envy. Her dark eyes glow with it.

She turns to Geta and lays a gentle pacifying hand to his arm. “See to your bride, dear. She looked unwell.”

Geta sighs a snarl. Glaring at his brother as he does as mother suggested.

She watches him leave. Turns to her other son with barely concealed ire.

Caracalla snorts into his wine with the other guests. Making sneering, high handed remarks.

“Such marital bliss.” He mocks to the guests. Twirling his favourite silver dagger in his other hand. Laughing as he played with the dead meats on his plate with a sneer. His tooth winked golden in the light.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[myscalesofjustice]

If Maomao and Jinshi have a daughter, her name must have gui, the character for "cassia tree" (桂), in it. A) Bark from the cassia and its cousin cinnamon has a hundred uses, and B) the character can also represent the osmanthus tree, which is associated with the Moon. Jinshi is the "moon prince".

Not sure what second character to complete the name works best. Maybe "branch", which would make Guizhi.

[sumerianlanguage]

I‘ve read the Sumerian Word „gazi“ can mean Cinnamon, Licorice or Mustard. Is that one of these „it refers to one of those, but we can’t nail down which it is“-Cases or is it actually the same for all three of those?

It's the former. Gazi (whose cuneiform oddly doesn't render on tumblr) may mean "mustard seed" or "licorice" according to the ePSD, and Halloran describes it as "a pungent spice - cassia or black mustard, used in meat dishes - reserved for the well-to-do". (Cassia is a spice derived from the bark of Cinnamomum cassia, sometimes called "Chinese cinnamon".) All the examples I can find in text are either in recipes or dictionary entries, neither of which makes it easy to figure out exactly which spice it means.

[amgarraks]

No one asked, but some character notes I've been making for Leto while running through Rogue Trader (currently just recruited Jae, so still fairly early game) —

Employs a "harsh but fair" approach to running a ship. Leto will employ harsh punishments to those who deserve it, particularly officers who abuse their positions but be more lenient towards the rabble if they're directly acting out due to the officers abusing their position.

Doesn't necessarily mind "slumming it" on Footfall / on the lower decks and could pass decently as a lower decker if it's wasn't for the Navy regalia and the more expensive augmentations. He arrives incognito on Footfall so he can feel like he's back on shore leave rather than be caught up in the pomp and ceremony of a Rogue Trader.

Shows kindness towards mutants & voidborn being Voidborn himself. A lot of the lower deckers think he's taking the piss or trying to trick them (fairly understandable) but he's far more sympathetic than say, Imperial World officers might be. Perhaps a little too lenient in some people's eyes (sorry Abelard.)

It was always impressed into him by his father to cultivate a close, professional working relationship with his Lord or Lady Navigator. I don't think his father meant that close when Leto's parents find out his Lady Navigator (the Novator of her House) practically eloped with him, but well, the Admiral can hardly talk as someone who eloped with a member of the aristocracy. If anything, he set a precedent (love over duty, even if it causes a scandal.)

Since everyone keeps bringing up his intellect due to his Apex of Brilliance triumph, I made Leto a Master Tactician to reflect that. He knows when to press the advantage and when to retreat, and I think it makes him synergise really nicely with Cassia, who is now the Grand Strategist of the retinue; she has a combat bark about having read tomes on military strategy, so I like the flavour of her being able to put that into practice as a Grand Strategist and perhaps having had sessions with Leto and Abelard with them explaining how she can apply the theory to benefit them as her frontliners / main defenders (she's usually either with one of them at any given time in a fight, mostly so she can get the benefits of Brace for Impact.)

Leto's main proficiencies are Carouse, Athletics, Medicae, Persuasion, Logic and Commerce. He uses Intelligence for Commerce and Persuasion (thank you Voidborn) instead of Fellowship. All of them feel thematic enough, I think, for a melee Navy Officer. Especially since van Mynaard was the Lord Captain of the Drusus's Blessing (which is just outside Footfall / is the merchant representative for the Imperial Navy) before being requisitioned by Theodora.

Because of his insecurities re his mutations (though they're definitely on the minor side), that doesn't mean he's often ~intimate~ and he tried not to fraternise too much aboard navy vessels anyway. But y'know. There's been dalliances, just few and far between.

[krscblw]

Ministry Perfume Associations

I’m back yet again with more thoughts about Ghost and perfume! This time it’s fragrances from my own collection that remind me of various places in my headcanon of the Ministry. (Usually these lists are mostly made up of perfumes that I don’t actually have, but this time I can vouch for all of these! I didn’t include any that I thought weren’t good.)

For the sake of organization these are divided into places in the New Wing (the most recent addition to the Ministry), the Old Wing (the original Ministry buildings), and the grounds (gardens, forests, etc). And as always, if you have your own thoughts or want me to do more of this, please let me know! I would love to talk more about Ghost and perfume.

(also: so sorry for the weird formatting, idk how to fix it on mobile but it should be fine on desktop)

New Wing:

Library: old books, wood, dust, paper, ink

The library is part of the New Wing of the Ministry, although it’s not very new anymore. Built in the early 1900s, the New Wing is all soaring ceilings, stained glass windows, and intricate woodworking, done in the Art Nouveau style of the time. The library’s floor-to-ceiling shelves are full of books ranging from ancient esoteric tomes to modern fiction paperbacks, interspersed with desks and secluded reading nooks. The library also houses the Ministry’s private collection of artifacts - some occasionally used for ritual purposes, some purely academic in nature. The library is always very still, with the occasional susurrus of turning pages and quiet voices. It smells like polished wood, faint dust, and the leather and paper of old books. 

Library Ghost - Poesie 

marshmallows, books, ink, polished wood

Myself Invisible - Poesie 

stacked books, spilled ink, black tea, violets

Bibliotheca - Alkemia  

leather-bound books, vintage vinyl records, mahogany, fountain pen ink, black tea, plum brandy

Canoodling in the Library - Nui Cobalt  

old books, mahogany shelves, fallen leaves, ancient stone stairs, amber resin, warm skin musk, vetiver

Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

irish coffee, dusty tomes, polished oakwood halls

Personal Quarters: carved wood furniture, tea and coffee, soft bedding, books and clutter, spices, vanilla

The personal quarters are also in the New Wing, separated into human quarters and ghoul quarters (for everyone’s comfort and safety). The personal quarters tend to feel very cozy and lived-in, as they are the rooms most frequently used. The furniture is comfortable, often occupied by off-duty siblings or ghouls, and the arch windows overlooking the gardens and forest cast soft beams of light onto the wood floors in the afternoon. The siblings’ quarters tend to smell like the possessions of those who occupy them - books, scented candles, tea and coffee, and faint spices from the small kitchen. The ghouls’ quarters are similar, but with the scents of various elements - smoke, greenery, damp stone, fresh air, resin.

Mysterious Fossils - Poesie  

smoked black tea with creamy vanilla oat milk, a cashmere sweater, tortoiseshell glasses, a cedar chest containing fossils encased in amber, sandstone, and limestone

Whisper Your Bitter Things - Poesie  

pressed coffee beans, dried clove bud and cassia bark, jasmine, neroli, roasted vanilla pods

Grey Cat - Nui Cobalt  

smoked vanilla, marshmallows, fresh blueberries, lavender, earl grey tea

Kensington - Fantome  

earl grey tea, cashmere, vanilla bean, cedar, rose petals, mandarin zest, pink peppercorn, bergamot

Ouija - Possets  

cedar, rosewood, black vanilla, fat vanilla, rose, black silk, coriander

Our Days Bewitched - PULP Fragrance  

walnuts, brandy, roasted cocoa beans, copal, cardamom, labdanum, black vanilla, aged oak barrels

Old Wing:

Chapel: resinous incense, polished wood, wine, smoke

The chapel is part of the Old Wing. The exact dates of its construction could probably be found somewhere in the Ministry’s records, but the gothic architecture suggests it’s been there for at least 500 years. The cold grandeur of the exterior’s intricate stonework and vibrant stained glass windows is matched in the chapel. It is perpetually cold, made fully of elaborately carved stone, and colorful sunlight filters through the enormous stained glass windows onto the altar and the pews. The heavy, still air smells like residual incense smoke, snuffled candles, fragrant wood, and ritual wine.

Holy Terror - Arcana Wildcraft  

burning frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, dusty beeswax candles

Anastasia the Patrician* - Deconstructing Eden

paper, ink, frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, copal, rose, juniper berries, wine

Leo* - Deconstructing Eden

frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, amber, liatrix, blood cedar, blond tobacco absolute, sweet spices, honey

Parlour - Fantome  

mahogany, rosewood, burning incense, vetiver

*i think these were discontinued? sorry

Crypt: cold damp stone, smoke, dust, ashes

The crypt is the only place in the Ministry that truly reflects its age. It feels like it has been standing, underground, inhabited only by the dead, for hundreds of years. It’s well-maintained, but perpetually freezing cold and slightly damp. The stone walls are minimally decorated, and the candles in their niches do very little to illuminate the cavernous space. The air is weighty, and all sound is muffled. The crypt smells like damp stone, cold air, sweet dust, and smoke.

Gargoyle - Nui Cobalt  

rain, lavender, cathedral incense, beeswax candles, ancient stone

Summoning/Ritual Chambers: cold stone, ritual incense, blood, wine, smoke

The ritual chambers are where summonings and rituals are performed. They are where every new ghoul comes into the world, and, more rarely, where they’re banished from it. The walls and floor are stone, and there are no windows. When in use, the chambers are lit by dozens of flickering candles, some in sconces, some piled onto tables, and years of melted wax have created puddles and formations on the walls and floor. The air is dense, thick with dust, herb smoke, ritual incense, and the scent of dried blood.

Baba Yaga - Fantome  

black and red musk, smoke, cracked bones, cardamom, wood, animal skins, mugwort

Conjure - Solstice Scents  

vanilla, amber, cedar, spices, cauldron smoke

Gothique - Alkemia  

frankincense, styrax benzoin, myrrh, cassia, spikenard, canella, liquidambar orientalis, labdanum, atlas cedar, vetiver

A City on Fire - Imaginary Authors  

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, a burnt match

Vassago - Fantome  

A silver dagger, red wine, blackberries, cloves, orange peel, blood, a black mirror

Grounds:

Gardens: dirt, greenery, sun, fruit, flowers

The Ministry sits on a huge expanse of land. Most of it is still wild and forested, but there is a good amount of it dedicated to gardens, both decorative and functional. 

Decorative Gardens:

The decorative gardens are lush and heavy with flowers and fresh greenery most of the year, tended to by the Earth ghouls. Some of them are small cloistered gardens, decorated with statues and fountains, and some are larger, intended for gatherings or wandering alone. The decorative gardens tend to smell like fragrant herbs and flowers - sweet jasmine and magnolia, heavy white lilies and heirloom roses. 

Basilica - Milano Fragranze 

thyme, rosemary, incense, milk, labdanum, cedarwood, cypriol oil

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors  

jasmine, tulips, frankincense, wildflower honey, pink peppercorns, silver thistle, alpine air

Isabella - Possets 

rose, light resin, white tea, honey, cream musk, spices

Olwyn - Fantome  

magnolia blossoms, white lilies, jasmine, gardenia, buttery vanilla, myrrh, benzoin, orange blossom

Silver Narcissus - Possets  

silver base, narcissus

Functional Gardens:

The functional gardens supply the flowers for decoration within the Ministry as well as the herbs and most of the produce for the kitchens. The gardens, orchards, and greenhouses are managed by the Earth ghouls, and yield so much produce that, despite the relatively small size of the gardens and the relatively large size of the Ministry, they still end up with extra. That surplus is sold at the local farmers’ market to unsuspecting humans who wonder in open amazement about the size and quality of this mysterious farm’s produce.

Sundrunk - Imaginary Authors  

neroli, rhubarb, honeysuckle, rose water, orange zest

Drider Crossing Guard - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab  

dry, earthy fig, black pepper, nutmeg, black plum tea

Wilcox’s - Solstice Scents  

dry woods, fresh herbs, dried herbs, warm spices, sweet annie, sage, rosewood 

Lake: water, trees, evergreens, greenery, stone

The Ministry’s lake is very deep, cold, and still. It’s objectively beautiful, with its glassy blue-gray waters and lush vegetation, but something about it feels dangerous. The pebbled shores are visited only by the bravest siblings, and even then only on the hottest and most desperate of summer days. The water ghouls, on the other hand, love it (which is possibly why the siblings tend to stay away). It is located at the border between the new and old forests, and its mossy banks are surrounded by evergreens, ferns, and rushes. It smells green and a little salty.

Villa Diodati - Poesie  

wild rosemary, balsam pine, crystal clear lakewater, dry, dark vanilla

Every Storm a Serenade - Imaginary Authors  

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

The Forest: trees, dirt, damp air, greenery, wildflowers, fungi

New Forest:

The new forest is a nickname given to the shallow edges of the forest that are closest to the Ministry. The trees are widely spaced, and the ground is thickly carpeted with grasses and wildflowers. Sunlight filters easily through the sparse leaf canopy and illuminates the fallen logs and patches of moss that make popular spots for siblings and ghouls looking to unwind. The air is light, and the breeze carries with it the scent of fresh greenery, tree sap, and sweet flowers. 

Cape Heartache - Imaginary Authors  

douglas fir, pine resin, western hemlock, vanilla leaf, strawberry, old growth, mountain fog

Dendrophilia - Nui Cobalt  

moss-covered deadfall, birchwood and pine, lingering resins, sunlight through the leaves, a trace of woodsmoke, faint vetiver and cedar

Duende - Fantome  

oakmoss, cedar, fir, labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

Solovey - Fantome 

black amber, violets, black currants, espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

Old Forest:

If you go far enough into the new forest, you will eventually get to the old forest. The trees are bigger and closer together, the sunlight struggles to reach the ground, and there are more mushrooms than flowers. The air is damp and cool and smells like fungus, loam, and rotting leaves. The old forest is avoided by siblings both because of the unsettling watched feeling any human who enters feels and the unspoken knowledge that if you don’t come back out no one will go looking for you. 

Gaea - Alkemia  

forest loam, ferns, decaying leaves, lichen, wet stones

Dies Irae - Possets  

black musk, fog, bitter galbanum, hawthorn, rotting leaves, orris, smoky oude, frankincense, black amber

Feuillemort - Alkemia  

dying leaves, smoked autumnal spices, dried grasses and fungi, Tibetan incense, cedarwood, rum soaked agarwood, and borneol

Samhain - Haus of Gloi  

freshly turned earth, wet leaves, cold wind

if you made it this far 1) thank you lol and 2) i hope you enjoyed! if you have your own thoughts i would love to hear them!

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Close-up on whole spices including bark cinnamon, star anise, black cardamom, and mace in a granite mortar. End ID]

मीट मसाला / Meat masala (Nepali spice blend)

Nepali मीट मसाला or मिट मसाला ("mīṭ masālā" or "miṭ masālā," from "meat masala")—also called मटन मसाला ("maṭana masālā," "mutton spice blend")—is used to season various kinds of meat, but is especially common in marinades and sauces for lamb, as in खसीको मासु ("khasīko māsu," "lamb curry"). In Nepal, meat is usually eaten for parties or celebrations, on feast days—such as दसैँ (Dashain) and ईद अल-अधा (Eid al-Adha)—and on weekends.

Meat masala is sold as a commercial product to make home cooks' preparation of meat quicker and easier. In some recipes, the spice blend is not listed as a separate ingredient, but is hidden within the list and prepared fresh with each dish: depending on the cook, some of the spices will be left whole and fried in the cooking oil, and others will be toasted, ground, and added later.

Making your own meat masala gives you more control over the ingredients than buying commercially, and ensures a fresher product. Keep some in your pantry to add to meat preparations including curries, dumplings, and chatamari, and to use in marinades, sauces, and braises; or make a batch ahead of a festival and use it as the seasoning base for dishes you prepare over the course of the holidays.

Recipe under the cut!

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Ingredients

Spices for grinding

4 dried (3g) red chilis, or to taste (रातो खुर्सानी / rato khursani)

2 Tbsp (16.5g) cumin seeds (जीरा / jeera)

2 Tbsp (8.5g) coriander seeds (धनिया / dhaniya)

1 Tbsp (7g) green cardamom pods (सुकमेल / sukmel)

1 Tbsp (5g) black cardamom pods (अलैंची / elaichi)

1 Tbsp (8.5g) black peppercorns (मरिच / marich)

3-inch chunk (6.5g) Chinese cassia bark (दालचीनी क्यासिया / dalchini kyasiya)

1 tsp (2.5g) whole cloves (ल्वाङ / lwang)

1/2 head (2.5g) nutmeg (जायफल / jaiphal)

1 tsp (4.5g) fenugreek seeds (मेथी / methi)

1 tsp (2.5g) fennel seeds (सौंफ / saumph)

1 pod (1g) star anise (स्टार ऐनीज़)

1/2 tsp (1.5g) ground turmeric (बेसार / besar)

1/2 head (.3g) mace (जावित्री / javitri) (optional)

Look for cassia (cinnamon) bark that is rough and wood-like in appearance and does not curl naturally into quills: it may be labelled "cassia bark," "cinnamon stick flat," "desi cinnamon," or "dalchini flat" at a South Asian or halal grocery store.

Black cardamom pods may be labelled "kali elaichi" or "moti elaichi."

Spices for frying

2 medium (.7g total) tej patta (Nepal bay leaves) (तेजपात)

1 tsp (2g) ground ginger (अदुवा / adhuwa)

You may choose to leave out the spices for frying if you will be making a curry (and can fry them along with the rest of the aromatics). Include them for a preparation where the meat will not be fried in oil (e.g. momos, chatamari).

Instructions

1. Lightly crush nutmeg in a mortar and pestle to break in half. Crush cinnamon to break into a few pieces.

2. In a dry skillet over medium heat, roast chilis, black and green cardamom pods, and cinnamon until fragrant, stirring often. Set aside to cool.

3. Roast black peppercorns, cloves, and star anise for a couple minutes until fragrant. Set aside.

4. Roast smaller seeds (cumin, coriander, fenugreek, fennel), mace, and tej patta for a minute until fragrant. Set aside.

5. Remove skillet from heat. Toast turmeric and ginger for 30 seconds, stirring constantly.

6. Grind all spices together in a mortar and pestle or spice mill. Pass through a fine mesh sieve. Store in an airtight container in a cool place.

[sdvsalad]

Envy Green - The Witch and the Rain

Desc: Anise and Basil discuss some rumors.

Notes: Tiny story from Author B! This one's short and kinda peters out at the end... enjoy it anyway! It's mostly a discussion of stuff that's implied/stated in SDV canon. I did totally make up one part, so ignore that if you spot it ok?

“Sooo, this green rain…” Basil started, pondering what she assumed to be radioactive ooze falling from the sky. “Is that what made that witch person who keeps cursing our crops turn green?”

Cassia sighed deeply. She did not want to talk about the witch.

Anise, who was deep into the relationship drama of the town at this point, was very excited to talk about the witch. “Nope! It was…” Anise paused for dramatic affect. “...Envy!!”

Basil gave her an annoyed look and turned back to the window.

“No I’m serious!” Anise complained. She wanted to tell the story so bad

Basil gave a wary look over her shoulder. “What.”

Anise got comfortable in her spot on the couch. “The witch used to be married to the wizard, the one in the tower off the edge of town.”

“Your mortal enemy, I know,” Basil rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like there were other wizards around. Well, she hoped there weren’t any others around.

Anise nodded seriously and continued. “She wasn’t green at the time, you know. But the wizard was still a terrible, awful person back then, including to his wife. He cheated on her with someone in town -” Anise was going off of pure conjecture for this specific point, but she did believe in it wholeheartedly. “ - And it made the witch so mad with envy she turned green and flew away, swearing revenge on him! It’s why he lives in his tower full time, it has wards to keep her away. If he ever stepped out…!” Anise was picturing the wizard turning into a frog and exploding, and other fun scenarios. If only…

Basil had an important question on her mind still. “Could the rain theoretically turn someone green?”

Anise, annoyed at Basil’s uncaring attitude towards her story, barked “maybe you should try it and find out!”

[mariacallous]

Cinnamon has been long used around the world in both sweet and savoury dishes and drinks.

But a new TikTok trend claims adding a teaspoon of cinnamon to your daily coffee (and some cocoa to make it more palatable) for one week can help you burn fat. Is there any truth to this?

Not All Cinnamon Is the Same

There are two types of cinnamon, both of which come from grinding the bark of the cinnamomum tree and may include several naturally occurring active ingredients.

Cassia cinnamon is the most common type available in grocery stores. It has a bitter taste and contains higher levels of the active ingredient cinnamaldehyde, a compound that gives cinnamon its flavour and odor. About 95 percent of cassia cinnamon is cinnamaldehyde.

The other is Ceylon cinnamon, which tastes sweeter. It contains about 50 to 60 percent cinnamaldehyde.

Does Cinnamon Burn Fat? What Does the Research Say?

A review of 35 studies examined whether consuming cinnamon could affect waist circumference, which is linked to increased body fat levels. It found that daily doses of cinnamon below 1.5 grams (around half a teaspoon) decreased waist circumference by 1.68 centimeters (0.66 inches). However, consuming more than 1.5 gram a day did not have a significant effect.

A meta-analysis of 21 clinical trials with 1,480 total participants found that cinnamon also reduced body mass index (BMI) by 0.40 kilograms per square meter and body weight by 0.92 kilograms (2.0 pounds). But it did not change the participants’ composition of fat or lean mass.

Another umbrella review, which included all the meta-analyses, found a small effect of cinnamon on weight loss. Participants lost an average of 0.67 kg and reduced their BMI by 0.45 kg/m².

So overall, the weight loss we see from these high-quality studies is very small, and mostly with no change in body composition.

The studies included people with different diseases, and most were from the Middle East or the Indian subcontinent. So we can’t be certain we would see this effect in people with other health profiles and in other countries. They were also conducted over different lengths of time, from two to six months.

The supplements were different, depending on the study. Some had the active ingredient extracted from cinnamon, others used cinnamon powder. Doses varied from 0.36 g to 10 g per day.

They also used the two different types of cinnamon—but none of the studies used cinnamon from the grocery store.

How Could Cinnamon Result in Small Amounts of Weight Loss?

There are several possible mechanisms.

It appears to allow blood glucose (sugar) to enter the body’s cells more quickly. This lowers blood glucose levels and can make insulin work more effectively.

It also seems to improve the way we break down fat when we need it for energy.

Finally, it may make us feel fuller for longer by slowing down how quickly the food is released from our stomach into the small intestine.

What Are the Risks?

Cinnamon is generally regarded as safe when used as a spice in cooking and food.

However, in recent months the United States and Australia have issued health alerts about the level of lead and other heavy metals in some cinnamon preparations.

Lead enters as a contaminant during growth (from the environment) and in harvesting. In some cases, it has been suggested there may have been intentional contamination.

Some people can have side effects from cinnamon, including gastrointestinal pain and allergic reactions.

One of the active ingredients, coumarin, can be toxic for some people’s livers. This has prompted the European Food Authority to set a limit of 0.1 mg per kg of body weight.

Cassia cinnamon contains up to 1 percent of coumarin, and the Ceylon variety contains much less, 0.004 percent. So for people weighing above 60 kg, 2 teaspoons (6 g) of cassia cinnamon would bring them over the safe limit.

What About the Coffee and Cocoa?

Many people may think coffee can also help us lose weight. However there isn’t good evidence to support this yet.

An observational study found drinking one cup of regular coffee was linked to a reduction in weight that is gained over four years, but by a very small amount: an average of 0.12 kg (0.26 lbs).

Good-quality cocoa and dark chocolate have also been shown to reduce weight. But again, the weight loss was small (between 0.2 and 0.4 kg) and only after consuming it for four to eight weeks.

So What Does This All Mean?

Using cinnamon may have a very small effect on weight, but it’s unlikely to deliver meaningful weight loss without other lifestyle adjustments.

We also need to remember these trials used products that differ from the cinnamon we buy in the shops. How we store and how long we keep cinnamon might also impact or degrade the active ingredients.

And consuming more isn’t going to provide additional benefit. In fact, it could increase your risk of side effects.

So if you enjoy the taste of cinnamon in your coffee, continue to add it, but given its strong taste, you’re likely to only want to add a little.

And no matter how much we’d like this to be true, we certainly won’t gain any fat-loss benefits by consuming cinnamon on doughnuts or in buns, due to their high calorie count.

If you really want to lose weight, there are evidence-backed approaches that won’t spoil your morning coffee.

[keyecard]

It's Cassia!

She's named after the cassia bark, which cinnamon is made from. Her best friend and home is her 1992 Mitsubishi Delica Star Wagon, which she takes on plenty of road trips through remote forests and other places. She likes to bake apple rhubarb cinnamon tarts and the smell of decaying leaves. Shes a bionics technician by trade, but shes taking a break from the industry to chill for a bit

[bowserbowser29]

I have a type

[howdoistormspirit]

So I was sort of asked but did you know there are five types of trees we get cinnamon from? There’s “true cinnamon” which uhhhh iirc the tree was originally only found on Sri Lanka, but we also get cinnamon from cassia trees. It’s the inner bark of these trees! Cool, huh.

In Japan they harvest the roots of the cinnamon tree to create a product called uhhhh (and I had to look this up because I never remember) nikki (ニッキ)

I just think cinnamon is neat. It’s literally tree bark!

[tuanminhexport]

"Cinnamon: The Warm, Spicy Staple for Flavorful and Healthful Dishes"

Sourced from Vietnam's Quang Nam and Quang Ngai provinces, Tuan Minh's cinnamon boasts a sweet, warm, and woody flavor. Ideal climate and fertile soil contribute to the superior quality of this Cassia cinnamon, available as premium sticks and powder.

Meticulously prepared, Tuan Minh's cinnamon enhances the flavor of baking, cooking, and beverages. Harvested from the inner bark of *Cinnamomum* trees, it contains key nutrients like Iron, Calcium, Magnesium, Potassium, Zinc, Manganese, and Copper.

The two main harvest seasons are April-June and September-November, with a supply period from April to January. Certified by ISO, HACCP, FDA, KOSHER, and HALAL, Tuan Minh's cinnamon meets international standards, ready for export worldwide. With custom packaging options, Tuan Minh supports trade and direct export across the Americas, Europe, Asia, Africa, and Oceania, offering a high-quality, aromatic addition to culinary creations.

[wereldgerechten]

Authentic Chinese 5-Spices Powder

A versatile spice mix unique to Chinese cuisine, 5-spices powder adds great flavour to many classic dishes. It’s very easy to make at home.

Ingredients:

10 grams whole star anise 10 grams fennel seeds 5 grams Cassia cinnamon/Chinese cinnamon 5 grams whole Sichuan pepper corns 2 grams whole white pepper corns 2 grams whole cloves

Preperation:

Step 1:

Separate the pods of star anise. Remove any black seeds and stems from the Sichuan pepper.

Step 2:

Put all the spices into a cool pan, toast over medium-low heat until fragrant (The colour of the fennel seeds darkens a little and you’d hear some popping sound). Remove from the pan and leave to cool completely.

Step 3:

Add toasted spices to a spice grinder, a mini blender or a mortar and pestle and mill until fine powder appears.

Step 4:

Pass through a fine sieve to remove any remaining bits.

Step 5:

Store the powder in an airtight jar away from direct sunlight. It can be used for up to a year or longer if its aroma stays strong.

NOTE:

In my experience, star anise, fennel seeds, cloves and white pepper can be found in mainstream supermarkets, while Sichuan pepper (also spelled Szechuan pepper corns) and Cassia cinnamon are available in Chinese/Asian stores.

If you have trouble sourcing Cassia cinnamon aka Chinese cinnamon, Cassia bark, you may replace it with Ceylon cinnamon, but reduce its quantity by half.