#fresh peeled onion

[linyiorganic]

[askwhatsforlunch]

Spicy Bean and Tomato Soup (Vegan)

I love when Soup Season begins, on these early Autumn rainy and chilly days when a steamy bowl of something hearty feels like hug! (To be fair, I also love when Salad Season begins on the first warm days of Spring; but that's another story!...) This Spicy Bean and Tomato Soup definitely warms you from within, and it is tasty as, too!

Ingredients (serves 3):

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 red Bell Pepper, rinsed

1/2 green Bell Pepper, rinsed

1/2 teaspoon ground chilli or Cayenne Pepper

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 red onion

1 large garlic clove, minced

a small bunch Garden Parsley

1 tin red kidney beans (about 1 cup)

1/2 cup Garden Cherry Tomatoes, rinsed

1 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

1 cup Whole Peeled Tomatoes 

2 cups water

1/2 tablespoon demerara sugar

In a large pot over medium-high heat, heat olive oil.

Seed and dice Bell Pepper halves, and stir into the pot. Cook, a couple of minutes.

Add ground chilli, cumin and cinnamon, and fry, a couple of minutes more.

Peel and finely chop red onion, and stir into the pot, along with garlic. Cook, another minute.

Finely chop Garden Parsley, and stir half into the pot.

Drain red kidney beans, rinse under cold water, and drain thoroughly again. Stir into the pot, coating in spices and herbs.

Halve Cherry Tomatoes, and add them to the pot. Cook, a couple of minutes.

Season with coarse sea salt and black pepper.

Roughly chop Whole Peeled Tomatoes, and stir into the pot, along with their juice. Cook, about 3 minutes more.

Stir in water and bring to the boil.

Once boiling, reduce heat to low, and simmer, one hour.

Just before serving, stir in demerara sugar until completely dissolved.

Serve Spicy Bean and Tomato Soup hot, sprinkled with reserved chopped Parsley.

[july-19th-club]

omg i got the jammy eggs perfect this time the trick with the salt really worked

[stateofdrought]

The Persian Frittata Kuku Sibzamini is a hearty and tasty egg and potato dish that can be eaten for breakfast, brunch, or even as a light dinner. That gives it a very Persian taste: fragrant spices like cumin and turmeric are mixed with fresh herbs like parsley and cilantro.

Ingredients: 6 medium potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced. 1 large onion, thinly sliced. 5 eggs. 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley. 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro. 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric. 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin. 1/2 teaspoon salt. 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. 1/4 cup olive oil.

Instructions: Preheat the oven to 375F 190C. In a large bowl, mix together sliced potatoes, onions, eggs, parsley, cilantro, turmeric, cumin, salt, and black pepper until well combined. Heat olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet over medium heat. Pour the potato mixture into the skillet, spreading it out evenly. Cook for 5-7 minutes until the bottom is set and lightly golden. Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the top is set and golden brown. Remove from the oven and let it cool slightly before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature.

#KukuSibzamini, #Frittata, #PersianFood

Cara Horton

[dilfsuzanneyk]

thinking about how the very first scenes in the first episode already tell you so much about the characters and how they are...

[iliothermia]

Favourite way to prepare leeks? Shana Tova!

Thank you for asking! Yahni de Prasa (A Sephardi Greek leek stew) 3-4 large leeks 2 large onions thinly sliced 2 tbsp + 1/2 cup olive oil 2 large tomatoes peeled, seeded, chopped 2 tbsp fresh dill 1/2 cup vegetable stock salt + pepper Cut leeks into fairly large pieces, wash well. Saute leeks and onions in 2 tbsp olive oil until golden. Add tomatoes, 1/2 cup of olive oil, salt and pepper. Stir well periodically until it's simmered for 5 minutes. Add dill and 1/2 cup vegetable stock. Simmer tightly covered over low heat until most of the stock is absorbed. Serves 4. It's meant to be eaten with bread, I usually will make pita or bazlama to accompany it or make a stuffed pita with it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The speaker drones lowly, your playlist cycling through your most listened. You fall into your routine. You always liked cooking. It was always comforting. Your grandmother taught you all her favourite recipes whenever you came around. The familiar aromas bring back what can never truly be. 

You split the squash with a large knife, the thunk jarring you. You might not be the safest person in the kitchen but you’ve yet to do worse than a few nicks. You gut the seeds from inside and scoop in a heap of butter and brown sugar, then drizzle the rest with maple syrup. You’ll bake that while you work on the roast. 

The back door clatters and makes you flinch. Somehow, you almost forgot. That needling presence never really fades completely but you felt somewhat normal. 

You listen as Bucky lingers at the back door. He appears in the kitchen door as you look over. His grey jacket is streaked in dirt and his hands are similarly filthy. You give him a curious squint. 

“Got rid of that dead stump. Rot’s not good to keep around,” he explains. 

“Oh, right, you... wait? How did you do that? I was supposed to borrow Ian’s axe--” 

“Don’t need an axe,” he wiggles his vibranium fingers at you. “Gonna wash up. Anything I can help out with in here?” 

“Think I’m good,” you assure him, “I’m almost done.” 

“Mm, smells good,” he glances the pan of squash. 

“Hope so,” you reply. 

He watches you a moment before he turns away. His footsteps echo after him and fade into the soft music. You carry on, putting quartered onions and garlic cloves round the cut of meat. You baste and season, then put it all in the stove. 

You gather up the peels and seeds into your hands and head down the hall to toss it all in the compost. You get to the back door and clamour through, dumping it all into the barrel. You dust your hands off before you head inside. 

You didn’t notice the open door before. You’re slightly embarrassed as you glance over and catch Bucky lathering up his hands in the sink. You quickly flit away without another look. Oops. 

Cramped quarters are bound to get awkward but you hadn’t expected that sight. Bucky, shirtless, focused on his hands as he scrubbed away the dirt. You can see it vividly as you try not to think of it.  

The tortured flesh around his left shoulder, trimming the dark metal of his prosthetic, his other arm as hard as the other, firm and rounded with muscle. His chest full and just as taut, though his middle was softer. The little bit that stuck out over his pants and the extra layer of padding up his stomach filled him out, though there was strength woven into his entire body. 

You shake your head and swallow. You wipe down the counter and rinse off the used dishes and cutlery. You busy yourself and do your best to forget. 

You open the fridge and take out a bottle of sparkling water. You close it and nearly cry out as Bucky stands behind the door. He reaches up to grip the top of the fridge. He wears a fresh ribbed tank top, his arm flexing as he looms over you. 

“Mind grabbing me a beer, please and thanks.” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” you open the door again and take out a bottle of beer.  

“Sorry?” He echoes as the fridge closes with a nudge of your elbow, “for what?” 

“Um, nothing, just, didn’t hear you, I guess.” 

“Ah, so it’s not that Canadian thing you do?” 

“Canadian thing?” 

“You apologised for tripping earlier.” He shrugs as he accepts the beer. 

“Oh? Habit, maybe. I didn’t notice.” 

He chortles, “you know, I served with some Canadians. Good soldiers. They always show up.” 

“Wow, I... makes sense... my great grandfather served. Came back and drove a truck after,” you say. “My grandmother talked about him a lot but I was too young to remember him before he passed.” 

“Sorry,” he says, “ha, there I go, huh? Or is it eh?” You give him a look. He uncaps his beer and arches a brow. “What’s that for?” 

“What?” You wonder. 

“That look? Sam did say you could be a bit... never mind.” 

“He said I could be a bit what?” You twist of the plastic lid of your flavoured water. 

“Nothing, he always says shit, you know? Tells everybody I’m a grumpy old man. I’m old and I’m tired, not grumpy,” he insists as he leans on the counter and drinks his beer. As he does, he lifts his vibranium hand and picks at his thumb with the index. “Mm,” he pulls his lips off the neck, “you got a cuticle stick or something? This damn thing collects dirt like a broom.” 

“I might have something. Got Q-Tips,” you offer. 

“Whatever you got. I should probably clean this thing before dinner,” he says. 

“Sure, let me just go look.” 

You put your water down and squeeze past him. He doesn’t shy away, crowding you as you pass him. You don’t know if he’s just not paying attention or what.  

You go down to the bathroom and pull out the drawer. You wince as something rolls against the front. Shit. You really hope he wasn’t looking around already. You reach inside and take out the suction toy you shove it up your sleeve. Would he know what the silicon rose was? 

You search around and find a nail kit. You bought it thinking you were going to go camping but that never happened. Maybe next year. 

You dip into your room and tuck the silicon toy on the bookshelf then head back to the kitchen. You hand him the small case. “Brand new. You can keep it.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he accepts it, wiggling it between his fingers, “I’ll just go... take care of this.” 

He drinks again from his beer and sidles through the doorway next to you. You slip through and retreat to the stove as warmth blooms around it. Is it the cooking that’s making you sweat or something else? 

[kcrossvine-art]

Hey folks! Itsssssssssssss timeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee for another dungeon meshi cooking time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Isnt that neat.

Its weird to think how long its gonna be before season 2 of the anime drops. Anyway go read the manga i promise you wont regret it. This ones from senshis lil garden on legs-

Today we'll be making Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts vegetables, vegetable wauter, and not Much else! Knife is there too.

Head of cabbage

4 carrots

3 potatoes

2 onions

2 turnips

Thick slice bacon

Butter

Seasoned rice vinegar

I lied theres pork did you fall for it did u catch it.

AND, “what does Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKSon, have you ever eaten a vegetabel

Broth is surprisingly flavorful considering the limited spices and short cooktime

Potatoes are perfect texture for dipping

Cabbage absorbed a lot of the juices!!!

Was more impressed by the salad part of the meal-

The turnips need to be sliced enough to Barely see through, and the carrots julienned thin enough to be almost peels

And its this wonderful vegetable confetti tasteful in its simple pleasure

Rice vinegar of any kind will work, seasoned rice vinegar is just what i had

Salt both parts of the meal generously

In the future i wouldve shredded or cut the cabbage much smaller. We'll talk more on that later. Its also intentionally barebones with spices and oils, me using butter and rice vinegar is even pushing the limits of show accurate because in the show they used plain olive oil.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From idea to execution, this was a very quick recipe. For starters, nothing gets cooked all that long (the water spends more time empty than it does ingredient'ed) and for lasters nothing gets cut all that much. It was tricky finding good sources for stewing a whole cabbage because most recipes call for either shredding or at least chopping smaller. And they do this for a reason. Its unwieldy trying to eat a whole half of cabbage, you never quite know when to start or where to start. Do you bite chunks out? Peel leaves? Spear it with other things? I dont know. I still dont. Im not a huge raw cabbage fan and it wasnt raw, but it wasnt transformed much either. Minimalist. 

This was a feast in the show and i bet that the freshness of the veggies were a factor, considering they were plucked fresh off the living rock guys. I wouldve killed to be able to brown the onions, roast the carrots, or maybe cube the potatoes (though the consistency was perfect for forking and dipping them in butter so! Bonuses.)

Oven roast bacon is a beloved treet for me. It seemed to absorb some of the vegetable broth and vice versa with the broth absorbing the oils from the bacon, which enhanced all the flavors. Maybe in the future itd be nice to try cooking the bacon a bit ahead, and then adding it to the pot while everythings boiling? Also adding a spritz of lemon juice to either/both is always nice!

I give this recipe a solid 7/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its simplicity. With modifications like shredding the cabbage and more seasonings, it could become an easy 10/10. hit that like and subscribe or kill me

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

Head of cabbage

4 carrots

3 russet potatoe

2 white onions

2 turnips

10 slices of thick slice bacon

Butter

Seasoned Rice vinegar

Stew Method:

Preheat your oven to 400f. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil and place a baking rack on top (alternatively you can use a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and no baking rack. but the baking rack lets the air circulate better and the grease drip off!)

Cook your bacon for about 18 minutes or until crisp. Flip halfway through.

Chop your carrots, peel and slice your potatos in half, and slice your onions into rings.

Get a large pot with a tight fitting lid, add water, salt, your carrots, your potato pieces, and your onions. Cover and heat to a low boil.

Cut the cabbage head in half down the middle. Once the pot is boiling, carefully add your cabbage to the pot and arrange the halves so theyre fully covered.

Cover and cook for about 13 minutes, the cabbage should be slightly crisp but have give to them. 

Remove from heat and laddle contents into a bowl, arrange some of your bacon along the sides so the fat and the broth mix :) salt and pepper to taste. And get a little saucer for butter so you can dip the potato pieces and/or coat the cabbage pieces.

Salad Method:

Peel your carrots and turnips. Cut off the ends of both. Julienne your carrots, and thinly slice your turnips.

Add your carrot greens (or your chosen leaf filler) to a bowl, then add your carrots and turnips.

Coat with seasoned rice vinegar, salt, and pepper. Thoroughly mix and enjoy :) 

[edgeray]

Hi child :]

What about arle cooking for reader?

I think she can’t cook it’s hilarious but I’d love to see what you come up with if you decide to write it<3

Onions Are Her Weakness

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi momma!!! I've been looking forward to this one, but I do my requests based on chronological order. Finally got to this one! Was waiting to write some crack :D Reader is gonna be gender neutral. I was so excited about writing about how arle can't cook, i forgot about the prompt and decided to have reader teach arle how to cook. hopefully this is okay  Content warnings / info - author attempts to be funny, author pretends that they know how to cook

Despite Arlecchino's best efforts, it had come to her beloved's attention that Arlecchino did not have much cooking experience. Like the loving partner that you are, you aim to correct that. After all, cooking is an essential life-skill that even children need to learn. How Arlecchino has yet to learn, you're not certain, but you suppose better now then never for Arlecchino. 

For your sanity, maybe never was better. 

Your husband is, archons bless her, talented in a number of fields. But archon, you will never allow her to set foot in the kitchen again.

It was clear that Arlecchino didn't just not have cooking experience, but she didn't have any experience, period. Neither did she have any cooking intuition, or the bare necessity, common sense. With how abysmal her skills are, you no longer find her fondness of raw meat all that surprising. 

For the day, you banned the kitchen from the rest of the House of the Hearth; it was reserved for you and Arlecchino only. 

You first started off with Fontainian Onion Soup. Easy enough, you naively thought. 

“Okay, Arlecchino. First step is to ‘peel and thinly slice onions from–” You begin reading out, but before you can finish the instructions, a flash of black and red flies past your sight and then a crisp, wet, crunch that makes you cringe. You glance up from the book and to your utter horror, a gruesome murder scene lies in front of you on the cutting board.

You couldn't fathom what the onions did to deserve such a fate. Instead of the thinly sliced peel you're supposed to see suggested by the book, there is the sick, disgusting scene of the maimed remains of the once fresh onions. It’s like the onions are crying for death after that assault. Arlecchino stands besides you, unaware of the atrocity she commited on your counter. The knife next to you remains untouched.

“Arlecchino,” you say, as composed as one can be, though you already feel like you're about to cry–and it's not because of the onions. “You're supposed to use the knife to cut.”

Arlecchino looks at her claws for a beat of silence. “Thank you for the clarification, my love.” 

She awkwardly picks up the knife, as if never having picked up a cooking tool before. Her entire fists grips around the handle, as if she continues to torture the already tormented onions. You set aside the mangled onions, and place the unharmed ones in front of her.

“Don't hold it like you're going to stab them,” you sigh, correcting her finger placement so that she was properly holding the knife. The poor onions had enough, you think to yourself. Your husband seems confused, but adjusts to the new position. 

You raise the book to her eye level, pointing at the picture. “Okay, it's supposed to look like this. Cut it like that, yeah?” 

Arlecchino nods, and attempts her best. Though not proportional, at least the cuts were straight. Improvement, right? The process is slow, her fingers keep returning to a stabbing position before you correct her again, reminding her that the onions do not feel pain. 

Finally, she has sliced the last one, as terrible looking as all the others, but you give her some slack. You glance up at her expression, wanting to see how she felt now that she had completed the first step of the recipe. 

Her face is wet. More specifically. She's crying.

“Arlecchino. You're crying.”

Arlecchino hastily wipes her eyes with her sleeves. “No, I am not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Crying is a display of weakness.”

“So onions are your weakness?”

You don't stop cackling for a good while, imagining how the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, being defeated by cut onions. Maybe the next time Arlecchino decides to have a duel with her children, you'll inform them to bring some onions and chuck them at her. 

“You speak of this to no one.”

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet would benefit from this information. No, even better, this can act as blackmail. Oh, you need to engrain this into your mind. “Of course.” 

You decide that you can't trust her enough to mince the garlic cloves. 

The next step was caramelizing the onions in the pan. 

“Arlecchino.”

“Yes?”

“What is the color of caramel?” 

“It is brown, why do you ask?” 

“Look at your onions, and tell me what color they are.”

Arlecchino looks down at the pan in her hand. She frowns. “They appear black.” 

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps they are cursed like I am.” 

“Arlecchino, no–”

You drag Arlecchino to the nearest market for more onions as a punishment for wasting your hard-earned money. Once you've returned, you impel her to cut and cook the onions again.

“Stir occasionally, okay? Don’t forget the oil and butter.” 

This time, the onions aren’t turned to ashes, and you think, maybe Arlecchino isn't so hopeless. The next few steps are just adding the rest of the ingredients for the soup, and you make sure that even she can't mess that up. Wine, then the stock and herbs, and you get something that vaguely reminds you of puke. 

Next comes the Fontainian bread. Nice crispy, cheesy bread is great with soap. This is the last step. Baking is easy. Just put things in the oven, and it'll be done.

“Take a pinch of the cheese and sprinkle it on the bread–no, Arlecchiono, that is not a pinch, that is a handful and a half. Put that back.” 

“But you like cheese.”

“I like my bread with cheese, not cheese with bread.” 

“They are the same thing.” 

“No, one is bread with cheese, and one is a mountain of cheese suffocating the bread as if it was demanding its money back. I like being able to taste bread.” 

Arlecchino pauses, likely confused by your comparison. “But you like cheese,” she repeats again, so sweet and so, oh confused. Archons, she's pouting. 

“Arlecchino. I don't need this much cheese,” you quietly confess. “Put it back.” 

“But–”

“Arlecchino, I love you, and I will always ask you to get me a fistful of shredded cheese when I want to. But it is not now. Put it back.” 

Sometimes, you wonder how this woman, this beautiful, sexy, hot woman of your husband was a Snezynayan diplomat. This is one of those times.

“Why do we have to wait for this long, when I can just use my vision?” 

“Because you will burn them, now can you please set down the tray so we don't char our bread. The bakeries are already closed, and burnt bread does not taste good.”

Arlecchino sighs and places down the cheesy breads, sparing them from their painful fate.

“I'm sure charred bread tastes acceptable. Charred meat has excellent flavor.”

That explains so many things and it makes you want to cry.  

After the bread is toasted, without the assistance of Arlecchino, you serve her the homemade soup and bread, the creation taking from noon to evening. Although you're starving, watching your husband’s eyes light up upon eating her creation makes all the hair pulling and teeth gritting moments worth it. In these moments, you forget that this hopeless, loving husband was anything but just that; not the Knave, not the Fourth Harbinger, just yours. You can forgive her for the slaughtered onions and the nearly burnt bread if it meant more domestic moments like these. 

In the middle of her meal, however, she stops and comments something.

“This would benefit from raw beef.”

You don't have the strength in you to deny her otherwise.  

[linyiorganic]

supply fresh peeled onion, yellow onion, purple onion,red onion ,LINYI ORGANIC FOODSTUFFS CO.,LTD, Whatsapp+8613562930101. email yulongrobert @ aliyun . com. #onion #whiteonion #redonion #freshonion #peeledonion #frozenonion#purpleonion#yellowonion#garlic#carrot

[askwhatsforlunch]

Caponata Calda (Vegan)

This Caponata Calda, a hot stew version of the Sicilian salad, was met with happy sighs and grunts of contentment as I served it for dinner last night, for it is hearty, fragrant, tasty and warming all at once! Happy Thursday!

Ingredients (serves 3 to 4):

4 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon dried basil

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

1/4 teaspoon ground chilli or Cayenne Pepper

2 aubergines, rinsed

half a large onion

1 large garlic clove, minced

1 heaped tablespoon capers, drained

1/4 cup black olives, pitted

1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel or sea salt flakes

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

2 tablespoons Modena Balsamic Vinegar

4 Whole Peeled Tomatoes + 1/2 cup or their juice

1 1/2 tablespoon caster sugar

a small bunch Garden Parsley

In a large, deep, nonstick skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat.

Add dried basil, oregano and thyme, along with ground chilli, and fry, 1 minute.

Dice aubergines and add aubergine dices to the skillet,. Cook until golden, about 4 to 5 minutes, stirring often.

Peel and finely chop onion, and stir into the skillet. Cook, a couple of minutes more. Stir in minced garlic.

Finely chop capers, and stir into the skillet, along with black olives. Cook, another couple of minutes.

Season with fleur de sel and black pepper. Deglaze with Modena Balsamic Vinegar, cook, 1 minute.

Finally, roughly chop Whole Peeled Tomatoes and add them, along with their juice, to the skillet. Bring to the boil.

Once boiling, reduce heat to medium, stir in caster sugar, and cover with a lid. Simmer, 10 minutes or so.

Finely chop Garden Parsley.

Just before serving, stir chopped Parsley into the skillet.

Serve Caponata Calda, as its name suggests, hot!

[kedreeva]

Well, it took 2 full days of reducing, but here's my chicken stock bullion! It is cooling/freezing in my little portable freezer so it doesn't wreck the temp o in my real freezer, and then I will pop them out and stash them in the chest freezer for later use. We don't eat a lot of chicken, but we do use a lot of chicken stock for rice dishes, and this reduces our non-compostable waste.

I also pitted, cut, packed, and froze 4lbz of dark sweet cherries for later. LOOK at how pretty these bad boys are!

Recipe for the bullion under cut!

4 rotisserie chicken carcasses (everything we didn't eat the day of acquisition, bones, skin, juices etc)

6-8 large carrots (washed, ends clipped, but not peeled), cut in half to make thick chunks

1 Vidalia onion (as much of it as possible, chunked into quarters)

2 celery hearts (pulled apart, tips snipped, green stalks only not the yellow inner heart... That's for me to crunch on while waiting)

3 heads of garlic (not cloves, the whole head, cloves peeled)

1/2-3/4 cup dried parsley flakes (prefer to use whole fresh stalks but my garden is still growing and I have dried to use up)

Salt (no idea how much but. Salt.

Normally that's the recipe but it's been kind of bland (I know chicken stock is supposed to be kind of bland but this was worse) so I also added a tablespoon of cumin, a pinch of paprika, a pinch of cinnamon, and a spoonful of brown sugar, and it really kicked the flavor up well.

Toss everything into the pot, fill with water past the level of the stuff in it, and let simmer (not boil) for 8-12 hours. If you want the broth to be clear (not opaque) you can skim the foam/Stuff off the top as you go, and make sure you DO NOT BOIL it. Once it hits boil temp the proteins dissolve and cannot be separated back out and the broth will be opaque. Which doesn't hurt anything imo and skimming is more work so I don't bother, but some people don't like it.

Remove the chicken and stuff to a bowl or other pot (I use a screen colander over a smaller pot and ladle stuff in until I'm sure it will fit and then dump the rest in). Take the clean liquid that is left and reduce to the desired concentration. I could have gone another hour or so on this batch, I think but I was done waiting.

[jackethockey]

Whole lotta love

Summary: Matthew Knies, a burly forward for the Toronto Maple Leafs, finds himself irresistibly drawn to a mysterious woman at a bar, only to discover she's none other than the sister of his team's legendary captain, Auston Matthews. The two embark on a passionate, secret affair that intensifies with every stolen moment. When the truth comes out, the locker room's dynamics are shaken, and the brothers-in-law face a tense standoff. However, as their love grows stronger with each challenge, the team begins to accept their relationship, and the couple's bond becomes an unshakeable force, redefining what it means to be a family both on and off the ice.

Warnings: heavy smut, fighting, explicit language, detailed sex, kissing, stripping, oral (f! receiving) p in v, wrap it before you tap it!

Word count: 5,466

You've been cooling, baby, I've been drooling. All the good times baby, I've been misusing. Way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you every inch of my love.

Matthew Knies, the burly, charismatic forward for the Toronto Maple Leafs, strutted into the bustling bar, a fresh victory against the Boston Bruins still resonating through his bones. The atmosphere was electric, a heady mix of sweat, beer, and the sweet scent of victory. His teammates roared with laughter, recounting the night's triumphs, the echo of their boisterous voices bouncing off the wooden walls. Matthew's piercing blue eyes scanned the room, looking for something—or someone—to celebrate with. That's when he saw you, a vision in blue and white, your eyes sparkling like the ice under the stadium lights. You were leaning against the bar, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you sipped a whiskey, your long legs crossed in a way that made his heart race. He hadn't noticed you at the game, but here you were, a tantalizing mystery amidst the sea of fans.

As he approached, your gaze met his, and the air between you crackled with an undeniable chemistry. "You're not a typical Leafs groupie," he quipped, his voice deep and gravelly.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what I look like to you?"

"No," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur, "you look like the kind of woman who could handle a man like me."

The conversation flowed as freely as the alcohol, each of you peeling back layers of the other's personality like the layers of an onion, revealing something raw and real. The attraction was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist. Before the night grew any later, Matthew leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, and whispered,

 "How about we take this celebration somewhere more... private?"

With a nod, you grabbed your jacket and followed him out into the crisp, cool air. The city was alive with the echoes of the game, the distant cheers of fans still celebrating. But all you could focus on was the heat of Matthew's hand on the small of your back as he guided you to his penthouse suite, a place that screamed success and masculinity with every step.

Once the door closed behind you, the tension in the air thickened. He looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, and you knew what was about to happen. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his mouth crushing down on yours in a kiss that was as fiery as the passion that burned between you. You melted into him, his strong arms holding you tight as your tongues danced together, a prelude to the passionate symphony that awaited in the bedroom.

Matthew's hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your curves with a hunger that was almost feral. You felt his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. Your hand slipped down to grasp him, feeling the heat and size of him through his pants. You gasped into his mouth as he broke the kiss, panting with need.

"You want this?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"More than you know," you breathed, your voice husky with desire.

And with that, he swept you off your feet and carried you into the bedroom, the promise of a night of unbridled passion hanging in the air like mist before a storm.

Matthew's penthouse was a testament to his success, with sleek, modern furnishings and a king-sized bed that looked like it was made for sin. He laid you down on it, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to strip away your clothing, revealing your body to him piece by piece. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him, his muscular frame moving with a grace that belied his size. He kissed you again, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, leaving a trail of heat and desire in its wake.

His hands found your breasts, tweaking your nipples until they were tight buds of pleasure. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he worked his way down your body, leaving kisses and gentle nips along the way. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he slid your panties to the side and touched your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

The sensation was exquisite, a jolt of electricity that had you bucking against him. His eyes remained locked on yours, a silent question in their depths. You nodded, unable to form words, and he plunged his tongue into your pussy, licking and sucking until you were a writhing mess of pleasure beneath him. Your fingers curled into the sheets as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building like a crescendo. And when it finally hit, it was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a wave of ecstasy that crashed over you and left you gasping for air.

As you lay there, panting and trembling, Matthew looked up at you with a smug smile, his face glistening with your arousal. Without wasting a beat, he stood and stripped out of his own clothes, revealing his rock-hard cock that bobbed with excitement. Your eyes widened with anticipation as he climbed back onto the bed, his muscular body hovering over you. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving yours. "You ready for this?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

"More than ready," you murmured, your voice whimpering.

With one powerful thrust, Matthew entered you, filling you up completely. You cried out, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He began to move, his hips pistoning in and out with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you could feel his dick hitting all the right spots, making you clench around him. He took your nipple into his mouth, biting down gently as his hand found its way between your legs, his thumb circling your clit. The combination of sensations had you spiraling towards the edge again, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice.

Matthew's breathing grew ragged, his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel the tension building in his body, and you knew he was close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on. "Cum for me," you panted, your voice a desperate plea.

And with a roar, he did just that, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled the condom. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his heart beating a wild tattoo against yours. For a moment, you just lay there, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. And then, reality began to seep back in, and you realized that this was just the beginning of something intense and unforgettable.

As the haze of pleasure slowly lifted, Matthew's weight shifted off you, and he discarded the condom before pulling you into his arms. Your bodies, slick with sweat, stuck together in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. His heartbeat thundered in your ear, a rhythmic reminder of the intimate connection you'd just shared. You snuggled closer, feeling a warmth and comfort that was as surprising as it was welcome.

As the night grew darker, your whispers grew softer, sharing secrets and stories that painted a picture of who you were outside the walls of this penthouse. Matthew listened intently, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your bare hip. You felt a strange sense of vulnerability, laying bare your soul to this man whose body you'd just explored so intimately. But with each shared word, a bond grew, a bond that was as real as the tangible connection between your bodies. His hand found its way up to your face, cupping your cheek as he leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was a moment of tenderness that took you by surprise, a stark contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you only moments ago. 

"Stay," he murmured against your lips, and you found yourself nodding, not ready for the night to end.

You curled up against him, your legs intertwined as he pulled the covers over you both. His strong arms wrapped around you, cradling you in a way that made you feel cherished. The steady beat of his heart lulled you into a peaceful slumber, your mind swirling with thoughts of what the morning would bring. Little did either of you know, this night of passion would be the start of a whirlwind romance that would shake the foundations of not just your personal lives, but the very fabric of the Toronto Maple Leafs' locker room dynamics. But for now, all that mattered was the warmth of each other's embrace, the promise of more to come, and the sweet oblivion of sleep.

The next morning dawned with the light peeking through the blinds, casting a soft glow on your tangled limbs. Matthew stirred, his eyes opening to find you still nestled in his arms. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you, your hair a wild mess and your cheeks flushed from sleep. He kissed you gently, savoring the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You blinked awake, your eyes meeting his. Matthew's eyes searched yours, his mind racing back to the whispers and rumors he'd heard in the locker room, the subtle resemblance in your laugh, the way you held yourself with the same poise and confidence that defined your brother, Auston Matthews, the hockey legend. He'd seen the family photos in the media, the shared features that hinted at your kinship. And when you spoke of growing up around the rink, the stories of a protective older brother who'd pushed you to skate faster and shoot harder, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The realization that you were indeed Auston's sister had hit him like a slapshot to the chest the moment he'd found out, but now, in the tender light of morning, all he felt was a profound connection that transcended the boundaries of friendship and team loyalty. 

"You're not just any woman," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and trepidation. "You're Auston Matthews' sister." 

He watched the understanding dawn in your eyes, a silent confession of the truth he'd suspected all along. But instead of retreating, you leaned in, your breath warm against his skin, and the intensity of the situation only served to deepen the bond that had grown between you during the night of unbridled passion. Matthew knew that the path ahead was fraught with potential complications, but as he kissed you again, he couldn't help but feel that destiny had placed you in his arms for a reason.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of stolen glances and secret touches, every encounter between you and Matthew charged with an intensity that could melt the ice rink. Whenever you weren't together, your thoughts drifted to the feeling of his rough hands on your body, his teeth grazing your neck, and the sound of his growls as you brought each other to the brink of ecstasy. It was a thrill that neither of you could resist, and yet, the secret weighed heavy on your hearts. The looming shadow of Auston's reaction loomed in the background, a constant reminder that this passion could come at a cost. But as the days turned into weeks, the chemistry between you grew too potent to contain, and the inevitable finally happened—Matthew saw you at a game, your face lighting up as you cheered for your brother's team. The shock in his eyes was palpable, but it quickly morphed into a fiery possessiveness that sent a thrill down your spine. He knew the risks, but he also knew that the connection you shared was too strong to ignore. And when the game ended in another victory for the Leafs, the electricity that crackled in the air was about more than just the scoreboard—it was about the unspoken understanding that you were now bound together by something more than just a one-night stand.

As the final buzzer rang out, signaling the Leafs' victory, Matthew couldn't help but scan the stands, his eyes searching for the familiar sparkle of your blue and white jersey. There you were, standing up, your hands clapping as you cheered for your brother's team. His heart raced, knowing that the moment of truth was upon them. After the game, he made his way to the locker room, his nerves on edge. He saw Auston, the team captain, surrounded by a crowd of reporters, his face a mask of triumph. Matthew took a deep breath and approached, his eyes locked on yours over the sea of bodies. The moment Auston spotted you, his expression shifted from elation to confusion, and then, as his gaze fell upon Matthew, to something much darker. The tension was palpable as the reporters dispersed and the locker room grew quieter. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Auston's voice was low, a clear warning.

 You stepped forward, a blush staining your cheeks, and announced with a hint of pride,

 "I'm with Matthew." 

The words hung in the air, and for a beat, there was silence. Then, the locker room door slammed shut, and the reality of your relationship was out in the open, ready to ignite a storm of emotion and drama that neither of you could have predicted.

Auston's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching as he took a step towards Matthew, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

"How could you?" 

The words were a knife through the air, slicing through the jovial atmosphere of the locker room like a hot blade through butter. Players and staff members alike stopped in their tracks, the sudden tension palpable.

"Auston, wait—" Matthew began, but it was too late.

 The team captain's rage was a force of nature, and nothing could stand in its way. Before he could get another word out, you found yourself being pushed behind a wall of teammates, their arms outstretched to keep the two men apart.

"Get the fuck away from her!" Auston roared, his body shaking with the effort to restrain himself. The room was a blur of confused faces and concerned whispers as the reality of your relationship hit him like a slap in the face.

Matthew's own temper flared, but he knew better than to let it show. Instead, he held up his hands in a placating gesture, his jaw tight with frustration.

 "It's not like that," he insisted, but the words fell on deaf ears.

"It's exactly like that," Auston spat back, his eyes blazing with anger. "You're one of my teammates, and you're fucking my sister!"

The chaos grew, the air thick with testosterone and unspoken accusations. Coaches and other players jumped in, trying to calm the situation, but it was clear that the bond of brotherhood had been stretched to its breaking point.

With a heavy heart, you realized that the only way to diffuse the situation was to leave. You slipped out from behind the barricade of bodies, grabbing Matthew's hand and pulling him towards the door. 

"Let's go," you murmured, your voice shaking.

Together, you stepped into the hallway, the slamming of the locker room door echoing behind you like a gunshot. You leaned against the cool wall, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

 "I'm sorry," Matthew said, his eyes filled with regret. "I never meant for it to go down like this."

You looked up at Matthew, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

"It's not your fault," you whispered, trying to reassure him. "We knew this would happen eventually. We just have to figure out what to do now." 

His hand tightened around yours, a silent promise that he wasn't going anywhere.

 "We'll tell him the truth," he said firmly. "How much we care about each other, how good we are together." 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. As much as you feared Auston's wrath, you knew that hiding in the shadows wasn't the answer. It was time to face the music and hope that the love and passion you shared with Matthew was strong enough to conquer the storm that was brewing. With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and looked into Matthew's eyes, drawing strength from the intensity of his gaze.

 "Let's go talk to him," you said, your voice steady despite the quaking of your insides. "We'll face this together." And with that, you marched back into the lion's den, ready to fight for your happiness against all odds.

As you both stepped back into the locker room, the tension was thick enough to cut with a skate. The teammates who had been trying to keep the peace stepped aside, giving you and Matthew the space to confront Auston. The captain's eyes bore into you, a tumult of emotions playing across his face—fury, shock, and something akin to betrayal. But before either of you could speak, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving you to stand there, the weight of his absence like a leaden blanket.

Matthew's jaw clenched, his muscles coiled with the need to follow and explain, to fight for what you had together. But you knew that pushing the issue now would only make things worse. So, with a heavy heart, you turned to him and whispered, 

"Let's give him some space." The nod he gave was tight, but he understood.

Over the next few days, the air between you and Auston remained charged with unspoken words and accusations. The team felt the strain, their captain's mood casting a pall over their camaraderie. You and Matthew had to sneak around, stealing moments together when you could, the secret of your relationship becoming a burden that grew heavier with each passing hour.

One evening, as the team was preparing to leave for a road trip, Auston cornered Matthew in the hallway outside the locker room.

 "We need to talk," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the empty corridor.

Matthew took a deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. He knew he had to be honest with his friend and mentor, no matter the cost. 

"Look, Auston," he began, his voice firm but respectful, "I never meant to hurt you, or to disrespect you."

Auston's expression remained stony, his fists clenched at his sides.

 "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Knies?" he ground out, his eyes flashing with anger.

Matthew took a step closer, his own hands balling into fists. "I'm not just doing anything," he said, his voice low and even. "We're in love." The word hung in the air like a bomb, ready to detonate at any moment.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched from a distance, hoping that the truth would be enough to bridge the gap that had formed between the two men. But instead of softening, Auston's features hardened even further. "You don't love her," he spat. "You're just using her for a good time."

Matthew's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. "That's not true," he said, his voice a low growl. "I care about her more than you could ever know."

Auston's laugh was bitter and cold. "You think I don't know what's best for her? You're just a fucking rookie, playing with things you don't understand."

The two men stood there, the tension between them growing with each passing second. You knew you had to intervene before things got out of hand. You took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their arms. "Guys, please," you begged, your voice trembling. "We can work this out."

But Auston's rage was a force to be reckoned with. He shrugged off your touch, his gaze never leaving Matthew's. "This isn't over," he warned, before stalking away, leaving you and Matthew in a tense stand-off.

The silence was deafening as you both tried to process the situation. "I'm sorry," Matthew said finally, his voice tight with emotion. "I never wanted to cause trouble."

You looked up at him, your heart aching. "It's not your fault," you murmured, though the doubt in your voice was clear. "We just need to figure this out."

Matthew nodded, his jaw set in determination. "We will," he said, pulling you into a fierce embrace. "We'll show him that we're good for each other."

Together, you held onto each other, drawing strength from the warmth of your shared love. But in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that the real battle was only just beginning.

With the echo of Auston's footsteps fading down the hallway, you and Matthew stood in the tense silence of the corridor, the weight of his words pressing down on your shoulders. You could feel the tremble in Matthew's arms as he held you tight, his heart thundering against your chest. "We'll give him time," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. "He'll come around."

Matthew kissed the top of your head, his voice a gruff murmur. "I hope so," he said, though the doubt in his tone was unmistakable. "For now, we have to keep this under wraps until he does."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I know," you murmured. "It's just hard."

He pulled back to look into your eyes, his own filled with a fierce protectiveness. "I'll do anything for you," he said, his voice a vow. "Even if it means keeping us a secret for a little longer."

The promise in his gaze was enough to steady your nerves, to give you the strength to face the days ahead. You leaned up to kiss him, a soft brush of your lips against his that spoke volumes of love and reassurance. "Thank you," you whispered against his mouth. "For fighting for us."

With one last, lingering kiss, you both stepped back, the reality of your situation crashing back down around you like a tide of cold water. The team was watching, the whispers had already started, and the road ahead was fraught with challenges. But as you looked into Matthew's eyes, you knew that no matter what the future held, you had each other, and that was all that truly mattered. With a deep breath, you slipped away, leaving him to join his teammates as you headed out into the cold night, your heart a tumult of hope and fear, love and determination. The battle lines were drawn, and now, it was just a matter of time before the full impact of your secret was revealed.

As the days passed, the tension between you and Auston remained a constant presence, like a thick fog that refused to lift. Matthew played each game with the same fiery passion, scoring goal after goal, but the joy was tempered by the knowledge that every victory was tainted by the secret you shared. In the quiet moments before practice, you could see the strain etched on his face, the burden of his love for you weighing heavily on his shoulders. Meanwhile, Auston's icy demeanor grew colder, his glances at you in the halls more piercing than any slap-shot. Yet, despite the unspoken hostility, the bond between you and Matthew only grew stronger, fueled by the stolen kisses and whispers of love shared in the shadows.

 Each night, you lay in his arms, talking of a future where you could be together without the fear of repercussions, where your love didn't have to be a secret. And every morning, as the light of day painted the city in shades of hope, you held onto that dream, knowing that together, you could face any storm that came your way.

The weeks dragged on, each game a silent battleground of unspoken emotions. The whispers grew louder, and the glances more furtive as rumors began to circulate. It was only a matter of time before the truth came out, and the anticipation was a constant throb of anxiety beneath the excitement of every victory. Yet, in the sanctuary of Matthew's penthouse, you found refuge in his arms, your love a beacon that guided you through the storm. The passion between you was as intense as ever, a fiery escape from the frigidity that had settled over the locker room. One evening, after a particularly grueling game, Matthew held you close, his breath warm against your neck. "We can't keep hiding forever," he murmured, his voice heavy with dread.

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I know," you whispered back. "But we'll face it together, no matter what happens."

With a sigh, he kissed you tenderly, his hand tracing the curve of your waist. "For now," he said, his eyes dark with need, "let's just enjoy what we have."

And so you did, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his cock pressing against you as your bodies melded together in a dance of passion and desire. His hands explored every inch of your skin, worshiping you with a reverence that made you feel like the only woman in the world. And when he slid inside you, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you and the sweet symphony of your lovemaking.

The intensity of your love-making grew, each stroke a declaration of the love that neither of you dared speak aloud in the harsh light of day. Matthew's cock filled you completely, his movements as fierce as they were tender, his eyes never leaving yours. You clung to him, the sound of your bodies slapping together a rhythmic symphony that drowned out the whispers and accusations of the world beyond the bedroom door. With each moan and gasp, you climbed higher, the tension in the room coiling tighter until it was almost unbearable. And when you finally reached that shattering peak, your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, leaving you trembling in the aftermath, your pussy pulsing around his dick. 

He followed close behind, his own release a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. As he collapsed on top of you, his heart hammering against yours, you both knew that the storm was coming, and there was no shelter strong enough to shield you from the tempest of emotions that awaited. But for now, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, you found solace in the knowledge that you had each other, no matter the cost. And together, you whispered sweet nothings into the dark, the sound of your breaths mingling like the promise of a love that would not be denied.

The days grew shorter, the shadows of doubt and fear stretching longer across the ice as the inevitable approached. In the locker room, the tension was so thick it could be cut with a skate blade. Matthew played his heart out, each game a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. And as the whispers grew to shouts, as the truth began to crack through the veneer of secrecy, you knew that the moment of reckoning was upon you. You watched from the stands, your heart in your throat, as the final buzzer rang out, signaling the end of yet another victory. The team skated over to the bench, but Auston remained on the ice, his eyes locked on yours, a silent challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. 

As Matthew emerged from the locker room, sweat-soaked and weary from the battle on and off the ice, you took a deep breath and stepped forward. This was it—the moment you would lay your hearts bare before the world, no longer hiding behind the facade of a stolen love. You reached out for his hand, feeling the tremble of his love and fear, and together, you faced the storm, ready to fight for the love that had become the most important thing in your lives.

The moment you stepped out of the shadows, the locker room fell silent. The air was thick with anticipation, the eyes of his teammates boring into them like the sharp edges of their skates. Matthew squeezed your hand, his gaze never wavering from Auston's as he approached. "We need to talk," he said, his voice firm but steady.

Auston's eyes narrowed, the fury in them a stark contrast to the love that burned in yours. "What the fuck is going on, Knies?" he demanded, his voice a low snarl.

Matthew took a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. "We're together," he said simply, his eyes flickering to you, finding the strength in your gaze. "We're in love."

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the distant echo of the empty arena. You could feel the judgment and accusations in the air, the weight of their stares a physical pressure on your skin. But you didn't flinch, not even when Auston's fist connected with the locker, the clang echoing through the tense space. "How could you?" he roared, his voice filled with a mix of rage and disbelief.

Matthew's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "Because she makes me happy," he said, his voice low and fierce. "And I make her happy. That's all that should matter."

Auston's eyes flicked between the two of you, the realization of the depth of your feelings crashing over him like a tidal wave. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stopped, the only things moving the frantic beating of your hearts. And then, with a sigh that seemed to deflate him, he stepped closer. "Look," he said, his voice tight with emotion, "I just want what's best for her."

You stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. "And that's exactly what Matthew is," you said softly. "I know you're angry, but please, just give us a chance."

The muscles in Auston's jaw worked as he stared at you, his eyes searching. Then, with a nod that seemed to come from somewhere deep within, he pulled you both into a tight embrace. "If you hurt her," he murmured into Matthew's ear, "I'll end you."

Matthew nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I won't," he promised. "I love her too much."

And with those words, the storm began to dissipate, the first rays of understanding breaking through the clouds. It would take time for the team to accept you, for the whispers to fade, but you knew that with Matthew by your side, you could face whatever the future held. Together, the three of you stepped into the light, ready to embrace the love that had been hidden for too long.

The initial shock of the revelation slowly gave way to a tentative acceptance among the team. Matthew's unwavering commitment to both you and the game became a silent testament to the depth of his feelings. Practices grew tenser as whispers of your relationship spread through the NHL grapevine, but the bond between you and Matthew only grew stronger with each shared glance, each stolen touch. The guys on the team, though initially skeptical, began to see the genuine happiness you brought to their usually stoic comrade. Auston, though still wary, stood by his word, watching over you both with a protective eye that slowly softened into something resembling approval. 

Together, you faced the media's relentless scrutiny, the leering glances, and the snide comments, your love a beacon that burned brighter with every challenge thrown your way. Through it all, you remained steadfast, your love an unshakeable force that began to melt even the coldest hearts. Each victory, each shared smile, brought you closer, proving that love could not only survive in the rough-and-tumble world of professional hockey, but it could thrive, rewriting the rules and redefining what it meant to be a family on and off the ice.

[fatliberation]

do you have a recipe for the coconut curry?? that looks absolutely decadent!!!!

I do!! @zenaskitchen created it!

Ingredients:

4 cod loins or fillets (around 150g each), or any flaky white fish

1 onion

4 garlic cloves

15g fresh ginger, peeled

1 red chilli (optional)

2 lemongrass stalks, tough outer layer removed

vegetable or coconut oil

2 x 400g tin good-quality coconut milk (ideally, at least 70% coconut extract)

2 tbsp fish sauce

1 stock cube (vegetable or chicken)

1 tsp sugar

To serve:

1 spring onion, thinly sliced

1 small handful fresh coriander, finely chopped

drizzle of chilli oil (optional)

cooked rice and lime wedges

Instructions:

1. Season the cod fillets with salt on both sides, then refrigerate for 30 minutes. This will both season the cod and firm up its flesh, making it less likely to fall apart while poaching.

2. You can use this time to prep the aromatics. First, thinly slice the onion, garlic, ginger and red chilli (if using). Second, using the flat side of a chef’s knife, bash the lemongrass stalks to release the aromatic oils, then slice very thinly. Alternatively, if you don’t feel like chopping, you blitz the aromatics in a food processor.

3. Heat a tablespoon or two of vegetable or coconut oil in a medium saucepan set over a medium heat.

4. Add the aromatics and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, around 10 minutes.

5. Add the coconut milk, fish sauce, stock cube and sugar, then season with salt and pepper and mix to combine.

6. Bring the coconut broth to a simmer over medium-high heat, then cover, reduce the heat to low/medium-low and simmer for 30 minutes.

7. Add the cod fillets to the coconut broth, then cover and cook until the cod fillets are just cooked through, 5 to 8 minutes depending on their thickness. When done, the flesh will flake when gently pressed.

8. To serve, carefully transfer the cod fillets to a shallow serving bowl, then ladle the broth over the top. Finish with the spring onion, fresh coriander and optional drizzle of chilli oil. I recommend serving this with rice (it soaks up all of that deliciously fragrant coconut broth), a side of steamed veg, and a few lime wedges for squeezing over.

enjoy!!

[petermorwood]

As mentioned more than once, @dduane's Middle Kingdoms don't have potatoes. A frequent alternative is parsnips, and the fried cakes in that photo are the result of an experiment done earlier this week to see if parsnips can substitute for potatoes in our always-reliable potato cake recipe.

Yes, they can!

*****

Here's @dduane's recipe.

First peel three regular-sized parsnips. then top and tail them.

Chop them into chunks and boil them in about 2 pints (1 litre) of water.

Drain them and return to the pan: let them steam dry. Then, while still hot, mash them well with a hand masher and allow to cool completely.

As mentioned further down, parsnips retain more water than potatoes even after steam-drying, so DON'T use a food processor or other power appliance for mashing or the result will be parsnip wallpaper paste. However, a processor is ideal for the rest of the recipe.

Put 2 cups (500g) all-purpose flour and ½ tsp salt into the processor bowl, blip the pulse switch to combine them then add 1½ tsp baking powder and blip again.

Now add 3 tablespoons butter and blip the pulse switch until the butter is completely worked in and the whole mixture has a cornmeal-y texture.

Now add the cooled mashed parsnips.

Process with the flour mixture, pulsing at first, then continuously, until the mixture comes together in a dough.

(If yours behaves the way our recipe did, no additional liquid should need to be added. The parsnips hold onto a surprising amount of water even after being steamed dry.)

Flour a work surface, roll the dough out about 1/3 inch (1 cm) thick, and use a sharp biscuit cutter to cut out into rounds. Then heat cooking oil in a frying pan to medium heat and put five or six of the cakes into the hot oil.

Fry until the cakes begin to rise a little (usually 4-5 minutes) and are going golden brown Turn and fry the cakes on their other sides for another 4-5 minutes. Test one for doneness: if necessary, turn the cakes once more and give them another 5 minutes or so.

Then cook the rest of the cakes in the same way. When they're done cooking, drain on paper towels until they're cool. Eat fresh or, to keep them, put them in a biscuit tin or other airtight container.

They'll keep for a few days. The parsnip flavor mellows somewhat the day after you bake them.

Like their potato-cake cousins, they're very good split, toasted, buttered and topped with a slice of cheese or (and) salami. They also shine as an accompaniment to bacon or sausages; give the parsnip cakes a brief re-fry in the fat left from frying these, then serve alongside the fried meats, dressed with a splash of Worcester or HP sauce and maybe a dotting of Tabasco or similar.

Our next experiment will be to make this recipe with the addition of some crumbled crispy bacon, grated cheese, grated onion or a combination of same.

The experiment after that will be to see if this can become parsnip bread in the same way as Irish potato farls. I think it will... :->

[meirathinks]

⊹ ♡₊˚๑ 𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙐𝙏 ! ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

chef!Sukuna headcannons

okay. I know I haven't posted anything in like a year. and I know I'm a little rusty so bare with me ok😭 I'm sorry for the wait! Reader was intended to be black but I don't describe any features. lmk if I should turn this into a fic!!

Warnings: none!!

Chef!Sukuna is one of the world's biggest assholes. SURE he graduated top of his class AND SURE! The waitlist for his restaurant is so, ridiculously long. But his personality? Awful. 

He’s known for his near godly knife skills. He can chop an onion in ten seconds. He’s pretty sure it’s a world record.

His own staff is so, so terrified of him. The new kid, who’s bright-eyed and fresh out of culinary school, who was beyond excited to work at a Michelin-star restaurant quits on his first day.

(he cried on his walk home)

Sukuna leans into the back of his chair, while Uruame lets out an uncharacteristically loud sigh from their spot at the door. 

They step closer into the room while speaking, “You can’t keep a Junior chef for more than six hours—”

Sukuna groans, “Calm down— your job is to be my sous. Act like it.”

He puts his feet up on the peeling wood desk in front of him, deftly ignoring several receipts that were strewn on it.

Uruame nods, before leaving.

Sukuna wasn’t in the wrong you know, the junior chef should’ve known the difference between sauté and panfrying. 

He groans while moving to leave his office— he had prep to do. 

He’s worked hard to get where he is— to make his restaurant as good as it is. He designed the kitchen himself. He chose each appliance meticulously and placed them in the space deliberately

The delivery and food-prep and pastry sections are in specific parts of the kitchen, they cater to the menu.

Speaking of the menu. You cannot tell me that he didn’t lock himself in his apartment with pots and pans strewn everywhere. 

He’d have a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his hair would be a little dishevelled

But, he finally figured out that what his main dish needed was an acid. 

He’d have a rare, genuine smile on his face while he runs his hand through his hair. He’ll take another bite and excitedly drum his fingers on his kitchen countertop. He’s good. He knows he’s good. 

Sukuna’s leaning on the host station with a pencil in hand reviewing the guest list for that night’s dinner. His eyebrows raise at your name— which is circled in red marker angrily. He shouts to Uraume, who’s at the back prepping.

“What’s the red marker for.”

“We have a food critic coming in tonight.”

Sukuna scoffs, “We always have food critics coming in.”

“This one’s different.”

Yeah right.

For the head chef, and owner of a michelin star restaurant— Sukuna is relaxed. 

He’ll wear a white button up and some black slacks and the days he’s expected to work front of house. But his sleeves will be rolled high on his forearms and there’s always this dismissive look in his eyes

He doesn’t have to be some kiss ass— his food speaks for itself. 

People waited months to get into his restaurant for his food, not to have a conversation with him. 

The first thing Sukuna realizes is that you take a laughably short time looking at the menu. From what he can see from the host station, you’re looking at it out of graciousness than necessity. 

He walks over, ready to take your order. He nearly laughs when he notices that your notepad already has writing on it. 

You’re looking up at him through the low light of the restaurant. It’s tinged red. Like a night club you think. Tacky. 

“Hi,” You smile, “I’m surprised I’m being served by the Sukuna.”

“Yeah— it’s a slow day.”

You hum, “And here I was, thinking that you were out here just for me.”

He laughs. It’s this loud, low and smoothe. “I can hear your heart breaking from here.”

“Let’s start with the focaccia.” Your voice is a little shaky. He likes the sound of it.

He walks to the kitchen with a familiar grin on his face. 

Food critic his ass— you’re in love with him. He can tell. 

Chef!Sukuna who’s never had a negative review. Ever.

GQ. The New York Times. The Washington Post. Critics become regulars— they want an excuse to chat Sukuna (even if he doesn’t entertain it)

He’s earned a name for himself in the food scene, you know. People love him whether they like it or not. 

This was just the start too— he’ll open more restaurants, maybe something more formal. He thinks of himself as an immovable object or an unstoppable force or whatever is in those management books Uraume reads

So, imagine his surprise when Uruame forwards an article to him at 11:54 pm on a thursday.

Especially when he sees that you wrote the article. 

And that you gave the restaurant a 3 out of 5

A three out of fucking five.

Sukuna was going to kill someone. You, preferably.