#fritole

[90stvqueen]

Fritole by thesexfiles

Barbara Howard/Melissa Schemmenti | WIP | Mature Fluff & Angst & Internalized Homophobia & Infidelity

No apology. No hello. The newcomer lifted the lid off of the container and swaggered past Barbara to grab a sticky note and a sharpie. The smell of something sweet and nutty immediately filled the room, and curiosity won over indignance. Barbara peeked into the plastic container to see what looked like small pockets of fried dough covered in confectioners’ sugar. “Fritole,” the newcomer said, scribbling something onto the sticky note. “My nonna’s recipe.” She slapped the sticky note onto the table beside the container. HELP YOURSELF. CONTAINS NUTS. She looked at Barb for the first time, her lips curled in a confident smile, and held her hand out. “Melissa Schemmenti. Who the hell are you?”

[stacitroilo]

Ten Days and Counting. Are You Ready?

Ten Days and Counting. Are You Ready? #Lent #VeniceCarnival #ShroveTuesday #MardiGras #writing #writetip

by Staci Troilo Lent starts in ten days. We discussed it at Mass this week. Apparently we should already be preparing. I find that funny, because the Season of Lent is a season of preparation. So I’m supposed to be preparing to prepare? I get what they’re saying, but I’m really having a hard time suppressing the sarcastic brat in me. Here’s hoping I can do it for the rest of this post. (Maybe…

[unevaguedeprintemps]

Dolci tipici del Veneto per Carnevale 😋

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Bonjour!

[art-by-jas]

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝐼𝑐𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝐹𝑖𝑥 AO3

Word Count: 2272

Summary: Sonny is feeling frustrated over the result of the ruling of their most recent case, You swing by to see if you can't bring him a little mood boost.

Sonny's face betrayed his frustration as he left the station, still grappling with the day's events. The Shakir Wilkins case had taken an unexpected turn, and the disappointment weighed heavily on him.

Benson pulls Sonny aside. "Carisi, go home and get some rest," she says sternly, her tone a mix of understanding and insistence.

“I still have paperwork to do..." he protests, though it's more a reflex than a genuine argument.

Benson fixed him with a pointed look. "No, you need to rest. You've been here non-stop for days. Trust me, the paperwork will still be there tomorrow."

Sonny nods wearily. "Alright, alright. I'll head out."

She gives him a kind smile. "Good. Take care of yourself, Carisi." With a final pat on his shoulder, Benson turns and walks away, leaving Sonny alone in the now-empty precinct.

With a weary sigh, he gathers his belongings, the weight of exhaustion settling heavily on his shoulders. He bids farewell to the few remaining officers, his tired mind already longing for the comfort of his apartment.

Heading home, he’s lost in thought, mulling over the case's outcome and what he could have done differently. Upon reaching his apartment, Sonny unlocks the door and steps inside. At least he had the next day off to rest.

Sonny sinks onto the couch, now dressed in comfortable clothes, his gaze fixed blankly on the wall ahead.

The knock jolts Sonny from his thoughts. He sits up straighter, momentarily surprised, then calls out in a raspy voice, "Coming." Sonny rises, stretching, and makes his way to the door. Though it was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone, he opened it to find you standing there. Sonny's surprise gives way to a small smile as he sees you at his door, Tupperware in hand. His weary eyes warm at your presence.

"Hey," he says, his expression one of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

You hold out a Tupperware container. "I heard you got in not too long ago, and I made these for you." The scent of fritole wafts from the container, making his stomach rumble.

Sonny's expression softens as he takes the Tupperware from you. "You made these for me?" he asks, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," you confirm, nodding with a soft smile. "I figured you could use some comfort food after today."

Sonny's fatigue and disappointment momentarily fades as he gazes at the container, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. The knowledge that you had worried about him and gone out of your way to make him this moved him.

You shrug, your smile warm and kind. "I wanted to," you reply softly. "You've been working so hard lately. I just wanted to do something to help, even if it's just a little."

"In that case, would you like to come in and help me finish these? I can't possibly eat them all on my own," Sonny jokes, stepping aside to invite you in.

You smile and nod, stepping into the apartment as he holds the door open for you. "Sure," you agree, your lighthearted tone mirroring his. "I'd love to. Sharing is caring."

Sonny closes the door behind you, the soft click of the doorknob. He gestures towards the living room, where a couch and small coffee table sit. "Sit down, I'll grab some forks." As Sonny disappears into the kitchen, the soft thuds of him moving around can be heard, followed by the clinking of silverware pulled from a drawer. Returning with two forks, he places the Tupperware between you on the coffee table.

"Dig in," Sonny says, pulling the lid off the Tupperware—the warm, inviting aroma of the fritole wafts upward, filling the space.

"Are they, okay?" you ask nervously.

Sonny glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly as if the question surprised him. He swallows the last bit of pastry, nodding appreciatively.

"They're amazing," he reassures you, the exhaustion in his eyes replaced by genuine joy. "Seriously, these are delicious. You made these?"

"The results in the kitchen can be hit or miss for me. It really depends on the recipe and my frame of mind at the time. I'm so glad you're enjoying them." You smile.

Sonny chuckles at your modesty. "You're too hard on yourself," he says, taking another bite of the fritole. "These are perfect, honestly." He leans back onto the couch, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders with each bite. Glancing at you, he wears a genuine smile. "You have no idea how badly I needed this," he admits, the exhaustion seeping back into his voice.

“Tough week?” You ask as you take another bite.

Sonny lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Not tough, just long," he says, staring off into the distance briefly. "Today's case... it didn't go as we hoped."

He takes another bite of the pastry, the sweetness of the treat momentarily distracting from the disappointment he felt earlier. With a hand running through his tousled hair, he confessed, "I can't shake the feeling we could have done more."

“Do you want to go to the shop on the corner and buy ice cream, eat our feelings while watching some kind of reality show?”

Sonny's lips curl into a small, weary yet grateful smile. Your casual yet sincere offer tugged at his heartstrings. "You serious? Like, binge-watch reality TV and stuff our faces with ice cream?"

Despite your best efforts, a smile creeps across your face as you reply, "Deadly serious."

Sonny lets out a weary but genuine laugh. He looks at you, appreciating the simplicity of your proposal. "Alright, I'm in," he agrees, nodding his head.

Sonny puts on a jacket and shoes. He turns to you, "Do you need anything from your apartment before we head out?"

"Nah, I'm good," you reply, patting your pockets to confirm you have your keys and phone. "Ready when you are."

"Then let's go," Sonny responds, his voice tinged with eagerness. He grabs his keys from the counter and holds the front door open, gesturing for you to step out first.

The two of you emerge into the cool night air, the street quiet save for the low hum of the city under the starry sky. Sonny leads the way to the nearby shop.

You and Sonny walk side by side, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence. Ahead, the small local shop comes into view, its "Open 24/7" sign glowing invitingly in the darkness. As you approach, the bell by the door jingles softly.

The shop's interior is small and cozy, lit by warm yellow lights. Sonny leads you straight to the ice cream section, scanning the flavors. "So, what's your choice of flavor?" he asks, glancing back at you with a small grin. "Cookie dough? Fudge brownie? We're going all out, so go crazy."

You step up beside him, studying the selection with a determined expression before making your selection. Sonny watches a small smile on his face. "Solid choice," he comments, then grabs a tub of fudge brownie for himself, unable to resist.

With your ice cream choices in hand, along with a few other snacks, you head to the counter to pay. The clerk rings up the items, and Sonny thanks him as he takes the bag of purchases.

"Ready to head back?" Sonny asks, holding up the bag. The walk to his apartment isn't far, and he's looking forward to a cozy night of comfort food, reality TV, and your company. You smile and nod, feeling a sense of comfort and joy at the simplicity of the evening ahead. Side by side, you both start making your way back.

As the apartment building comes into view, the warm lights from the windows welcome the pair. Sonny leads you up the stairs, the anticipation of the upcoming indulgence making the journey feel shorter.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sonny says with a tired yet genuine smile, placing the snack bag on the coffee table. He settles on the couch, remote in hand, and starts flipping through channels before landing on a house flipper show.

"How about we watch people transform crappy houses into modern homes?" he suggests, gesturing to the screen.

"Sounds like a plan," you say, as you join Sonny on the couch and retrieve the tub of fudge brownie ice cream you had selected earlier. Sonny reaches into the bag and pulls out his tub, and the rich, chocolatey aroma fills the air. He opens the lid, grabs a spoon, and leans back comfortably on the couch.

Sonny reaches into the bag and pulls out a tub of rich, chocolatey fudge brownie ice cream, the enticing scent filling the air. As he opens the lid and grabs a spoon, he settles comfortably onto the couch next to you. The soft glow of the TV illuminates the room as Sonny takes a savored spoonful, the sweetness melting on his tongue as he watches the renovation show unfold.

You and Sonny chat easily, the conversation flowing as naturally as the ice cream. You discuss work, your days, news, and amusing anecdotes. Despite his lingering fatigue, Sonny finds genuine enjoyment in your company, the mundane discussion providing a welcome distraction from the stresses of his job. He steals occasional glances at you, captivated by the way your eyes light up, your expressive features, the sound of your laughter, and the little quirks in your speech - all adding to his growing fondness.

As the commercial interrupts the show, Sonny takes another bite of ice cream, his eyes fixed on you. The tightness in his shoulders eases, the earlier tension unwinding in the comforting quiet of the evening. When the episode ends and a new one starts, Sonny glances at you, his face softened by a small, weary smile as the TV plays on.

"You're good company, you know that?" he says, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and fatigue.

"It's not often I get nights like this," he admits, sinking back into the couch. "Most evenings, I'm either playing catch-up with paperwork or schoolwork."

"You go to school?" you ask.

He takes another spoonful of ice cream, the sweetness coating his tongue. "I'm working towards a law degree. It's been quite the journey, I'll tell you. Juggling work, classes, and everything else - it's a real challenge, to put it mildly. But I'm making progress."

He looks at you, a weary yet resolute spark in his eyes. "After the whole priesthood plan fell through, becoming a lawyer is my new goal. I want to make a real difference - get criminals off the streets and behind bars where they belong."

Your eyes widen, you turn your body fully towards him and ask, "Priesthood?"

Sonny chuckles a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "My cousins became priests, and I was close with them. But I realized I could help more by going into law enforcement than by becoming a priest myself."

As he savored another spoonful of ice cream, the sweetness clashed with the bittersweet pangs of memory. "I spent a year in seminary school," he confessed, his words tinged with regret, "but it just wasn't the right path for me, though it was quite a journey."

He pauses briefly, his gaze turning inward as he reflects on the past. Then, with a small smile, he shakes off the somber thoughts and refocuses on the present. "But that's behind me now," he says decisively. "My sights are set on law school, and one day I'll be a prosecutor, ensuring justice is served."

The exhaustion in his eyes gives way to a determined gleam as he looks at you. "Maybe one day I'll be sitting in that courtroom, cheering you on," you tease playfully, a smile playing on your lips.

Sonny let out a soft chuckle, your words eliciting a brief moment of amusement that danced across his tired eyes. "I might just take you up on that someday," he replies, a hint of mirth in his voice.

"I think I'm about ready to call it a night," he admits, exhaustion evident in his tone. Rubbing his eyes wearily, the day's weight had finally caught up with him.

"Yeah, I've gotta open the shop tomorrow, so I better get to bed too,” you say.

Sonny nods, before he gathers the empty ice cream containers from the table, then stands and stretches his stiff muscles. "Let me just toss these out, and I'll walk you to the door," he offers. With the remnants of the evening's indulgence disposed of, Sonny returns and extends a hand to help you up. The weariness was now more apparent on his face, and the lines around his eyes were more pronounced in the soft light.

"Thanks for tonight," he says, his gratitude evident. Fatigue lingered in his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips as he escorted you to the door.

You smile, "It was no problem at all. I had fun."

Sonny opens the door as you approach, holding it ajar while you step into the hallway. He lingers in the doorway, leaning against the frame, observing as you cross the hall to your apartment.

Exhaustion and affection tinge his voice as he calls out, "Goodnight." He watches you walk away, his weary body betraying the fatigue that had settled in.

"Night, sleep tight." You smile, giving him a wave as you close your apartment door.

With a final wave, Sonny closes the door, the click of the lock echoing softly in the now-silent room. The apartment is quiet now, the only sound is the faint hum of the city that drifts through the walls.

Part 3

[steliosagapitos]

[gatalentan]

Oh, what I would give to have an episode where someone (Jacob) accidentally gives the group pot brownies *sighs*

ok you don't know how good your timing is bc my friend @90stvqueen just posted a chapter of their wonderful young mel/barb fic Fritole with a pot brownies scene in it lol. it's HERE - this links to thechapter but I recommend reading the whole fic bc its 🤌🤌🤌

[mondosol]

Make Carnival Cake Fritters: A Step-by-Step Guide

Carnival season in Italy is a time of vibrant colors and joyous celebrations, featuring beloved Carnival cakes and fritters known as "Fritelle." These treats captivate the taste buds of both young and old, and with the provided guidance.

I want to share the story of my favorite sweet that I always eat during Carnival in my town in Italy. Learn how to make Carnival Cake fritters with this guide and the tips I’ve gathered from my experiences. Carnival cakes Castagnole, fritole, ravioli, frittelle There are different Italian names and versions of the same Carnival cakes. It is a sort of good and spongy fried cream puffs based on…

[lacasettadicioccolato-blog]

Fritole per carnevale . La ricetta nel mio blog #lacasettadicioccolatoblog #lacasettadicioccolato #carnevale (presso La Casetta Di Cioccolato) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co18XXSNHOBEUZo0ig0jMDiGDE7jg6MzmgCKPU0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[tree-of-blue-squirrel]

Fritol: Táhne z tebe hélium

Šmajdalf: Nechal jsem se unést

ŠMAJDALFE, UŽ 'DEŠ ZASE K TOMU VOKNU?!

CO TO MELEŠ, ŠMAJDALFE?

[90stvqueen]

i'm mad because my next fritole chapter is just as angsty as the ones that came before it and i just WANT THEM TO KISS AND MAKE UP but it's not time yet :(

[vase-oddana-ruzenka]

Až si pořídím vlastní kočku, tak se bude jmenovat Fritol

[medeafurens]

Basteranno??? 😂😂😂 Semel in anno licet insanire! #picoftheday #crostoli #fritole #frittelleveneziane #chiacchieredicarnevale #carnevale #martedigrasso #colleghifortunati #perlavoraremeglio #semelinannolicetinsanire #smileisbetter #dolcifattiincasa #damercoledidieta #cucinarechepassione #coccole https://www.instagram.com/p/BumWQ_YgH5D/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=13z3fhd1cqko4

[lasersquid]

i have had a couple nights in the same persistent dreamworld in which the common frito (Frito fritensis) native to the American Southwest and northern Mexico was domesticated in the second half of the 19th century by Fritoles, the legendary wranglers of these proud and independent beasts.

And I'm just going to skip over a lot of lore to get to the point here, which is that I made a bridle for a frito and attached reins to it because I saw it in a dream.

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

To summarise:

This episode was brought to you by the NY Pest Management Association.

Electricity is out at Thornhill but it’s not because Cheryl forgot to pay the bill. She’s just setting the mood for a romantic rendez-vous with MinMin.

Nothing like a couple of good horror stories to get you started.

People haven’t hung their art collection in their bedroom, since Francis I of France put the Mona Lisa in his bathroom, but Cheryl’s Night Gallery is in her bedroom? A true art aficionado.

Everybody in Riverdale has Darkness™. Except from Archie. Archie has Trauma™.

He has also finally caught up with the s3 plotline i.e Hiram experimenting with drugs on people. He goes off about it to his bewildered therapist.

Reggie may have some big ideas but between working at his dad’s car dealership, Veronica’s jewelry shop/investment company and Archie’s new mining business, he has no time to put them into action.

He does have time, however, to wink at Nana Rose. And for that, he gets all the points.

Kevin realises that being the Blossom Ministry’s art director might not be as lucrative a profession as expected. He also turns to mining to supplement his income.

The miners experience hallucinations due to gas. That is, all the miners except Uncle Frank, because someone has to explain to Archie what’s happening.

Archie saw some of Jughead’s sketches of the Mothman and immediately hallucinated him. That boy is so impressionable.

I can’t tell if Uncle Frank was taking power naps or has been faking it so that he doesn’t have to deal with his nephew. Have we misjudged Uncle Frank?

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to be around anyone right now” says Dr Winters. Does this mean that Archie will go on another road trip? Possibly to a nature retreat? Hopefully with bears? A bearchie set-up, if I ever saw one.

Maybe if Betty had finished her FBI training, she would have been more effective in interrogating her serial killer.

Momma Cooper demonstrates once again her bad parenting skills. Maybe she does have the killer genes after all.

According to faux Martin Tucker there’s been stories up and down the highway about some crazy rogue FBI agent looking for her sister. And, yet, he took no precautions when he tried to kidnap and kill Betty. He should have swallowed his tongue.

Oh.

He does.

Thank God for long weekends, because otherwise neither Betty nor Jughead would be able to get anything done: apparently everything takes place at the High School. Surely, this must be a metaphor …

Mrs Bell feeds Cheryl these stories. There’s no other explanation.

I cannot believe that broody, fluffy-haired writer prodigy Jughead Jones would not have a line of potential love interests outside his dorm door.

Jughead’s first signs of alcoholism start in Iowa, when he has to produce a hundred copies of his manuscript and he switches from his PC (and printer) to his typewriter. Precious boy, why?

Samm Panksy, the Old School Legend, becomes Jughead’s literary agent and only cheerleader. Contemplate on the visual of Samm in a cheerleader costume for a bit.

“So, swallowed up by the dark. Was that a metaphor?” “I wish.” You and me both, Jughead. You and me both.

Jughead is all of Edgar Allan Poe’s works coming to life. Cheryl wishes.

Betty calls Jughead to tell him she can’t make it to his book launch and Jughead goes rabid. Literally.

He doesn’t die from it, because survival is Jughead’s superpower. The writers’ superpower is ignoring how things work in the real world.

Jughead does hallucinate his agent as the Rat King though. There is some nice repurposing of young FP’s tin crown. Father figure metaphor?

The Voicemail(TM) story line has more plot holes than New York has sinkholes. Or maybe not: NY sinkholes’ average number has just gone up. 

Ratatouille lied to me.

Jughead hallucinates Betty as his saving angel. Endgame arc activated.

I pity whomever had to go after Jughead in that AA meeting. I mean … try to tell your story after the Jughead Jones New York Rat Extravaganza.

Toffee, an expert on the subject of rats, was unfortunately unavailable for comments. She’s on a gondola ride in Venice, reading The Outsiders and munching on fritole, overcharging Alice’s credit card.

One down. Five more opportunities to fall into a sinkhole.

[chefherrera]

¡CENA ESPECIAL! Septiembre es el mes de la patria y lo festejamos con una cena especial a cargo de un servidor y del chef Humberto "la manzana" Villarreal. Este martes cocinamos en la Fonda San Francisco, y el jueves en su restaurante, Mata de Chile. El menú que le tenemos programado para el martes es el siguiente: 1-Wontón de chorizo verde con camarones en caldillo de frijol negro y epazote, con crema de Hoja Santa. 2-Lonche Fili: arrachera outside, pimiento y cebolla caramelizados, tocino y queso gratinado en pan hecho en casa, acompañado de puré de papa de Galeana ahumado. 3-Plátano dominico capeado y fritol sobre crumble de café, coco y nueces, con crema de mora azul y epazote, y una bolita de helado de Acuyo (hoja santa). Cómo ve. No se lo pierda. Marque YA mismo al teléfono-whatsapp 8119577070 y dígale a Chela que le separe mesa ya porque se llena. Estamos sobre la calle de Manuel González 115, entre Vasconcelos y Garza Ayala, en el centro de San Pedro. ¡Acá nos vemos! #guisosvergas #cocinamexicana #cocinatradicional #cocinaregional #cocinanorestense #vivamexico  https://www.instagram.com/p/Ci_ZmiBu4_A/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hkvoyage]

The Seduction - Chapter 2 - The Masquerade Ball, Part 2

Chapter 2 is now posted on AO3 and FF.net.

Start from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net.

Venetian Blaine arrives at Carnival’s masquerade ball, looking for his next conquest. His reputation as a lover is legendary, and no one can resist him. Virgin Kurt captures his attention, but seducing him will require careful planning. As they spend time together, will Blaine be able to carry out his plan successfully? A historical Klaine AU set in 18th-century Venice.

Photos of things mentioned in the chapter are under the cut. For AO3 readers, the chapter already has hyperlinks to these photo.

baccalà mantecato

fritole

Rachel’s mint-green dress (although I’m sure you know it)