#garlic that i peeled for something else and forgot to use

[greencheekconure27]

The nature of cooking is such that every now and again you make a stew from random ingredients you need to use up + whatever was in your line of sight at the time and go "Holy shit this is the best thing I've eaten this year" and then you probably never make it the same way again. But that's ok because you'll make a completely different best thing that will be just as good next time. Stews are just like this.

[reciperesolutions]

Stuffed Cinderella pumpkin! This was such a great, satisfying autumn soup. The perfect meal once the weather has turned really into winter and you’re craving something healthy, filling, and deeply warming.

I took a lot of liberties with this recipe, some of which were intentional…most of which were not. The base recipe is at the end, but here’s what I did/would recommend for it (when there’s a range, the lower number is what I accidentally used but the higher number is the original and I think would work great, too):

SERVING: At least 6 as main entree. Could be 8 with crusty bread.

INGREDIENTS

1 Cinderella pumpkin (wait until it’s turned orange), ~10 pounds

2 packages cooked chicken sausage, ~20 oz. (I used roasted pepper+Assaggio and it was great)

2 onions

1/2 - 1 small cabbage, chopped with leaves separated

1 rutabaga (or 1 parsnip), peeled and chopped

2 - 3 carrots, peeled and chopped

1 - 2 celery ribs, chopped

1/2 c fresh parsley, chopped

1 1/2 - 2 c chicken broth

1 package dried French onion soup mix

1 1/2 c frozen corn

1 tbsp Italian seasoning

Hearty dash of red pepper flakes

Hardy dash of garlic powder (because I forgot to add the garlic)

S&P

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a rimmed cookie sheet with foil. [I didn’t do the latter and I totally should have]

2. Cut around the top of the pumpkin to make a lid. Use a large metal spoon to scoop out and discard the inside membrane and seeds. [This was surprisingly easy/quick compared to pie pumpkins]

3. Cover pumpkin with its cut out “lid” on top and bake for 3 hours. [I think 2 would be plenty if you don’t have the time. 3 was sort of an accident, though a happy one! Expect the pumpkin to release a LOT of water inside.]

4. Meanwhile [this can be done anytime in those hours], sauté the sausage in a SS pan over high heat until browned. Remove from pan. Stir in the carrots, celery, onion, and rutabaga; cook and stir until tender, about 5 minutes. Next add the cabbage; cook about 5 minutes. Add the corn and the chicken broth; stir to combine. Stir in the parsley, onion soup mix, and spices. Season to taste with hearty salt and pepper. Add the sausage back in and stir to combine. Test that carrots are tender.

5. Keeping the pumpkin on the baking sheet, spoon out two large ladles of the pumpkin liquid into a separate bowl and set aside. Then add the vegetable-sausage mixture into the pumpkin, and replace the lid.* (You may need an extra hand to scoop the filling into the sides of the pumpkin if it’s collapsing… I was surprised at how much I was able to fill this way!) THEN, add as much of the reserved pumpkin liquid back in as you can once filled.

*I actually didn’t replace the lid because mine was looking a little saggy, so I just kept it on the countertop while everything else was in for the final bake. Turned out great this way!

6. Reduce oven temperature to 325. Cook the filled pumpkin 30 - 60 minutes. (I did 60 out of personal convenience, and it worked out great but probably was not necessary!)

7. Remove from oven and place pumpkin, cookie sheet and all, on a flat surface. If you can, scoop some of the pumpkin flesh out from the sides and combine with the brothy vegetable mixture.

8. To serve, scrape the pumpkin flesh from the bottom of the lid and put at least half a cup at the bottom of individual soup bowls. Then proceeded to ladle in as much as you’d like from the pumpkin! I found it easiest to ladle first then scoop and add the flesh from the sides straight into the bowls; then loosely stir to combine.

The more you ladle out for the pumpkin, the more you’ll realize how much pumpkin flush there is to be distributed!

I’d already deliberately modified close to half the recipe’s ingredients before I even started cooking. But then on top of that, putting this post together made me realize how much I was not paying attention to the recipe while making it, haha. Somehow, this recipe was way more intuition than instruction following. But it worked out…for example, the original calls for baking the pumpkin only an hour to start, then multiple hours once the veggies are added. I don’t think this was necessary, as everything really got off to a great start on the stove and didn’t require hours more to be cooked enough.

I used a typically-sized Cinderella pumpkin, which is to say, it took up a full cookie sheet and about half of my oven height. When I bought the pumpkin in early October, it was a ghostly green and I honestly didn’t realize it would ripen to a bright, classic pumpkin orange, but it did!

I’ve tried a few whole-roasted-pumpkin recipes before, but I wasn’t really taken by any of them until this one. This was definitely a winner, at least the way I did it! The variety of fillings that I put inside were really great, but I could also see throwing in sage, different kinds of sausage, garlic (which I was supposed to but completely forgot), or really anything that feels like a good mix in the moment. Beyond the basics of making sure you cook the pumpkin long enough, this recipe is really much more art than science. :)

[bubblyani]

Delicious as You

(Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A Lucifer Morningstar One Shot

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,304

Summary: Unexpectedly stopping by one night during your cooking adventures in the kitchen, Lucifer was determined to have you all to himself. But to his surprise, you were equally determined to get your cooking done. Who will win?

Author’s Note: Sorry for being absent without any Lucifer content. Had this idea while I was cooking one day. Stayed in my head for a while until I finally decided to vent my frustration through words. Enjoy Thirsty Luci-fans!

He watched her, like a hawk. But instead of having a predatory intention, he was full of fascination. He drank in the curves of her face, the warm cheeks that lifted as she smiled to herself, the wrinkles that formed in the corners of her eyes, giving her lips some competition with a touch of sunshine. He drank it all while she worked her magic in the kitchen. She was certainly lost in her own little world.

For she had not even noticed his presence for the last 5 minutes. Bored already, he decided to change that.

“Boo…”

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

“Boo!”

Looking up, a squeak came out of you as you clutched your chest, dropping the steel bowl on the counter top with loud clang. You realized it was Lucifer Morningstar standing before you, his hands resting inside his pockets while he watched you work in the kitchen island.

“Lucifer!” You cried out, “H-How did you get in here?” You babbled. “Well…I seem to recall you giving me a spare key to your humble abode…” he said nonchalantly, holding up the small key for display. Sighing with relief, you chuckled. Of course you did, you remember promising him one when he repeatedly demanded whilst claiming his rights.  

“Oh yeah…I forgot that” You said, pushing the steel bowl to the back, “Well…how can I help you today?” Your tone was a mocking equivalent to a sales assistant at a clothing store. Lucifer scoffed in kind.

“I prefer to call this a visit from a concerned lover, rather than a favor” he replied with much sass. You stifled a smile. Indeed, you were more than happy to have your super handsome, wonderfully talented and secretly benevolent boyfriend around more than anything. Truthfully, sometimes you would even wonder what made him fall for you in the first place.

“In the mood for a culinary adventure tonight?” Lucifer inquired, walking over to your side. You nodded.

“You bet, slow cooking night, baby!” You said joyfully, whilst peeling off the papery layers of some onions and cloves of garlic. Cooking was always exhilarating. But slow cooking with a touch of exotic flavors brought it to another level. No wonder you were in high spirits. No wonder a smile was on your face when the pieces of meat were seasoned with sea salt and ground black pepper, before Lucifer frightened the living daylights out of you.

“As much as I commend your love of the culinary arts…” Lucifer stressed, before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “…the dance floors at Lux misses you immensely…And so does my warm bed…” he purred. As much as it brought warmth to your heart, you laughed it out to sound unaffected:

“Ha! Now that’s a panty dropper of a line” you joked, taking the knife in hand to chop the onions. You felt Lucifer scoff as his breath fell on your neck.

“Oh! Humor was clearly not the intended emotion I was trying rouse from you…” he said, flashing a naughty smile. Though you were busy crushing the garlic, your heart felt heavy for the man. Due to your recent busy schedule, you were deprived of the opportunity to visit and witness the flourishing business of his nightclub, LUX. You missed it as well, for every night there was a night to remember. And seeing the proud smile on Lucifer’s face every time you would wake up in his bed was something to hold on to.

“Awww…” You pouted, looking his way, “…just be a little patient, babe…” you said, turning back to chopping, “I’ll be right…” you paused to yawn , “…with you”. Whilst yawning, your body involuntarily stretched, pushing your buttocks back, only to accidentally have them brush against his clothed manhood. “Oh…my” You heard Lucifer mutter with fascination. Not caring much for it, you completely missed the naughty smile that returned to his face. A few seconds later, you suddenly felt the tightly wrapped apron loosen.

“Lucifer…?” You began questioningly,“What are you doing?” When you caught him in the act.

“Oh, you know. Just being patient…” He said innocently, his hands firmly gripping on your waist, “…might as well keep myself occupied…” he purred. Suspicious, you raised your eyebrows. “Clearly…” you said, “But w-oh!” Your suspicions were on point when you realized his right hand quickly dug inside your elastic shorts. Stomach retracting in response, it was the moment you knew where this was heading, what his intentions were, “Oh…you’re cheeky…”

“Not as cheeky as you are…” Lucifer teased smugly, slapping your buttocks in an instant. You chuckled loudly. Except those chuckles only lasted a few seconds when you gasped , queuing his beautiful fingers to graze over your panties. The few weeks of sexual depravity was handed to the world on a silver platter with your hushed breaths and twitching.

“Your resolute attitude is much appreciated, Mr. Morningstar…” your voice shook, as you reached for the mortar and pestle, “…but I have a dish to prepare…Oh my!…” unable to finish the sentence, you cried out. He defied you when his skilled fingers dipped inside your cotton panties, obtaining close contact with the bare skin between your thighs.

This, this was a battle of the wills. Being the stubborn man he was, Lucifer Morningstar would stop at nothing to get what he desired: You.

But you were not going to give up so easily. No matter he would try to make you cave in, you will thrive with your culinary mission tonight.

“In the mood for some spices, Lucifer?” Your inquiry was brimming with teases, taking a few steps to grab the steel spice container. Like a conjoined twin, he followed you wherever you moved towards. “Why not?” He breathed against your ear, “Nothing’s better than getting this tongue fired up…”

Adding spices in the correct measurements to a mortar would typically be considered an easy task. But nothing was of the typical nature at this moment. Not when your lover was occupied in distracting you using the nastiest method possible. Your body began to jerk when you felt three of his fingers familiarize themselves with the fleshy outer lips around your slit. His index finger and ring finger marked their territories there, while his middle finger gingerly stroked the sensitive tip that began to swell the longer he stroked it in tiny flicks. Having gained access to the part which induced the most pleasure, Lucifer held the liberty to do whatever he pleased with it. His finger stroked it in circles, he stroked it in straight lines, in triangles, and even in shapes that only existed in his subconscious. Regardless, every second he played with you, a small fire was lit up within, only to have that fire burst into gigantic flames. When he daringly inserted that finger into your thoroughly wet opening. All while his ears indulged in your cries of pleasure.


Taking the pestle, you began to grind up the onions, garlic with the spices in a fashion that was much more intense than it was previously done. And Lucifer noticed instantly. He felt victorious.

“My my…aren’t you the hard worker?” He commented in a seductive tone. Bitting your lower lip due to the fact his finger was literally inside of you, chuckling was the only option. “Of course, how else am I to let my frustrations out?” You said, looking over to him. “Well…” he said, licking his lips, “…you can always turn back to me-” “Not until this is done” you insisted, not willing to give up. Not ever. “Your call, darling” Lucifer said, as his finger quickly began to move in and out of you. Groaning, you finally stopped grinding the spices. “Ah fuck!” You cried out, “…fuck fuck fuck…” you repeated through gritted teeth,  “Lucifer, that’s not helping” you added with desperation. “Who said I intended to help?” He said darkly, his stubble grazing over your shoulder. He was not jesting for sure. When your hand reached out to grab the salted meat in the steel bowl, Lucifer’s left hand surprised you, by reaching up to cup your left breast over the t-shirt. But you would be fibbing if you did not admit your increased arousal at that point. Feeling the softness that resting on his palm, Lucifer was more than pleased.

“Oh!” He said amusingly, “Braless at home, are we?” He smiled mischievously,  “Lucifer, you lucky devil…” he said to himself. You rolled your eyes with a grin. “And again with the Devil persona…Ah!” Once again, you were forced to bite your lower lip when his fingers moved steadily in rhythm. Closing your eyes, you wished to savor this. Savor his loving to your leisure. But you had meat to marinade. Looking at the spice paste and the meat, you inhaled with determination. “Okay…” you began, smearing the spices over the pieces of meat, “This shouldn’t be too hard…Oh fuck!” Throwing your head back, you felt Lucifer tease you even more. For whilst you smeared and massaged the raw meat with the aromatic paste, his eager right hand massaged your breast, even having the audacity to pull the nipple through the shirt, making it thoroughly erect. “Ah! Shan’t leave the other feeling jealous…” Lucifer said, which made your eyebrows furrow. “What? Oh Lucifer….” You moaned, when you realized how his hand moved to your other breast to do the same. With two erect buds at the mercy of his touch, you felt the heat increase within you like a sauna.

“Oh boy…” you exhaled frustratingly, trying so hard not to scream in arousal with this torture. This sweet, delicious torture to be specific. Turning the stove on, you poured the oil on to the Dutch Oven. But it was certainly a challenge when your lovers hands were all over you. Lucifer’s mischievous chuckle tickled your ears.

“Come on, Y/N…” Lucifer whispered, “You know you want this bad…”. He thought he had you, dead to rights.

When the ginger and garlic paste infused with the cinnamon sticks in the hot oil, the aroma was invigorating. Throwing your head back over his shoulder, you tried to distinguish the pleasures you were gifted with. The aroma of your cooking, and the eager passionate touch of the man you longed to defile everywhere with.

“Not…until…it’s done…” you said with difficulty. As much as you said this to him, this was also for yourself. Only a little while longer till you had to hold out on this frustration. Truthfully, you could just stop all this, spin around and pounce at him wildly. But the task you started with genuine interest would end up burnt, ignored and wasted. When you added the seasoned meat into the pan, you heard the pan sizzle loudly whilst indulging on the rich aroma that traveled all the way through your nostrils.

“Well, I do like a challenge” Lucifer cried out, proceeding to make everything more diffusely by kissing your neck. His lips on your neck, his hands on your bosom and between your thighs, he literally was lighting you in flames. The delicious aroma and the whiff of his cologne mixed together drove you wild with arousal. You could imagine it, his body on top of your own, licking his own lips before he proceeded to your lick your bare frame, eating off the food you just cooked. No matter what he did, he was insanely skilled at it. He was simply inhuman. Though you washed your hands frantically, though your cleansed your hands of the spices, your mind becoming filthier by the second. Holding the tap tightly, you felt a jerk inside. That was it.

“Lucifer!” You moaned, “I’m close…so close…” you breathed, motivating his fingers to increase speed. Moving your hands towards the marble counter, a loud cry exited your lips as you finally, found your release.

This release was certainly different from all the others you have shared with him.

“Whoa!” You panted, as his fingers retracted, “What-How did you even do that?” You said, looking at him over the shoulder. He smiled. “Darling…”  Lucifer began with pride,  “It’s me…” he said, making your jaw drop as he brought his finger to his lips, sucking your juices in front of your very eyes. You shook your head. “Show off..” You panted with a smile. He chuckled, looking at the pan,  “I bet that won’t be as delicious as you are, my darling” “Normally, I’d be insulted if anyone disses my cooking…” you said, as you stirred the meat, “…but in this case I really don’t know what to say…” you added dreamily. “A Thank you would be suffice…” “How about this…as a thank you?” You said, making his eyes widened with disbelief when you finally closed the the lid of the dutch oven, and turning the stove heat low. Your job was complete. And now it was all up to time to solve this culinary equation.

“Finally…” turning you towards him, Lucifer pulled to kiss you roughly on the lips. It felt like you were being gifted for doing a wonderful job. His kisses were that rewarding. You blushed when you tasted yourself in him, especially as his tongue jumped in to show you.

“Now that I have your complete attention…” your lover began, letting you go, “I’m afraid you won’t escape me for a few hours” he said. You giggled.

“F-few?” You inquired, seeing him put away his phone “Oh wow” you chuckled, full of squeals when he grabbed you by the waist once again.

“Darling…” he purred, brushing his nose against yours, “…Tonight I’m all yours…”

When he kissed you fully once more, you were certainly very glad you decided on slow cooking tonight.

——————————————————

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[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 2

The Meaning of Home Chapter 2

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

[ Previous |  First | Next ]

Pawel spends much of Monday lounging around the house. He gets up to help get Conor and Emma on the bus, so his dad can leave on time for work. After meeting the bus in his pajamas, he walks back to Dad’s house and lies down on the couch. He doesn’t really need a blanket, but he pulls it up to his nose anyway for the comfort factor and spends the day dozing and streaming old movies on his dad’s TV.

He never makes it as far as thinking about cooking anything for dinner, so he treats Dad and Conor to a night out. It eats up more time than he’d like, and it means Conor needs to scramble to finish the last of his homework once they’re home, but it’s nice to spend an hour letting someone else do the cooking.

Later that evening, after Conor goes to bed, Pawel and Dad spend the next couple of hours finally talking through everything that’s happened. Pawel doesn’t want to leave things out, but there are a few things he avoids for Dad’s safety, like the government involvement, and one thing he just doesn’t know how to explain.

He hasn’t seen Chelsea in a while. She’s relearning how to work within the world without draining souls to stay alive. He highly doubts she’s planning on stopping by his father’s for a visit, and even if she did, Dad never got to meet her as anything other than one of Pawel’s friends a decade ago.

Yeah. That is a complicated mess that he has no desire to go into detail about.

They go to bed late, but Pawel still wakes early on Tuesday to get his own kid on the bus. He figures it’s the least he can do, letting Dad get to work on time on a regular basis again.

Alone in the house again, Pawel feels refreshed and awake.

And bored.

He puts the phone on speaker as he putters around the kitchen, pressing to dial the number for Pels. She picks up after two rings, her voice gravelly and low. “What? Did we burn your house down?”

“I’m assuming you would have called me, rather than the other way around, if you burned my house down. Since you’re the one staying there.” Pawel rifles through his father’s cabinets until he finds a slow cooker. It’s dusty, but he’s pretty sure it’ll be functional. There should be enough ingredients for chili around. 

He looks into a cabinet, and nearly bare shelves stare back at him.

Okay, maybe not.

“What?” Pels asks again. “You woke me up. Are you looking for my mom? I thought you had her number.”

Pawel finds tomatoes and beans, and starts emptying them into the slow cooker. “I do. I thought she’d be at work, so I called you instead.”

“It’s too early and—Dad, Dad, no, I’ll talk to him. Give me back my phone.”

“Hello, Ammon.” Pawel might not be able to hear Pels’s father, but he’s well aware by now that the ghost can hear him.

“He’s leaving, and I’m not putting this on speaker,” Pels mutters. “I thought he was going to start spending more time with Mom now, after the whole unbinding ceremony last weekend, but apparently she told him not to follow her to work.”

“Can she see him now?” That would be an interesting development. Pawel sets the empty can on the counter and reaches for a pad of sticky notes so he can scribble a reminder to himself to look into more detailed information about the ritual that the Burlington community performed for Pels and her mother in order to remove the bindings from their Talents.

“I think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure she can, but we’re not really talking about it. But seriously. Did you call for a reason? Cheyenne’s got these final projects to finish up since she left school a couple weeks early, so she’s not bothering me. Dad wasn’t bothering me. I was sleeping.” Pels grumbles under her breath.

“I just wanted to see how things were going.” Pawel peels off the sticky note and tapes it to the fridge, where he might see it later. Another search of the cabinets turns up chili powder and a few other seasonings. “Now that you’ve had a chance to settle into the house.”

“We’re fine. We’re figuring out how to be a family again without Peter.” Pels hesitates. “I’m learning how to see the world a whole different way now that I can see everything my Talent lets me see. Shane and Jess and I are talking a lot, and I’m going to figure this Mage thing out. So… thanks. For everything. Including letting us stay in your house while you’re gone.”

Pawel shakes some cocoa powder into the slow cooker, before adding a handful of dried onion. “Someone’s got to water the plants.”

“The plants were already dead when we got here.”

He laughs at Pels’s dry words. She’s not wrong. Pawel was gone for a month; everything went to hell, while his son went to stay with his dad.

Which, yeah. That brings him right back around to where he is now.

Pawel stares at the slow cooker. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number.”

“I’ll tell Mom to check in with you periodically. Oh and—” Pels hesitates before asking, “Cheyenne wants to know if it’s okay if she uses your backyard to practice flying?”

Pawel thinks of the time they used Alaric’s dragon to summon a Shadow in that same backyard. “That would not be the strangest thing the neighbors could have witnessed. But she should try not to break anything, including herself.”

“I think we can do that. Gotta go. Dad says there’s someone at the door.”

The line goes abruptly silent, and Pawel looks down at the screen of his phone as the connection is lost. “Okay, then.” He gives the vegetarian chili a quick stir, then puts the lid on, plugs it in, and switches the appliance on to cook on low. “That’s set, at least.”

He feels a little better, knowing that his home is in good hands, or at least, it’s not burning down. It sat empty for a month before; having someone live there for the summer should be better.

As long as none of the newly powered Mages set the place on fire.

Fire.

That reminds him.

Pawel checks one more time to ensure that the slow cooker is on and set to low, then heads back to the living room to dig out his laptop. He starts it up and finds the tab he’d left open for the outdoor music festivals, with a list of dates.

That’s what he thought: the festival that Rory and Thorne’s band, Phoenix Rising, is touring with will be in Buffalo this weekend.

Pawel buys four tickets. He figures Dad will come with them, and Conor will want to bring a friend. Probably Alan. And if Dad doesn’t want to go, Alan’s mom, Emily, might join them instead. He’s not worried if the tickets don’t all get used; he just wants options.

Conor will be pleased by the surprise, anyway.

He closes the laptop and looks back to the kitchen.

How the hell does his dad live like that, anyway? And what has Conor been eating?

No, he saw the answer to that this morning. Toaster pastries and cereal, and Pawel’s pretty sure that the last of the eggs were finished off as well.

Fine.

If Pawel’s going to be here all summer, squeezed into his dad’s small space, the least he can do is lay in supplies.

Pawel spends the day scouring the cabinets, making a long list of everything from prepared garlic and ginger for easy seasoning, to pantry staples like pasta, to critical items like various forms of protein for the freezer. His dad has a standing freezer in the garage, and even that seems woefully empty.

He loses time going through the sites online for each local grocery store, poring over the ads to determine which store will have the best value for this shopping trip. He types up the list to rearrange it by food type, so that as soon as Conor’s home they can head out and maybe they’ll be organized enough to get the trip done quickly.

“Dad!” The door bangs open. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving and something smells really good.”

“It’s not dinner time.” Pawel folds up the printout of the list and shoves it in his pocket. “We’re going shopping. Grab a snack.” His own stomach growls and he’s not sure how he made it from early morning to half past three without a meal. “I think I saw a box of granola bars.”

Conor lifts the lid to the slow cooker, inhaling deeply, while Pawel finds the last two granola bars. He tosses one to his son.

“Let’s get some food.”

“Can we get meat for the chili? That looked like it was all beans,” Conor grumbles. He buckles his belt, then directs Pawel to the grocery store. 

Pawel already knows how to get there, but he’s not going to tell Conor that. Not when Conor seems comfortable in this place and is enjoying showing off that comfort level. He stays silent while Conor points out the entrance to the parking lot, then finds them a space close to the door.

Conor grabs a cart from the corral and pushes it into the store. “Emma’s Papa picks her up after school, so she doesn’t have to take the bus. She said they’re doing stuff today, so she couldn’t come over. I thought we could work on our—Emma!!” 

Pawel catches the cart, stopping it from rolling when Conor takes off into the produce section. Emma’s answering shout is sharp and loud as Conor skids to a stop near a display laden with peaches. Pawel pushes the cart there, half an ear listening to the kids talking as if they weren’t together a half hour ago in school.

“Dad!” Conor waves at him, so Pawel picks up the pace.

He’s not sure who Emma is with. She stands next to an almost empty cart, except for a bag of peaches sitting in the seat. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of an adult.

“Emma’s shopping.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pushing braids back over her shoulder. “Obviously,” she says quietly. “Jennie had to pee. He’ll be back soon. She forgot to go before we left school.”

“Does your Papa have two carts? We can help you,” Conor offers. “You and me can do one cart, and Dad can do ours, and your Papa can do the other one.”

“You can call me Leo. I don’t think your dad would like it if you started calling me Papa like the rest of the kids.”

Pawel knows that voice.

He hasn’t heard the voice in a very long time, but there are certain phrases still etched in the deep recesses of his memory. 

He exhales, and very deliberately makes himself look at the man who has joined him.

He looks good. Older, yeah. It’s been more than ten years since Leo graduated and left town for college. Apparently he’s back now, and from the police uniform, this would be Emma’s foster father that works for Pawel’s dad.  He has the name ‘L. Papa’ embroidered on his uniform, just above the pocket, and his badge is still visible. Leo stands with one hand on the handle of the cart and reaches without looking to take a package of donuts out of the hands of the small girl sitting in the basket of the cart.

When he smiles, Pawel’s heart twists.

“I was glad to hear you reappeared,” Leo says quietly. His voice is a warm, low tenor, as careful and even as Pawel remembers.

“You’re fostering a Weather Witch.” It’s maybe not the best reply. Pawel refuses to wince when Conor snickers.

“I told you he’s single-minded sometimes,” Conor whispers loudly to Emma. “He’ll help find your parents. I know your Papa’s a police officer, but Dad’s a Mage.”

Emma’s brown eyes are furrowed and dark. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

Leo takes two sheets of paper from his pocket, then hands one to Emma. “You know which cereals the boys like best. Pick one for yourself and Jennie that they won’t eat before you get a chance. Since you’re the one with me, you get to pick the pasta. I know it says twenty boxes of mac & cheese, but we only need ten. We’ll be shopping again next week.”

Emma takes the list and reads it over solemnly. “Nevaeh said we need more tuna, but it’s not on the list. I’ll get that, too. C’mon, Conor. There were some cookies on sale. Help me pick out ones that the boys won’t eat before we can.”

“Popcorn,” Conor replies. “Remember, we used the last of it last weekend? Did that get on your list?”

They roll away with the almost-empty cart before Pawel can protest.

The small girl in Leo’s cart has the box of donuts in her hands again. She opens the plastic carefully and takes one out.

“Jennie,” Leo says softly.

“I need sugar to sparkle,” she whispers around a mouthful of chocolate cream.

Speechless feels so strange. Pawel can’t remember the last time his tongue has been this tangled. “I—” He tries to break his own silence, and fails miserably.

“Things get chaotic with five kids in the house,” Leo says. When he smiles again, his pale green eyes crinkle around the corners with tiny lines that definitely weren’t there before. They match the faint hints of salt in his dark hair. “Conor’s got a lot of energy. He probably keeps you on your toes.”

“Dad says I’ve been cursed with a kid that’s just like I was,” Pawel says. He pushes his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to recover his balance. “He didn’t tell me you were one of Emma’s foster fathers. Just that she had two of them. Foster fathers. And two missing parents.”

Meeting his ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be this unsettling.

Pawel blames it on the fact that he’s probably still in a sleep deficit—two weeks is not enough time to catch up on missing sleep for several months.

“There’s a local teacher who works with a group that finds placements for Talented kids who need Talented families to stay with.” Leo has the second page of his list in his hand, and he refers to it while picking out produce.

Right. Shopping.

Pawel looks at his own list and tries to focus on that to give himself a little distance and wrangle his brain back into working order. Salad. They definitely need things for salad. And fresh vegetables for roasting wouldn’t be bad.

“Alice asked Colt if he knew anyone who might be able to take on kids about four years ago, and when he said we would, she put us in touch with Lucy and Rowan, and that’s how we got Matt, our first foster kid.”

Leo’s voice rolls over Pawel, dropping tidbits of information that he struggles to grab onto.

“Matt’s not bad,” Jennie says around a mouthful of donut. “Sometimes.”

Pawel latches onto the names, his fingers closing around a broccoli crown and holding it a little too tightly. He fumbles with the plastic bag. “Lucy and Rowan? And… Colt?” He had to have heard those wrong.

He manages to get the bag open and shoves two broccoli crowns into it, dropping them in the basket of his cart.

Leo is silent.

When Pawel looks at him, Leo stands with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the cart, his grip tight. “Colt Harrison,” he says. “My husband. You—”

“Dated him in high school, yeah.” Pawel finishes Leo’s sentence for him.

That’s… too much information. Pawel is struggling to assimilate it.

“Dad did not mention that,” he mutters.

“This doesn’t have to be weird.” Leo grabs the container of donuts and moves it to another area of the cart. Jennie could still get to it, but she pouts instead, slouching down in one corner of the basket, her lower lip sticking out and flecked with chocolate. “Colt and I met when he was interning at the law office where he works now. We’ve been married about three years. We didn’t even know each other back in high school.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Pawel echoes. He’s right, of course. It shouldn’t be weird. It’s not weird at all. People meet. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. Sometimes there’s a small world effect and it turns out that they may have already been connected beforehand.

That’s all Pawel is in this; an ancient history connection.

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” Leo says. He pulls a napkin from his pocket and cleans Jennie’s fingers. “Try not to touch anything else,” he admonishes gently before tucking the dirty napkin back in his pocket. 

He’s so careful with her. Pawel remembers when Leo used to take care of his younger siblings. It only makes sense that he’d be good with kids now. As big and scruffy and rough looking as he is, he’s gentle, too.

“I need to—” Pawel holds up the list, showing just how long it is. “Dad’s cupboards are empty. I’m not sure what he and Conor have been eating, and I get the feeling that it’s takeout so I really don’t want to know. I need to stock up.”

“So do we. Matt’s eleven and Clan, and Duke’s fourteen. We go through a lot of food in our house.” Leo heads toward the back of the store. “Come on. We’ll catch up with the kids if we get moving.”

Pawel exhales and trails behind Leo. Jennie peeks around him, her thumb in her mouth as she looks at Pawel. Small brown brows furrow deeply before she turns away and curls up.

Her snores are adorable little rasps of sound. He can’t think how she’s sleeping through the rattle and squeak of the cart she rides in. Still, she’s silent as they work their way through the aisles, collecting items from their respective lists.

They turn down one aisle and spot Conor and Emma from a distance. Conor has sparks around his hand while Emma reaches for something falling from the shelves.

Pawel coughs, and Conor turns to give him an innocent look.

Wait. That reminds him.

“You’re taking in Talented kids,” Pawel says slowly. “So you or Colt must be—”

“We both are,” Leo says, glancing at him sideways. “I grew up Clan. Colt’s Emergent, but that’s his story to tell. I heard about you being a Mage from your dad. He’s proud of everything you’ve done at PHU.”

Pawel waves that away. “Youngest dean. Newest department. Only real expert on Talent as a whole because I’m the only person who’s bothered to go down the rabbit hole far enough to study it formally.”

“It’s still impressive.” Leo huffs.

“I just… I never knew.” Pawel thinks back and tries to catalog Leo’s family based on what he knows of Clan. He didn’t interview them for his thesis; they weren’t on his radar as a large Clan community. They grew up as a part of the town.

“You weren’t meant to.” Leo dips into his pocket and hands the napkin back to Jennie, who has somehow woken from her nap and polished off a second donut while they weren’t paying attention. “That was before the Emergence. We took a lot of care to be able to live here without anyone knowing.”

“But your community—”

“Widespread and buried within this town and the surrounding ones. We never really wanted to withdraw from the rest of the world. Which is what makes us good candidates for fostering. We don’t have those same prejudices that some might have.” Leo drops a hand to the top of Jennie’s head, and she looks up at him, smiling brightly.

There are, indeed, sparkles all around her, the air shimmering with her contentment and happiness.

“Conor wants me to help find Emma’s parents,” Pawel says quietly. “At the same time, I’m not sure if he really wants me to get involved, after everything that happened this last year. What do you—”

“I think they’re dead,” Leo says quietly. His hand still rests atop Jennie’s head, but his gaze is fixed on Emma. “I can tell you what little we know, but everything points to them being dead. The question is what happened to their bodies.”

Unfortunately, Pawel’s had experience with issues like that and can think of at least one scenario.

Which might mean they’re not dead.

They also might not be prepared to be parents anymore, either.

Leo pitches his voice louder. “You should come over for dinner some night.”

Both Conor and Emma turn to look at them. Emma grips the side of the cart, stepping up and holding on while Conor gives it a good push before jumping up himself. It sends them racing towards Leo and Pawel, until Pawel puts up a hand, throwing out a gentle cushion of magic to stop them before they crash.

“Yes!” Conor yells. “Dinner!”

“You could come over and meet everyone. If you want to.” Emma’s gaze drifts away, like she really doesn’t care about the answer.

“They’re like my second family. Third, maybe, because of Alan, but my second one here,” Conor insists. “And Emma’s dads are really nice.”

“They aren’t my dads.”

“I’m sure Colt would love to see you, too,” Leo adds.

Thanks for the gut punch.

“He says yes,” Conor says quickly. “Right dad? You say yes.”

What else is he supposed to do?

“Yes.” Pawel fishes out his phone, unlocking it and staring down. He doesn’t resist when Leo slips it from his fingers, opening up his text app and sending something.

Leo places the phone back in Pawel’s hands. “The first number is mine, the second is Colt’s. In case you don’t still have them.”

“I fried my phone and lost everything,” Pawel admits. “Back when I Emerged. So. Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you.” Leo’s touch is heavy and warm where he claps his hand against Pawel’s shoulder, then squeezes. 

Pawel could hug him, but he thinks that might be awkward. He’s never had this situation. He has three exes—two of them he hasn’t seen since they broke up, and the other one is Chelsea. Which is just complicated.

“Yeah, you too.” He watches as Leo walks away, Emma pushing the second cart beside him. Pawel wonders just how distracted Leo must feel since Jennie looks like she’s grabbing her third donut.

Or maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe he spoils his kids with plenty of sugar.

It’s not like Pawel knows anything about how Leo’s life is now.

Conor tugs sharply at Pawel’s shirt. “Dad. When are we going to dinner over at Emma’s house?”

Pawel looks down at his phone, at the new conversation sitting there. All it says is, this is Pawel.

He locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet, but not tonight. Let’s go find that meat you wanted for the chili. Chicken might be good. We could sauté it up quickly and add it so it’ll get a couple hours in the slow cooker with the rest. Or we could cook it up with spices and add it afterwards.”

“You’re just saying that because chicken is healthy,” Conor grumbles. “I got more toaster pastries. Dziadziu lets me eat them.”

“I let you eat them, too, just possibly not in the same quantities,” Pawel protests. It’s not an argument he’s going to have right now, anyway.

He’s going to focus on finishing up the shopping, and finishing cooking dinner.

He’s going to focus on anything other than the fact that somehow both of the boys he dated in high school grew up to meet each other and end up married.

Yeah, he’s going to do his damnedest to focus on anything but that.

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[platypanthewriter]

No Expectations

Just an idea that wouldn’t git, so I wrote it.  Maybe it’ll leave me alone?

Steve’s eye caught on the new guy tending bar at Harvey’s, and he nearly broke his nose dropping the pint glass into his face.  Billy Hargrove wasn’t the very last person he’d expected to run into trying to get another round, he thought—Hitler might might have been more surprising, or Ronald Reagan—but he stared all the same, until Billy looked up and grinned.

“Seen a ghost, Harrington?” he asked, and Steve felt like an idiot for wanting to nod—he knew Max’s brother had made it out of Starcourt Mall, and into intensive care, and then weeks of physical therapy—they’d all taken turns as moral support, helping her pick out awful presents.    

Steve swallowed.  “Max said you left.  ‘Cause your dad’s an asshole.”

“Don’t forget monsters,” Billy grunted, pouring shots with a spin of his wrist, and sliding them across the counter to someone and her gang of friends.  “Dunno why you all didn’t get the hell out of—”

“Why come back?!” Steve asked, not because he minded Hawkins, but because of the thick scars across Billy’s shirtless chest.  He tried to remember what they’d talked about, the last time he’d taken Max, Lucas, and Dustin to sit around Billy’s bed, the day before he left.  

Billy glanced at Steve’s face, then lowered his eyes to the glass he was drying.  “Max needs a roommate while she gets her degree, so I’m back.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, spinning his empty beer glass against the counter.  Billy’d laughed, startling both of them, when Steve had helped him get to the bathroom, and he’d nearly fallen.  He’d been heavy—and warm, from his blankets, Steve remembered—and Steve had grabbed him with both arms, asking whether he was okay.  Billy had started laughing into his shoulder, muttering “shit, shit, sorry, shit,” the whole way down the hall, and left the next morning.  “You didn’t say anything,” Steve told his glass, and wished he hadn’t, because it sounded childish once it was out of his mouth.

Billy paused in his plucking of mint leaves to look up.  “...what did you—”

“Nothing,” Steve cut him off, looking at the boy who’d shoved him around, hit him with a plate, and nearly died trying to save Eleven.  “Nothing.”  He stood up to pull his coat back on, and Billy half-fell across the counter, knocking over the ketchup and pepper shaker to grab Steve’s glass.  

“On the house,” he said, running to the taps, and Steve opened his mouth to tell him what he’d been drinking, then let him fill it with Bud Lite.  “On the house,” Billy repeated, running back to smack it down in front of Steve, so the suds lapped over the edge.  “Sorry,” he panted, grabbing it back and wiping the glass.  “Here.”

“...okay,” Steve bit his lip, but sat back down, and whover was next to him slammed a fist on the counter, yelling.  Billy got them drinks while Steve contemplated his free beer.  

He was a third through it by the time Billy stopped in front of him again.  “...so,” he said, and Steve snorted.

“You got something to say?” he volleyed back, and Billy laughed, shaking his head.  

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, flashing a smile.

Steve tipped his head back and drained the glass, and a shot glass slid out of Billy’s hand and clattered to the floor.  Steve stood on the side bars of the stool to lean over the bar, watching Billy scramble around with an arm under the cupboards.  “...maybe you should learn to bartend,” he suggested, and Billy flipped him off.

“Order a real drink, Harrington—”

“Have to be up early,” Steve told him, grinning down.  “Bet you get to sleep in.”

“You wanna know?” Billy pushed himself up, his back and shoulders flexing, and Steve swallowed.  Billy brushed off his jeans.  “I’m off in two hours,” he said.  “If you…”

“What?” Steve asked, feeling strangled.

“If you want to catch up,” Billy said, shrugging, and Steve blinked.

“Um, you’ve been—Max probably told you everything.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay,” Billy shrugged, backing away, and Steve smacked his hands on the counter.  

“No, wait, yeah, let’s—let’s catch up!” he said, too loud, and Billy laughed.

 That night he sucked Steve off in the parking lot, against his station wagon, and Steve garbled “Holy shit,” and “What the hell” and “You’re so good at this” into a stream of gibberish, sinking to land on his butt on the gravel.  

“...some kinda catching up,” Steve panted, his knees on either side of Billy’s. 

“Mmn,” Billy leaned in, heavy against Steve’s chest, kissing up the side of his neck.

“Your place or mine?” Steve whispered, and Billy stilled, then laughed.

“Can’t get enough of me?” he asked, and Steve snorted.

 The next morning, Steve got dressed, brushed his teeth, and then crawled back over the covers, kissing Billy’s shoulder and the side of his head as he laughed, curling deeper into the blankets.  “You haveta work today?” Steve whispered, and Billy rolled to blink up at him.

“Mmpf?” Billy asked, squinting up.  “...why?”

“I’ll be done in an hour or two,” Steve told him, letting his thumb rasp against Billy’s stubble.  “Want me to bring back some food?”

Billy stared up at him for a second, then nodded.  “If you want to come back here.”

“Do you have to work?” Steve asked again.  “I can make myself scarce.”

“Nah, I can go again,” Billy propped himself up on his elbows.  “Kick me awake later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve rolled his eyes, and leaned in for a kiss Billy dodged.

“Morning breath, asshole,” Billy whispered.  “Hey.”  

“Mmn?” Steve asked, standing on one leg to tie his shoes.  

“Wait, dickbird, tell me you love me, if we’re gonna play house.” 

Steve leaned on the bed again to shove his blanketed bulk, but leaned in to smack a kiss on Billy’s head.  “See you later, babe, love you, g’bye,” he said dryly, and Billy rolled away, groaning into his pillow.

 When he showed up later, Billy was sitting on the arm of the couch, peeling the label off a beer bottle at eleven am.  “Didn’t know whether to lube up or set out the candles and tablecloth,” he said, laughing, and Steve walked around for another kiss.  

“Honey, I’m home,” he told Billy, who pressed up against him, wrapping a leg around Steve’s butt.  “Daydrinking without me?”

“Welcome back,” Billy whispered, grabbing Steve around the shoulders and falling back onto the couch, so they landed in a pile of limbs.  “Thought maybe you stood me up.”

“In sickness and in health, right,” Steve said against the skin of Billy’s throat, and Billy grabbed him tighter.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Billy laughed.  “How long you gonna play house with the town fag?”

“What?” Steve stopped mid kiss, breathing against the buzz of Billy’s voice in his throat.

“No, nevermind,” Billy snorted.  “I’ll get it when you stop returning my calls, right.”

Steve pushed himself up, doing a pushup to stare down at Billy Hargrove’s grinning face.  “What?  You—”

“Ssh,” Billy pulled him down again, and in the ensuing kisses, Steve forgot what he’d wanted to say.

 Every so often Billy’d ask again—“How long’re we gonna play house, Harrington?” and Steve would stop to ask what that even meant, and Billy would distract him again, and demand flowers, chocolates, or a welcome-home kiss.  

He didn’t even seem to know what to do with flowers, Steve realized—he just stood staring at them, until Steve rescued them back, cut off the ends, and filled the blender with water as the closest thing to a vase.  For Valentine’s Day, he brought over the biggest, pinkest, sparkliest heart-shaped box he could find, and licked melted chocolate off Billy’s abs, thighs, and eventually, everywhere else.  The next day, he replaced the sheets.

 When Steve sped over from work and walked in on lit candles, covered dishes, and Billy pulling garlic bread out of the oven, Billy said, “Five month anniversary, right?”

Steve tried to remember what day it even was, kicking his shoes off, and Billy laughed, backing away.  

“Just playing,” he said quickly.  “Just playing house.”

“I like playing house,” Steve told him, sliding in his socks across the linoleum to kiss Billy’s neck where he was bent, frowning into the tinfoil.  “Need to talk to you about that.”

“...thought you might,” Billy said, stopping his inspection to clench his fists against the edge of the counter.  “What?”

“Kinda silly, us both having houses,” Steve said, the way he’d practiced in the mirror.  He slid a hand under Billy’s shirt, stroking his thumb over Billy’s taut muscles.  He felt a scar, and grabbed Billy’s hips to turn him, suddenly needing to get his face under Billy’s shirt and kiss his skin.  

“What—what are you saying,” Billy asked hoarsely.

“Don’t like it when you’re not there at night,” Steve told him, looking up from where he knelt on the floor.  “I roll over and there’s this cold space where you aren’t.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, and he started laughing, but his eyes went all red and shiny, so Steve didn’t mind.  

“I have a garage,” Steve said persuasively, and Billy snorted, coughing.

“That’s your offer?  A garage.”

“You could wash your Camaro and the rain wouldn’t ruin the wax,” Steve tried.  “And there’s no stairs.  I know you hate hauling groceries up here.”

Billy just kept snickering, leaning back against the counter, and Steve bit his lip.  

“Or if you like it better here,” he surrendered, and Billy laughed harder, sinking down to the floor.  Steve wasn’t that attached to his house, he thought.  “I would do all the dishes,” he offered, and Billy tilted to lean against him, burying his face in Steve’s neck.  

“You’re bargaining with me,” he whispered, and Steve shrugged, beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything.

“You can just tell me where to shove it,” Steve forced a laugh, and it came out sharp.  “We can eat.”

“I get to sleep in your bed, though, right,” Billy whispered, sniffling.  “Not the garage.”

“What the hell,” Steve whispered back.  “Don’t make me bite you.”

“Go ahead,” Billy laughed.  “I’m yours.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Steve told him, yanking them both to their feet, so he could slap the keys he’d made into Billy’s hand.  “You want to, right?”

Billy nodded, standing there in the kitchen, holding the keys out and staring down through them.  “I—I want to.  I want to.  Are—are you sure you…”

“What?!” Steve asked, assessing the bread—it looked fine—and sliding it onto the prepared plate.  

“This—this is what you want?!” Billy asked, probably waving at himself like an asshole, and Steve kept his eyes on the precarious stack of bread, spinning to kick Billy lightly in the shin.  

“Stop sounding like you’re the discount version of something,” Steve told him, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he bore the bread out to the table.  “Yeah, I want to fucking play house, come play house with me.  Forever.”

“That sounds kind of ominous,” Billy said, his voice shaky.

“Gonna play the hell out of this house,” Steve muttered, and Billy started laughing again, leaning against his shoulder.  

“Feed me bread,” he commanded, and Steve shoved him, but pulled him back again after grabbing a slice.  “Honey.  Babe.  Lover,” Billy whispered, and Steve shoved the bread in his mouth, feeling his face heat.  

“Hurry up and eat, sweetums,” he whispered back, and Billy choked, coughing.  

 The first morning Steve awoke to sharing a house with Billy Hargrove, he was gone from the bed, and Steve stomped petulantly down to find him naked, in an apron, making breakfast.

He laughed until he cried.

[ayyoitsalex]

Chapter 10 - My Time To Shine

From the time I was seventeen I've been responsible for the meals prepared at the biggest holiday of them all; Thanksgiving. It's taken over as my personal favorite because I get to spend the day doing what I love, and what I do best. When it comes to me cooking for thanksgiving, my family has learned a few things. I know what I'm doing, don't distract me, and don't change my music. We got the week off from school, so I stayed up at my parent's house to get prepped for the upcoming event. Everyone was curious as to what kind of stops I was pulling out this year, but as always I wasn't saying. I'd come up with some new ideas I wanted to try out, and this was as good a time as any. When my siblings moved out I had my choice of which room I wanted to call my own. I picked Selena's room since it came with the best sunset views, and got the best night time breezes. When I got to be around sixteen I made the decision to paint the walls from the dark purple to a red. I hoped Selena wouldn't be too upset at what I'd done to her room. When I moved out, our parents kept the room relatively the same, but now there's not a bunch of clothes on the floor like I'm used to seeing it. I woke up early Tuesday with the task of doing the shopping on my mind. I called up my siblings to see which one of them could accompany me. Only Natalie was available, so I waited for her to come and pick me up.  Natalie unlocked the door and let herself in with baby Lexi in her arms. Before I could get up for a hug, she forced Lexi into my arms. "GOTTA PEE!" She screamed running to the bathroom. Lexi smiled at me as I held her close. "Your mommys so crazy Lexi. Did you know that?" "Yeah." She said laughing. Lexi can answer yes or no questions, but to whether or not she knows what it means remains to be seen. Natalie emerged from the bathroom looking relieved as ever. "Okay we ready?" She asked. "Yeah." Lexi said again putting her hands up. "Aha I guess that's a yes, let's get going!" I put Lexi in her carseat behind me. Natalie plugged in her phone and turned on the car. As the engine started the radio turned on. What came on wasn't music, but was some very intense whispering that sounded like it could be right in your ears. I gave Natalie a confused look before she practically slammed her hand into the off button. She fumbled around with her phone to put on actual music. "Um..what the fuck was that?" Natalie's face was turnning red. "Just some..patreon audio.." "What who's voice is that even?" "Dude it's so crazy it's this chick that does anime voices, but y'know makes them say bad things.." "Oh my god Natalie you're a freak haha." I palmed my face laughing hysterically. "Shut up! We all have our little things. This one just happens to be mine." "So..it's like audio porn?" "NO ABSOLUTELY NOT." She smacked the back of my head. "You little shit head.." "Ow!" "I am still your big sister y'know! Need to show me my respect!" We continued our drive to the store. When we got there  Natalie just followed behind as I pulled items into the basket. I was on a mission to get everything i needed. I didn't look back a few times, and at times lost Natalie through the crowd. "Elizabeth! Slow down a little!" When we finished checking out we went back home to put them all into the fridge. "Jesus how big is this turkey?" "Fifteen pounds." I answered looking through the vegetables, and looking through my checklist. "Can I just say I'm so glad you're good at cooking?" She hugged me. "Aha you could stand to mention it more often." The front door unlocked by Selena with her kids and Sam. "Helllo?" Selena called out for anyone home. "We're in here!" I answered. The kids rushed into the living room diving onto the couches. "Excuse me boys!" I stood there hands on my hips. Cole and AJ looked at one another before making their way towards me. I leaned down. "Hi aunt Liz." They said together hugging me, and kissing my cheeks on each side. "Love you guys." I smiled mussing up their hair as they walked back. "Well hey sister, excited for thanksgiving?" I turned to Selena. "Always! Gotta break out my fancy maternity pants so I won't lose a button." "Oh my god haha." I started taking out bowls to do as much prep work as I could before hand to make my life easier. That meant dicing up my mire poix, dry brining my turkey, making my compound butter, and cutting up bread for stuffing. My sisters both gathered around like I was doing magic, when I was just peeling vegetables. They continued looking on amazed as I chopped vegetables so easily and at times without looking. It might be stupid but it really does make me feel special. It's not that my sisters are bad cooks, I think it's just the fact that I'm going to school for cooking they think I have some more efficient way of doing simple things. Which I totally do.   "Lizzy are you sure you don't need any help?" Selena looked at me worried. I put down my knife and shook the aches out of my hand. "Yeah yeah I got it. You know me, I like doing it all." "Mm well if you say so. We can help too.." "I know I know, and I will need some help in the next couple days and maybe using you guys' ovens." "Jesus Liz what's all being made?" "Top secret!" Both Selena and Natalie rolled their eyes while I rubbed my hands together smiling devilishly. "Though if you really are set on helping these are some recipes you guys can do, and I made them as easy as possible." "Are you calling us stupid?! I HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE ELIZABETH!" Selena said faking getting mad. I rolled my eyes and went back to my cutting board. -Thursday- It's the big day and everything needs to go as planned or else I might kill somebody. I'm usually more go with the flow and easy going, but when it comes to cooking there is only one way to do things and it's my way. I was up around 5 am to start slow cooking some of the bigger proteins like the turkey and beef wellington I prepped the night before. Before putting the turkey into the oven I massaged the smoked garlic compoud butter underneath the skin. It's not the nicet feeling thing to do, but it makes a whole hell of a lot of difference down the line. I was still a bit sleepy, so I turned on the tv to wake me up a little. I flipped through the literal hundred of channels trying to find anything, but nothing was on. I turned on my newest favorite podcast and listened to "dead meat with James and Chelsea". I'm the only one of my family who is a huge horror movie buff. The only person I can get to go with me is Nathan, but he's not a addict like I am. Mom came down about an hour and a half after I did. "The only day I can expect you up this early." Mom laughed. "Well what can I say I love you all that much." I flashed a big smile to her. "Mm well happy thanksgiving my little head chef." She kissed the top of my head before going to get a cup of coffee. Nathan dropped by first around eight, and like the caring brother he is, he brought me breakfast. "Special delivery." He smirked handing me a bag of donuts. "Thanks brother!" I stuffed one in my mouth while giving him a hug. "Dinners gonna be ready about 4!" "Alright I'll have the girls all dressed and ready to see what you've come up with this year." "ITS FINNA BE LIT!" I smiled jumping up and down. "Right right..lit." Nathan not the one for today's slang terms. "Soph is making pies by the way!" Nathan said walking out the door. "Oh sweet! I knew I could trust one of you." -11 am- I was starting to get a little tired, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to. I opened the fridge for the perfect remedy of an energy drink. I'd changed from my morning pajamas to a pair of jeans and my chef's coat to really feel the part. "Just like your father." Aunt Camryn said from behind me. I practically spit all over the fridge. "JESUS CHRIST." I put my hand over my chest. "I didn't hear anyone come in! My hearts like racing now." "Mm well thats from your lil energy nonsense. Drink coffee like an adult." "HUMPH. No coffees gross." "Peasant." Aunt Camryn muttered sipping her coffee. I turned my attention to the stove where I had potatoes, pasta, and stuffing working. Aunt Camryn peeked over my shoulder to see what I was working with, but I shielded her off. "No peeking!"  I practically shrieked as aunt Camryn took a step back. "Good lord Elizabeth you're not re-inventing the wheel here." "This is the one time I get to show out and I want to surprise. So please shoo." I even gave her a little hand wave motion.  Aunt Camryn looked like she was about to smack the life out of me. Mom walked in probably saving my face. "Nicole! She just told me to shoo!" She couldn't believe my audacity. "Haha c'mon Camryn leave Elizabeth to do her thing. You good here sweetie?" "Yeah I got it mom." She winked at me before guiding aunt Camryn into the other room. Selena walked in carrying trays of appetizers to appease guests while I finished cooking. "Well how's it coming along baby chef?" Selena smiled giving me a hug. "Everythings on schedule for 4 pm dinner." "Awesome, well I brought something special for you sincey you're being so great." She rummaged through the bags and pulled out a bowl of macaroni and cheese. It's my ultimate comfort food, and Selena would always make it for me when she would babysit. "YESS!" I ripped off the saran wrap and dug right in. I forgot I even had a hunger need until the first bite hit. "See not the only one who can cook. I also made more for dinner later for an extra side." "See you're helping!" I said like I was talking to one of her boys.   "Funny." Selena looked at me arms crossed. I got up and gave her another hug and kiss as a thank you. Although I didn't wipe my mouth enough so Selena had bits of cheese on her. "*sigh I expect things like this from my kids, not my adult sister." She pulled out wipes for her face.   "Oh! I have stuffing in that tray that needs to be finished off, can you do it in your oven please?" "Yeah sure, anything else?" I took a minute to run through the list in my head. "There's a tray of biscuits that need to be baked there. They're all portioned out, just put them in at 375, and brush the butter on top when they're done." "YES CHEF!" Selena saluted to me smiling. "Damn right yes chef!" "Okay we'll be back around 3." I pulled the turkey and beef at the same time to let them rest. The smell was absolutely intoxicating, roasted garlic, lemon, parsley, and bacon. It all was coming out the way in envisioned it. Mom helped me get all the serving plates while dad and uncle Logan set the table. Aunt Camryn "supervised" along with her glass of wine. My siblings all began to arrive with their families, so I stood at the door awaiting my tolls from the kids. "Happy thanksgiving auntie Liz here this is for you!" Daisy smiled happy as always. She hugged me tight and handed me a card she made of her handprint drawn into a turkey. "Thank you Daisy!" I squeezed her tight before moving onto the next in line. "What you got for me Julian?" I smiled down at him. He didn't say anything at first going straight into the hug. "Love you auntie Liz." AJ and Cole were next. "I wonder which of you loves me more..?" I said twiddling my thumbs. They shoved their way into my arms hugging as tight as they could. "Aha okay okay I see you both love me a lot." They laughed letting go. I looked at the table with the all the food I'd prepared along with sides prepared by everyone else, and marveled at it all. When everyone finally got a look at it they did as I did and were in awe of it. Along with the two stars of the show there was grilled asparagus, roasted brussel sprouts with pancetta, butter poached shrimp, pumpkin risotto, roasted acorn squash, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, stuffing, baked macaroni and cheese with a parmesan crust, and garden salad. The smells mixed together in the dining room and I could see everyone starting to salivate just a little at the sight. The dessert table looked just as amazing with the contributions of my sister-in-laws and siblings. "Elizabeth this looks so good. You did a great job." Selena putting her hands over my shoulders. "Yeah good job Liz it smells incredible." Nathan said looking over all the choices spread across the table. "I can't believe you did this on your own.." Natalie smiled. They all surrounded me in a big group hug before  we all joined hands. Dad looked to me and nodded. "Thank you god for bringing us all together and allowing me to show my family just how much they mean to me with a skill you've blessed me with. We give thanks for all the food we're about to have and pray for a good end to the coming year. Amen." "Amen." Everyone collectively answered back. Mom handed me my carving knife and I made the first cut into serving everyone. When everyone had a full plate we took our seats around the house. I plated up last and sat at the table between Sophia and Selena. "I'm so glad I've got my stretchy jeans on Liz. Cause definitely going back for more." Selena smiled eating. As dinner went on everyone would walk by and drop compliments to me and say thank you. It's what made it all worth it. Everyone seeing what I could do, and being recognized for it. I didn't care that my legs hurt from standing all day, my fingers had blisters from the knives, or I was tired beyond belief. Knowing that everyone enjoyed it so much made it worth going through. The kids dropped by me again to say thank you before starting dessert. "You did real good hon." Dad said kissing the top of my head as he walked towards the sink. "We'll all get the dishes sweetie. Take a break finally." Mom nudged me over to the recliner. "Yes will definitely do that." I collapsed into the chair, putting my feet up. The pain in my legs slowly subsiding while my body began to relax. I didn't move for a good twenty minutes before Selena walked by with two plates of pecan pie slices for the both of us. She handed one to me and we cheers'd our forks. I wasn't a pie person growing up, but they've grown on me. After dessert hit me everyone began contemplating the next step. My siblings finished off the dishes, and the kids were all starting to look sleepy. I cracked open another energy drink and split it with Selena. "So are we doing this?" Natalie asked eagerly. "Can you watch the kids?" Selena turned to mom. "We'll just put them to bed. We won't be gone more than a few hours." "Aw man guys go without me you know I hate it." Nathan waved off. "BABE! No way you gotta we can get a new tv." Sophia nudged him. Nathan's eye's lit up. "Yeah the kids can just sleep here while you're out. Oh

[skyflyinginaction]

Shinhiro Aragaki Transulations from the Persona 3 Portable Fanbook

[sidebar]

Blog Handle Gaki

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[main body]

[handwritten title at top] Gaki-san Cafeteria

Profile Name: Shinjiro Aragaki Sex: Male Birthday: 1991/8/11 [This profile uses year/month/day format.] Blood type: A Group: Gekkoukan Academy Upper Class Year 3 Class C (Suspended) Club: Unaffiliated

Ugh...  Me? Having a blog? So lame... Still, everyone's doing it, so I figured I'd give it a shot. Dunno what's with the goofy title. I'm just gonna write whatever I want. So uh, maybe gimme some ideas for posts?

Well... Might as well pass the time while I'm here. Anyway... enjoy?

Favorite Sites: [banners] A Dog's Heart [in snail] Sea slug [to right] Umiushi Family Cooking [white text, bottom right] Official Site

[large white text below blog page] I'm keeping my eyes peeled. Because there's an unimaginable way back...

[main body]

Aragaki, the lone wolf who sticks out like a sore thumb at nightly meetings, is from the same orphanage as Sanada. Three years ago, Aragaki was a member of the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad, where Sanada awakened the power of Persona within him. However, he wasn't able to fully control his powers. One day, a horrible accident occurred and a number of people were driven mad. Aragaki's Persona went berserk and snatched away the life of an innocent bystander. Despondent, Aragaki dropped out of school and began aimlessly roaming the streets at night. In order to restrain his Persona ability, whenever Aragaki is faced with danger, he takes a suppressant drug - although it has its side effects. Aragaki only returned to the SEES to bear his past deeds. Aragaki gave his life as a final apology to those tied to the past and unable to move forward, saying: "I'm the only one who deserves to rot in hell."

[at bottom:]

Shinjiro Aragaki

[left column]

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Like A Whole Nother World

Category: Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad 2009/9/3 (Thu) 23:18

People are taking my return to the SEES really nicely... What the hell happened. Back when it was just me and Aki and Kirijo, the lounge felt way too big... But with all the new members, it's stuffed. Girls, a little kid, and even a dog... Some real variety in this lineup. Did Aki and Kirijo just get swept up in all that?

And on top of that, they're all treating me real good, even though they barely know me. The 2nd years think I bailed their asses out at the meeting place, when really I was just chasing off some pests. Either way, they're being real nice to me.

I don't bother with school or club activities or whatever, so I can focus all my energy on battle. Hit me up whenever you're heading off to Tartarus. I mean, that's why I came back here in the first place.

COMMENT Comments (4) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/9/4 (Fri) 01:23 JUN☆P-

Never gonna forget the hero at the meeting spot, dude. You totally bailed us out. With Aragaki-san on our side, we're like a hundred-man army!

2009/9/4 (Fri) 18:51 Yukaricchi♥

So you helped found the club, Aragaki-senpai... Thank you so much for saving us. I think you might actually be a really good guy, deep down...?

2009/9/4 (Fri) 21:00 Aigis

Koromaru-san reports that you often give him treats. It seems you two have become fast friends. Aragaki-san, you are rather reserved.

2009/9/4 (Fri) 23:06 Gaki

Oh come on, are you guys really kicking things off with a bunch of embarrassing comments? Hundred-man army, good guy... Don't just make stuff up about me. Ugh, I dunno how to deal with this.

[righthand column]

Boy's & Girl's Event

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Escapade

Category: Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad 2009/9/6 (Sun) 21:55

Under the full moon, a Shadow appeared, as promised. I hang out at Escapade plenty, but this time everyone on the floor was complaining about the power being on the fritz. I guess that was an omen or something that a Shadow was about to appear. Can't let things like that slip you by.

But man, there were some real annoying tagalongs last night. Junpei thought he was gonna party his ass off, the poor guy. That chick from Strega was totally stringing him along, but Junpei still managed to be worried about her. Maybe I'm being too harsh, but pure-hearted guys like him are the ones that fall for that kind of thing.

But still, the chick's Persona was really something... Might be worth worrying about. I think I'll pop my head into the hospital too.

[screenshot:]

Junpei Iori

Hey, uh... I just wanna know one thing... Was that really all just an act?

COMMENT Comments (4) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/9/6 (Sun) 22:23 Yukaricchi♥

I mean, Junpei's so unsubtle about things like this... I bet he's going to visit at the hospital again today. Maybe if Junpei keeps talking to her, Chidori-san will start to open her heart... Or maybe I'm naive for even thinking that?  

Boy's & Girl's Event

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Passing the Persona Torch

Category: Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad 2009/9/15 (Tue) 22:36

Man, you guys are a real pain. Though I guess I can't be so quick to judge if Koro-chan hangs with you...

⬤ Questions From Persona Users ⬤

1. How did it feel when your Persona awakened?

I don't remember anything from back then...

2. What did you think when you saw your Persona?

Don't really care, that's just how he looks. He's Aki's Persona's brother. I mean, me and Aki go way back. You couldn't separate us even if you tried.

3. What's your favorite attacking strategy?

I'm not a big fan of whittling enemies down bit by bit. Better to give 'em one big hit and knock 'em dead, all in one go.

4. Any Shadows you have trouble with?

I don't got any weak points. I mean, if your Persona is weak, that just means your heart is weak.

5. What do you want to do when we're done fighting?

Hell if I know. I just want to take responsibility for what I've done. I think I'm just about there. After that... Aki, it's your turn.

COMMENT Comments (4) ・ Trackback (1)

2009/9/15 (Wed) 19:47 Aki

So it's my turn... Got it. Shinji, it may very well be because of my influence that the power of Persona was awakened within you...

[left column]

Boys & Girl's Event

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What Are You Weirdos, a Cosplay Group?

Category: Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad 2009/9/16 (Wed) 22:58

Come on... I am not gonna participate in your little cosplay thing. The bus stop was one thing, but this time you　want me to wear a tailcoat? What? Is that a butler costume? Like I'm gonna play some servant role.

Oh, and when we're going off to Tartarus, don't expect me to act like we're going on a picnic, or whatever. When a Shadow pops out, I want to look like a grown-up warrior. We didn't get this far by being stylish.

I mean, if you're fighting to win, then I'll quit whining. Just don't mess around too much. And don't forget that lives are on the line.

COMMENT Comments (4) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/9/17 (Thu) 19:48 Yukaricchi♥

Please don't call us all "weirdos"! Our leader is the one who's into dressing up. I'm a victim too.

2009/9/17 (Thu) 22:39 JUN☆P-

That's the first time I've seen you hatless, Aragaki-san. ...And your head looks totally normal. So disappointing...

2009/9/17 (Fri) 19:29 Aki

I've never brought this up, but... Junpei, what do YOU look like with your hat off? I mean, even when you went swimming at the beach, you refused to take it off.

2009/9/17 (Fri) 21:46 Gaki

What kind of weird ideas are you having about people's heads... Hey Aki, meet me at the strategy room for a tactical debriefing on stealing Junpei's hat.

[right column] Boy's & Girl's Event Public Post

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Haven't Seen a Movie In Ages

Category: Posts 2009/9/23 (Wed) 22:26

Man, I haven't been to the movies in ages. It's a lot nicer to go on your own, but... Well, if you're inviting me, you must be kind of a weirdo. I guess I don't mind coming along though, kills some time.

But like, did you pick that movie on purpose? "Woof-Meow Kingdom"... We were surrounded by family, made me weirdly sweaty. And the climactic scene where they got dragged in the river... That was... Well, whatever...

Right, I need to give Koro-chan the special dog food and assorted bones I got on the way home. The leash we use on walks is filthy, so maybe I should get a new one, too... Oh, and I'm going to give him a bath later tonight. Shoot, I forgot to get a massage brush...

Anyway, do you think Koro-chan's good at doggy paddling? Never know when something bad might happen around water...

[screenshot:]

> Somehow, Aragaki's eyes seem red...

COMMENT Comments (3) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/9/24 (Thu) 10:00 Aigis

Koromaru-san is profoundly moved by your exceptional treatment of him, Aragaki-san.

2009/9/24 (Thu) 19:13 Fuu＊ka

Aragaki-senpai, you're a real animal lover, aren't you? Nobody who likes animals is a bad person, or so they say. I'll have to cook up something nice for Koro-chan too!

[advertisement:]

Garlic ・　Olive Oil ・ Pepperoncini

Paella

Family Cooking

Airing Weekly, Sunday 7 PM SMATV Network Kismet Publishing

September edition of the textbook now on sale. If not at your local bookstore, go here → to order online.

[button:] I Want It!

[left column]

Boys & Girl's Event Public Post

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Evening Walk

Category: Posts 2009/9/26 (Sat) 23:14

You guys keep going off about how taking a walk at night soothes the soul, and I kinda have to agree. I used to kill time at night by hanging out in back alleys or clubs, but I guess it's not so bad doing something more healthy with my evenings. And this is so weird, but taking a nice walk makes me want to make dinner for Koro-chan.

It's fall and everything's being harvested, which makes it the season for eating. You guys need to remember to eat up and stay healthy. Or else you're gonna end up bedridden, like our leader was. What would you even do if a shadow popped out then? Well, I guess everything's going good on that front, so it's fine for now. Just remember to get a nice square meal in every day.

[screenshot]

Shinjiro Aragaki

You hungry? I'll fix you something when we get home.

Girl's Event Public Post

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The Trick to Cooking

Category: Cooking 2009/9/27 (Sun) 23:47

Fall's the season for eating, but I don't think that fancy kitchen we have is getting any use. The fridge is full of sports drinks and milk, the cupboards are crammed with protein shakes and cup noodles and junk food... It's messed up. Do you people seriously never cook? We didn't even have a good set of utensils, so I brought some in. Yamagishi's the only one who seems excited about cooking, but she doesn't have the basics down yet. Don't get me wrong, enthusiasm's great, but...

Well, if you've heard someone say that cooking is an act of love, it probably came from someone who's mastered their basics. Doesn't matter how much love you pour into your cooking, if you mess up some fundamental part, it's not gonna taste good. A super common mistake beginners make is ignoring what the recipe says and improvising instead. Get your basics down pat, then you can switch things up. Remember, you don't gotta rush it. Doesn't matter what you're doing, taking it one step at a time is key.

COMMENT Comments (2) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/9/28 (Mon) 18:51 Fuu＊ka

Aragaki-senpai, thank you... You put it pretty bluntly, but you're trying to help, aren't you? I'll start working my way up with simple things like onigiri. If you'd like, feel free to come sample my work?

2009/9/28 (Mon) 19:52 Mitsuru

Aragaki, I'm rather surprised at how good you are at cooking. I wouldn't say you surpass my family's professional chef, but your food was indeed exquisite. Perhaps eating together with everyone isn't so bad, every once in a while.

[right column]

Girl's Event

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Making Things Right

Category: Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad 2009/10/3 (Sat) 02:45

[screenshot]

Shinjiro Aragaki

...They're in your hands now. I believe in you.

[post body]

So tomorrow's the long-awaited full moon, huh. And you know another huge Shadow's gonna pop out. But I never thought the full moon would fall on tomorrow's date, of all days... I can't bring myself to call it a coincidence.

It's not like I think I won't be coming back, but with what I have in the palm of my hand... Well, I can't tell if it's a coincidence or a cruel prank. And the whole time I sit here agonizing about it, the pocketwatch in my palm keeps on ticking. If I had to name the one thing I can never change, it'd be my past self. Who's bound by their past now? It's not just me... So, the only thing left for me to do is to make things right. Because no matter what I choose, I don't got much time left...

I'm not gonna write anything more here, I promise. You don't have to forgive me for my selfishness. And no matter what happens, don't you dare cry...

COMMENT Comments (5) ・ Trackback (0)

2009/10/7 (Wed) 18:36 Fuu＊ka

Aragaki-senpai, they said you wouldn't wake up... When I first read this post, I didn't get it at all, but... Looking back, I think you knew what you were about to do...

2009/10/7 (Wed) 20:28 Mitsuru

Of course I was aware of the situation between Aragaki and Amada. It was a failing on my part that it came to this. From hereafter, the Kirijo family will dedicate all available resources to his medical care. Perhaps Aragaki's strong spirit will grant us a sliver of hope...

2009/10/8 (Thu) 01:36 JUN☆P-

I know you were ready to give your life in this battle, but... Now that it's actually happened, it hurts like hell... Aragaki-san, please wake up...

2009/10/8 (Thu) 20:38 Aki

When I thought Shinji was all but gone, he whispered, "This is what I wanted." While some may dismiss his way of making things right, I would not count myself among them. Everyone, we need to face forward!

2009/10/9 (Fri) 18:46 Amadaman

I've decided to keep fighting here. Until Aragaki-san returns, I will protect his place.

[bubble at top left]

If You Get Into A Relationship...

Social links with Aragaki don't turn romantic until you max out your S. Link rank with him. But once you do get to max, if you call him one more time, you can have the protagonist confess to him. After a short period of heated questioning, you can enter Aragaki's room. Acting much unlike the Aragaki you've seen so far, he will embrace the protagonist and make an unexpectedly bold move. While it's quite the mushy event, if you do get in a relationship, he'll actually be quite assertive. By the way, the protagonist confesses to him in the dorm lounge. If you think about it, Yukari and Junpei and all the other members would be right next to them the whole time...

[screenshot:]

Shinjiro Aragaki

You're uh... not married, so don't get this wrong, but...

[bubbles at top right]

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thur Fri Sat Break

[center of circle:] Shinjiro Aragaki

[by tarot card:] Moon

[spiky bubble at bottom:] Shinjiro Aragaki

[to left of portrait, beneath "Persona capable to summon once Moon's commu rank reaches the max:]

Sandalphon, the Angel That Conveys Prayers

[tag labeled 27]

From the Iwatodoi Dormitory Lounge ......Edition 27

[junpei:] Man, Aragaki-san's cooking is the best. [koro:] Woof!! [aegis:] Koromaru-san says he enjoys it too. [aragaki:] H, hey. You guys suck at eating balanced meals. Try to take care of yourselves. [mitsuru:] I agree completely. Akihiko could stand to eat something aside from gyudon. [Rice with beef and vegetables.] [sanada:] I, I eat more than just gyudon! I get plenty of protein shakes in too!

[next column] [mitsuru:] Ugh... You're giving me a headache. [junpei:] Gyudon and protein shakes and nothing else... That's uh, really... [aragaki:] Don't act like you're any different. You basically live off cup ramen. Balance your diet. [junpei:] Uh, well... I uh, how do I put this, just like, think it's good... [fuuka:] Okay, I'll keep balance in mind and cook something up! [aragaki] How about you focus on learning how to cook, first. ...Although, you can go ahead and start practicing.

[vertical line of text in center:]

Brotherly Lines

[column on right]

S. Link Rank 3 Female Protagonist

Look at the balance in these meals... Do you guys live off this...?

S. Link Rank 4 Female Protagonist

...You're not going to leave those vegetables on your plate, are you?

S. Link Rank 7 Female Protagonist

Get some good sleep. ...'Night.

S. Link Rank 9 Female Protagonist

Feels like I got a place to come home to.

S. Link MAX Female Protagonist

Now that you're here, I don't have a care in the world...

[screenshot to left:] Shinjiro Aragaki

Does everyone here eat like crap...?

[block labeled Girl's Side] Like An Older Brother

Shinjiro Aragaki always makes sure his fellow club members make it home safe. While he comes off as rather blunt, he's actually deeply worried about everyone's unhealthy eating habits. Following the protagonist's advice, he throws a party. While putting everything together for the party, he teaches Fuuka (who is hopeless at cooking) how to cook. Drawn by the smell, their dormmates gather, and the lounge springs to life. While everyone enjoys the meal, Aragaki steps out for a bit, and asks the protagonist for a private chat. Then, gazing at the protagonist with a gentle smile, he says, "I'm leaving Sanada and everyone else in your hands."

[screenshot to right:]

Aegis

Koromaru-san is distraught.

[caption below screenshot:] Even Koromaru-san can tell how bad Fuuka's cooking is. But with Aragaki teaching her, she'll be able to make delicious food someday.

TRANSULATIONS NOT MINE THEY ALL BELONG TO THE LOVELY (https://kasael.tumblr.com) ALL CREDIT OF THIS ENTIRE TRANSULATION BELONGS TO THEM NOT ME DON’T REBLOG WITHOUT CREDITING THEM FIRST.

[trivialqueen]

Two easy, vegetarian meals I’ve made lately that I’ve really enjoyed. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, self-quarantine/social distancing has given me an interesting challenge - how many different things can I make from our pantry and one, not stocking up grocery run (we mainly bought beer and produce) 

Top: Smashed Chickpea Salad, Below: White beans, broccoli, and a jammy egg

Recipes below:

1. Smashed Chickpea Salad 

(you can make this with basically anything as long as you combine something creamy, with something creamy, briny/acidic, punchy/sharp. You might also throw in something for crunch, I didn’t this time, but next time) [this is adapted from Bon Appetit] (I’d say this makes at least two sandwiches, but if you eat it as a dip, serving size may change)

1 can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed. 

~ 1/4 cup plain whole milk greek yogurt (something creamy)

Good drizzle of olive oil (also rich/creamy/included for texture)

1 green onion/scallion (something sharp, also gives a bit of texture)

~ 1 TBS dijon mustard (creamy and sharp)

~ 1 TBS Capers with brine (Acidic)

~ Lemon juice (Acidic)

~ Tarragon and Lemon pepper

~ Crusty bread or crackers or cucumber wheels.

You’re going to want to feel the ratio ingredients in your heart - taste often! Put everything in a bowl and mash it all up, I used a potato masher to mash and mix things. Some of the chickpeas turned to paste, others I left whole, mix it up for texture. When I make this again I might add something else for texture, maybe celery or almonds, idk. 

2. White beans and roast broccoli with a jammy egg (makes about 4 servings for dinner) [adapted from several sources]

~ 2 cups white beans soaked over night, drain. 

1 onion, quartered, 1 of those quarters diced

1 head of garlic, halved.

~ 1 pound of broccoli or other veggie you like roasted, cut into bite sized pieces.

Lemon, zest and juice

drizzle of olive oil

1 egg per serving

Soak the beans with a good amount of salt over night (or all day, if you forgot to do it the night before). Drain the beans, add to a pot with the halved garlic head, the three big quarters of the onion and the one diced quarter. Boil the beans then drop it all to a simmer and simmer for two hours. Add water to the pot if the level drops below the bean line. 

Roast your veggies.

Drain the beans, discard the 3/4 of the onion, keep the diced quarter with the beans. Squeeze out half the garlic cloves and smash into a paste and include with the onions and beans. Toss the broccoli/veg in with the beans, etc. Drizzle with olive oil, add zest and lemon juice. Taste. Taste several times and adjust accordingly - salt, pepper, oil, lemon, etc. 

While your mixing and tasting the beans boil some water and put your eggs in, cooking between 6-8 minutes depending on how jammy you want them to be. Pull the eggs out and put them under cold water to cool them down so you can peel them. Top your beans with the egg, the yoke adds some great richness and more protein. 

[flcraltrcns]

Tuna Salad Sandwiches

I normally don’t measure things out so... This will be just an estimate of how much of whatever I put into it. I have pics on my instagram ( where all my food posts are bc I don’t know how to link with my tumblr to share it on here but if you know please tell me ) Let’s get mixing!! ***ALSO I want to say... I literally am just learning what these spices mean SO... if you know they mean something different... LET ME KNOW because I love to learn, I have a black hole in my brain for learning things so hmu. but also.. as I said I don’t measure things out so if you need to add more or less do it.** before I do any of my own cooking, I always try to put whatever I am feeling into it. My feelings are heavily tied to my cooking as I found out through paying attention to how the whole process goes when I am feeling pissed vs when I am feeling a-okay. Because I want the person or people eating my food to always feeling good during and after I try to always make sure I am thinking how I want it to taste or how I want them to feel before I start, you don’t have to do this but it’s just what I do. this makes about 6 servings each serving : 201 calories **if you are prone to tracking calories, this may vary depending on your own ingredients so you are more than welcome to just calculate your own amount per serving**

NEED :

a bowl, about medium sized or however big depending on how much you want to make

6 boiled eggs ( listen... I like my tuna with eggs and I love eggs even if they makes me gassy but if you don’t eggs then leave them out )

**PRO TIP FOR BOILED EGGS** wait until your water until is boiling before dunking them in but don’t actually dunk them.. if you have a spider or sifter then use that because spoiler alert that water is HOT. I always put a little salt in the water mixture not sure if it works in making it easier to peel but... it has worked for me vs when i do it without so.... For the perfect boiled egg boil for like 10 mins but if you want it completely done then 15 mins. get a bowl ready for when they are about to be done of ice water, I mean throw in some ice cubes and fill it with water but not too much because once you put the eggs in it’ll make the water volume go up learned that one the hard way wait about like... 3-5 mins for them to cool completely then start peeling away**

a 9 oz can of tuna or just a large can of tuna ( unless you want to make your own tuna from scratch then go right ahead! )

mayo ( If you are allergic to garlic / onion I recommend using Sir Kingston... I forgot the name for it but check your market for it bc it is made without those, unless you want to again make your own or use something else entirely )

salt

pepper

ground mustard

dill weed

lemon juice ( you can either use fresh lemons for this or just that thing of fresh lemon juice you can buy which is just as good )

sage

ginger

paprika

Step 1 : open that can of tuna and drain it, dump into the bowl Step 2 : chopped up your eggs if using them and add it into the bowl Step 3 : all all the seasonings 1/2 TSP of Salt   **salt as we all know is good for cleansing & purifying however it is also good for flavoring your food even your sweet treats!** 1 TSP of Pepper    **also good for food flavoring especially in spicy foods, I found it can amp up the spicy flavorings you use BUT it is also good for protection against the evil eye & when it is mixed with salt it can dispel evil ( whatever evil is to you could be a hex or bad intent or negative energy ) 1/8 or 1/4 TSP of Sage    **Protection as we all know but it can also promote immortality, wisdom, and wishes. It’s kind of a strong flavor for tuna which is why I only used a little but hey go wild if you want to use more** 1 TSP of Dill Weed    **this is very strong dried herb, for me personally, but dill is a fantastic combination to use with seafood! it also used for protection, can be used for money, lust & love** 1 or 2 TSP of Ground Mustard    **when eaten this can possibly increase fertility, is used for... protection you guessed it! and also mental powers** 1 or 2 TSP of Ginger   **can be used for love, money, power & success.** 1/8 or 1/4 TSP of Paprika    **I couldn’t find any information on this one sorry!** 1 1/2 TSP of Lemon Juice   **purification, love & friendship, longevity** about 70 grams of Mayo ( more or less depending on how much you love mayo )    ** not sure what all is the mayo I used so sorry!** Step 4 : mix all that together and laugh at the sounds it makes because it sounds.... gross. but also like funny gross. Step 5 : Cover with plastic wrap or whatever you’d prefer and set it in the fridge for at least 30 minutes to chill. You can eat it warm if you want that’s your own deal but it does help the flavors to meld together by letting it sit and it just tastes so good cold. after 30 minutes it is yours to devour!!

[multiversesonicmuses-archived]

Sandy sighed as he came through the door of the apartment. “Elle, I’m... home?” the echidna said, stopping as he sniffed a few times. It smelled like cooking of some kind, but their dad was away so who was using the kitchen? He’s been smelling a few weird things over the last few days and figured his sister had ordered take-out from some weird location.

“In here!” his sister called over from the source of the smell. He dropped his backpack on the couch as he carefully manuveured his way over towards the area. As he entered the small area, he could hear his sister putting away items while the sink was running hot water.

“I know, you just missed lunch, but this was an experimental one so you’re both welcome and will have to accept my apology!” she stated, the blind echidna looking more confused than ever.

“Experimental?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Since I know you’re trying to aim for one of those fancy cooking schools and dad’s, well, doing his work stuff, I kinda need to know how to cook stuff that isn’t just...frozen,” Elise answered, Sandy taking a quick peek with his power to see that she’s washing some of the dishes she had used. “I mean, it’s still frozen, but it’s not like ‘stick in a microwave, boom, done’ or whatever. So last few days I’ve been kinda experimenting! Made some garlic mashed potatoes that has a tiny bit of oregano, try and give it some color or whatever, you know? Otherwise it just looks like our normal mashed potatoes. Did that, finished off some frozen chicken breasts we got a few months ago trying to figure out how to not make it so dry and one of my online friends was like ‘have you tried marinading it in water and whatever spices you wanna use’ and I feel sooooo stupid!

And then today’s experiment was frozen salmon that I had to buy like immediately after class and some new spices because holy cow some of the stuff we had was past the best by date for years! And-OH!” she snapped her fingers and after quickly drying her hands, she approached Sandy. “Hold out your hands.”

He looked skeptical at the idea but still complied. The hedgehog normally wasn’t the type to play a trick and now there’s a small bowl in his hands. “Um...?”

“Leftover spices I used for today’s thing! I’m trying to finished off the mashed potatoes and you and dad have your gross casserole with peas so I went with stuff I normally like and I remember liking that salmon we made a few years back on my birthday with those potatoes, so I figured why not make salmon until I finish those off? It’s mostly dried spices and herbs because us using fresh? ....ok maybe you and dad, but I’m a girl of simple needs. But yeah, smell and guess!”

Smell and guess? Well, it would be an interesting test in any case, he thought as he brought the dish to his nose and gave it a few tentative sniffs. “Hmm....Definitely smell pepper....something citrus-y....oh! Lemon and pepper! I gotcha. Ok, what else...” A few more sniffs. “Um...parsley, I think oregano and cilantro... I smell something else but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Thyme and orange peel! I saw that in the spices I threw out yesterday and went ‘huh I wonder if that’ll taste good’ so I grabbed some. Doesn’t have much of a kick to it, but I didn’t put that much in as I did with that lemon and pepper seasoning so that’s probably why. Um...I think that might be all I added. I tried to write everything down while I was thawing the fish, but I probably forgot maybe one or two things.”

This was...honestly surprising to hear from Elise. That she’s been taking initiative (well, she does, but mostly when she’s goofing off or wanting to have an adventure) so to hear, see and smell what she’s been up to has been...actually amazing to witness in a way.

“...I’m gonna miss you, you know.”

Aaaand he may have spoken too soon, he considered as he turned towards her. “Elise?”

“I mean....some of those schools are across the country and I doubt they have online schools or whatever and I know you wanna get into them, and....I’m just gonna miss you, you know? So I’m...I’m saying that now before I forget and regret it.”

“That’s if I go across the country. I would hate being there, trying to learn all the new places and what to not walk into and shit. I could easily try and apply for a job at a restaurant or start my own restaurant,” he pointed out. “Hell, you could end up being my sous chef if you keep trying like this!”

Elise laughed as she took the bowl away from him. “Please, that spot is reserved for dad if he ever retires from his current place; I’ll be nothing more than a humble waitress!”

“You and humble do not mix!”

“Says you!” she replied, Sandy grinning as he could practically sense his sister sticking out her tongue at him in a playful manner. “But that does sound like a cool idea...though definitely work at an actual restaurant first. ....or ask dad about....maybe the eyes? Would help get you used to the school or whatever.”

Sandy squinted at her, opening his mouth to say something before she interjected with, “Before you ask, Meh Burger doesn’t count.”

“THANK GAIA BELOW!” he shouted.

[sanversinsane]

Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall In Love.

The only thing I’m going to say is you need to listen to this song while you read this to get a real feel for it. Other than that enjoy! 

The last thing Waverly expected when she walked through Nicole's door that night was the sound of jazz music playing. She kicked Nicole’s front door gently closed with her heal. In her left hand she held her purse, in her right was a bottle of red wine she picked up on the way home when Nicole texted her that she was cooking pasta for dinner. The sound of the music drifted through the house and made Waverly smile as she placed her jacket on the coat rack by the door. After hanging up her jacket she tiptoed her way to the kitchen. The closer she got the more she realized there was more than one voice singing.

Nicole didn't usually sing, but when she did Waverly wished she could bottle the sound. Nicole would swear she couldn't hold a note, but Waverly believed otherwise. She thought her singing voice was beautiful.

When Waverly got to the kitchen the sight before her made her smile even wider, and the noise that was muffled by walls moments earlier was now clear as day. Nicole singing along to an old Ella Fitzgerald song.

“In Spain, the best upper sets do it. Lithuanians and Letts do it. Let's do it, let's fall in love.”

Waverly couldn't physically smile any wider. She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen and watched as her girlfriend swung her hips and sang along to the most romantic jazz melody. Nicole had her back turned, facing the stove, as she stirred something in a big pot.

There was a giggle in Nicole's voice as she sang “Think of Siamese twins. Some Argentines, without means do it. People say in Boston even beans do it. Let's do it, let's fall in love.” She mindlessly added spiced to the sauce she was cooking while she sang.

God, after almost a year of dating, this was maybe Waverly's favorite moment yet. Watching Nicole in her tight jeans and a grey t-shirt, sing as if she hadn't a care in the world. Waverly ran her hand down her own arm to tame the goosebumps that had formed there.

After another moment or two she could no long just stand by and watch those hips sway, and hear that voice sing, she had to be near her. Waverly slowly walked into the kitchen and approached Nicole from behind. Her hand reached for the hand Nicole was using to stir the pasta sauce. Nicole looked to her side and smiled. “Waverly, when did you-?” She had begun to ask before Waverly “shushed” her.

Waverly pulled on Nicole hand, making her drop the spoon and step away from the stove. “Dance with me.” Waverly whispered as she settled her body against Nicole's.

Nicole obliged as she wrapped one arm around Waverly's waist, the other held Waverly’s hand in hers. They slowly began to sway. For a moment Waverly just enjoyed resting her head on Nicole's chest as they swayed in a kitchen that smelt like Italian spices. But then she realized she was missing something. She moved her head to look up at Nicole her chin resting on her girlfriend's chest. “Keep singing?” She asked with a sweet smile.

“Waverly…” Nicole rolled her eyes. “I can't.”

“Please.” Waverly moved her hand that was resting around Nicole's neck to her face, to tuck a piece of red hair behind her lover's ear. “Your voice is beautiful baby.”

Nicole sighed and jumped in during the next verse. “In shallow shoals, English soles do it. Goldfish in the privacy of bowls, do it.” This line made Waverly giggled. She closed her eyes and let herself absorb the sound of Nicole singing to her. “Let's do it, let's fall in love.”

Waverly snuggled closer to Nicole as she continued to sing and they continued to dance. “I'm sure giraffes, on the sly do it. Heavy hippopotami, do it. Let's do it, let's fall in love.”

Nicole feeling her confidence build while holding Waverly in her arms decided to bump up the charm. “Sweet guinea pigs, do it.” She sang and then in one quick swoop dipped Waverly in her arms. “Buy a couple and wait….” Both girls laughed with pure love and joy as she slowly brought her back up to her chest. Nicole sang her heart out for the last few lines. “The world admits bears in pits do it. Even Pekingeses at the Ritz do it.”  She spun Waverly out and then pulled her back in as she sang “Let's do it, let's fall in love” one last time.

And Waverly...Waverly was putty in this woman's hands. She didn't even flinch as Nicole lifted her and placed her to sit on top of the kitchen counter. Waverly leaned down, and Nicole leaned forward to meet her lips as the next song started playing. Waverly tangled her fingers into the back of Nicole's hair as they continued their gentle kiss. Nicole was the first to pull back. “The sauce is going to burn.” She sighed.

“Let it.” Waverly felt love drunk. Weak in the knees, soaring on cloud 9, mind hazy kind of love drunk.

“Waverly.” Nicole giggled, as she backed away and brought her attention back to the sauce. Waverly just sat and watched her stir with her wooden spoon. Nicole looked to her left where Waverly was sitting and shook her head with a bashful smile. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Waverly leaned forward and swung her legs back and forth.

“Looking at me like that.” Nicole laughed.

“What, like I'm utterly, and completely, head over heels, madly in love with you?” Waverly giggled and moved her foot to softly kick Nicole in the side.

“Yeah like that.” Nicole opened the box of pasta and poured it into the boiling water.

Waverly laughed and finally removed her eyes from Nicole. She glanced over at the song that was now playing on Nicole's iPhone. Trust In Me by Etta James. “I like this playlist.” She commented as she looked back over at Nicole.

“Do ya?” Nicole asked as she stirred the pasta once before putting the lid on the pot. “It's my cooking playlist. I can't listen to anything else when I cook.”

Waverly scrolled through the songs on the playlist. “They're all old songs.” She noticed.

“Yeah.” Nicole leaned back on the opposite counter and faced Waverly as she spoke. “It reminds me of my grandma.” Nicole nodded. Waverly put her phone down and put her attention back on Nicole. The silence provoked Nicole to keep talking. “When I was growing up….” she laughed as she sifted back through her memories. “I was infatuated with watching my grandma cook. When I was to little to do anything she would prop me up on the counter and let me just watch her. It was amazing. The way she just danced around the floor...it was like magic. And I couldn't hear a thing because this music would be blasting through this tiny radio speaker. Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra….it's all she listened to.” Nicole smiled and folded her arms over her chest. “When I got old enough to help, she'd only let me in the kitchen if I sang with her.” Nicole laughed.

“She sounded amazing Nicole.” Waverly could feel the love and the pain Nicole felt.

“She was. My mom and dad never really got me...but she did. She always did.” Nicole felt herself start to get emotional. “She was actually...actually the first person I told when I realized I was gay.”

“How'd she take it?” Waverly asked.

Nicole laughed. “She just smiled and said ‘I know.’ And then she told me to keep chopping the garlic.” Waverly giggled with Nicole. “God she would have loved you.”

“You think so?” Waverly felt herself her emotional too.

Nicole nodded and bit her lip. “Yeah. I know so.”

Feeling her emotions start to get the best of her she pushed off the counter back to the sauce. She stirred and then lifted the wooden spoon out of the pot. Placing her hand under the spoon she took a step over to where Waverly was still sitting on the counter. “Taste it?”

Waverly leaned down and brought her lips to the spoon. She slurped the sauce off of the wooden indent and let the flavors linger on her tongue. She closed her eyes and groaned. “Nicole….” She brought her eyes back to her girlfriend who was eagerly awaiting her reaction. “How have you not made this for me before?!” She laughed softly kicking Nicole's stomach again.

“You like it?” Nicole nodded placing the spoon on the counter again. “It's homemade vodka sauce.”

“Like it?” Waverly laughed. “Babe, I’d drink that from a jar!”

Nicole shook her head and laughed as she stirred the pasta again, before picking a piece up and tasting it. “5 more minutes and the pasta will be done.”

Waverly jumped off the counter and wrapped her arms around Nicole from behind. She rested her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. “You've been holding out on my Haught. The singing, the dancing, the cooking. Who are you?” She giggled.

Nicole turned her head and kissed Waverly's head. “Can you set the table?” She asked.

“Of course.” Waverly skipped to the cabinet with the plates. “Also I grabbed a bottle of that red wine you like from Shorties.” Waverly giggled.

“God, you're the best!” Nicole grinned as Waverly placed the plates, forks, and wine glasses on the table.

A minute later Nicole was carrying a bowl of steaming pasta with homemade sauce to the table. She was about to sit down when she jumped back up. “Oh I almost forgot!” She yelled as she ran back to the kitchen.

Waverly watched her, confused. Nicole arrived back at the table with something long, hot, and tinfoil wrapped. “What's that?” Waverly asked as she eyed the new item in front of her.

Nicole smirked as she peeled back the tinfoil. Stream filled the air, and so did the smell of...Waverly inhaled...garlic. “Garlic bread.”

“Fuck.” Waverly's eyes nearly rolled behind her head. She grabbed Nicole's hand. “Marry me.”

Nicole burst into laughter as she took her seat opposite of Waverly. “You're too much, Waves. I swear.” She giggled.

Waverly lifted her wine glass to Nicole. “Should we toast?”

“Sure.” Nicole shrugged as she lifted her glass to Waverly.

“To Grandma Haught.” Waverly smiled at the way Nicole face softened. “And to the woman she raised.” Waverly winked at Nicole who just swooned harder. “May this meal be as good as my girlfriend looks right now.” She laughed as they clinked their glasses together.

Waverly spent most of the dinner mumbling “I love you” over and over again, as she shoveled food in her mouth like she'd never eaten before. Nicole just laughed at her and admired her beauty, even with her mouth stuffed with pasta, and sauce all over the edges of her lips.

After dinner they put their dishes in the sink but were to food tired to finish cleaning them. Instead they snuggled up on the couch and talked over the playlist of old songs that played on a loop until they fell asleep.

So....let me explain. The other night I came down the stairs for dinner and my parents were dancing to this song. I have alway admired the way they love each other. They've been married for 35 years, and they still dance in the kitchen together. So that’s kind of what inspired this. Also Kat said in one of the comic con videos that Nicole would sing something old school if she did karaoke because she sees her as a bit of an old soul, which I TOTALLY see. So yeah. That it. Let me know what you think. 

[ecotone99]

[MF] Knock at the Door

(Second assignment for my creative writing class)

I let the line ring itself out. That was the second call in the past few minutes, but I was busy cooking, and besides, I wasn't expecting any calls; if it was important, whoever it was would leave a message. The music resumed as the chimes died down. Brandon Flowers' album "The Desired Effect" was on shuffle "The Way It's Always Been," echoing around the small kitchen. The pop-rock kicking, a strong bassline, his prominent voice, full of longing and aching desperation, rang out.

"They shut down the golden hotel

Just because he says it won't be long till they blow it all to the hell

She's standing in the front yard cut off the skins

Me and her brother we been friends, since I can't remember when"

"The Desired Effect," Flowers's second solo album, known for his role as the frontman and lead singer for "The Killers," dives headfirst into the pomp of the 80s' for the 2015 album. Full of lost love, heartache, and underwritten with themes of nostalgia. Each song delivered emotional gut-punch after gut-punch. Which was the desired effect.

Typical music for cooking alone, Flowers made good company, and the house felt less empty.

Once the music resumed, so did I, chopping vegetables to the beat of the music and humming along. With a practiced hand, methodically dicing half an onion, making incisions first horizontally, then vertically to the root, in long chopping strokes down the onion fell into tiny uniform cubes. Scraping the onion from the cutting board into the bowl, I began on the carrots; using baby carrots, I started quartering them vertically, then interrupting the music once again, the phone rang for the third time. Annoyed, I glanced over at the phone, arching my neck to see the screen read "blocked caller." The carrot rolled, and the knife slipped, catching the side of my knuckle and slicing right through. It wasn't a substantial cut, but a cut nonetheless. One among many once it scarred, I watched it bleed for a moment, watching the slow creep of blood on its way out exploring this new world, before sticking the offending knuckle in my mouth and sucking on it till the bleeding stopped. Under the sink, I kept a small first aid kit, pulling out a small butterfly bandage, I used my teeth to remove the outer layer and peel back the adhesive covers. My knuckle now repaired, I made my way back to the cutting board, passing my phone on the way I checked it, three calls so far all from the same blocked number and no messages. All in the past few minutes, too, no one called me that much, at least not for a while.

"I took a long walk yesterday

To a field where I used to play

I saw myself in the corner of my mind

I was twelve years old and blind

To the big wheel and the grind"

Flowers continued to belt out heartfelt lyrics, still humming, even in a small voice singing along. Singing about being left behind, "The Way Its Always Been," about watching the world move on without you. Stuck ankle-deep in the murk of the past.

I cleaned the blood from my kitchen knife, whipped off the cutting board, and began again. "How long have I had this knife?" Thinking back, while starting on the next carrot. The blade's belly starting to curve back inwards from years of use and sharpening, surely it wasn't nearly as effective anymore. Its cutting edge no longer uniform, a small section of the blade not even making contact with the cutting board anymore. Almost past its usefulness, I suppose, but who was I to judge that besides it had sentimental value at this point, having been with me for so long, steadfast, aiding in so many a meal—a lot of thought for a knife. After the carrots, I minced three cloves of garlic and shredded a quarter head of cabbage. Finished up with the vegetables now, I cut one large chicken breast into bite-sized cubes, large enough to cook evenly, but not so small that they dried up.

"Ain't that the way that it's always been?

Laying low just long enough for the dust to settle down

The black and the white, the thick and the thin

And hoping that He's really got the power to save us from these sins

Everybody sitting around waiting for the sun to come again"

What had happened to him? To that place? The place the world forgot and left behind. When did it happen to me?

I was making fried rice, and as usual and quite unintentionally, I had prepared enough for two. I can't remember the last time there were two of us to cook for. Anyway, the damage was done. I tossed the ingredients into the pan, starting with the garlic, browning it, I added the onions and carrots. Tossing every so often, I left the vegetable to sweat on low and grabbed a light beer from the fridge. Twisted off the top, I had always preferred bottled beer and personally found they tasted better than canned and often insisted so. Who was it that always tried to argue that with me? An exasperated sigh, I vaguely remember the sound of it, that and someones rolling eyes. Rolling, I felt like I was rolling, tumbling down through a fog, zero visibility. I could hear something though, a voice, one so familiar and so far away, if only I could place it.

"I took a long walk yesterday

To a field where I used to play

I saw myself in the corner of my mind

I was twelve years old and blind

To the big wheel and the grind"

The fourth call rang out, interrupting the music once again. Yanking me back and tethering me to reality, to now. "Blocked Caller," the screen read again. Whoever was on the other side of that phone was persistent, I'll give them that. Fed up, setting down my beer, I picked up the phone and said nothing. Just stood, still, listening to the silence coming through the line. We stayed like that for far too long.

"Fine, I'll go first then." Curt, emotionless, she sounded like she was mid-to-late thirties. She sounded familiar, like the voice from earlier. But she spoke with no hint of familiarity, just a formal detachment. "You'll be receiving a guest shortly. Expect them to knock at your door in the next five minutes exactly." She spoke fast as if reading the words from a script. "The conditions for their arrival are specific, you may consider peculiar, but no matter the events preceding and during this guest's arrival, you must remain calm, collected, and most importantly, receptive. Or else we'll have done this all for nothing. It doesn't do anybody any good to continue putting this off. Do you understand?"

"Conditions?... Who is this? How did you get my number?"

"It's quite a simple question really, do you understand what I've just told you?"

"I don't get guests. So if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something, don't call again."

"I'll take that as a ye-..."

I hung up, set the phone down, and stood staring at it, curious if that woman would call again. Trying to place her voice. Trying to convince myself that it was some coincidence hearing that voice, a voice I knew so well, twice today and under such strange circumstances.

"Ain't that the way that it's always been?

Standing at the water's edge waiting for the fog to clear"

As I focused more and more on the phone, I felt myself start to slip again, felt like I was sliding down my line of sight into a deep fog, with faces and voices just on the other side. But I just kept getting lost deeper and deeper into it. The smell and sizzle of garlic and onions brought me back. Cooking, that's right. I was cooking rice. Back at the stovetop, I turned up the heat on the pan and started tossing its contents again. "The Way it's Always Been" still playing. No. The song was stuck, just repeating a single lyric.

"Waiting for the fog to clear." Over

"Wating for the fog to clear." And over.

I looked down at the vegetables in the pan as I was tossing them; they didn't seem to cook anymore. Still sizzling and moving around the pan, but they didn't change. I tried turning the heat up on the stove, and the fire, instead of bursting into life, moved as if in slow motion slowing more and more gradually till the flames were perfectly still. I jumped back, releasing the pan mid toss. It moved up and away only slightly, slowly, till it came to rest, floating its contents frozen spilling out the sides. Onions, carrots, and garlic shining and half-cooked wreathed the pan. I landed back against the counter behind me, fumbling to catch myself, I knocked over the beer on the counter. I scrambled, hurrying to right it before it spilled all over my phone. But it had stopped falling just before contact with the countertop, the liquid inside unmoved, unspilled. The music now just a droning:

"Ffffooooogggg..." Stretching into infinity.

The events of the past few minutes had condensed, pilling up, collecting, and slowing into one trapped moment. Everything but me, I moved independently of this time now. All I could do, though, was gape and my surroundings, lack of movement, lack of sound, and lack of time.

"Knock, ... Knock, ... Knock." Three precise and evenly timed knocks cut through the new silence of the room. I spun around, eyes fixed on the door only partially visible from the kitchen, but I could still clearly make out the vague shape of a figure behind the door's frosted glass.

"The conditions for their arrival are specific, you may consider peculiar, but no matter the events preceding and during this guest's arrival, you must remain calm, collected, and most importantly, receptive. Or else we'll have done this all for nothing. Do you understand?" I heard her voice echo, bouncing around in my head. I still didn't really understand, but that really didn't matter anymore. Whatever, whoever that woman was. She had been right. I didn't know how and I didn't know why, but at that moment hearing her words again. I knew what I needed to do. Collecting myself, I took a few deep, steadying breaths, my feet moving on their own, I made my way to the front door.

I froze, grasping for the doorknob, fingers inches away, the tips just barely brushing the brass. I had been here, I had done this before. I remember standing before this door with the same feeling flooding my gut. This moment had happened before, and I had retreated. I don't know how I knew this then, just a feeling, deja-vu. But the temptation to flee to avoid this confrontation was all too enticing. If only I could turn around and pretend none of this was happening. Perhaps then, I would be trapped in time as well. Anything seemed favorable to facing the unknown, waiting just on the other side of that door.

"It doesn't do anybody any good to continue putting this off." I repeated to myself, echoing her words. I opened the door.

There was the fog again. It moved in currents, bulging, twisting, and folding in on itself an impenetrable wall. Impossibly deep but shallow enough for whatever was on the other side to be just barely perceivable. There he was, it was? I'm not sure. He wore nondescript clothes, simple mid-wash jeans, what looked like a white polo under a navy cotton crewneck sweater. The outfit was typical enough and not dissimilar to my own but his face. I couldn't focus on the face; it was a face I was sure of that. I could make out individual facial features, but couldn't see them as a whole. It seemed to undulate as if it were made up of the same fog spilling inside the house. Whether he brought the fog or it brought him, I wasn't sure. Hell, maybe he was the fog. None of that mattered; I was committed to this now. "Stay calm, stay collected, be receptive." A mantra now running over in my head. The ever-encroaching fog was now shin-deep.

"I believe I’m expected." He spoke in a cool and even tone, his voice came from all around me, carried in on the rolling fog. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Oh-ah, Uhm, yes, of course, won't you come in." Fumbling over the words. While doing so, he fell out of focus, dissipating and reforming from the fog. Now behind me, standing in the living room, he took a seat crossing his legs while lowering himself into a chair near the couch - my chair. That was my chair I used to sit in when we sat together, those lazy afternoons. We? Why we? Who were we? I could hear laughter and the sounds of muffled conversation. Spinning around, searching for the source for a glimpse past the veil. Searching until the fog swallowed my vision into the murk, and I was lost in it again. Falling, falling into her arms, an embrace, the warmth of home.

"Tell me about her."

"Her?" I wasn't falling, I wasn't spinning. I was sitting now. The door was still open. I hardly make it out from the couch, the fog pouring through in even greater volume, looking down, obscuring my hands resting on my knees turning them over, I considered my palms. It was growing worse, the fog. The boundaries thinning.

"Can you tell me about her? Or is it too soon?" The man sat, his head in my direction cocked to the side. The activity in what was supposed to be his face increased, the welter struggling to coalesce into something recognizable as a face.

"No. Who? I mean, uh, no I cant...cant remember." I could feel the fog creeping in my head, making it hard to think straight. "Who are you? What do you want?!" Lashing out, I just, just couldn't think. The fog was trying to show me something, and I knew what it was I just needed to remember.

"Why don't you tell me about who you were."

"Who I was? What? Answer my question!"

"You'll get your answer soon enough. Now try and tell me about who you were. That person was so much more substantial than what you are now." The man's face was a torrent of activity. I could hear a building wind, beginning to howl past me, animating the fog whipping it up, stirring it around the room.

"I don't know! I don't think I ever knew! I can't remember! I can't think. The fog, it's too much, I can't take it. The man was standing now, his face a vortex sucking the fog inwards, swallowing it. I could feel it all rush past me, the pressure building pulling on my limbs; it felt like I was floating. Now falling, falling again deep through the fog. The voices louder, I through this time, and I could see us.

I don't know when this was, but there we were. The two of us together in the living room, the fog was there, obscuring both of our faces, but I knew it was us. I was in my chair reading, and I could see her. Just from behind, she had just walked into the room. We were talking I could hear our voices, but couldn't make out what was said. Then she laughed, that laugh the one I had heard earlier, such a sweet laugh. She walked around the room if only I could see her face, but the fog was always there just in the way. Keeping her from me. I wanted to call out, reach for her, but this memory, this moment in time, was lost to the fog. The moment and she was gone. Irretrievably lost, forever stuck beyond my reach, trapped in the muck of the past.

The fog closed, and I fell, fell longer than any other time before I let the fog take me, swallowing me, just to spit me out back on the couch. I sat defeated, more unsure than before. How could I have forgotten so much about myself? How could I have forgotten her? I looked up at the man's face; the fog calmed now his face a serene reflection of my own. No, not a reflection, it was my face. I was the man. "Who was she?" I asked.

"She's not gone, you know, just lost. She's in there, in the fog. It's there for her."

"I need to find her again."

"If we can get her back, we can get us back."

Together we left. I left with the fog. Time still standing still. The moment trapped in the fog. The still beer tipping over. The fire blazing, the pan and vegetables in their motionless fall. The diner for two, made for one, left unfinished.

"Everybody sitting around waiting for the sun to come again"

submitted by /u/EdrehasivarXIII [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/32eUtgd

[pantryplanet65-blog]

Creamy Butternut Squash Soup with Orange and Saffron

get fresh recipes via email:

Silky smooth and bursting with unexpected flavors, this creamy butternut squash soup is finished with crème fraîche, fresh cilantro and crunchy, maple-roasted pumpkin seeds.

Butternut squash soup recipes are a dime a dozen, but this one stands apart due to its unique flavor additions: a pop of fresh orange zest and a hint of fragrant saffron. It’s an entirely unexpected flavor combination that’s simply delicious.

Sometimes, a cookbook comes along that changes your entire culinary perspective.

Ottolenghi’s SIMPLE is one of those books.

We’ve been cooking our way through it, slowly and surely, often filling our weekly menu plan with 3-4 recipes just from this book. And other than some unusually soggy fish fingers, everything else we’ve made has been absolutely stellar. The fact that most of the recipes lean vegetarian doesn’t hurt either: there’s very little in this book you need to feel guilty about.

I love this book so much I decided I need to share at least one recipe with y’all here. I probably won’t share more though, because you should really go buy it for yourself. (If you’re a design nerd like me you may appreciate the original UK version of the book, which has a drop-dead gorgeous cover. Why publishers tend to take beautiful covers and genericize them for the US market is beyond me… I’ll seek out the original version if I can find it, even if it means cooking in grams and milliliters!)

I’ve really been enjoying cooking from a physical cookbook, and it has inspired me to make better use of the other cookbooks in my collection in addition to this one. Menu planning is so much more enjoyable flipping through a beautiful, tangible book vs scrolling instagram or pinterest for recipe inspiration (says the food blogger who makes a living posting recipes online… eh, whatever).

Also, can I just say that you’ll likely be seeing a lot of this bowl. I used it for my winter tomato soup, and couldn’t resist using it again for this soup. It’s my own, and possibly my favorite piece to date. I’m still at the point where the clay sort of becomes whatever it wants to be, but this ball of clay miraculously became the perfect bowl for soup… and I absolutely love it.

The original recipe calls for a pumpkin or winter squash; we used butternut since that’s readily available and generally pretty reliable in terms of flavor. I feel like pumpkins are grown more for decoration around these parts, and even pie pumpkins are often stringy and flavorless, so I generally avoid them. Still, this recipe would work with just about any variety of winter squash so use whatever you have on hand.

The result is a divinely rich and satisfying soup that’s creamy as heck even before the final dollop of crème fraîche (which could certainly be left out if you wanted an entirely vegan version).

If you find the soup too thick for your tastes, just add a little bit more broth to thin it to your liking.

I had a beautiful pomegranate waiting on the hutch for this soup. I thought the bright, fruity arils would be the perfect finishing touch both for looks as well for flavor. But of course, as you’ve likely noticed by the lack of red pomegranate seeds in these photos, I got so immersed in the shot and the soup and the crispy pumpkin seeds that I completely forgot about the pomegranate.

So it goes.

I still think pomegranate seeds would be a great addition here, if you feel so inclined. ;)

Oh, and I’d be remiss if I neglected to talk a little bit about the pumpkin seeds, because they are worthy of their own post, they are that good. Tossed with a simple mixture of maple syrup and chili flakes, and then roasted until browned and crispy. They are the perfect textural contrast for a soup like this (if you’re anything like me you find you need something to chew on to be satisfied with just soup for dinner). And if you have leftover, well, they make a gosh darn great snack too.

One thing to note about this recipe: harissa varies greatly depending on the specific variety and brand. I purchased the same Belazu Rose Harissa that the book recommends (if it’s good enough for Yotam it’s good enough for me!) even though it’s a bit pricey to ship from the UK. If you use a different brand of harissa I’d recommend starting off with just 1 tablespoon or even less if you don’t like a ton of spice. Taste the soup and then decide whether or not you want more.

If you start cooking regularly from this book, it’s worth picking up the 10 SIMPLE ingredients described in the book, including the rose harissa as well as za’atar, tahini, black garlic, and preserved lemons. I actually bought a whole set from the Ottolenghi website, and while shipping wasn’t cheap it still came out better than finding the ingredients individually on Amazon or painstakingly seeking out other brands. Some items, like the preserved lemons, can vary greatly from brand to brand. The first jar we bought last year tasted like straight up pinesol. But the Belazu lemons are downright delightful, so it was worth it to me to hunt them down.

Silky smooth and bursting with unexpected flavors, this creamy butternut squash soup is finished with crème fraîche, fresh cilantro and crunchy, maple-roasted pumpkin seeds.

Ingredients:

For Toasted Pumpkin Seeds:

1/2 cup (80g) raw pepitas/shelled pumpkin seeds

2 teaspoons maple syrup

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or to taste

For Squash Soup:

1/4 cup olive oil

1 large or 2 small onions, sliced into 1-inch wedges

1 medium (approximately 2 pound) butternut squash or pumpkin, peeled, halved and seeds removed; cut into 1-inch cubes

1 quart vegetable broth

2 tablespoons rose harrisa, more or less to taste*

1/4 teaspoon saffron threads (about 8 threads)

1 teaspoon orange zest (from 1 large orange)

3/4 cup (180g) crème fraiche

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro, to serve

salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Toss seeds with maple syrup and chili flakes. Spread in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet for 15 to 20 minutes or until some seeds have popped and are starting to brown. Remove from oven and let cool, breaking apart any large clumps into bite-sized pieces.

Increase oven temperature 425 degrees F.

Drizzle olive oil over onion and squash pieces in a large bowl. Season with 3/4 teaspoon salt and a generous grind of black pepper. Toss to coat. Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet, spreading into a single layer. Roast for about 25 minutes or until vegetables are soft and caramelized. Set aside to cool.

Combine vegetable stock, harissa, saffron and orange zest in a large stock pot or Dutch oven set over medium high heat. Season with a 1/2 teaspoon of salt and freshly ground black pepper. Bring to a simmer, then add the pumpkin and onions, along with any leftover oil on the pan.

Reduce heat to medium and let simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the crème fraiche.

Blend until smooth using an immersion blender, or transfer the soup to a free-standing blender (be cautious blending hot liquids, I’d recommend blending in two separate batches for safety).

Transfer to serving bowls. Sprinkle with toasted pumpkin seeds and top with fresh coriander.

This soup will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 1 month. Store pumpkin seeds at room temperature in an airtight container for up to a week.

* Different brands of harissa can very greatly in terms of spice. We used Belazu rose harissa, the brand Ottolenghi recommends in the book. It’s not quite as spicy as some of the more traditional African varieties we’ve tried, but 2 tablespoons worth still makes for a pleasantly spice soup. I would recommend starting with 1 tablespoon or so, you can always add more to taste.

Adapted from Ottolenghi Simple.

All images and text © Lindsay Landis / Love & Olive Oil

Did you make this recipe?

Let us know what you think! Leave a Comment or share a photo on Instagram with the hashtag #loveandoliveoil.

We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Source: https://www.loveandoliveoil.com/2019/02/creamy-butternut-squash-soup-with-orange-and-saffron.html

[manxfile84-blog]

Creamy Butternut Squash Soup with Orange and Saffron

get fresh recipes via email:

Silky smooth and bursting with unexpected flavors, this creamy butternut squash soup is finished with crème fraîche, fresh cilantro and crunchy, maple-roasted pumpkin seeds.

Butternut squash soup recipes are a dime a dozen, but this one stands apart due to its unique flavor additions: a pop of fresh orange zest and a hint of fragrant saffron. It’s an entirely unexpected flavor combination that’s simply delicious.

Sometimes, a cookbook comes along that changes your entire culinary perspective.

Ottolenghi’s SIMPLE is one of those books.

We’ve been cooking our way through it, slowly and surely, often filling our weekly menu plan with 3-4 recipes just from this book. And other than some unusually soggy fish fingers, everything else we’ve made has been absolutely stellar. The fact that most of the recipes lean vegetarian doesn’t hurt either: there’s very little in this book you need to feel guilty about.

I love this book so much I decided I need to share at least one recipe with y’all here. I probably won’t share more though, because you should really go buy it for yourself. (If you’re a design nerd like me you may appreciate the original UK version of the book, which has a drop-dead gorgeous cover. Why publishers tend to take beautiful covers and genericize them for the US market is beyond me… I’ll seek out the original version if I can find it, even if it means cooking in grams and milliliters!)

I’ve really been enjoying cooking from a physical cookbook, and it has inspired me to make better use of the other cookbooks in my collection in addition to this one. Menu planning is so much more enjoyable flipping through a beautiful, tangible book vs scrolling instagram or pinterest for recipe inspiration (says the food blogger who makes a living posting recipes online… eh, whatever).

Also, can I just say that you’ll likely be seeing a lot of this bowl. I used it for my winter tomato soup, and couldn’t resist using it again for this soup. It’s my own, and possibly my favorite piece to date. I’m still at the point where the clay sort of becomes whatever it wants to be, but this ball of clay miraculously became the perfect bowl for soup… and I absolutely love it.

The original recipe calls for a pumpkin or winter squash; we used butternut since that’s readily available and generally pretty reliable in terms of flavor. I feel like pumpkins are grown more for decoration around these parts, and even pie pumpkins are often stringy and flavorless, so I generally avoid them. Still, this recipe would work with just about any variety of winter squash so use whatever you have on hand.

The result is a divinely rich and satisfying soup that’s creamy as heck even before the final dollop of crème fraîche (which could certainly be left out if you wanted an entirely vegan version).

If you find the soup too thick for your tastes, just add a little bit more broth to thin it to your liking.

I had a beautiful pomegranate waiting on the hutch for this soup. I thought the bright, fruity arils would be the perfect finishing touch both for looks as well for flavor. But of course, as you’ve likely noticed by the lack of red pomegranate seeds in these photos, I got so immersed in the shot and the soup and the crispy pumpkin seeds that I completely forgot about the pomegranate.

So it goes.

I still think pomegranate seeds would be a great addition here, if you feel so inclined. ;)

Oh, and I’d be remiss if I neglected to talk a little bit about the pumpkin seeds, because they are worthy of their own post, they are that good. Tossed with a simple mixture of maple syrup and chili flakes, and then roasted until browned and crispy. They are the perfect textural contrast for a soup like this (if you’re anything like me you find you need something to chew on to be satisfied with just soup for dinner). And if you have leftover, well, they make a gosh darn great snack too.

One thing to note about this recipe: harissa varies greatly depending on the specific variety and brand. I purchased the same Belazu Rose Harissa that the book recommends (if it’s good enough for Yotam it’s good enough for me!) even though it’s a bit pricey to ship from the UK. If you use a different brand of harissa I’d recommend starting off with just 1 tablespoon or even less if you don’t like a ton of spice. Taste the soup and then decide whether or not you want more.

If you start cooking regularly from this book, it’s worth picking up the 10 SIMPLE ingredients described in the book, including the rose harissa as well as za’atar, tahini, black garlic, and preserved lemons. I actually bought a whole set from the Ottolenghi website, and while shipping wasn’t cheap it still came out better than finding the ingredients individually on Amazon or painstakingly seeking out other brands. Some items, like the preserved lemons, can vary greatly from brand to brand. The first jar we bought last year tasted like straight up pinesol. But the Belazu lemons are downright delightful, so it was worth it to me to hunt them down.

Silky smooth and bursting with unexpected flavors, this creamy butternut squash soup is finished with crème fraîche, fresh cilantro and crunchy, maple-roasted pumpkin seeds.

Ingredients:

For Toasted Pumpkin Seeds:

1/2 cup (80g) raw pepitas/shelled pumpkin seeds

2 teaspoons maple syrup

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or to taste

For Squash Soup:

1/4 cup olive oil

1 large or 2 small onions, sliced into 1-inch wedges

1 medium (approximately 2 pound) butternut squash or pumpkin, peeled, halved and seeds removed; cut into 1-inch cubes

1 quart vegetable broth

2 tablespoons rose harrisa, more or less to taste*

1/4 teaspoon saffron threads (about 8 threads)

1 teaspoon orange zest (from 1 large orange)

3/4 cup (180g) crème fraiche

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro, to serve

salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Toss seeds with maple syrup and chili flakes. Spread in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet for 15 to 20 minutes or until some seeds have popped and are starting to brown. Remove from oven and let cool, breaking apart any large clumps into bite-sized pieces.

Increase oven temperature 425 degrees F.

Drizzle olive oil over onion and squash pieces in a large bowl. Season with 3/4 teaspoon salt and a generous grind of black pepper. Toss to coat. Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet, spreading into a single layer. Roast for about 25 minutes or until vegetables are soft and caramelized. Set aside to cool.

Combine vegetable stock, harissa, saffron and orange zest in a large stock pot or Dutch oven set over medium high heat. Season with a 1/2 teaspoon of salt and freshly ground black pepper. Bring to a simmer, then add the pumpkin and onions, along with any leftover oil on the pan.

Reduce heat to medium and let simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the crème fraiche.

Blend until smooth using an immersion blender, or transfer the soup to a free-standing blender (be cautious blending hot liquids, I’d recommend blending in two separate batches for safety).

Transfer to serving bowls. Sprinkle with toasted pumpkin seeds and top with fresh coriander.

This soup will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 1 month. Store pumpkin seeds at room temperature in an airtight container for up to a week.

* Different brands of harissa can very greatly in terms of spice. We used Belazu rose harissa, the brand Ottolenghi recommends in the book. It’s not quite as spicy as some of the more traditional African varieties we’ve tried, but 2 tablespoons worth still makes for a pleasantly spice soup. I would recommend starting with 1 tablespoon or so, you can always add more to taste.

Adapted from Ottolenghi Simple.

All images and text © Lindsay Landis / Love & Olive Oil

Did you make this recipe?

Let us know what you think! Leave a Comment or share a photo on Instagram with the hashtag #loveandoliveoil.

We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Source: https://www.loveandoliveoil.com/2019/02/creamy-butternut-squash-soup-with-orange-and-saffron.html

[chardscarf12-blog]

Grate Picnic Food: Cheesy Olive & Herb Scones!

Want to make the most of picnic weather and make something to share? Try these savoury scones made with cheese, olives, herbs and garlic. These will disappear fast so make sure you nab a slice before everyone else does!

I served these scones with a batch of the roasted tomato butter I made but you could serve these plain or with butter. If they're warm they're really lovely but these were cold by the time we got to the family picnic and they were still a hit. And that's not even counting the fact that the Elliotts don't even eat a lot of regular food.

The occasion was Mr NQN's niece Aura's 7th birthday and they were holding the party at Manly Dam. We arrive at 12:15pm worried that we'd be late for the noon start time. And then we forgot how late everyone always is and most of them arrived just before 1pm (others arrived at 3pm!).

The food at an Elliott gathering tends to be vegan and gluten free. Mr NQN's brother Manu brought some boiled chickpeas because he is the most extreme vegan and he is also having health issues (a possible auto immune disease).

Elliott catering

There was quinoa and brown rice sushi filled with ajvar and tempeh as well as rice crackers, salads as well as more hummus than is probably legal at one gathering. We watched the babies act like drunk adults (seriously, have you seen a baby eat? LOL) and before we knew it, we had to leave because we were meeting up with friends in the later afternoon.

Because they were waiting on some stragglers they didn't cut the cake before we left but we did do the pinata. I had almost forgotten how fun pinatas are. They blindfolded and spun around the kids who weren't quite able to dislodge the lollies before Araluen's boyfriend Harry tried it.

He gave the pinata a giant whack causing the whole thing to skitter sideways towards us scattering lollies everywhere. The baby cried at the unexpected projectiles (or perhaps my loud scream as I saw the pinata hurtling in my direction).

We gathered the lollies to make sure the wildlife wouldn't find any and kids made bargains to eat the lollies. And I'm sure all the hummus got eaten. It was after all an Elliott family gathering ;) .

So tell me Dear Reader, what sort of food is served at your family gatherings? When is the last time you hit a pinata?

An Original Recipe by Lorraine Elliott

Preparation time: 10 minutes

Cooking time: 25 minutes

Degree of difficulty: very easy

2 cups plain all purpose flour

3.5 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

3 cloves garlic, peeled and diced

125g/4ozs. butter

1.5 cups grated parmesan cheese (reserve 3 tablespoons to sprinkle on top at end)

1 cup soda water

1/4 cup soft herbs, chopped (I used mainly basil)

75g/2.7ozs. pitted black olives

1 egg for egg wash

Tomato butter to serve (see tomato butter recipe here)

Step 1 - Preheat oven to 200C/400F and line a round baking tin with parchment. Place flour, baking powder, salt and garlic in a food processor and whizz to combine. Add the butter and pulse until you get fine breadcrumbs.

Step 2 - Empty into a bowl and add the cheese, soda water, herbs and olives and mix to form a dough. Form into a round and brush with egg wash and then sprinkle with the 3 tablespoons of parmesan and cut into triangles. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Serve warm with tomato butter or butter.

Source: https://www.notquitenigella.com/2019/01/13/cheese-olive-scones/

[krissysbookshelf]

Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek of: Gem & Dixie by Sara Zarr!

Gem has never known an adult she can rely on, the one constant in her life has been her sister, Dixie. Gem grew up taking care of her sister when no one else could. Even as Gem and Dixie have grown apart, they've always had each other. When their dad returns home for the first time in years, Gem finds herself with an unexpected opportunity: three days with Dixie—on their own in Seattle and beyond. But this short trip soon becomes something more, as Gem discovers that that to save herself, she may have to sever the one bond she's tried so hard to keep.  

LEARN MORE

  WHERE ARE we going? Dixie would ask.

The forest, I’d say. Or, Space.

She never questioned me.

We need to pack survival rations, I’d tell her.

What’s that?

Food and water and gum and stuff.

She’d help me make butter-and-jelly sandwiches on soft, white bread. If we had chocolate chips, we’d sprinkle those in, too, and mash the bread down hard so they wouldn’t fall out. I’d lift her to the kitchen sink so she could fill a bottle with water, and I’d roll up a beach towel; then we’d put it all into the picnic basket that was really just a paper grocery bag on which I’d drawn a basket weave pattern with a green marker—badly, crookedly.

We would put on our jackets and shoes, and I’d make her close her eyes and I’d lead her around the apartment and spin her in circles and then say:

We’re here. Open your eyes.

I knew, and she knew, we weren’t in space or the forest or Narnia or anywhere other than our shitty apartment. Still, when she opened her eyes, they’d go big and bright. She was good at make-believe. My favorite thing was how she always skipped into whatever fantasy place we’d gone to. As soon as her eyes were open, she’d start skipping all around the living room and up and down the hall.

We’re in space, I might say. You can’t skip in space.

I can.

Okay, but you can only skip really slow in space because there’s no gravity.

Mid-skip she’d switch to slow motion and try to make her arms and legs more floaty. Then she’d get tired of it and get hot in her jacket and say it was time to go home.

No, we’re not going home. We’re never going home. I don’t remember when I started saying that part.

She’d stop squirming. What about Mom? And Daddy?

We’ll leave a note.

Then we’d spread the beach towel on the living room floor and if I forgot to bring crayons or markers to space I’d run into our room and get them, and we’d draw a good-bye note, our stick figures flying up to the moon and holding hands as we waved good-bye forever to our parents. Dixie liked to draw stars behind our heads like halos.

She used to play along. She used to believe everything I told her, and do anything I said.

She used to need me to take care of her, and I liked doing it. I liked doing it because, then, I thought I was the one who could. Even though nobody was taking care of me.

1.

NINE QUARTERS.

They were the last of what had been left in the jar of laundry money that Dixie and I kept in our room, the jar that had never quite lost the smell of pickle relish. I counted and recounted the quarters in my pocket with my fingertips as the lunch line moved forward, as I’d counted and recounted them through English, physiology, and government. I counted because things in my life had a way of disappearing on me, and I’d learned not to trust what I thought was there.

What was there wasn’t enough—three quarters short of the cost of lunch—but I stayed in the line anyway as it moved me toward the food. Lunch roulette. Luca, the cafeteria worker on the register, might find seventy-five cents for me in his pocket. Or someone else in line might cover it, out of impatience or pity, which were just as good as kindness on a day that hungry. I hadn’t eaten more than a candy bar since the potluck in my fourth-period Spanish class the day before.

Denny Miller and Adam Johnson—freshmen—stood right in front of me in the line; Tremaine Alvarado and Katy Plant, juniors like me, stood behind. Tremaine was on my PE volleyball team. She’d stare through me on the court, or jostle me while we rotated to the serve, without saying sorry or excuse me or anything else that showed she thought of me as an actual person with a name. Katy Plant thought it was funny to call me “Jim” and got other people to do it, too. I don’t know what’s worse—people acting like you don’t have a name, or them saying it wrong on purpose. The point is I wouldn’t be asking Katy or Tremaine for a handout.

Not that I wanted to ask anyone for a handout. But being hungry—I mean really hungry—had a way of erasing a lot of the embarrassment. And Denny and Adam were easy, being the kind of undersized freshmen who still looked more like seventh graders.

“Denny,” I said.

Both Denny and Adam turned around. I could see them wondering how I knew his name. I knew it because they were both listed on a program from the last band concert, and it was posted in one of the display cases outside the counseling office, under a picture of the band. I spent a lot of time there. I knew not only their names, but that Adam played clarinet and Denny played trumpet and had a solo in “Stars and Stripes Forever.” They both had floppy hair and bad skin. Adam was taller, which helped me tell them apart.

“Can I borrow seventy-five cents?” I asked quietly.

“Me?” Denny pointed to himself.

“Either of you.”

The line moved and the smell of ravioli and garlic bread got stronger. My stomach seemed to fold in on itself.

“I use a lunch card,” Denny said.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Me too.”

They turned their backs to me. Just because their parents loaded up cafeteria cards with money didn’t mean they didn’t also have some cash. I checked on Katy and Tremaine behind me; Katy was busy showing Tremaine something on her phone. I leaned closer to Denny. “But maybe you have some change or something?”

He drew back and shook his head. I wondered whether I’d tell Mr. Bergstrom about this in our appointment later and if I did, how I would describe it in a way that made me not look too bad.

I tried Adam. “Do you know Dixie True?”

That got his attention. “Um, yeah.”

“She’s in our social studies class,” Denny added, facing me again. “And English.”

“That’s my sister.” Maybe if they knew that, I would seem more interesting than weird.

They exchanged a glance.

“Really?” Denny’s voice cracked on the end of the word. Adam laughed through his nose.

“Ask her next time you see her.”

They wouldn’t, not boys like this, zit-faced and probably still playing with action figures in secret. They might sneak looks at Dixie but they wouldn’t dare say a word to her.

Denny pulled a wrinkled dollar bill from his pocket. “You can pay me back tomorrow, though, right?”

“I’ll look for you,” I promised, taking the money.

A couple of minutes later I had my tray of ravioli and garlic bread, a sad iceberg salad with two croutons, and a carton of milk. When I got to Luca at the register, he shook his head. “I saw that.”

I handed him the bill plus eight of the quarters. He shifted on his stool, the sleeves of his green school jacket swishing against his sides while he rang me up. “If you don’t have money,” he said, “you should get your parents to fill out the form online so you can get free lunch. How many times I gotta tell you?”

I stared at the peeling yellow school logo over his heart. Half of a lion’s mane, a third of its face. “Okay.”

“‘Okay,’” he said, imitating me. “You say ‘okay,’ then you’ll be back here hustling quarters in line tomorrow, these poor little freshmen.” He wasn’t talking loud but not quiet, either, and I imagined Katy hearing every word.

“Those are my sister’s friends,” I said, and decided that’s what I’d tell Mr. Bergstrom if it came up. “I’m going to pay him back.”

 “You always had money in the fall. What happened?”

 “I saved from my job last summer. That’s all gone.”

Since January.

His hands hovered around the register drawer for a second. Then he said, “Here’s your change.”

“But—” I was sure I’d given him three dollars exactly.

“Here’s your change, Gem,” he said again, putting four quarters in my palm.

“Thank you.”

He waved me away, and I took my ravioli to a quiet corner to eat.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Mr. Bergstrom had gotten a new whiteboard. He’d drawn a stick figure, falling. I knew it was falling from the way the stick arms and stick legs pointed slightly upward, like gravity was pulling on its stick middle.

“I’m not a great artist but, yes, it’s meant to represent you. Here . . .” Bergstrom added some strands of hair that flew up, then capped his dry-erase marker and sat back down. “Is it at least close? Is this how you feel?”

“I don’t know.” In the way that she was alone, maybe, but even falling she looked more free than I felt. I got up and held my hand out for the marker. I drew a box around the falling girl. That didn’t look right, either. “This is dumb.” I picked up the eraser and wiped it all away.

“Maybe.” He smiled. He had a good smile and a good face, and a way of looking right at me without making me feel like I was being studied in some lab. He was way better than old Mr. Skaarsgard, the school psychologist he’d replaced at the beginning of the school year. Skaarsgard would always furrow his white eyebrows at me and make me feel like nothing I said made sense. Maybe it didn’t, but at least Mr. Bergstrom tried.

Normally I saw him a couple of times a week, not always on the same days, sometimes after school and sometimes during it, depending what was going on. I know it was a lot. Some kids at school could go a whole semester, even all of high school, without seeing him once. But right at the beginning of freshman year I sort of had this incident in pre-algebra, and my teacher referred me and then I was on the permanent rotation, first with Skaarsgard, now Bergstrom.

“What’s the box?” he asked. “That’s what it was, right?”

I shrugged.

“You feel . . .” He trailed off and I knew I was supposed to complete the sentence.

“I mean, you can’t put me on there with nothing else,” I said, pointing at the blank whiteboard. “You have to draw Dixie and my mom, and our apartment and school.”

“Earlier, you said you felt alone.”

“I do.” My hands curled up on my knees, my nails pressed into my palms. This office was always hot and small. I shook my head, not knowing how to explain feeling alone but also trapped in the middle of people and places that didn’t let me move or breathe.

Mr. Bergstrom had plain brown eyes, a little bit small for his face, but I could almost always see sympathy in them, like now. “It’s okay, Gem,” he said. “I know it’s hard to put into words.”

I opened my hands and took a breath.

“Do you want to update me on things with your mom?” he asked.

“They’re fine.”

“Fine? Last time we talked you seemed pretty worried about her. And Dixie.”

Sometimes, at our appointments, I’d tell him a lot, and it felt good in the moment, finally saying the things I’d had stuck in my head all that week. But then I’d be in bed those nights, and a smothering kind of panic would settle on me that I’d said too much. Like I’d given away something I needed and couldn’t get back.

“You said not to worry, so I stopped.”

“Well. I think I said it wasn’t your job to worry about your mom, it’s her job to worry about you. But I know it’s not that simple. Especially with Dixie.” He smiled again. “And I know you didn’t just stop worrying, Gem.”

I looked at the clock. “I have to go to detention. My bus was late this morning.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He wheeled his chair back. “We’re not scheduled again until next week, but come say hi anytime.” That’s how he always ended our meetings. Come say hi anytime. I liked knowing I could.

By the time I got home, it was twilight. Detention had made me miss my bus connection, so I’d walked, the chill and damp of Seattle a force I pressed against with every step. It was March, and things would get better and lighter soon, just not yet. Having to walk meant I missed my afternoon cigarette, too, on my bench in my park. The smoking time, which no one but me knew about, was when I didn’t feel the cage or the box or whatever it was. It made space for me and my thoughts. Without it I felt like part of me was left behind, trying to catch up.

The security gate at the front of our apartment building stood ajar despite the signs all over the entryway reminding residents in capital letters to MAKE SURE the gate stayed LOCKED SECURELY because there had been CRIMINAL INCIDENTS. The dark corridor between the gate and our stairwell always scared me, especially when the gate was left open.

I pulled it closed behind me, then checked the lock. Then I checked the lock again and told myself I could stop checking. But halfway down the corridor I went back to check it again. Then, grasping the pepper spray on my key chain, I went up the three flights of stairs—past all the handwriten notes old Mrs. Wu left everywhere about noise, garbage, pets, smoking—and into our apartment.

Dixie was home. She had the TV on and a sandwich in one hand, her phone in the other, homework all over the floor where she sat. She’d changed clothes since I’d seen her at school that morning—from jeans and a hoodie to shorts over tights and a green V-neck T-shirt that showed a lot. I had on baggy jeans and a plain blue sweater that would have hidden everything if there’d been anything to hide. As usual, she looked like the older sister.

She looked up. “I heard you stole money from some freshman today.”

Dixie had ways of knowing nearly everything that happened to me at school.

“Borrowed money,” I clarified.

“Why’d you have to tell them I was your sister?”

“You are my sister.”

“Thanks for embarrassing me.”

“You’re welcome.”

In our bedroom I put my backpack on my pillow with the straps toward the wall. My keys went on top of the cardboard box on its side that I used as a sort of nightstand. My shoes went inside the box, laces hanging out. I hung my jacket on the closet doorknob and put on the thick socks I always wore around our apartment. Whenever Dixie saw me doing this stuff, or checking the gate lock more than twice, she’d tease me and say I had OCD. But Mr. Bergstrom asked me a bunch of questions about it and said I didn’t fit the diagnosis, that it was more like I had a few rituals that helped me feel in control, and they didn’t interfere with my life, and it wasn’t the same thing. “Plus, from what you’ve told me about where you live,” he’d said, “checking the gate lock sounds like plain common sense.”

I confirmed one more thing—that my stash of cigarettes was still under the bed—then went back to the living room. The onion smell of Dixie’s sandwich made me salivate.

“Did you get that from Napoleon?” I asked.

She chewed and stared at me like, Obviously. Napoleon was the older guy who worked at the deli down the block and had a crush on Dixie—like a hundred other guys.

“Can I have some?” The ravioli from lunch seemed forever ago.

“No,” she said, but held it out anyway. I sat on the floor next to her and took a bite. Then another. Roast beef. Avocado. Cheddar cheese. Thin-sliced red onion and a hard sourdough roll. It was perfect, as if all of Napoleon’s craving for Dixie had been slathered onto that sandwich. I swallowed huge pieces of it, half chewed and sharp with mustard.

Dixie watched me eat. “You can finish that if you’ll go down and get the laundry from the dryer.”

“You did laundry? With what money?”

“Money I had.”

“I’m not going down there at night,” I said.

“It’s not night.”

She tried to take the sandwich away from me; I held it out of her reach. “It’s dark, though.”

“I washed some of your clothes, too, Gem. Do you want them to get stolen?” She lunged again for the sandwich.

“O-kay,” I said. I finished it and went the five steps to the kitchenette to throw away the white paper it had been wrapped in.

“Did you see your shrink today?”

“He’s not a shrink. He’s just a school psychologist.” I opened the fridge. There were a few stale corn tortillas, an opened bag of green beans, ketchup, and a white plastic butter dish with maybe a teaspoon of butter left, crumbs stuck all over it. Same as that morning.

“You should get him to send you to a real shrink. Say you need Adderall. You could sell it at school and then you’d have some money.” I’d heard that Dixie helped some seniors sell their prescriptions at school. I didn’t want to know. “I can tell you what symptoms to have,” she said.

“No thanks.”

I imagined going down to the laundry room. The lights could have burned out again. Sometimes there were noises that might be a zipper clanging against the dryer door, or might be rats or a creepy neighbor.

“Let’s go get the laundry together,” I said to Dixie.

She looked up from her homework. “You always do that.”

“What?”

“‘What?’” she repeated, in a bad imitation of my voice. “I already took my shoes off.”

“So did I. Put them back on.”

I went to the bedroom to get mine. When I came out, Dixie stood by the door forcing her flip-flops over her tights.

“You’re going to fall down the stairs and die,” I said as she shuffle-walked to me.

She shrugged.

I knelt to tie my laces. “Where’s Mom?”

“Out.”

“I know. Out where?”

“Work, I guess?”

I straightened up and we faced each other.

“Do you think Napoleon would give me a sandwich?”

She laughed. “Well, you might have to flash your boobs.”

“Is that what you do?”

“No! I’m joking, Gem, obviously. Do you really—” She shook her head. “You never get my jokes.”

It didn’t matter. I knew exactly why Dixie got sandwiches and why I wouldn’t.

Dixie is pretty. No one in our family is beautiful the way movie stars are beautiful, but she’s the type of girl who gets second, third, fourth looks—as many looks as people can get away with before she stares them down. She’s soft in the sense of being curvy, and hard in the sense of not taking any shit. She’s cute—her hair, her clothes, the faces she makes when she’s surprised or mad or thinks something is funny. And intimidating. She exudes a sexuality, but in a way where it’s like it’s for her, not for anyone else. It started in junior high, and by the time she got to high school, people couldn’t spend five minutes with Dixie before they wanted to give her things, feed her, touch her, get her to smile, be her friend, be her boyfriend. She got sandwiches, she got her cell phone bill paid, she got attention when she wanted and deflected it when she didn’t.

Whereas I still hadn’t figured out how to make and keep a friend.

I stared, she stared back. For her it was a game. She thought I was trying to get her to look away first. But really it was me trying to see who I was through Dixie’s eyes, me wondering if she evaluated me and my face and clothes and body, the ways I made it through the world, like I evaluated hers.

Did she look for herself in me, the way I looked for myself in her?

Finally she broke, and laughed. “You’re such a weirdo, Gem,” she said. “You probably scared that freshman with your creepy eyes.”

I didn’t want her to see I couldn’t take a joke, so I bugged my eyes at her to make them even creepier.

“Ew,” she said with an exaggerated shudder. “Let’s go downstairs before the rats come out.”

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