#gourmet biscuit

[slyth3rinbab3]

Product Review: Flavorex Gourmet Biscuits

What better way to spoil your fur baby – a pack of flavored gourmet biscuits from Flavorex. It’s also a way to bond with your feline companion.

Flavorex is a gourmet cat biscuit and a super premium cat treat – however, it’s not to be given as a meal replacement. Flavorex comes in different flavor or variants – chicken, shrimp, salmon, tuna and beef.

Ingredients:

Flavorex contains fish meal, corn starch, rice flour, tuna meal, egg yolk powder, glycerin, butter, fish paste, etc.

Feeding Recommendations

The appropriate number of pieces for this treat depends on the cat’s weight

1 to 2 kg – 8 to 10 pieces

2 to 5 kg – 10 to 20 pieces

more than 5 kg – 20 to 30 pieces

My Experience With Flavorex

So far, my fur baby loves this gourmet biscuit I bought for him. I tried the beef flavor first and surprisingly, he loves it – it’s his new favorite.

Flavorex Gourmet Cat Biscuit is available in Lazada, Shopee and Tiktok or you can also visit their FB page: https://www.facebook.com/FlavorexPhilippines

[fieriframes]

[YOU GOT SOME PORK LOIN THAT STANDS ON ITS OWN. THOUGH YOU SEE NOTHING, HE IS ACTING. I'D CALL THAT GOURMET BISCUITS AND GRAVY.]

[rebellum]

Just realised something so funny. Man I'd be SO mad if I were on a ship (that id probably been pressed into) and on month 7 of eating maggoty hard biscuits and there's this fucking dragon eating a gourmet meal on the deck multiple times a week. I'd be so fucking mad.

[ltash]

Eating Habits

List of headcannons when it comes to his eating habits, according to my opinion.

1. Simple, no-fuss meals: Ghost prefers basic, hearty meals with minimal flair. Things like grilled chicken, steak, or a sandwich. He's more about sustenance than flavour.

2. Protein-heavy diet: He prioritizes high-protein meals to keep up his strength. Lean meats, eggs, and protein shakes are staples in his diet.

3. Tea over everything: Ghost drinks tea like it’s water. He prefers English Breakfast Tea, and it's often the first thing he reaches for in the morning.

4. On-the-go eater: He’s used to grabbing quick meals between missions or even eating on the move. Protein bars, jerky, or simple rations are common in his kit.

5. Cold baked beans from the tin: When he’s in the field or in a rush, Ghost has no problem cracking open a tin of baked beans and eating them cold. It’s quick, easy, and gets the job done.

6. Avoids processed junk: While he doesn’t care for gourmet meals, he steers clear of overly processed or junk food. He sees food as fuel and tends to avoid anything that might make him feel sluggish.

7. Coffee drinker: Despite his love for tea, Ghost also has a soft spot for a strong cup of coffee, especially black coffee. It provides a calming moment in the chaos of his life.

8. Rare indulgence in spicy food: Every once in a while, Ghost enjoys a spicy kick in his meals, especially when he can find a good chilli or hot sauce.

9. No-nonsense about breakfast: Breakfast for Ghost is usually something quick and effective, like oatmeal with nuts, scrambled eggs, or even cold baked beans straight from the tin if he's on the go.

10. Prefers to eat alone: He’s not one for big social meals. Ghost often eats in solitude, especially when in the field or at the base. It gives him a moment to think and decompress.

11. Hydration is key: He drinks plenty of water, especially during missions. Staying hydrated is essential, and he’s always got a water bottle nearby.

12. Doesn't like sweets: Ghost isn’t into sugary foods or desserts. If offered, he’ll decline politely or simply pass them on to someone else.

13. MRE master: Having spent so much time in the field, he’s developed a knack for making MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) more palatable. He knows how to combine ingredients to make them taste a bit better than the standard fare.

15. Doesn’t drink alcohol often: Ghost rarely drinks, preferring to stay sharp. But when he does, it’s a stiff whiskey, neat, no mixers, no nonsense.

14. Rare moments of comfort food: Every now and then, when he’s feeling nostalgic or off-duty, he might indulge in something comforting, like a hearty shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, or even a hot cuppa with biscuits.

16. Highly disciplined portions : Ghost eats in strict portions, never over-indulging, knowing that he needs to stay in top physical condition for his missions.

[goldenempyrean]

Late-Night Revelations

〚 Notes - Wow havent done one of these in a while, hopefully this makes up for it :D let me know what you think, my reqs are still open too so I'm gonna try get some done :) 〛

〚 Pairing -Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Night is usually the time when you had free rein of the compound - little did you expect to be interrupted on your journey to get midnight snacks and certainly not by her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2655 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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The kitchen. A place of spills, messes and laughter. The home of both gourmet delicacies and microwave meals. Everyone loved the kitchen. Especially when it came to midnight snacks. 

You’d always been a night owl; it was just the way you were. Staying up gaming, reading or simply just listening to the sounds of the city during the twilight hours was how you’d spend your time, and there was no better thing to snack on then Oreos. 

And where did Oreos live? The kitchen. 

Thats why you found yourself happily humming along to the music playing in your headphones as your feet padded on the tiled floor heading towards the kitchen. The main light was turned off, giving you the privacy to do a funky sort of hip dance as you shuffled towards the cupboards in search of your biscuits. 

You found them easily, although you did have to stand up on your tippy toes to reach them. You grabbed the pack of Oreos triumphantly and twirled around on your heels, intending to head back up to the comfort of your room but something else caught your eye. 

A small, involuntary yelp left your lips as your eyes finally acclimatised to the dark room and you were able to make sight of the slim figure sitting on one of the island stools, quietly nursing a whiskey glass in one hand. 

“Jesus Romanoff.” You breathed heavily, sighing as the hot rush of adrenaline slowly died down, “The hell are you doing?” 

“Why are you awake? It’s late and you have training in the morning.” She ignored your question, but there was something off about her voice. It was different, rougher somehow. You guessed the correct word would’ve been scratchy. 

As you stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, you felt stupid squinting into the darkness, so you headed to turn the overhead light on. You’d just flicked it on when the assassin began to object, “Don’t-“ 

But it was too late. The two of you closed your eyes instinctively as the bright, white LEDs bore into your eyes. You opened yours first however, and you could now see Natasha, the enigmatic Black Widow, hunched over the counter.  

She looked awful. 

Her pale skin was sickly white in pallor, her usually composed and stoic demeanour replaced by a hint of vulnerability while her red hair hung is messy curls at her shoulders. When she finally opened her eyes, the sharpness they usually held seemed dull and void. Not to mention the faint flush sitting on her cheeks. It was clear she was not okay. 

You gulped nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. Natasha was not someone to be taken lightly, and your crush on her only made things more complicated. You were still new to the Avengers, and her intimidating presence had kept you from approaching her in the past. But sitting there, with her red nose and tired expression, she somehow looked more human and not the emotionless, assassin she was often perceived to be - she seemed almost vulnerable now. 

You watched Natasha in concern as she slowly sipped her whiskey, her slender fingers trembling ever so slightly. Her raspy cough interrupted the silence that had settled in the kitchen, and you couldn't help but wince at the harsh sound. 

“That sounds awful.” You commented, nervously fidgeting with the packet of Oreos in your hand, unsure of what to do. You wanted to help, but just didn’t know how. Your attempts at getting her to open up in the past just about as well as microwaving a tin can. Once she’d even yelled at you to mind your own buisness and well, you hadn’t tried much to engage with her after that. 

Her eyes flicked up to your own briefly before she looked away again, staring into the contents of her glass as she raspily mumbled, “It’s nothing.” You weren’t sure if she was going to say something else, but she wasn’t given the chance nonetheless as you heard the subtle hitch of her breath leading to her muffling a harsh, albeit obviously restricted, sounding sneeze into her hoodie sleeve. 

“Bless you.” You offered, turning around to look in the cupboard under the sink to find a box of tissues, “Y’know if you’d actually let yourself sneeze normally, they probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” You commented, sliding the box towards her. 

Her reaction was not what you expected. She gave you a dirty look as she pushed the box away before she snapped, her voice laced with irritation. "I don't need your sympathy. Just leave me alone." 

You sighed deeply, putting down the Oreos on the countertop with a little more force than intended - seriously, it took all you had not to shed a tear as you heard the sound of breaking biscuits.  

“I’m not here to give you sympathy Natasha.” Oh, you were you were 100% hand in heart sympathetic towards her. But admitting that in the moment probably wouldn’t help, “I’m just concerned that If I go back to my room and leave you down here, you’ll wither away or something and when the team find you shrivelled up in the morning, who’s gonna get the blame? Me.” You raised your eyebrows and pointed to yourself before continuing. 

“Plus, we all need you Romanoff, we can’t have the Black Widow taken out by a cold, now, can we?” Your tone softened, as you inched closer, standing at the opposite side of where she was sat before slowly sliding her almost empty glass of whiskey away. 

Natasha but she didn't respond but expression softened ever so slightly, Instead, she took a sip of her whiskey, and she turned her attention away from you, gazing out the window into the quiet night. 

You sat up on the countertop, letting silence fill the room. The pair of you sat like that for a few minutes, neither wanting to break it. But ultimately you did, and the crinkling rustle of your packet echoed through the room. 

“Oh crap-“ You swore as the crushed Oreo dust flooded out from the packet, sending a scatter of black crumbs into your lap. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Natasha look up and give a sort of half-smile at your clumsiness. Testing your luck, you looked up and asked, “What’s up Romanoff, is my Oreo disaster amusing you?” 

To your surprise, her gaze met your eyes, “Something like that.” She almost managed a smile but was interrupted as her face contorted in discomfort, giving in a harsh, chesty sounding cough. 

“Jeez, you really don’t do things by half do you?” You commented, abandoning your Oreos as you slid off the worktop and leant over to the counter to where the redhead was sitting, reaching out and pressed your hand to the back of her clammy forehead. 

She froze. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve presumed the Widow had petrified to stone beneath your touch. You’d never seen her go so still. 

“Relax Romanoff, I’m just checking your brains aren’t going to melt.” You whispered, it coming out more softly than intended but nevertheless hearing your words Natasha seemed to be able to relax ever so slightly. Her tough exterior walls finally beginning to crack. 

As the foundation of her distrust began to crumble, that wall she’d built so high seemed to crumple snd fall. Even she couldn’t deny the comforting contrast of cooling your hand had brought against the sharp heat of her fever and you couldn’t help but smile softly as she sank into your touch a litter, bringing her own hand over your own to keep it in place. 

“You hand is cold. It’s nice.” She mumbled, as she kept it in place for another minute. After a minute you could feel your hand acclimatising to your heat and you pulled it out from beneath her hold, “No-“ 

She began to protest but stopped when you only shook your head sweetly and brought your opposite one back up to her forehead, providing her with the cooling sensation all over again. You would’ve stayed like that for as long as you could, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach in favour of her comfort. But Nat’s body objected first, she barely had time to curl in on herself as her lungs protested in a rough set of coughing that just seemed to keep coming, leaving her breathless by the end. 

Natasha somehow managed to turn redder as she shuffled in her seat, her eyes refusing to meet your own, “Sorry.”  

“God, you sound like death Natasha, you don’t need to apologise for that. Tea. That’s what you need.” You decided not leaving her the chance to refuse. 

Turning on your heels, you reached up into the cupboard taking a large mug before getting to work. A few minutes later and the kettle had boiled allowing you to quickly pour out a steaming mug of tea, making sure to add a generous spoonful of honey and a slice of lemon. 

With a small smile you handed it to her, unable to help but notice the way her hands trembled as she took it. 

“Thanks Y/N.” 

"Careful, it's hot," you cautioned, your concern evident. Natasha gave you a faint nod of acknowledgment before taking a cautious sip. She winced slightly at the heat but seemed to appreciate the gesture. 

While she sipped her tea, you decided to change the subject to something lighter. "So, what brought you to the kitchen at this ungodly hour, Natasha. By the sounds of it you should’ve really been in bed in some sort of fever-induced coma whilst your body fights off this crap. You couldn’t sleep?" 

She sighed softly, setting the tea down for a moment. "Something like that. Just... couldn't get settled, and the whiskey usually helps numb the discomfort," she admitted, her voice still hoarse, “I didn’t think anyone else would be awake.” 

“I’m always up around this time,” You shrugged but looked over to the clock hung on the other the wall as you yawned, “It is getting late though, aren’t you tired?” 

fingers brushing against her red curls as she leaned back against the counter. "Yeah, I am," she admitted, her voice a bit softer now, "But every time I try to sleep it doesn’t work, I’ll just end up tossing and turning the whole time.” 

You couldn't help but sympathize with her. Colds could be incredibly frustrating, especially when they interfered with your ability to sleep. 

 "I get it," you said with a nod. "Well, since you're up, how about we make the most of it? I can keep you company for a while." 

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her eyes. It was clear that she wasn't used to someone offering their company during moments of vulnerability. "You don't have to," she started, “You’ve got training tomorrow. You’ll be too tired-” 

“Respectfully,” You interrupted her with a playful grin. "It’s too late, Romanoff. You're stuck with me now." 

“Okay, fine.” She gave you a small, appreciative smile, and it warmed your heart to see her let her guard down just a bit. "Thanks for not making fun of me," she murmured, “I hate getting sick like this.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” 

As the pair of you continued to chat in the dimly lit kitchen, you couldn't help but notice that she was slowly warming up to you. Her initial resistance and sharpness had softened, and she seemed more willing to engage in conversation. It was nice. 

But it was just as you were explaining the concept of your latest video game you’d been playing when Natasha suddenly stiffened, her breath hitching slightly as she let out a soft, "Hihh... hihh..." Her face scrunched up, and you could see the telltale signs of an impending sneeze, “Hh’iishoo!” 

“Bless you.” You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Looks like this cold isn't letting you off the hook, huh?" 

She sniffled; her voice even huskier now. "Guess not." 

You noticed her shivering slightly and realised that the room had indeed gotten quite chilly as the night air got cooler. "You know, Natasha, if you're cold, you should really get some rest in a warm bed. It’ll do you some good. You’re not going to feel better if you get a chill.” 

She hesitated for a moment, her green eyes darting away from yours. "I don't like sleeping alone when I'm sick," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You could hear the vulnerability in Natasha's admission, and it tugged at your heartstrings. You knew that her tough exterior was a mask she wore to protect herself, but right now, she was letting it slip in front of you. 

A warm smile crossed your face as you stood up from the kitchen stool. "Well, lucky for you, you're not alone tonight." You extended your hand to her. "Come on, let's get you settled on the couch. It's more comfortable than this kitchen stool, and we can keep each other warm that way. No-one has to be alone.” 

Natasha hesitated for a moment, then placed her delicate hand in yours, allowing you to help her off the stool. You led her to the living room, where there was a cosy sofa waiting, perfect for a night of shared warmth and comfort. 

As you both settled onto the sofa, you couldn't help but notice how Natasha's body seemed to relax further, her shivers subsiding as she nestled closer to you. You wrapped your arms around her, creating a cocoon of warmth before taking the large blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa and pulled it over the two of you. Her head rested on your shoulder, and your fingers lightly traced soothing patterns on her back as the two of you settled down into the soft leather. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” She murmured sleepily, as she closed her eyes and finally gave into exhaustion. 

“Goodnight Nat.” you pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, then closed your eyes, allowing exhaustion to catch up with you as well. The two of you drifted off into a deep, comfortable sleep, wrapped in each other's arms. 

Unbeknownst to you both, the rest of the Avengers had been awakened by various disturbances throughout the night. Tony Stark, ever the insomniac, had been tinkering with one of his suits when he heard hushed voices coming from the living room. Curiosity piqued, he had quietly crept closer and couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you and Natasha on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. 

Thor had been awakened by the faint scent of tea and the clinking of a teacup in the kitchen. He had assumed it was one of his Asgardian friends, but when he entered the kitchen, he was met with the sight of crushed Oreos and an empty tea mug. Perplexed, he followed the trail of crumbs to the living room, where he too found you and Natasha peacefully sleeping together. 

Even Bruce, who was often a sound sleeper, had been stirred from his slumber by the unusual activity in the Avengers' common area. His initial concern turned to fond amusement when he discovered the unlikely duo of you and her snuggled together like this. It was adorable  

The hazy morning light began to filter into the room, casting a soft orange glow on your intertwined forms. It was then that the rest of the Avengers gathered in the living room, their astonishment evident on their faces as they took in the sight before them. 

Steve quirked his eyebrow and wearing a bemused smile, leaned down to whisper to Tony, "Looks like we've got our own little love story unfolding right here." 

The engineer couldn’t quite resist a teasing grin. "Who would've thought? Our resident spy and the midnight snacker." 

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[somik-severinka]

Banquet table for Baby Shower

Functional banquet table:

Basic game

3 options for serving dishes - Rainbow, Blue and Pink

The table has additional slots in which you can put decor or food at will

How it works:

👉Install the table on lot

👉Press the "Serve Banquet" menu and choose one of 3 color options

👉The food will automatically appear on the table with a long shelf life (1 day)

👉With one button "Empty Table" you can remove all the food

DOWNLOAD

Anime Cake

Stand with Anime Cake

Stand with Cakes

Biscuits

Cookies

Mixed Drink

The Banquet table is autonomous and does not require any additional files and addons. Only the basic game is needed. Compatible with all other mods

DOWNLOAD

🕓🔻

Early Access "Gourmet" and "Restaurateur" April 13

Early Access "Taster" on April 20

🔓Public release on May 4

[secretlocket]

whats sunny up to :))

10:40 pm, oh she is absolutely passed out on the couch. she spent nearly her entire morning running errands and cooking, after she had ate herself into a food coma she knocked out on the couch. her mom and sister are currently watching a movie and sipping on some wine while her brother is upstairs pulling an all nighter with his friends on facetime, and pretzel is sitting under the tree because he thinks he owns it ( he’s sniffing the presents, one of them being an a box of assorted gourmet dog biscuits ).

[fatigue-d]

My early Christmas gift 🎁 :

CHRISTMAS LETTER

Ship : Yukierre ( Yuki X Pierre ) and Charlos ( Charles X Carlos ) in background

Tag : Fluff

Word : around 2000 words

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Yuki scanned the 'thing' in front of him with fear and curiosity. There were no other words to describe what looked like a pile of biscuits straight out of a Ketamine workshop. The smell of burning made the Japanese man cough as he opened the windows, sending a quick apology to his neighbours who would have to smell this filth on New Year's Eve.

Now it was time to look for the culprit of this culinary crime, so he chose not to throw the biscuits away despite the nauseating smell, and went to investigate. The first thing he found was Charles gazing lovingly at his partner, Carlos, dancing to the applause and laughter of the other guests. The Monegasque wasn't the most skilful with a whip or a knife, but he knew how to manage a minimum, he wasn't at his boyfriend's level, but as the days and months went by, his level had increased significantly.

Nevertheless, Charles had never tried his hand at pastry-making, and where Carlos excelled, Charles excelled, golf being a perfect example of that. The Spaniard could pride himself on having made some magnificent swings, while his companion struggled to hit the ball, dropping it three quarters of the time into the water, which made him wonder whether he should become a diver instead of a pilot. So the question arose, and Yuki was definitely not known for his tact.

"Charles? Did you bring us biscuits? It's nice, but it was definitely not necessary. Asked Yuki, pointing to the experiment that boasts the name of edible food.

- Oh, that! It was already here when Carlos and I came, we hesitated to throw it out but we kept it here because of the note next to it.

Yuki frowned at the Francophone's explanation, there had been no words when he'd seen the pile of 'defective' biscuits, perhaps he hadn't been paying enough attention? Or looked carefully enough? He thanked the older man for his answer and went to check the kitchen again, looking for the overcooked biscuits.

After having to greet at least five people to get to his favourite room in the house, he was surprised to discover that the pile had disappeared! He would have said good riddance, but with it, the paper that had intrigued him had also magically evaporated.

So he resumed his little investigation, this time in search of the mysterious thief or gourmet, although he doubted it very much, who had stolen a note that was surely intended for him. After all, everyone knew that the kitchen was Yuki's territory, and those who had forgotten must have remembered to their cost. Daniel sometimes stroked his head, remembering the blows he'd received from the Japanese when he'd let his greed do the talking on New Year's Eve last year. It had amused the crowd, but it had also made it clear that if anyone entered this sacred place without the Asian's permission, they would receive his wrath or worse.

The only one who was guaranteed never to receive any physical punishment was Pierre, the Frenchman who enjoyed immunity thanks to his status as, and I quote: "Boyfriend of the paddock's favourite gremlin". This made more than one person smile, especially Pierre who enjoyed his privilege as he saw fit, having fun annoying the Asian while he was cooking, distracting him either by showing him videos while he had to watch the dough, or by incorporating new ingredients himself. Luckily Yuki was a real chef, the Asian redoubling his ingenuity to hide his partner's blunders, often making his dishes even more succulent. Definitely, the duo worked like clockwork.

Well, not necessarily, or at least not any more, given the Frenchman's smile of both laughter and regret as he ventured into his partner's realm. His eyes averted, he placed the object of the Asian's covetousness in front of him, embarrassment showing on his face. In the end, Yuki didn't need to make any enquiries, the source came to him, perhaps he had such a force of attraction that problems were solved as soon as he knew they existed. He'd talk to Lance about it, I'm sure he'd understand.

"So? Did you make his biscuits? he asked, looking frankly unconvinced by his boyfriend's cooking skills.

- It was supposed to be a surprise, but Esteban's just tasted them, and he's throwing up in the toilet right now. So I thought I'd take them out quickly before you discover them. Explained the Frenchman with a slightly proud smile. Definitely, anything that could make the life of his French colleague more miserable was beneficial to him.

- Don't try to cook on your own again! You're wasting ingredients for nothing. exclaimed Yuki, Pierre's face breaking down at his boyfriend's remark.

- Come on Yuki! I wanted to please you! I even wrote you a little note! Pierre defended himself, taking the Japanese man in his arms and quickly stealing a kiss. Yuki let out a quick insult in his native tongue and his cheeks flushed at the chestnut's amorous gesture.

The Japanese man, finally overcome by his partner's murmurs of love, took the pretty decorated Christmas card from the older man's hands. The many drawings on it surprised him as he opened it, seeing his initials and Pierre's, his name in Japanese and a whole bunch of other terribly useless but endearing scribbles, which framed his boyfriend's message.

"Dear Yuki,

It's been 3 years since we celebrated our Christmas together, I would have told you that it's only the food that has embellished these moments with you, but you surely know that there are many other things.

Here's a non-exhaustive list:

• Your little mumbles in Japanese when you're angry or thinking

• Your habit of talking while you sleep (you've already confessed to me 4 times like that)

•Your cheeks that turn red as soon as it's less than 5 degrees.

•Your addiction to fry chicken

• Your Christmas jumpers that are too big (I've bought you a new one, by the way, look on our bed)

•Decorating the tree is becoming a competition with you

•Your long phone calls with your family, while you cry because you can't see your nieces (there's something waiting for you there with the jumper)

•Your fear of Father Christmas (it's just because he's bigger than you, admit it)

•Your collection of collector's snowballs.

And many more, but I don't have the space to write them all down.

Every holiday I spend with you makes me want to celebrate Christmas every day, just to see your excitement over the presents and the look of pride on your face when you see someone enjoying yours.

I hope we can all celebrate together.

Pierre, your beloved boyfriend

To my favourite elf."

Yuki felt tears fall down her cheeks, her vision blurring as a result. His boyfriend was sometimes stupid, even very stupid, but he loved him and it was during these moments that he remembered him the most.

"Me too.... He whispered as he leaned his head against the chest of the man he liked to call his soul mate, he'd never tell him, it would give him too much of a headache.

The Frenchman's heart quickened at his boyfriend's words, he hadn't expected him to cry, Pierre wasn't the best at comforting. But his arms would always be there to support him, whether in moments of joy or sadness, after all it was his duty as his boyfriend. And he would never fail in this task. Because Yuki deserved it, he deserved this tenderness and this love, and the Japanese man had to realise this sooner or later, because the Frenchman would remind him of it for the rest of his life.

- Is that all? I expected more, given everything I've written. Pierre commented with an amused smile, a lack felt deep inside him as he felt the youngest leave his arms.

- I've already complimented your shopping list enough! replied Yuki, trying to sound annoyed, the tears in the corner of his eyes making him lose all credibility.

Pierre laughed at his words, his hand taking the younger man's, leading them towards their bedroom where a gift wrapped on their bed was waiting, the Frenchman's apprehension growing as he saw Yuki quickly tear open the gift packet, his eyes lit up with curiosity.

These were soon extinguished by the tasteless garment in front of him. A picture of a shrinking man with the phrase "I love my PETIT-ami* " and the usual Christmas motifs in the background. He changed his jumper, however, putting on the new one, which was once again too big for him. He was sure that Pierre was now deliberately bringing back one size larger, but he was giving him the benefit of the doubt, after all he had taken the time to write him a letter.

While he was putting on his top, he saw some plane tickets at the bottom of the gift packet. Pierre had prepared a trip for them? But there were far too many, the date on the tickets had expired, and the destination was Italy. And just as he was about to question his boyfriend, the latter covered his eyes with his hands, whispering to him to turn round and wait a few seconds. Yuki hesitated to bite him, Pierre deserved to be bitten for the jumper, and was about to do so when Pierre took his hands away from his eyes, letting him see several people in front of him shouting "Suprise! ".

His vision finally clear, he recognised his niece running into his arms, her expression shocked as he turned towards Pierre who was smiling lovingly at him. The amazement in his eyes as he heard his family talking to him.

"It's not thanks to me, it's thanks to them. Pierre whispered, pointing to his nieces as he left to let Yuki enjoy her time with her family.

- Your Prince Charming took us on a tour of Italy! exclaimed the youngest.

- How did he do that?

He'd often complained to Pierre about not being able to see his nieces because of the time difference, or even the shopping schedules that never coincided with their school holidays.

- He called Mum on 3 November to talk about our trip. It took a while, but we managed! explained the taller of the two.

Yuki had felt hurt when Pierre hadn't wanted to spend the night with him after the victory, but that was to prepare his Christmas surprise.

The hours passed like that, his family and friends mingling under the mistletoe, the smell of gingerbread and the fir tree towering above them. Finally came the time to say goodbye, his close friends returning home while some of his family stayed in the many guest rooms.

And as he cradled his youngest niece, he spotted Pierre admiring them from the corner of the door. He finally finished his story over the snores of the youngest, and joined the one he could now call 'mine'.

The two whispered a sweet phrase to each other, close to falling into Orpheus's arms.

"Joyeux Noël Yuki"

" メリークリスマス Pierre"

End.

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

* Petit-ami = boyfriend in french and literally " Little friend ".

* Joyeux Noël = Merry Christmas, same for Yuki.

I'm reluctant to write another little one-shot like this, I had to do it for the Yukierre because I love this ship and it doesn't get enough attention. I hope you enjoyed it.

[strwbi-laces]

Marauders as dumb things my friends have done

Part 11

James: have you eaten today

Regulus: i had a biscuit this morning

James: ok im gonna make you something

James: would you like a gourmet meal or some flavourless abomination that makes your autism happy

Regulus: …

Regulus: abomination please

James: sure tortilla and jam coming up

[divergent-paths]

HBD Alex~! Another year down! Let's see what random tidbits we can share about him~

Alex likes to give his rock-mons names that coincide or are derived from various scientific names and terms, geology and chemistry being high up on the list for obvious reasons. If a mon's name doesn't fit the pattern, it's safe to say the mon was a gift or it named itself.

When it comes to birthday gifts, Alex has received dog biscuits disguised as people food and other assorted joke items so much that he no longer accepts gifts on the day of his bday from anyone that isn't direct family. He unfortunately knows the taste of dog food all too well. :')

Hailing from Kalos, it's no surprise that Alex is a real foodie, and as he's grown into his teens, he's developed a sense of taste that is starting to rival many gourmets and top food critics. Despite a preference for fancy dining, he still enjoys street-food and 'low class' fare, citing that someone's effort or intent brings flavour out too.

Hope you enjoyed the pic and facts about the boy~!

[contentment-of-cats]

"As American as apple pie."

Labor intensive. Peel, core, slice 3-5lbs of apples. Add a step if you cook your filling. Add another step if you make your crusts.

Expensive. Have you clocked the cost of apples versus the wage hours you'd need to turn apples into pie?

Unappreciated. "You could have bought one at the store."

I made and froze a batch of filling while thinking about women's labor and how it gets blown off. There are shortcuts to apple pie like canned fillings and frozen crusts. My local gourmet market takes orders for their take-and-bake apple pies at $22.00 a pop. I froze my filling in 1-cup servings. When I want a pie, I take it out, thaw, top with biscuit dough, and bam - cobbler. I can stick it in pie crust and fry it for that Popeye's apple pie lava urge, too.

[theaistired]

Tag Game - OC Questionnaire

Once again, I am trying to make my way through some of the tag games I’ve been tagged in. So, first off:

Thank you @the-golden-comet for tagging me!

My questions are:

What never fails to make you laugh?

How can you tell if you’ll get along with someone?

Do you prefer sweet, savoury, sour, or salty snacks?

And I’m going to let an OC from Little Remains out for this one. So, Robin...

What never fails to make you laugh?

“I mean, there’re a lot of things that make me laugh. If I had to pick one, I’d go with every time Munkustrap is just done with everyone in the Cats Musical – the recording from 1998, of course. His face is just too good."

How can you tell if you’ll get along with someone?

“I get along with everyone, so… as long as you’re not being an asshole with asshole opinions, we’ll be just fine!”

Do you prefer sweet, savoury, sour, or salty snacks?

“It’s not about the flavour. It’s about how outlandish a snack I can make to terrify my aunt. Dunking a piece of strawberry cake in black coffee is very effective. Not tasty – I mean, without the coffee strawberry cake would be the best, but with the coffee… It’s passable.”

Robin is great at making terrible decisions… What happened to good old cookies? (Or biscuits, Little Remains takes place in England)

Anyway, your questions are:

Who would you like the least to be stuck with on a lonely island/an elevator/something similar?

How good is you cooking? From burns the kitchen down to gourmet meal?

What’s your favourite season and why?

Tagging (no pressure): @colombette, @wyked-ao3, @the-letterbox-archives, @imawholeassmood, @frostedlemonwriter and anyone lese who'd like to join!

[gunkbaby]

if Shuu was a human what would his top 5 favourite foods be?

ooh good one. This is tricky bc shuu is such a picky eater, but still has this ‘eat the world’ attitude, i think one thing abt human shuu aus rly neglect to compensate for is how closely tied Shuu is to the idea of being an apex predator, but I think you can still achieve it, and I will try my best! i do know a bit abt gourmet food! (There are actually a lot of books abt food critics and gourmet chefs who get 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕪 with cooking)

i feel like is also hard bc shuu would probably like everyone to think his favourite food is something rare and exotic so maybe he would twist the truth a little. Narrowing down specific foods is difficult but I will try my best!

Kaneki’s bussy

Orlotan - this fucked me up when i heard about it. But the practice of eating orlotan is utter decadence - to a ridiculous extent. It’s a bit like Foie Gras - the orlotan are wild caught and force fed to double their mass, then drowned and marinated in Armagnac and then cooked. It’s meant to be consumed whole, the bones spat out, and typically, the consumer is traditionally supposed to wear a napkin or towel over their face whilst they eat the bird. I can’t remember why - but I’ve seen it said that is either to maintain dignity when spitting out the bones, or to shield such a disgraceful act from God’s eyes. The latter sounds cool as fuck so i believe it. I love Jesus!!! I think Shuu would lap something like that up. I’ve yet to find something so dreadfully French in the matter of food, and I think he’d probably say this is his favourite food - if only for the amount of ceremony involved.

Cheesecake - Shuu always mentioning cheesecake in early TG and I would like to give him this one as a little treat. I don’t know a lot abt cheesecake bc i fucking hate the stuff but maybe he’d like something like Basque? Which is just burned custard(?) cheesecake - i was reminded of tiramisu but apparently it’s more of a soufflé. I think he’d probably go for something floral too - rose cheesecake’s probably a thing, lavender, peony. I don’t know if I see him as a sweet/dessert person. He’s more likely to enjoy richer desserts like cheesecake and chocolates.

Dark Chocolate - maybe a sneak! I am a Dark Chocolate Enjoyer so total bias but hear me out (yes i do also like black liquorice!). If it is less than 80% cocoa it’s too sweet! He’d be a 100% kind of guy, because bragging rights. I think he might enjoy it with some fruits, maybe with orange biscuits or raspberries. I think he’d like raspberries, they taste like little rubies to me. Dark chocolate goes good with almond butter, he might make it fancy - foamed raspberry with shredded chocolate over almond biscuits with coffee cream. we might call that a rather bizarre mocha, but shuu would say it’s a deconstructed tiramisu. the reason i think he’d choose dark chocolate is because i don’t think he’d eat sweets. Dark chocolate has a deeper taste profile, in my experience dark chocolate is always unique. This might appeal to Shuu. It goes well with far more flavours than typical chocolate - spices, florals, etc - i recently had dark chocolate almonds dusted in matcha! They were utterly divine. Dark chocolate is highly overrhated in my opinion.

Exotic Meat - this is a generalisation sorry 😢 But I believe it canonical - very premium cuts of meat from animals you might not typically farm - zebra, bear, crocodile, rattlesnake, that sort of thing. It’s really controversial for some reason and as a vegan I should be opposed, but I think wild hunting is leagues better than farming, provided it’s not an endangered species, but Shuu would definitely eat an endangered species. Maybe he likes to brag and his favourite meat is snow leopard, or something. Dodo. Dinosaur, even (he was There).

Fugu (pufferfish) - this is shorthand for ‘dangerous food’ lol! Without the danger of being a ghoul, we have to consider how a human shuu might chase this danger. He might hunt his exotic meats, but I think he might try and achieve this by also eating dangerous food - food that’s poisonous or toxic. a bit of a Russian roulette. I wouldn’t even put it beneath a human or a ghoul Shuu to eat something with worms! (Same tbh. Would.)

i think most of the above are what Shuu might want people to believe are his favourite foods, so I’d like to take some time to throw my other ideas in the ring.

I think he’d take comfort in Monte Cristo - if only because in a human universe, I would take it to be his father’s favourite food. He’d probably be given it as a child or something, so good associations. There’s not much rly to say else there, but the idea of Shuu eating a toastie fascinates me. If he eats it when he’s sad, i think he’d look like that little mouse video, but otherwise I think he’d eat a toastie with a knife & fork.

I mentioned dark chocolate earlier, but of course he might also like some luxury chocolates - i think of these wonderful chocolates i saw once, that had been dyed and marbled to look like planets and marbled, filled with pistachio or coffee foams. Wonderful. Straight from switzerland or italy. Maybe he would enjoy ruby chocolate too? I’ve never had it! I said no sweets but white chocolate has a time and place, but it works wonderfully with wasabi or miso - i made wasabi and white chocolate cupcakes once. Good lord. He would like that. White chocolate and nuts is also very good. When I was vegetarian, my guilty pleasure used to be salted liquorice dipped in white chocolate - but I don’t know if he’d like that!

i think he’d eat sea urchin.

Some drinks too! -

Coffee: specifically coffee with blue seaweed or Kopi Iuwak. He’s definitely tried it, but does he like it? Who knows? I’ve always wanted to try seaweed coffee. Kopi Iuwak is coffee beans that’s already passed through the digestive system of a civet. It sounds like a bit of a farce to me, but i don’t think it’s as repulsive as people make out.

matchaaaa - bias i just think everyone should drink matcha

moon milk - i’ve never had this bc broke but it sounds so good. I think he’d like the pink/rose milk the most! maybe the blue spirulina?

Nut milks - vegan bias but seriously who can honestly argue cow juice tastes better than a refreshing glass of cashew milk??? Shuu would probably have something like pistachio milk, tigernut, brazil nut, macadamia -that sort of thing! Stuff you can’t get from the shops!

People will probably kill me if I don’t mention escargot or frogs legs so. Obligatory mention. Personally I find that to be rather typical and cliched - ooh, mandatory french food! So bizarre! Whatever. Partly why this ask took me a long time to get to, is because I wanted to go through my books and notes. It would have been easy for me to sit here and type that human Shuu would eat lobster and ragyu and live baby shrimp in miso soup, but i think it’s too obvious. In my experience, there is so much more to get out of Shuu when you delve deeper and don’t say the first thing!

i also want to say, sometimes i see how we (westerners) talk about food from different cultures. lots of high-class gourmet stuff seems silly, but i dont care to mock it. i can’t enjoy food anymore, but it makes me happy that some people enjoy food enough to make it a silly and pompous hobby. But i think sometimes we look at frogs legs or zebra steaks, orlotan or fugu, fermented egg, people eating guinea pigs, chihuahua or cat, sometimes we have a tendency to say it’s gross and twisted, but i don’t think that’s necessary. if something tastes good, if an animal has good meat, then why not? eating the world is sometimes a good thing. not always, but sometimes.

This question made me think a lot, so thank you! I was thinking about a human shuu - all the stories you could make up! There’s a lot to sink your teeth into!

I’m sorry if this was incoherent last night i took 40 laxatives and i just drank 2 monster energy back to back I feel very sane!!!!

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Seventeen

The first thing I pick up is a packet of triple chocolate chip cookies. Not a brand I recognise, but some locally produced, gourmet alternative to the ones I’m used to. They’re also four euros, but I don’t see the price tag until they’re already in my basket and I’m halfway to the frozen goods aisle. I mutter about it under my breath and head back to look for something more reasonable. 

I scan the shelves for something familiar, or at least the shop’s own brand of biscuits but there’s nothing remotely like that. I peer around me at the other shoppers and start wondering about their jobs, and what they could possibly be doing that would allow them to buy such frivolous things as four euro biscuits, or, even more flagrantly, the twelve euro per kilo authentic Italian tomatoes I spotted by the door when I came in. Surely they can’t be that much better than the forty cent ones in Tesco, I think. Who spends that kind of money on something so temporary that it will have rotted away in a week?

I’m frowning at the biscuits when a pair of tanned arms snake around my waist, and my cheek is punctuated with kisses. My hands fly to Jude’s wrists in surprise and I whirl around to find myself pressed up against his chest. “Oh, God, you gave me a fright.”

“Sorry.” He says. “I called your name but you seemed a bit fixated on the gourmet cookies.”

“Oh, yeah. These bloody biscuits.” 

He slants his mouth over mine and kisses me so slow and deep that I almost forget that we’re in a supermarket, so I pull back before I forget my name too. “They’re so expensive,” I complain, as he kisses the corners of my mouth, my cheeks, my jaw. “What if I don’t want gourmet chocolate chip cookies? What if I just want normal ones?”

“Yeah, they’re so expensive.” He echoes, with eyes that slip all over my face as though I’ve just been saying sexy things, rather than just giving out about the contents of the shelves in the confectionery aisle. “I did say that you could just wait outside for me while I parked though, I didn’t think you’d be inside trying to buy things. This is a bit of a luxury supermarket.” He pauses and looks me over at arm’s length. “I also didn’t expect to find you covered in paint.”

“Ugh.” I say when I notice the swipe of cadmium yellow across the side of my thigh. “I didn’t even see this. Typical Mezzotint. And I liked these jeans too.”

“Acrylic?” He grimaces, and I nod. “It’s my fault. It’s from that music festival sign I’ve been working on. It’s just been lying out on workbenches, exactly at this height. God.” I swipe at the paint as though I can shift it, but it’s clearly been dried there for hours and is a permanent part of the fabric. 

He lifts my arm to reveal another smear of blue acrylic from elbow to wrist. “At least this will wash off.” 

“I’m a mess.” I announce. “I’m a mess and the prices in this shop are making me angry.”

“You don’t need to buy anything here, though.” He says. “I have everything sorted for dinner already.” 

“Yeah but I was thinking of Jen. I don’t want to turn up empty handed.”

He pulls a packet of some sort of white chocolate and mint shortcake from the shelf and wrinkles his nose. “Well, no worries because Jen won’t eat any of this anyway. We can stop somewhere on the way and get her something better.” He tosses it back into the wrong place and takes my hand to lead me back out towards Smithfield square. “Anyway, let’s get going. If I’m parked for longer than fifteen minutes they’ll make me pay six euro at the barrier.”

“Extortionate.” I comment. 

“Well, I think the boom is back, baby.”

I push through the hospital doors with my shoulder, as my hands are full of McFlurries. It was supposed to be one, for Jen, and then I explained to Jude, who was annoyed about me potentially ruining my appetite for dinner, that I can’t possibly exit the McDonalds drive-thru without a crunchie McFlurry. Then, because he suddenly felt left out, we ordered a third one for him. 

He hurries forward to hold the door open for me when he sees me struggle with it, but it’s really so that he can get close enough to reach over me to yank one of the chunky plastic spoons and shove a glob of ice cream into his mouth. “So good.” He groans, as though it’s the first bite, as though he hasn’t been making me feed him spoonfuls behind the wheel the whole way over here. I laugh at the blissed out look on his face. 

He’s good at being serious with the nurse when he asks if we can see Jen, but as soon as we’re in the hallway, alone again, he reverts to his rascal self. We almost double over laughing when the hand sanitizer station squirts out at least ten times the normal amount as it should, and gets all the way over the cuff of his jacket, and he looks really young when he laughs so hard. I realise that he used to look like this all of the time, but these last few months a smile from him has felt like a rare and precious thing. I sort of wish that I could record these kinds of moments with him and play them back whenever I forget what it’s like to be truly, deliriously happy. 

We’re still giggling when we push through to Jen’s ward, and when she peers around the curtain to see what all the racket is, she smiles too. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in four months. 

“Oh, Jen.” I say, and I hurry to her to give her a gentle hug on the side of her that isn’t wrapped up in gauze and bandages. “How are you?”

She looks okay, apart from all of the bandages, from elbow to wrist and from hip to ankle along her right side, right where the car door caved in on her. She has scratches on her cheek and across her nose too, scrapes from flying debris, maybe. I shudder at the thought of the violence of the accident, imagining myself there witnessing it.

“Oh God, I’m so bored.” She says with a big, dramatic eye roll, as though the whole fact of her being here, in this narrow little hospital bed is all a bit of an unnecessary fuss, some over-cautious and silly thing that she’s been forced into. There are pink flowers at her bedside, cards and books and magazines and a tray of half eaten food that nobody has been around to clean up yet. 

“Jenny.” Jude says, and he ruffles her dark hair and tweaks her nose, because he’s also pretending that it’s not a big deal that she’s here, because she’s strong and capable, and she’d stroll out of here right now if it wasn’t for the watchful eyes of the nurses. “Evie got you a McFlurry.”

“I did.” I say, only realising once I hold it out for her that she may need both hands to eat it. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

“Here.” Jude says, and I hand it to him. He shoots her a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to feed it to you?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Like I’m some useless auld one. Go on.” I watch with a smile as he carefully feeds her a spoonful, thinking it’d be just like him to scoop out an enormous hunk of it and try to force it into her mouth as a joke, but he doesn’t do that at all. He’s almost impossibly tender about the whole thing. “Will you do this for me when I’m actually old?” She asks him between spoonfuls. 

“Old people can usually feed themselves.” He reminds her to which she laughs. “Yeah but I’ve decided I’m going to be a really lazy old person and I’m not going to be bothered to use my hands.”

“Oh well then, yeah. That’s a good reason. Being too lazy to lift a spoon is fair enough. I’ll come to your house every day on my zimmer frame and I’ll feed you.”

“It’s the least you could do.”

I suddenly feel a bit out of place, so I perch myself into the little seat in the corner so as to not interrupt their friendly banter with my presence. 

“Evie.” Jen says as soon as she realises that I’ve shrunk away. “C’mere. How are you? What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, well nothing really.” I say. “Same old stuff as always.”

“Not true.” says Jude. “She’s killing it at the internship. Every card she designs sells out in days, and her window art and murals are becoming well known enough that some music festival organisers have asked her to paint their event map for them.”

“Oh wow, Evie, good for you!”

“Thanks.” Jude looks very proud and I feel very shy, and when, without thinking about it I tuck my hair behind my ears, Jen’s eyes immediately find the fading reddish, purplish smudge on my neck. Her eyes widen with delight and she looks at Jude as I hide it again, all too late. “Is that all that’s been happening?” She says to him, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He apologised profusely for it the morning that we left the beach house, insisting that he really doesn’t usually give hickeys, it was an accident, and now he looks just as embarrassed as he did when he rolled over and saw it for the first time. Jen bites her lip like she’s holding in the biggest giggle. “Wow, is it just me or has it suddenly gotten boiling hot in here.” She fans herself theatrically. “Maybe someone should crack that window.”

Jude shakes his head at her, and he doesn’t speak, but the faces they pull at each other communicate everything. Was that you? She says with her eyes. 

Maybe.

When was this? 

I’m not telling you.

Oh, come on.

Mind your own business. “What has the doctor said?” He says aloud, and puts her spoon in his mouth. 

“Unhygienic.” Jen comments, snatching it from him. “I could have caught some rotten disease in here. I heard that norovirus is going around this floor.”

“Well, you have it, I have it I guess.”

“We I suppose we all have it then.”

I try to disguise my blush by diving for Jude’s half eaten ice cream inside the cardboard container on the floor and shoving it into his hands. He perches on the edge of Jen’s bed and lays into it, leaving hers on the sheets so she can swirl her good finger around in the rapidly melting contents at the bottom. “Come on.” He presses. “Tell me what the doctors have said.”

She groans. “Okay. They’ve said I need to do physical therapy, because the muscles in my leg will have withered away from disuse. I’ll have to learn how to walk on it again, especially with the break being so close to the hip. It’s all grim, bla bla bla. I’m fucked, basically.”

“You aren’t. You’ll manage.”

“What about your hand?” I chime in. “Did they say they can fix it?”

She sighs. “My bloody right hand. No. I don’t think they can, it’s just the movement of my thumb seems to be a bit… gone. When that shrapnel sliced through my arm, it cut one of the tendons that connects-”

“God, stop!” Jude’s body is one giant spasm of horror. “Please, I love you, and I sympathise, but I can’t hear about your horrible, wet spaghetti tendons again.”

Jen shrugs at me. “Long story short, chick, I’ll have to become left handed.”

“That’s awful.” I say, but she doesn’t really seem to think it’s as dire as I do. “It’s fine. At least I’m not an artist like you, I’m just a politics student. I’ll get over it. The other four fingers work fine.”

“Did they say how much longer you’ll be holed up in here?” Jude wants to know, and she nods. “Another week, maybe? They want to free up the bed, basically, and now that they’ve, like, put all these bolts and plates into me, I’m really just taking up space. I reckon they’ll want me to heal from home as soon as I can, and then they can send me for physical therapy when I’m ready.” She pauses, and then drawls sarcastically. “Can’t wait for that.”

“I’ll be good to be back at Michelle’s though. Rahim will know the right way to care for you.”

“Well, yes, and I’ve been out of my mind bored here. Plus,” She gestures to the curtain that separated her bed from her neighbours. “That man behind there is my nightmare. He eats like an animal and does these rotten wet belches every waking moment. It makes me feel sick. This place is cursed, and I’m bored, I just want to leave.”

Jude looks intently at his ice cream and a little frown appears between his eyebrows. “Any new visitors since the weekend?”

“Michelle, Simon, Shane and Claire, Rahim and Debra, a few of my college friends…”

“That’s all?”

A short, loaded pause. “That’s all.”

“Okay. Do you think she’ll come?”

I watch as Jen’s eyes moisten and words jam in her throat, and she tries her very best to speak evenly around her tears. “No.” She manages, voice a thin wobble. “I doubt it.” I instinctively reach for her hand, even though it’s sticky with ice cream and I squeeze it in mine. She sniffs. “But it’s whatever. Nobody has to come in if they don’t want to.”

“Jen…”

“No, it’s fine.” She pulls her hand away to mop the lone tear that’s spilled over her cheek. “It’s fine, I don’t care. It’s stupid to cry, I think I’m just overwhelmed, or whatever.” 

“Good.” Jude says coldly. “You shouldn’t care. Fuck her. You’re better off.”

“Yes. I’m better off now.” She speaks like she’s reading lines, and quickly gathers herself to paste on a bright smile. “Anyway, whatever. Evie, do you want to see the picture I took of the XRay? I’m completely shattered from hip to knee.”

“Yeah, alright.” I say, and she pats the bed so that I can perch in next to her, and Jude looks from the other side, and we both recoil in horror at the sight of the bolts and the plates and the rods, everything that doesn’t belong inside the human body but is inside her now, holding her shattered bones together. 

We look through more photos of her injuries until Jude goes a bit grey, and after that we sit around chatting and poking at the liquid ends of our ice creams until visiting hours are over, and my stomach growls for food. 

“I promised Evie dinner.” Jude says to her as we get up to go, and she looks impressed. “Wow, lucky her. I wish you were cooking me something too so I wouldn’t have to eat mashed potatoes and miscellaneous boiled meat.”

“Soon you’ll be back in the Tengu’s house, in Malaysian food heaven.” He reminds her. “Shut your eyes and imagine you’re there.”

“I’ll see you soon?” She reaches for him like she suddenly can’t bear for him to leave, and for that single moment she looks heartbreakingly vulnerable and so very tiny in her bed.

“Tomorrow, and every day after that.” He promises.

“Except for the days that you’re off doing someone-” She smirks. “I mean something else.”

“Yes, Jenny.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Bye, Evie. Thanks so much for coming.”

“See you, Jen. Get better soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” And she blows us both a kiss. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[obscurehistoricalinterests]

The Republic is worth a sauce gribiche

by Aurélien Soucheyre

„21 January is the day of the tete de veau dish, to celebrate the day in 1793 when the monarchy of divine right lost its own head. But where does this tradition come from and what's the recipe?

It's been going on for over two hundred years: every 21 January, thousands of gourmets enjoy a tete de veau at republican banquets. The date is no coincidence: it's the anniversary of the beheading of Louis XVI in 1793, the ultimate symbol of the fall of the Old Regime. The tradition comes from the pamphleteer Romeau, who in 1794 invited people to eat a pig's head on 21 January, a biscuit in the shape of the Bastille on 14 July and a 'fat chicken of India' on 10 August, the date of the collapse of royalty in 1792. Only the 21 January head has survived. It went from being a pig, referring to a king caricatured as a piglet in 1791, to a calf in 1848, when the Second Republic was established. The Third, Fourth and Fifth Republics then refrained from changing the animal. As for the sauce, it has evolved over the years, and it is the gribiche that has held the rope for decades, composed, for the purists, of eggs, mustard, oil, parsley, tarragon, chervil, and above all the indispensable capers and gherkins, which represent neither the body nor the breasts of the deceased king.

It's just that the practice has nothing to do with an anthropophagic delirium. It is not the individual Louis XVI who is being eaten, who had already lost his crown and had once again become "citizen Louis Capet". It is the monarchy of divine right that is being swallowed, the political regime itself, digested by the republican stomach. And if that sounds far-fetched, it's because the original idea came from England, as recounted by Gustave Flaubert in E'Education Sentimentale. On 30 January 1649, the British were the first to decapitate their monarch, by attacking Charles 1st. They were also the first to eat calves' heads on that date, in response to the royalists' commemorations. And even though the English throne has since been reoccupied, without absolute powers, the French replay the match every 21 January, with the royalists in the Basilica of Saint-Denis cowering on one side and the republicans laughing on the other.

Cold or hot

So there are confreries of calf's head eaters all over France on D-Day, a combination of English humour and French terror, all under the revolutionary flag. A great fan of tete de veau and "roborative cuisine", according to legend, former French President Jacques Chirac has never said whether he discovered this speciality at a banquet under the tricolour cockade, somewhere between Paris and Corrèze. But he did help to popularise the dish. It can be eaten cold, with little touches to the eyelids, nostrils, tongue and brains, for those who like to chew, or hot like a pot-au-feau. A matter of taste. Because the French Revolution is neither cold nor hot: it's lukewarm, because it's still waiting to be over.“

Tete de veau with gribiche sauce

Ingredients:

- 1 boneless veal head and 1 tongue

- 80g flour - 1 clove of garlic - 4 carrots

- 2 sprigs celery - 3 large onions spiked with cloves

- 1 bouquet garni - salt and pepper

Preparation:

The day before, soak the head and tongue in salted water and change the water several times. The next day, blanch the veal head, previously cut in half. Bring the veal halves and tongue to the boil, starting with cold water. Decant, peel the tongue and cut in half lengthways. Place each tongue half in each veal half, then roll into rotis before tying.

To cook the head. In a large pot, pour the flour delayed in a glass of white vinegar and add 10 litres of cold water. Add all the ingredients (herbs and chopped vegetables) and mix. Bring the bouillon to the boil before adding the two halves of the steak. Leave to simmer for two hours.

Check that it is cooked through, remove the two halves and leave to cool. Remove the string and roll into a ballottine, then wrap tightly in cling film to cut into equal slices.

Serve hot (or cold, according to taste), accompanied by potatoes cooked separately in salted water and a gribiche sauce.

For the sauce

Ingredients:

- 2 or 3 eggs - 1 tbsp wine vinegar (optional)

- 1 tsp mustard - 25cl peanut or rapeseed oil

- salt and pepper - 30 g chopped gherkins

- 30g chopped capers - 1 tbsp parsley

- 1 tbsp chopped tarragon - 1 tbsp chopped chervil

Preparation:

Boil the eggs until they are hard-boiled. Crush the yolks, add the mustard and mix the mayonnaise with the oil. Add the vinegar, salt and pepper and mix in the gherkins, capers, herbs and finely chopped egg whites.

[aardvark-123]

~Excessively Twee Borderlands Headcanons: Cuisine Edition~

Gaige has a big appetite, yet can easily forget to eat when she's busy vault hunting or tinkering with robots. It usually fell to Axton to remind her to eat; while he may not be the maturest of men, he understands that the body needs fuel. Gaige has made some attempts at cooking, but her marshmallow and crisp spaghetti carbonara proved to be an acquired taste.

Amara loves Partali's spicy, aromatic cuisine. She laments that few of the Six Galaxies' take-away dishes come close to the authentic taste of dhal makhani and a keema paratha. Her appetite is enormous, however, and she could eat a kilogramme of lamb biryani while complaining it isn't as good as her personal chef's.

Claptrap can bake. He hands out a lot of side-quests to fetch him ingredients, which he turns into delicious, albeit messily constructed pies, cakes, biscuits and loaves of bread. If you're nice to Claptrap, a surprisingly tall order for some people, you'll seldom find yourself without something in the cupboard.

Moze likes soup.

Ava is a veritable gourmet. As a homeless child, her favourite foods were "not rotten" and "provided willingly", treats which she didn't always manage to scavenge. When Maya adopted Ava, she made sure to feed her up, and Ava's palate broadened to the full extent of Athenian cuisine. Now she is an adventurous eater who loves trying new dishes, but will pretty much eat anything within two basic criteria: "not rotten" and "not too many olives".

The basics of cookery are also known to Ava. Although it's hardly her favourite activity- hardly, perhaps, the sort of activity she'd admit to enjoying- she can make pasta, okonomiyaki, salad, scrambled eggs and other simple dishes with aplomb. She used to send Maya anonymous Mothers' Day breakfasts, for which she'd refuse to admit any responsibility, because no way was she ever going to be cute. Food love stories, brought to you by the Crimson Raiders.

Lilith enjoys spicy food and is quite good at cooking. She isn't a fancy chef, but can be relied upon to make a lovely fried breakfast, tossed salad, or burger and chips.

FL4K doesn't eat, but they take great pains to secure good food for their pets. Meat-Thief loves fish and chips, Broodless likes a fruit salad, Mr Chew has a taste for Lancer tyres, and Ms Loader Bot partakes in only the finest Lithium Ion Batteries.

Salvador is quite the chef, a barbecue expert and master of Mexican-influenced-part-of-Pandora cuisine. He can be very particular about his ingredients; no, you can't use skag liver instead of bullymong chops, it'll ruin the flavour profile of the whole meal. And what do you MEAN ketchup's another kind of mole?!

Tannis has seven perennial favourite foods: boiled eggs, carrot cake, toast with peanut butter, bananas, rice balls, Salvador's famous bullymong pancita, and sausages. She used to love bacon, but gave it up for personal reasons.

Roland was always an accomplished sandwich artisan, with the ability to house delicious combinations of ingredients between two slices of bread. Sometimes he took it to strange excesses such as the pie sandwich (or Wigan kebab), the spaghetti carbonara sandwich (or Sloppy Giuseppe), and the full English breakfast sandwich (or Sandwich That Annoys Lilith Because It's Just Missing the Point).