#grape molasses

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A pyramid of crystalline snow topped with deep orange syrup on a bright blue plate. End ID]

بقسمة / Buqsuma (Palestinian snow dessert)

بُقْسُمَة ("buqsuma"), or بوظة الشتاء ("būẓa shitā'", "winter ice cream"), is a dessert, possibly of Aramaic origin, eaten in cold and mountainous rural regions within Palestine, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey. It consists of freshly fallen snow topped with grape molasses (دبس العنب; "dibs al-'inab"), date molasses, pomegranate molasses, or storebought snow syrup (شراب الثلج ; "shrāb aṯ-ṯalj"). In Lebanon it may be topped with honey or orange syrup; and in Syria and Lebanon it may also be called سويق or سويقة ("sawīq" or "sawīqa").

Buqsuma is eaten for only a few days a year at the end of the snowy season in February. An old rhyme cautions against eating snow too early in the season:

أول تلجة دم ت��نية تلجة سم تالتة تلجة كل ولا تهتم

("ʔawwal tallaja damm "tānya tallaja samm "tālta tallaja kul wa lā tahtamm")

("The first snowfall is blood "The second snowfall is poison "The third snowfall, eat and don't worry")

Journalist Hussein Saqr speculates that the intention may be to allow the first snows to clear the air from summer and fall dust and other pollutants before the snow is safe to consume.

During these late winter days, eating and sharing buqsuma becomes a social ritual; guests are invited to share the dessert from a wide platter, or given individual bowls to dress to their taste with syrup, milk, and sugar. Children bring bowls of snow inside and eat buqsuma by the fire to warm up and recuperate from a day at play.

In Syria, buqsuma is prepared especially in the مُحافظة السويداء ("Muḥāfaẓat as-Suwaydā'"; Suwayda Governorate) in the south; in the طرْطوس ("Ṭarṭūs") and إدلب ("'Idlib") Governorates in the northeast; and along the جبال لبنان الشرقية ("Jibāl Lubnān ash-Sharqiyya"; Anti-Lebanon mountain range) from جبل الشيخ ("Jabal ash-Shaykh"; Mountain of the Sheikh / "Mount Hebron") to the جبال القلمون ("Jibāl al-Qalamūn"; Qalamoun Mountains) in Damascus Governorate.

In Palestine

Within Palestine, buqsuma is eaten only in الخليل ("Al-Khalīl" / "Hebron"), in the occupied West Bank. Palestinian food writer Reem Kassis points out that the regional specificity of the dish is due to the nature of the land: Al-Khalil is one of the few places in Palestine to receive snow.

Al-Khalil is also famous for its viticulture. "It is well known among Palestinians that Al-Khalil grows the best grapes," according to embroidery artist Wafa Ghnaim. Though grape vines have existed in Palestine since antiquity, Al-Khalil was one of the few locales to maintain them even during the Crusades, which caused the abandonment of olive and grape orchards elsewhere. As with oranges and pomegranates, an association between terroir, agriculture, and design reveals itself in Palestinian art: the قطف عنيب ("qiṭf 'inab"; "bunch of grapes") motif is common in Al-Khalil embroidery (تطريز; "taṭr��z"; often transliterated "tatreez").

Around 1700, Rabbi Gedalia mentions Al-Khalil's grapes as being particularly praiseworthy:

ויש בא"י הרבה פירות האילן, כגון ענבים, תאנים, ורמונים, זתים […]. והענבים הם גדולים ועגולים בירושלים. אבל בחברון תוב"ב הם מרובים וגדולים מן הענבים אשר בירושלים. וכשמוכרים את הענבים של חברון בירושלים משבחים אותם וצועקים: בואו ותקנו הענבים של חברון ! ומענב אחד מתמלא הפה ממשקה. And there are in the land of Israel many tree fruits, such as grapes, figs, pomegranates, and olives [...]. The grapes are big and round in Jerusalem, but in Hebron they are more numerous and larger than the grapes in Jerusalem. And when vendors sell the grapes of Hebron in Jerusalem, they praise them and shout: Come and buy the grapes of Hebron! And one grape fills the mouth with nectar. (pp. 337-8)

Al-Khalil's viticulture is closely integrated with Palestinian food culture. Three distinct harvests yield different products. In the early spring, some of the leaves from the grape vines (وَرَق الدوالي; "waraq ad-dūwāli") will be harvested, when they are young, tender, and sour: good for stuffing with rice, meat, and vegetable fillings to make several popular Palestinian dishes.

Later in the spring, grape farmers harvest early, sour grapes (حصرم; "ḥiṣrim"; Levantine dialect "ḥuṣrum"). Some of these will be pressed to make عصير حصرم ("'aṣīr ḥuṣrum"; "juice of sour grapes"), a tart liquid that may be drunk plain, or used to give acidity to soups or salads. Others will be pickled in brine, or dried and ground to make a sour condiment called "سماق الحصرم" ("sumāq al-ḥuṣrum," "sour grape sumac").

The third harvest is in the late summer, when the grapes have fully ripened. Grape farmers in Al-Khalil may sell some of their summer harvests to Palestinian wineries and arak distilleries. Other ripe grapes will be pressed and their juice boiled down and dried to produce مَلبَن ("malban"), a Levantine fruit leather. And still more of this juice will be reduced into dibs al-'inab, which is then used to make buqsuma, added to tea as a sweetener, or mixed into tahina and scooped up with bread; it is especially popular during Ramadan as a quick way to boost energy.

Dibs al-'inab has been produced in Palestine for hundreds of years. Rabbi Gedalia describes grape molasses, which he calls "grape honey" ("דבש של ענבים"; "dvash shel 'anavim"):

שמבשלים את התירוש היוצא מן הענבים מיד כשסוחטין אותן, והוא אז מתוק מאוד כדבש ממש, וכ"כ מבשלים עד שנעשה עב כמו דבש. They cook the must which is expressed from the grapes immediately after they are squeezed. It is then very sweet, like real [bee's] honey. Then they cook it again until it becomes thick as honey. (p. 338)

The recipe below is for buqsuma with Al-Khalil-style grape molasses.

[ID: An extreme close-up on snow crystals topped with syrup in bright white and various shades of orange; bubbles are trapped throughout the syrup. End ID]

Viticulture Under Occupation

Today, the tending and harvesting of grapes in Al-Khalil take place under the shadow of Israeli settlements. Israel encourages the transfer of settler populations to settlements in Al-Khalil—including particularly fervent Israeli nationalist cells in the middle of Palestinian areas—with financial incentives and the creation of infrastructure that only settlers can move through freely. Palestinians are forbidden to drive in the "H2" area of Al-Khalil, which encompasses the central Old City and the الحرم الإبراهيمي ("Al-Ḥaram al-Ibrāhīmī"; Sanctuary of Abraham), and has been under Israeli military control since 1997. Israel conducts regular raids in the nominally Palestinian "H1" area, forcing people to leave their homes, destroying property, and committing arbitrary arrests and imprisonments.

The rapid expansion of settlements in the areas around Al-Khalil, such as those in what Israel calls גּוּשׁ עֶצְיוֹן (“Gush Etzion”; Etzion Bloc) and גִּבְעַת חַרְסִינָה ("Givat Harsina"), pushes Palestinians into ever-smaller and denser areas surrounded by settlements, rendering them still more vulnerable to Israeli control.

Alessandro Petti describes the strategy by which Israel fragments and isolates Palestinian areas, while allowing flow of movement between territories for non-Palestinians, as a distinction between free-flowing settler "archipelagoes" and Palestinian "enclaves." Infrastructure such as patrols, roadblocks, barriers, curfews, strip-searches and thorough searches of luggage—to which only Palestinians are subjected—make travel a time-consuming, nerve-wracking, and uncertain process: one that may end with being denied a permit, turned back from a border, or jailed for driving on a road which turns out to be prohibited to Palestinians. Because the rules are constantly changing, Palestinians may continue to avoid a road that is no longer actively barricaded out of fear that attempting to traverse it will lead to arrest.

Official Israeli military policy and settler violence alike cast a pall on Palestinian agricultural tradition and innovation. Farming and shepherding communities in the southern hills of Al-Khalil have been subjected to harassment, home demolition, and forced displacement at the hands of settlers and military bulldozers. Settlers burn grape and olive orchards and cut down mature grape vines. Palestinians are no longer allowed to access ancestral agricultural land that has been overtaken by colonists. Israeli military orders and settler harassment emptied Al Khalil's Old Souq of its vegetable and fruit markets in 2000; in 2019, plans were made to raze Palestinian shops and build a new settlement atop them. These plans would move forward in July of 2023.

Reprisal and collective punishment in the wake of militants' October 7th attacks on settlers have been felt in the West Bank and also impact agriculture in Al-Khalil. Grapes rot on the vine with farmers forbidden to tend them. Streets have been closed, shutting Palestinian farmers into their homes, while Palestinian shepherds in villages in the Al-Khalil area have been displaced and harassed with drones. Settler attacks and destruction of crops, already on a continual uptick for the previous several years, increased to a new high in 2023.

Olives, Grapes, and Resistance

Agriculture has been an important site of Palestinian resistance to settler incursion as, despite harassment, surveillence, and violence, Palestinians insist on staying on their land and in their homes. The Palestinian minority who inhabit the H2 area of Hebron, continuing to tend their olive trees, prevent the area from becoming settler-only and keep alive the hope that Al-Khalil will not become a "ghost town."

Various projects based in Al-Khalil combat settler technologies and strategies. Farmers in Al-Khalil launched the Cooperative Society for Agricultural Marketing and Processing in 1984 to increase grape farmers' self-sufficiency, reduce produce waste, and contribute to the production of Palestinian grape delicacies. The 2022 Counter Surveillance project, launched by Palestinian activist Issa Amro and artist Adam Broomberg, meets the Israeli security cameras stationed among Al-Khalil's olive groves with its own video feed, livestreamed online and to art museums.

Palestine's annual grape festival at حلحول ("Ḥalḥūl"), just north of Al-Khalil, took place in 2023 as scheduled; farmers displayed boxes of grapes of all colors and varieties, and sold dibs, malban, raisins, and jam. And Palestinian farmers and activists contribute to resurgences of indigenous seed varieties—such as the دابوقي ("dābūqi") grape, historically particularly prominent in Al-Khalil—in an effort to preserve Palestine's biodiversity and economic self-sufficiency.

Buy seeds from the Palestinian Heirloom Seed Library

Help Palestinian families evacuate Gaza

Contribute to an eSIM donation drive

Ingredients:

For the syrup (makes 2/3 cup):

2.5kg (5.5lb) tart green grapes, stems removed

For the base:

A large bowl of fresh snow

If it doesn't snow where you live, you can try making shaved ice using a snowcone machine; putting water in an ice-cream maker until you achieve a slushy texture; or running ice cubes through a blender.

Instructions:

For the syrup:

1. Remove grapes from their stems and rinse.

2. In a large bowl, mash and muddle grapes with your hands or a potato or bean masher; or pass grapes through a blender, food mill, or juicer.

3. Strain mashed grapes through a metal strainer, and then a cheesecloth (if you used a juicer, skip right to the cheesecloth). I had 4 cups (1 litre) of grape juice at this point.

4. Pour grape juice into a thick-bottomed pot with a large diameter, preferably one with a light-colored bottom. Heat on medium to bring to a boil.

5. Continue simmering juice, skimming scum off the surface as it arises. Occasionally wipe down the edges of the pot with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar from sticking and burning.

6. Eventually scum will stop rising. Continue to simmer until several shades darker in color and bubbling vigorously. Syrup should still pour freely, and just barely coat the back of a spoon. I had just over 2/3 cup (160 mL) at this point.

7. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly before pouring into a jar. Allow to cool to room temperature before refrigerating. If you want to keep the syrup for multiple months or at room temperature, use a sterilized jar.

Compost the grape peels, or reserve to make fruit scrap vinegar.

For the dish:

1. Set a large bowl out several hours into a heavy snowfall; or collect just the top layer of freshly fallen snow after it has been snowing for several hours. Snow that falls earlier in a snowfall, or that has been sitting out for a longer period of time, is more likely to contain pollutants.

2. Compact the snow with a spoon to make the texture homogenous. Some people run it through a blender. Fill individual serving bowls with snow.

3. Pour cooled molasses to taste onto the snow and mix.

[morethansalad]

Turkish Simit Bread (Vegan)

[oniwabanryoko]

ヨーグルトに糖蜜。

トルコドラマでよく出てくる糖蜜と蜂蜜。蜂蜜はともかく糖蜜って何？と気になって調べてみた。

トルコ産直輸入の葡萄100%混じりっけなしの糖蜜、業スーでお値段なんと350g220円くらい。ああ、さすが俺たちの業スー！iHerbとかハードル高いので、そのへんで気軽に手に入るの嬉しい。

見た目も味もサラッとした黒蜜みたいな感じで、少しクセはあるけど私は好き。そんなに甘くはないし、黒蜜やレーズン好きなら大丈夫だと思う。ヨーグルトと合うね。毎朝のオーバーナイトオーツに少し混ぜてみよう。

ドラマの中では戦闘で負傷した人が体力回復と癒しのために食べていて、更年期障害やPMSにも良いし、葡萄だからポリフェノールの抗酸化作用とか期待できるみたい。

そういえば、業スーの巣蜜もトルコ産だったよねw

[keeps-ache]

i have a headache and a sweet tea so i'm ready to fight the universe again

[magz]

[ Original Twitter Thread by @/beelektra ] - Not by Magz, am not Palestinian

Palestinian Foods. (long post)

Quote:

"🧵 Thread of Palestinian desserts I've grown up around and seen A thing I'd like to add is that I just like to share my culture! I do not want to spread the narrative that our culture is dying, I only want people to see our foods and traditions 🇵🇸

"As mentioned in the last post, we have knafeh (or kunafa), a buttery dessert made with shredded pastry layers such as cheese and other ingredients like pistacho or cream!"

"Burbara; which comes from Saint Barbara, fun fact! It's a soup dessert that mainly consists of barley, licorice spices, anise, cinnamon, and fennel powder This is a dessert usually many Christian families have to celebrate Saint Barbara, which is December 4th!"

"Malban, which resembles a fruit jelly! Made from starch and sugar Specifically, it's made with grape molasses, thickened with starch and flavored with rose water, and stuffed with almonds (or other nuts including walnuts, treenuts, and peanuts)"

"Khabeesa is simply just a pudding made with grapes, but you prepare it by mixing the grape juice with semolina and nuts + seeds."

"Mtabbak or mtabba, a crispy dough stuffed with crushed walnuts. It also contains cinnamon, sugar, and syrup. Photo credits go to Bartek Kieżun on Instagram"

"Tamriyeh, a fried pastry filled with semolina pudding, scenter with mastic and orange blossom water, and topped off with powdered sugar"

"Ka'ak bi Tamer, which are date paste filled cookies with cinnamon! A dessert made for Eid-Alfitr. It's topped with nigella seeds, and the cinnamon-spiced date paste is the most important part of it all– you can eat it on its own or have it with coffee"

"+ Ka'ak Asawer, another dessert that can be prepared for Eid-Alfitr. It's translated to bracelet cookies, and they use date paste, flour, anise seeds, sugar, ground cinnamon, and olive oil"

"Muhallebi or mahalabia, a milk pudding that's made with sugar, corn starch, and fragrant flavorings! It's topped off with nuts, pistachos, and almonds and sprinkled with ground cinnamon or shredded coconut"

"Rice pudding, which is a common dessert in Palestine, and it's your choice to top it off with nuts or not"

"Stuffed dates, using medjool dates and cracking them open to be stuffed with goat cheese and pistachios– but you're free to add anything else"

"Ma'amoul, a buttery crisp cookie primarily made of farina and can be stuffed with (spiced) dates, walnuts, or pistachios. This is another Christian dessert made by Palestinian mothers during the week of Easter Sunday."

"Halawit Smid, a farina based dessert with added sugar and unsalted cheese. It's preferably served fresh"

"Namoura cake, aka harissa dessert! It's made with semolina or farina flour, and then topped off with syrup once baked"

"Qatayef, which is eaten during the month of Ramadan. It's made of farina, flour, water, and yeast blended together– the process is pretty similiar to making pancakes, but only one side is cooked"

"Since I've mentioned using zaatar for a lot of things, I recently just discovered this but– there's also things such as zaatar cookies!! It's just as implied that the cookies are filled with zaatar, I'd be so willing to make this on my own"

"Baklava, made from phyllo pastry dough, butter, nuts, basil, and a sweet honey syrup"

"Aish el saraya, arabic version of a bread pudding. It's basically a layered bread, where it starts from the bottom, then covered with a sweet syrup, cream, and crumbled pistachios."

"Awwami, it's defined as "crisp donut ball" in English. It's a deep fried dough ball coated with sesame seeds, and dipped in cold syrup water."

"Halawet el Jibn, a sweet cheese dessert rolled with custard, heavy cream, drizzled rose water + syrup, and garnished with nuts."

"Lastly, I'd like to add watermelon and cheese– for me, it's like,,,, bittersweet!!! You should totally try it and we also have this during Ramadan"

"Well, that's all I can think of for Palestinian desserts! Here's the first part for general foods, I know I did make a promise for part two

I hope you guys liked this thread, and if you have any opinions please feel free to quote tweet anything on here if I made a mistake, feel free to correct me, it's always appreciated P.S if you're a zionist commenting here I really don't care, just scroll, I'm sharing my culture

One LAST thing. if you want any of the recipes from here, check out this website, the creator (Wafa) shares so many wonderful traditional Palestinian dishes."

[End Quote]

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ cw. none, fluff, established relationship, reader wears a sundress <3, fem! reader

picking grapes with diluc, but you rather admire what's yours.

you sit underneath a large tree, straightening your sundress as your eyes ardently dance along your boyfriend's movements.

the pearly sound of ice cubes floating in your refreshing drink whistles as you take a sip, eyes curious, mind wandering. you find yourself holding your breath at the sight of him, or his well-toned back muscles bulging from beneath his shirt.

diluc brushes away a feeble lace of sweat on his forehead as his tailored shirt moves with the tension in his limbs. it fit him perfectly, and such you could easily discern by the amount of muscles showing underneath the fabric.

a chorus of birds chirp a love song and write your love in the sunlight.

there was no pain or poison in the air— by this tension and heat, you could pour the air and call it syrup, a love liquid.

each one of your exhales tensely draw together when you continue to watch him, a cold breeze drifting through the thin fabric of your dress.

diluc walks towards a brown basket full of grapes as he picks it up easily, as if he didn't even consider it being heavy— and his corded muscles ripple when he lifts it to a different spot that wouldn't bother him during his work.

the atmosphere too was warm, comfort battering like butterflies in the air as the small area you were resting in was located in an idyllic corner of the winery, undisturbed by others and almost completely quiet.

your feet sink slightly into the grass and a shiver kisses along your spine as diluc's footsteps contract the same time your own heart leaps.

he kneels in front of you, "you done watching me?"

ah, of course he noticed.

he smiles, extending his hand towards the frill hem of your sundress before planing his rough knuckles over your collarbones gently.

just looking at you.

but his eyes, deep of love and kind, swing and clamor in vehemence, revealing strong emotions.

you exhale softly at his touch and hum when he smoothes his knuckles over your skin so cautiously, not to hurt or pain you, as if you'd break if he dare to apply more pressure.

it was enough to make your heart leap in your chest, your eyes like molasses overflowed.

you cough out, placing your drink aside shakily, "you see, i was just admiring what's mine,"

you answer cheekily, your heels drawn back as your thighs open a little— not too much, of course, adelinde must be near, but his lashes flutter infrequently upon gazing at your bare legs.

that he has kissed so many times already.

"that makes us two then," he admits without breaking his stare on your thighs, dancing over the way this dress fits your frame.

as to punctuate the meaning of his words further, diluc slowly leans forward in need to kiss you, kiss your lips and leave you panting.

here, on a glittering array of blossoming flowers and sweet scents, one hand cradles your cheek softly before he tilts it, his thumb carefully stroking over your bottom lip when he melts himself into you ever so tenderly.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lunatyklines]

OVER THE GARDEN WALL (P.1) - a collection of lines from the beloved animated spooky season classic. a rp meme. *adjust pronouns and wording as needed

❝ Wait, wait a second. Uh … [name]? Where are we? ❞

❝ Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims? ❞

❝ Well, you're slapping yourself, and I'm answering your question, and– ❞

❝ This guy sounds loony. Maybe we should make a break for it, if we can. ❞

❝ We may need to knock him out first. ❞

❝ I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I'm just like…a boat, upon a winding river…twisting, towards an endless black sea… ❞

❝ Did you know, that if you soak a raisin in grape juice, it turns into a grape? ❞

❝ Ugh, you're not helping at all. ❞

❝ Aw, beans! Where is that frog o' mine? ❞

❝ You have beautiful eyes. ❞

❝ Oh, holy moley, hot dog–!! ❞

❝ That was the plan, remember? Knock him out! ❞

❝ Can you turn me into a tiger? It doesn't have to be a magical tiger. ❞

❝ [Name], stop talking to a bush. ❞ 

❝ Oh– do you like waffles? ❞

❝ Pumpkins can't move on their own! Can they? ❞

❝ You find this place as creepy as I do, right? ❞

❝ So, it's some kind of weird cult. They seem nice enough. ❞

❝ Okay. You're in denial. That's fine. ❞

❝ I'm really just looking to leave here. As fast as possible. ❞

❝ You'll never convict! You have no proof! ❞

❝ I simply have to punish you for your transgressions. ❞

❝ I told you this place was bad news! ❞

❝ Maybe they're gonna bury you out there. ❞

❝ Yes! I want your help! ❞

❝ I guess in some ways, I'm trying to get home too. ❞

❝ I don't have to tell you anything. ❞

❝ But we have to do something fun. ❞

❝ We can just keep walking silently, you know? ❞

❝ Hey! What? I'm not a pushover. ❞

❝ The world is a miserable place, [Name]. Life isn't fun. ❞

❝ We need to do our part to make the world a better place! ❞

❝ School?! Not today. ❞

❝ You're late. You know the rules. ❞

❝ Oof. That lady's got some baggage. ❞

❝ So, my theory is hot dogs are not actually dogs, regardless of what they teach you in school. ❞

❝ Oh boy! Mealtime! ❞

❝ This is way better than being chased by a gorilla. ❞

singing ❝ Oh potatoes and molasses, if you want some, oh just ask us~ ❞

❝ I just wanted to have fun, change the world, and make it a better place. But I just made everything worse. ❞

❝ You're a stubborn jerk. When are you gonna give this up? ❞

❝ If only something would go right for a change. ❞

❝ Okay, I think he's asleep. Let's go steal his stuff. ❞

❝ All he ever did was steal my heart away. ❞

❝ I found a duck. Do you know how to make eggs from a duck? I'm hungry. ❞

❝ Finally some good luck. Let's go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions. ❞

❝ Curse you! Curse you! You'll die someday and I'll laugh! ❞

❝ What kind of person goes out chopping trees in the middle of a thunderstorm at night? ❞

❝ You don't need directions. You follow that compass inside your heart. ❞

❝ Uh … no, I think we need directions. ❞

❝ [Name] was amazing! He sang a song, rode a horse, and saved you from the axe guy! ❞

❝ I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him. ❞

❝ I want to steal. ❞

❝ Yeah! I want to see the ghost! To the painting! ❞

❝ Afraid of a ghost? Ghosts are just floaty things. ❞

❝ It's stuck. Well, guess we just have to spend some quality time together. ❞

❝ Don't change the subject. ❞

❝ How about you tell me about your darkest secrets instead? ❞

❝ My secrets are too secret. ❞

❝ Now who's avoiding the question? ❞

❝ I secretly whisper poetry to myself in my room at night. ❞

❝ It looks like there was a struggle – a violent struggle. ❞

❝ I can't thank you enough for helping me to face my fears. ❞

❝ It's a rock fact! ❞

[isthehorsevideocute]

Thoughts on that trend on tiktok and IG of people feeding their horses fruit rope candy and doughnuts, candy bars, and cheetos?? It drives me crazy but everyone says irs fine because it's a small amount-.-

Honestly, it usually is fine in small amounts. I had a pony that loved licorice. I had one that would get a pumpkin muffin after horse shows. Lots of them like apple cider donuts ginger snaps and carrot cake. Peppermints are a common treat for horses, You shouldn't feed horses chocolate, potatoes, avocados, or caffeine. You also shouldn't feed them lawn clippings because of potential hazards from chemicals and potential for botulism. Bear in mind the daily calorie intake for a horse is more than ten times that of the average human just for maintance (15000 calories) and their stomachs can hold 10-20 gallons (and that is considered small for animals of their size)

Also beer. A lot of people think it's weird that horses can have beer but for some horses its actually medicinal. Horses can sometimes get a condition known as anhydrosis which is when they aren't able to produce enough sweat. As a treatment we often give horses a can or two of Guinness twice a day to help them sweat more and to help lower their body temperature. Brewers grains and yeast are common supplements to help horses with digestive health as they act as a probiotic.

For cheetos in particular, sure horses really shouldn't eat dairy (because lactose) but its a corn chip. Corn is an ingredient of most horse feeds anyways.

Most of those things don't have anything horses can't eat; sugars, their diet is mostly carbohydrates and plant based sugars, horses are herbivores but they can eat animal based protein like eggs, gelatin (a common additive to joint supplements), or krill/fish oils, vegetable oils are a typical additive to feed (though you shouldn't overloaded them with fats as horses don't actually have gallbladder so they cant store bile, which means they can't break down large quantities of fat in one go)

Corn and wheat are in a lot of horse feeds (though they are Inflammatory and toxic if moldy so you do want to weigh the risks and only feed as absolutely needed if using them as a regular feed)

Just for perspective, my 1400lbs mare eats about 4 pounds of a feed with molasses, wheat, and soy as a calorie source, roughly 5 lbs of Alfalfa hay, 36 lbs of grass hay, a half pound of ground flax seed, and she spends all night nibbling on grass (which is sugary compared to hay). Thats A LOT of food.

For supplements she gets apple cider vinegar, garlic, and grape seed extract. Pretty much all of those are toxic to dogs but horses can have them and even benefit from them. They have anti-inflammatory effects that help horses with arthritis, and allergies as well as helping to repel flies

[alwaysonthemend]

Part III: Three Sheets to the Wind

Word Count: 4506

Warnings: Violence / talk of prostitution / vivid descriptions of death and injury / threat of sexual assault (sexual assault does not happen - if you would like more information before reading, please feel free to send me a message and I will be more than happy to explain further), / talk of unrequited love.

I think that is all but if I am missing something please tell me.

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Voices wafting through the wooden panels of the door draws me back into consciousness. The rocking of the Starcatcher had lulled me to sleep in my exhausted state, but now the constant to and fro makes my stomach roil with nausea. I keep my eyes closed against the hot, acidic waves in my belly.

“Miss Y/n?” 

It’s Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door and I sit up, doing my best to smooth over my hair as much as I can. It’s a lost cause. 

“Yes?” I call, voice cracking with sleep. 

“I have breakfast for you, miss.” 

“Come in.” 

Daniel’s broad frame comes into view as he opens the door, a tray of food balanced precariously in one hand. In the other he has clothes folded across his arm. 

“The Captain sent these clothes for you.” He says kindly, placing the tray of food in the bed next to me and holding up the garments. The blouse he holds up is white, along with a pair of brown trousers that look to be my size. 

Sitting up, I furrow my brows in confusion. 

“These are women’s clothes. Where did the Captain get women’s clothes?” 

Daniel only smiles tersely at me. 

“Belonged to a friend.” He answers, laying the garments across the foot of the bed. “We’ll be hitting land soon and the Captain has requested that you stay on board for the duration of our visit.”

Rising to sit up fully, I appraise Daniel with a raised brow. 

“I assume that is a demand and not a request?”

“Aye.” He nods once and begins making his way back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Won’t be long before we’re ashore. We shouldn’t be staying long.” 

“Thank you, Daniel.” 

– 

Breakfast had been nothing but strips of salted beef and grapes but I had scarfed it down quickly – finding myself still shockingly ravenous despite my earlier nausea and the food had done well to settle my stomach.

Daniel had not been lying when he said that we would be landing ashore quickly, as no sooner had he left the room, the whole ship had rocked and lurched as she was anchored to land. I’d listened intently to the sound of the men moving about on the deck above, their heavy boots pounding against the wood and making the whole room shake. 

After I’d finished eating, I puttered about below deck for a while, trying my best to familiarise myself with the ship. Though, after noting that an hour had passed since last I’d heard movement, I quickly grew restless. Daniel had said that they wouldn’t be long on shore, but time was inching along slow as molasses. 

Deciding that the Captain had no right to order me about like the rest of his crew, I changed into the clothes he’d provided for me and slipped up the stairs. I climbed back out onto the deck and squinted as the light of the sun hit my eyes. Judging by its positioning, it must be just an hour past midday. 

– 

As soon as my feet touched the ground, my senses were assaulted by a foul smell. It wasn’t overly pungent, but rather seemed to be leaching from the very ground itself – stale and unavoidable as I made my way across the dock. 

The streets in front of me were crowded – bustling and busy as men in all sorts of dress made their ways to and fro. Some were dressed in Navy petticoats with feathered hats and leather shoes. Others were dressed in clothes hardly worthy of being called such – stained and ripped and hanging off their sinewy frames. The ramshackle buildings that lined the streets were all wooden, each looking as if it had been thrown together as an afterthought. Not a single structure looked as if it had been planned; only haphazardly thrown together at the last second. As I eyed the chaos in front of me, the name of this place struck me like a ton of stones. 

This is Nassau. 

Nassau. The place where Benjamin Hornigold had managed to establish a safe haven for pirates from all across the seas. I’d heard mutterings of it from fisherman back in Easthallow who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with those seafarers who consider themselves a part of this God-forsaken pirate republic. Though a “republic” is a kind term for this place. No real official dealings took place here – only pissing contests between men like Hornigold who happened to have garnered enough prestige amongst these heathens to be able to call himself their leader. This island is no place for a woman – least of all on her own, but no sooner had the realisation of where I was hit me, a man was already approaching me with a determined stride. 

He’s tall – broad shouldered and his long black hair lays matted across his shoulders. His skin is tan. So tan, in fact, that his skin looks more like leather. His clothes are not so tattered as some of the others that I had seen, but they were still a far cry from the Naval petticoats that others were wearing. I cannot help but to take a step backwards, ducking my head and shrinking away from his imposing figure. 

“How much?” The man asks as he steps in close to me, his hot breath carrying with it a foul smell as he speaks. 

“I beg your pardon?” His question took me off guard. 

“I asked how much?” He repeats, tone already bleeding with impatience. 

I stare at him for a moment, brain working overtime trying to figure out what he means. Though, as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn’t. As I glance around, I see no women populating the busy streets. No doubt, the only women who come to a place like this only come for one reason: money. Money gotten by selling their bodies – a last ditch effort to keep themselves alive and fed in the only way that they can. And this man thinks that I am one of them.

Deciding that there is no way that this man will believe me if I tell him that I am here on business (though not of my own), I instead just shake my head at him. 

“I’m.. I’m not working at the moment, sir.” I manage to stutter out, taking yet another step away from him. 

“Not working?” His thick eyebrows raise and disbelief and I worry for a moment that he’s going to become angry. Instead, he merely shrugs his broad shoulders before shuffling away in the opposite direction. 

I release a breath, my own shoulders untensing as he takes his leave and relief floods through me. That could have gone south quickly and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it. 

Brushing my sweaty palms across my thighs, I scan the bustling streets in search of a familiar face. Daniel, preferably, but anyone would do at this point. Seeing no one that I know, my eyes land upon a tavern across the road. I scan my eyes side to side one last time before darting across the road, doing my best to avoid the puddles of water and mud. 

– 

The tavern is dimly lit – the windows completely covered by the shutters. I scan the crowd, taking note of each man inside. There are a few slumped over at the bar, eyes half-lidded and chins glistening with rum. Some sit tucked away in shaded corners, hunched over the tables and whispering amongst themselves. 

The room reeks of alcohol and sweat and the back of my neck prickles with unease. Coming here was definitely not one of the wiser choices that I have made. 

Though truthfully, I cannot help the awe that fills me – a bit reminiscent of child-like wonder at the sight of Nassau. Growing up. I had heard from countless sailors about the dreaded pirate republic tucked away in the Bahamas and always the idea had intrigued me. A place where men do as they please – free to go and do as they wish. A place where even freed slaves might find a place as part of a pirate crew. And here I am, seeing it for with my own eyes. If only my younger self could have known.

Scanning the crowd, I still find no faces that I recognize and figure that I should most likely take my leave of this place before things go awry. But, as if the universe can read my thoughts and is intent on making things more difficult, just as I turn to leave a man locks eyes with me. He’s incredibly tall, with long black hair and a thick beard on his face. He stands as he spots me, taking large strides in my direction and the thud of his boots on the floor are like a countdown to my own doom. 

Sensing his intentions, I dart back out the door, rounding the corner blindly in an effort to lose him. It’s a cramped alley, smelling of shit and rotten food. I press myself against the wall, praying that the man will not follow. 

My prayers are not answered as he rounds the corner as well, his eyes locking onto me almost immediately. 

Dear God, his eyes. Dark, wild looking. They practically glitter as they rake up and down my form. 

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my hands beginning to shake slightly. 

“This be no place for a girl like you t'be alone.” He mutters, stepping closer and using his body to block me from going anywhere. Behind me there is nothing but a cobblestone wall – too high for me to climb. He’s got me caged. 

“I- I’m here with someone.” I tell him, mustering up as much courage as I can to meet his gaze. 

He glances around, comically searching for a moment before glaring back at me. 

“Don’t see any'ne but us, lass.” 

“He’s a captain.” I manage to say meekly as he begins to step even closer. There is some hopeless little part of me that thinks maybe he’ll leave me alone knowing that I am here with a captain of a ship. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing just a foot away from me. His smell is rank – body odour and rum. It makes me want to hold my breath. 

“I am too.” He says, tilting his head and grinning lewdly. “I don’t see him nowhere near, though. Jus' you an' me, it would seem.” 

He leans his head downwards and I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pressing myself into the wall as much as I can. His lips hover just above the skin of my cheek. 

“What say we pass the time a bit… until your Captain comes back?” He murmurs, his rough hand coming up to grip my arm tightly.

I try to yank free but he’s far too strong for me to overpower. I feel helpless – like a caged animal. He is large – far larger than me. And the cutlass on his hip means that I truly cannot hope to fight him off. 

“Please let me go.” I plead, heart thumping madly in my chest. I know how this ends. 

“Make me.” His other hand comes up and grips my jaw, forcing me to face him. His eyes dart down to my lips and my stomach roils. 

“Help!” I scream and immediately his calloused hand presses over my mouth, muffling any sound. 

“Shut it.” He says through clenched teeth, pressing his body into mine. I can feel him – hard and hot against my stomach and I whimper past the hand over my mouth. 

“She said stop.” 

Both of our heads whip to the side to see Jacob, his dark eyes glaring menacingly at the man in front of me. He’s got his hand on the handle of his cutlass, ready to draw it at any moment. 

“Is this your Captain, lass?” The man mocks, looking Jacob up and down. 

This man is far larger than Jacob – taller and broader. As thankful as I am for him coming to my rescue, I fear that he is outmatched. This man is nearly twice his size. 

“I am.” He nods, before pointing at me. “And she’s mine. So I ask you to please step away from her. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jacob says, voice eerily calm. His face is passive – no emotions. 

The man laughs loudly, tossing his head back as he does so. He steps away from me and shoves, sending me crashing to the ground gracelessly. 

“I’d like to see you try, boy.” He says, drawing his own cutlass and pointing it at Jacob. 

Jacob doesn’t move – his hand still lays still on the handle of his cutlass. He doesn’t draw. Instead, he waits. Dark eyes watching like a lion watching its prey. I can do nothing but sit there as the man walks towards him, slowly closing the distance between Jacob and his sharp blade. 

I wait with baited breath – desperately wishing that I could do something but seeing nothing near that I can arm myself with. 

With a gruff cry, the man lunges – his blade cutting through the air with wicked speed and I watch in horror thinking that it will slice through Jacob. 

Instead, Jacob only side steps, just barely avoiding the blow and moving his body to the side. The man – having thrown his entire body into the cut, stumbles forward and loses his balance. In the blink of an eye, Jacob’s cutlass is drawn and the sharp blade presses into the man’s neck. He freezes, half kneeling on the ground and glaring up at the Captain. 

“Are you hurt?" Jacob asks, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he glances at me.

I stand with a wince and shake my head 'no' as I make my way slowly to Jacob’s side. His eyes sweep up and down my body, looking for injuries. When he finds none, he jerks his head towards the road. 

Understanding his silent command, I step past the two of them – keeping my eyes trained on the man, and move past them out of the alleyway. 

Jacob moves to follow me, keeping his blade pointed at the pirate on the ground.  

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” He says darkly, before turning his back and lowering his blade. 

Though I know he’s only making a point and that he is by no means calling me his, heat still rises to my face. Though out of necessity, he’d defended me; saved me from what would have been a horrific and vile experience. All at the risk of himself. I cannot help but to feel a warmth in my belly.

I turn to Jacob, intent on giving him my thanks but instead I gasp as I see the man lunge forward. 

“Jacob!” I call, but it’s too late. 

His blade slices through Jacob’s forearm causing his cutlass to clatter to the ground. Jacob groans and his other hand grabs the wound, red seeping through his fingers in a worrying gush. He stumbles backwards and the pirate lunges– shoving him with all his might. Jacob grabs him by the lapels and pulls, effectively bringing both men crashing to the grown. The breath leaves Jacob’s lungs in a huff as the man falls on top of him, but still he immediately begins to grapple with him for his blade. 

On sheer impulse and adrenaline alone, I stoop downwards and wrap my hands around the handle of Jacob’s cutlass. With a cry of my own, I shove the man off Jacob and he falls to the side with a growl. I point the blade down at him but my will falters.

Jacob is up and off the ground in a flash and rips the cutlass from my grip and plunges the blade into the man’s stomach before he has a chance to take advantage of my hesitation. He cries out, a sick, wet sound coming from between his lips. Blood spills down his chin and he collapses backwards as Jacob pulls the blade out. He seems to struggle for a moment, a grotesque rattling sound coming from his chest before he stills, one last exhale coming from his nose as the life leaves him. 

I stand there, the adrenaline finally leaving and in its place, ice cold dread. Jacob is breathing heavily as he wipes his blade on his coat before sheathing it again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, whirling around to face me, his face twisted in anger. “I told you to stay on the fucking ship!” 

I can make no argument. He is right. He told me to stay and I had disobeyed, and now a man lays dead at our feet. A horrible one, surely. But still a needless battle with bloodshed that could have been avoidable. 

“I am sorry.” I whisper, eyes flooding with tears that I refuse to let fall. 

“You should be.” He grabs my arm, fingers digging into the place where the man had done the same just moments before and a wince slips past my lips. Jacob’s grip softens, and his eyes flash with something before the mask falls back in place. “The men are already back on the ship. We got back and I found you to be gone.” 

I nod, feeling shame wash over me. If I had just waited for a while longer, none of this would have happened. 

– 

The trek back to the Starcatcher had been completely silent. Not a word was spoken as we boarded, nor even when all the eyes of his crewmates swept to us as we came onto the deck. Their eyes were filled with countless questions – especially Joshua’s as his eyes finally landed on Jacob’s bloodied arm. 

“What the fuck happened?” He demands, eyes turning to me with an accusatory blaze. 

I expect Jacob to tell them everything of my foolishness – to make a mockery of me for defying orders. Instead, he only shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Joshua’s direction. 

“All is settled now.” He says placatingingly, tucking his injured arm behind his back. “But we should leave.” His voice pitches lower, turning just a tad more serious. “Quickly.” 

His men had taken the hint, and the ship is quickly put into motion. 

Guiltily, I turn to the Captain, my eyes cast downwards to his feet. I cannot bear to meet his eyes.

“May I help?” I ask him quietly, aching at the knowledge that he'd gotten hurt in defense of me.

His eyes sweep to mine questioningly.

“Your wound.” I clarify, nodding my head to the arm he holds behind his back. “Please.” 

– 

By some miracle, he relents and follows me back down to his quarters. He sits before me at the foot of his bed, shoulders weary and eyes tired

It’s silent between us as I make my way to the lantern and light it – casting the room in a warm glow. He watches me as I grab my pack and pull from it a linen blouse that I had grabbed the night we left. 

I rip the fabric, causing Jacob’s eyes to widen subtly as I tear a long strip. 

“Do you have any alcohol in here?” I ask him, wadding up the rest of the shirt in my hand. 

“Under the bed.” 

I stoop downwards and sure enough, a bottle of rum sits waiting. I grab it and make my way over to him, crouching down on my knees at his feet. He’s got his left hand clutched over his right, his knuckles white. His face does not show it, but the wound must be hurting him. 

“Here.” I gently pry his fingers away and dip a corner of the ripped shirt into the rum.

The cut is not too deep - but it is long. It runs from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. Blood oozes from it lazily and there is no doubt in my mind that most people would be crying out from the pain.

I press the rum-soaked fabric to the wound and he hisses through his teeth, yet still says not a word. His body is tense, rigid as stone. He’s shed his coat and belt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black pants and a white shirt. His sleeves - one of them stained red, are rolled up. He looks so much less imposing without his coat and cutlass and it feels almost sinful to see him so… exposed. 

As I carefully clean the wound, I cannot help but to let my eyes roam the exposed skin. His forearms are thick, riddled with old scars and his skin is tanned and weathered. His hands, rough with callouses, lay limply on his knees. The veins on them stand out clearly - a testament to the strength of them. It takes everything in me not to stare.

He hisses again as I pull the now red cloth away from him. 

“Captain,” I say softly.

He glances downwards at me, lips pressed together. I cannot read his face. 

“I am sorry. For disobeying your orders.” My eyes fall, unable to meet his piercing stare. “And for causing your injury.” 

He is silent, and I think at first that he is not going to answer. But finally, his voice – soft in a way that I have not heard before, breaks the silence. 

“All is forgiven.” 

My eyes snap to his, shocked at his tone. I had been expecting further reprimand. Perhaps even to be yelled at again. But instead, his voice remains quiet and smooth. Though he does not look at me as he continues to speak, I sense no anger in his words.

“I am upset with you for disobeying. I told you to stay here for your safety." He begins, brown eyes swirling with what I can only describe as worry. He had been worried for me. The thought is somehow comforting. "But you are not the cause of my injury. That man was.”

I only nod as I grab the strip of linen that I had ripped from my blouse and wrap it tightly around his forearm. I am grateful for his words, yet still... shame courses through me. 

“Y/n.” He says, drawing my focus back to him. It is the first time that I have heard him say my name in such a manner. I think that I could listen to him utter it for eternity. “What that man did… what he tried to do, that is not your fault. Yes, you chose to leave the ship. But it was him who attempted to do something so vile. That is no fault of yours.” 

His words ease the black ball of guilt and shame that had lodged itself in my sternum, melting it away to nothing but gratitude. His kindness – rare as it may be, makes my heart race and my cheeks warm. 

“Thank you, Captain.” I murmur, tying a knot in the fabric. “I’m afraid that this is the best that I can do.” I tell him, rising from my knees to put the bottle of rum back in its hiding place beneath the bed. 

Jacob rises too, flexing his hand and testing the bandage. 

“It is far more than I am usually afforded.” He says, lips tilting upwards at the corners in a barely-there smile. 

I wish suddenly that I could see a real smile on his face… one that reaches his eyes. I imagine it must be a beautiful thing. And as much as I want to push the thought away, this new, kinder side of him makes it impossible. So I covet the feeling, burying it away deep in my heart and storing it there to dissect later.

“Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting me sleep here.” I nod my head towards his bed. “If ever you would rather me sleep somewhere else, just ask. Your hospitality is appreciated, though unnecessary. It is your bed, after all.”

“I don’t mind.” He says, watching me as I stand before him. “I prefer not to sleep in here, anyway.” 

“Why?” The question slips past me before I can think better of it and I tense, expecting his walls to go back up as they always seem to do when I ask questions. 

Instead of growing angry, he only shakes his head. 

“A story for another day.”

I nod, letting silence fall. As I turn my head away from him, my eyes land on the painting on his desk. They must linger there for a moment too long, as when I look back at him, his face has fallen slightly. Instead of anger, there lies only weariness. 

“I know that I have not told you anything. And please know that I am thankful for you agreeing to help me as you have.” He starts, his own eyes downcast. “But there are some things that I would just rather not speak about. Not just to you, but to anyone.” 

“I understand.” I tell him, and I am shocked to find myself truthful. As much as I ache to know the meaning behind his quest, as much as the secrets had angered me at first, I sense now that this is not something that he is yet capable of talking about. Perhaps in time it may change. But for now, I must be content in knowing nothing. 

“Thank you.” He says, bowing his head once before turning to leave. “Dinner will be sent down to you soon.” 

He steps through the threshold and then stops and I wait with bated breath. Without turning back to face me, his head turned down to the floor, he speaks ever-so quietly. 

“She is my wife. And I am trying to bring her home.” 

With that, he’s gone. 

I collapse numbly to the bed, my thoughts running rampant with possibilities. I look back to the painting, the woman’s dark eyes staring back into my own. 

His wife. 

There is no doubt in my mind now that whatever this quest may be… it means far more to him than I could ever understand. The sadness that he carries, the anger that is always there – just barely simmering below the surface, suddenly makes sense. 

He is hurting. Suffering. He lashes out like a wounded animal.

And somehow my fate has been entwined with his to help him find this woman again – wherever she may be. Whoever she may be.

As I sit, the feeling that has been brewing deep within me since the moment I met him finally comes to the surface. It is not love – not yet. But I know myself well enough to feel certain that it will become it.

There is something about him… an aura that surrounds him that seeks to pull me in. And as much as I hate the feeling, as much as I hate myself for falling for a man like him (and under such circumstances), I know in my heart that I will stop at nothing to help him find this woman whom he loves. 

It’s a scary thing – to care for someone enough to aid them in their search for happiness that does not live with you. It aches in the way old wounds do – a dull throb that is almost constant. But I cannot stop myself. I will help him find her. Whatever the cost. 

There is a knock on the door. Dinner, surely. But I do not rise to get it. I am not hungry. Instead, I lie down on top of the covers, feeling as though I have suddenly aged one hundred years. My eyes catch the painting – her dark eyes seemingly staring into my very soul. I roll over. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨

Part IV

Mirror of the Damned Taglist:

@jakeyt 

@joshym

@sacredjake

@carbondancingthroughtime

@literal-dead-leaf 

@sinarainbows 

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf 

@aflame4goinghome 

@writingcold 

@ignite-my-fire 

@mysticalstarcatcher 

@brinlygvf

@mackalah 

@vanfleeter 

@chewbeka22 

@starcatcherchords

@char289 

@amygvf13 

@way-to-go-lad 

@jaketlove

If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please fill out the form here or send me an ask <3

[qsmp-agere]

my q!pac regressor hcs!

req by: @m4ry-we4sl3y

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

• he is a very hyper little

• he absolutely adores animals!

• raccoons are his favorite

• he loves snacks like grapes (specifically the green ones) , cheese, cut up kabasa and kraft dinner

• he enjoys activities like baking and colouring

• pac has over 15 colouring books!

• pac, mike and fit have a day every friday where they all bake something

• pacs favorite thing to bake are cookies!

• chocolate chip, peanut butter, molasses, etc

• pac has mixed feelings about bedtime

• he LOVES sleeping, but he hates that once he sleeps, all his freetime is over and he has to do important stuff the next day :(

• he loves retro arcade games (mostly pac-man, duh)

• so for his birthday fit somehow found an old pac-man arcade machine for him!

• it's his most prized possession, besides his blanket of course

• his caregivers are the favela five and morning crew!

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

thank you for the req!

[princesssarisa]

What are the March sisters' (Amy, Jo, Beth and Meg) favorite foods?

Well, we know from the book that Beth adores fruit. Jo and Laurie even include a basket of fruit among her Christmas presents in Part I, and in Part II, during the final months of her life, John Brooke's contribution to all the efforts to make her comfortable is to set aside a fund to buy a constant supply of fruit for her. I think I'll imagine that of all fruits, she especially loves grapes, because those are the first fruits she samples from her Christmas basket.

We also know that Amy likes muffins with cream and jam. They're said to be her favorites of all the items in their Christmas breakfast – which is why she "heroically" volunteers to take them specifically to the Hummels – so I'll imagine they're her favorite food in general. Of course the food most associated with her is pickled limes, but I won't assume those are a particular favorite of her's; she mainly brings them to school to trade because they're a fad.

The food most associated with Meg, meanwhile, is currant jelly, since she so memorably tries but fails to make it as a newlywed wife. So I'll imagine that homemade bread with currant jelly is her favorite food. Though I think she also loves ice cream: it appeals to her glamor-loving side, since it's associated with elegant parties, and she makes some as a Christmas treat for Beth in Part I.

Jo's favorite foods I think are apples, gingerbread, and molasses candy. She can eat six apples in one sitting while reading her favorite books, and it's mentioned that gingerbread and molasses candy are the only two things she knows how to cook. All three of those foods have character – whether in texture, flavor, or both – that suits her strong, hardy, no-nonsense personality.

[tanalogyosc]

Objects to-do list:

Found this list on my google sheet spread

Fava Bean

Kale

Basil

Navy Bean - Navy Soldier

Papaya

Durian

Gumball Machine

Colonel Kernel

Sergeant Shallot

Rambutan

Fish Bowl

Butterfly Pea

Black Garlic

Porcini

Nagasari

Rocky Road

Charcoal

Star Anise

Lotus Root

Bolt

Tofu

Pinecone

Mortar and Pestle

Screwdriver Cocktail

Bottle Gourd

Akebia

Kimchi

Century Egg

Masala Chai

Peanut Butter & Grape Jam - Lovers

Mixtape - Retro Shop Manager

Suitcase - Workaholic Officer

Bat - Bat

Batter - Batter

Mooncake

Mop

Caesar Salad

Tang Yuan

Molasses

Jigsaw

There's, like, actually more on the list but I'm choosing which one I would do for the next, months ig?

[morethansalad]

Khagineh / Persian Sweet Crepes (Vegan-Adaptable)

veganize with the help of a recipe like this one

[taleweaver-ramblings]

how can there possibly be a way to make grape nuts taste good?

Ok, here's the thing. Grape Nuts taste great. Most people, as far as I can tell, are just eating them in a non-ideal way. Granted, I like Grape Nuts eaten cold, as long as you give them a minute or two for the milk to soak in. However, they're best eaten hot, and are far superior to pretty much any of the other hot-grain-product-in-a-bowl breakfasts except maybe baked oatmeal (in addition to already being the superior box cereal).

With that in mind, here's how to enjoy Grape Nuts in the best way I know how.

Wake up on a dark winter morning before work, a morning cold enough that even you, a morning person, don't really want to get out of bed.

Wonder if "sick of the cold" counts as being sick.

Remember that there are Grape Nuts open downstairs and decide that getting up is ok, actually.

Downstairs, acquire Grape Nuts, milk, and a microwave-safe bowl.

Put your desired amount of Grape Nuts in the bowl.

Pour milk into the bowl. You'll need to experiment a few times to figure out your preferred Grape Nuts-to-milk ratio. Some people put in enough to cover the cereal so you have floating pieces. I like just enough milk that you start to see it amid the Grape Nuts, but not enough to fully cover them.

Put your bowl in the microwave and heat for about a minute. Again, you'll need to experiment here to figure out what length of time gives you the results you like best. I tend to heat mine for a little less than a minute because I like to still have a little cronch.

Don't take your eyes off of it. If you look away, it'll boil over and make a mess, and then your morning will be decidedly less good.

Remove the bowl from the microwave. Careful, it may be hot.

Let cool just long enough to say thank you, God, for this food or your mealtime prayer of choice.

Dig in. Discover that the hot milk has softened the cereal so it becomes pleasantly textured, but not too hard, and the heat has also brought forth a delicious nutty, slightly molasses-y flavor (which was always there, but wasn't as pronounced before).

Finish the bowl. You're warm now, and your stomach is full, but not so full that you can't consider your taste buds' suggestion that another bowl would be a good idea. (Note: You can listen to them, but be aware that with Grape Nuts, like grilled cheese, the second in one sitting is never as good as the first.)

Steps 1–3 are optional — I can and will eat hot Grape Nuts in summer if I can get them — but I genuinely have cheered myself up on some cold weekday mornings by remembering that I'm having Grape Nuts for breakfast. I'm aware this makes me sound like a character in a cereal commercial, and I genuinely don't care.

If you've already tried Grape Nuts hot and you still don't like them, I recommend testing different amounts of milk and different lengths of microwaving. On the other hand, if you just flat out don't like the flavor . . . I'm sorry. Your life is sad and tragic, but it is the one you must live, and so you'll have to make the most of it.

[aswiya]

Arak is a clear, anise-flavored spirit that is predominately distilled from fermented grapes and is mainly enjoyed throughout the Eastern Mediterranean, primarily Turkey, Israel, Lebanon, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Palestine, Jordan, and Egypt.

Regional varieties may slightly differ in the amount of aniseed or the distillation process, which may affect the alcohol level and the final flavor of arak, but it is considered that the best styles are aged in the clay amphoras. Arak is traditionally enjoyed with a variety of appetizers and is best served diluted with ice-cold water, which makes it turn milky white, though it can also be mixed with fruit juice or tea.

It is typically served in tall glasses that are replaced with each serving. The drink should not be mistaken with arrak, occasionally also known as arak, which is distilled from rice, molasses, or palm syrup and is typically associated with Southeast Asia

[cleolinda]

Sugar, sugar (Pink Sugar, 2004)

(Pink Sugar Amazon store)

Have you ever taken the lid off a sugar bowl and really stuck your nose in there and given it a good huff? There's a texture to the scent that reminds me a little of sand; I couldn't quite explain it in terms of amber, and I still can't here, but I swear to you, it's an ambient dryness that smells distinctly different from the liquid sucrose of a green hunk of sugar cane. And this is different from powdered sugar (even holding a powdered donut to my nose, I don't smell much), which is different from brown sugar (a touch of molasses that actually smells sticky), which is different from marshmallow (fluffy, slightly vanilla), and incredibly different from caramel (cooked sugar, rich, almost buttery) or praline (nutty, possibly creamy) or cotton candy (vanilla + strawberry/raspberry). What I like about a good sugar perfume is the nuance of the type of sugar, the character that is something beyond the literal sweet—and this is itself entirely different from the floral nuances of a honey perfume, which I also love.

Ideally, you'd apply a sugar perfume with a light hand, so that the nuances will blend with the scent of your skin and become A Secret Third Thing. If you're traipsing around smelling like a candy shop, you—well, I won't say you're doing it wrong, but that's not what I'm advocating for here.

Let's rewind a moment to that sugar cane I mentioned. Demeter Fragrance's single note Sugar Cane was the first scent of theirs that I tried, partly because I wanted to know what the hell they'd done to win two FiFi Awards with it. Demeter prides itself as a company on their Proustian sensory experiences (which is why they have scents like Crayon, Dirt, Paperback, and, uh, Fuzzy Balls), but they could not have known that Sugar Cane would take me back specifically to preschool. I have an incredibly vague memory of standing on a (dirt? paved?) road among the other kids on a field trip to a farmer's market, holding a four-inch chunk of freshly-cut sugar cane. I have no idea how we ended up there or if the preschool even got our parents' permission (it was 1983, a lawless time), but I do remember gnawing on this green hunk of cane, and my mom remembers me bringing it home. (She did not seem the least bit bothered that I'd been off who knows where chewing on produce, because it was 1983.) Everything is vague but for the olfactory memory: Demeter's Sugar Cane really, truly has that fresh-cut, not "vegetal" or even "green," exactly, but that ineffable sense of a juicy plant that is not yet dried and crumbled and cubed. It's lovely, and I wore it off and on for years.

Another favorite sugar perfume of mine is Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Sugar Skull ("A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits"), a seasonal offering. As time has gone on, my 2004 bottle has taken on a richer brown-sugar tone, but it actually started out with that whiff of dry sugar bowl. I'm not sure what the fruits are supposed to be, but I might guess plum and strawberry, like the sugar-dusted strawberry candies I used to get in my childhood Christmas stocking. Which means that I might guess something like Furaneol is involved: "Intense caramel and fruity note, reminiscent of cotton candy. Indispensable ingredient for strawberry, pineapple and exotic fruity accords. Often used to bring a jam effect. Naturally found in coffee, malt, grape, guava, pineapple, raspberry, strawberry." I tried Sugar Skull on the other day for this post, and while the fruit accord comes out more distinctly now, the perfume itself is still fairly subtle, a restrained golden sweetness that hangs back rather than yell at top volume.

No, top volume would be Pink Sugar.

In my experience, ethyl maltol (the caramel/praline note you may remember from last week's Mugler Angel) might be strong when it's fresh, but it's Godzilla when it's aged. My bottle of Pink Sugar (maybe 2007?) has also turned from clear to brown, which might be the vanillin. I would be willing to bet there's a strong dollop of furaneol in this thing as well, and the musk isn't helping; all together, I remember being like, "Let's give it a lil spray, see if it's still good," and having to evacuate the room. The powdery candy musk cloud, my GOD. So for this post, I went and ordered a fresh decant (for the princely sum of $0.99 USD), so I could at least see what Pink Sugar's ideal state is, and also I could control it with a tiny wand cap.

A couple of swipes, and this, this is why I liked Pink Sugar back in my twenties. I'll say up front that, these days, the Italian company Aquolina doesn't seem to have much of an internet presence anymore, except for a pinksugar.it site that mostly exists to redirect you to the Pink Sugar Amazon store (and a US Instagram that redirects to Macy's). So I had to dig a little to get the creator(s)' name and the full list of notes: raspberry, orange, fig leaf, bergamot, cotton candy, licorice, red berries, strawberry, lily of the valley, caramel, vanilla, musk, tonka bean, sandalwood.

Secondly, I'll quote two other reviews from people with sharper noses than I have:

Bois de Jasmin:

On a technical level, Pink Sugar is a clever thing, and I find it impressive how its creator, Pierre Nuyens, chose to offset the dessert extravaganza with plenty of sharp citrus, tart berries and crunchy anise seeds. The drydown of musk and sandalwood is like a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar on warm brioche. Its softness offers a respite after the burnt caramel overload. It’s a long lasting, tenacious fragrance and a little goes a long way.

[I'll note here that I have seen Pink Sugar credited to either Pierre Nuyens or Shyamala Maisondieu of Givaudan, and I don't know what's with the discrepancy. Are we possibly talking about old and new formulations?]

Now Smell This:

Pink Sugar opens on an extraordinarily sweet blend of fruit and caramelized sugar. There is a hint of citrus, but the red berries dominate the first 15 minutes or so. If you love the smell of strawberry candy, the top notes may well be your idea of heaven; I'm afraid it is not mine. [...] There is lots of vanilla sugar, a teensy little whiff of licorice, and a pale, woody-musky base with a hint of powder. It is, as advertised, very reminiscent of cotton candy.

That mention of "offsetting the dessert extravaganza" is similar to the logic that Olivier Cresp and Yves de Chirin used with Angel: it was so unexpected in 1992 to build a fragrance around ethyl maltol that they balanced it with a tornado of patchouli so intense that I can't smell a single other damn thing in it, other than some fruit in the first ten minutes. But by the time Pink Sugar came along in 2004, truly, nobody gave a shit. Trying to balance candy with more candy is, if we are honest, just the slightest gesture towards optimizing your Eau de Toothache (I say this lovingly). There's a reason that Angel is considered a Hall of Famer and Pink Sugar is something people generally scoff at.

So I open my new sample, and I brace myself. The current decant opens with, yes, a pretty strong citrus to immediately counterbalance the sugar. And yet, while I said that Dior's new Joy has a "vanilla lemonade" feel, that's not the kind of sugar + lemon we have going on here. There are several things going on, including some kind of musk, but mostly, my nose can't distinguish what they are; "it's very well-blended" is what you say when you can't figure that out. I'll also say that I couldn't perceive strawberry, or even strawberry candy (no matter how much I love it), in all this; what I get is Cotton Candy™. I remember how surprised I was to find out that the traditional flavor of American cotton candy is just vanilla, often with some strawberry if it's pink, and definitely with raspberry if it's blue. Cotton candy is just A Thing Unto Itself to me (ask me how shocked I was to find out that yellow cake mix is just vanilla. Mm, tastes like yellow), and that's mostly what I smell in Pink Sugar. A specific whiff of caramel emerged about two hours in, but that was the best my nose could do.

Four hours in, as I sat drafting this post with Pink Sugar on the back of my hand, the citrus notes had evaporated, and I was getting just that cotton candy—but dry and fluffy, on a floating bed of musk, not a sticky, just-melted-in-your-mouth, washed-by-a-confused-raccoon note. So the first hour is when Pink Sugar is most interesting to me. And I'm gonna tell you—I can't distinguish fig leaf or lily of the valley or even sandalwood in this thing, but I get something in that first hour that I haven't seen anyone else mention: something shadowy.

There's something sultry about Pink Sugar early on to me, and that may be the combination of licorice and musk, going by the notes listed. (You'd think I could pick out licorice after two posts about it, but not specifically in Pink Sugar, no.) You're at the cotton candy stand, sure, but there are dark clouds gathering overhead. For some reason, Johnny Jewel's "Windswept" popped into my head—something noirishly forlorn. The fairground is closing at the end of summer, the boardwalks are empty; up in the late afternoon sky, something watchful and gray is rolling in.

And this stage does pass. But that first hour, that's the interesting stage, the part where I get why "counterbalancing the toothache" is such an important consideration. I also have Demeter Fragrance's Cotton Candy single note (does what it says on the tin), and sometimes a simple sugar is what you want. But if someone could actually cook up Film Noir Cotton Candy Stand, combining two things you would pretty much never think to put together, you would have a story on your hands. Pink Sugar has that for about an hour—except for the fact that I think I must be hallucinating it, because I've never seen a review where anyone ever accused Pink Sugar of having one iota of depth to it, much less darkness.

That's the thing about fragrance: it's so wholly dependent on what your own nose can pick up and how it interacts with your own chemistry, as opposed to anyone else's. I could hold out my hand thirty minutes in and say "SMELL IT. SMELL THE FILM NOIR," as you do, and it might be that no one else would smell anything "sultry" or "gray" or "forlorn" in Pink Sugar at all. You ever have that Super Deep Thought that maybe nobody sees color the same way, and maybe what's orange to you is blue to someone else? With fragrance, that might be a little bit true.

The other thing I've realized is that most people smell a perfume on you after you've been wearing it a while—people at work or a party or wherever you actually left the house to go, they'd mostly smell the base notes and maybe a few mid notes of your fragrance by the time you got there. (Unless you're reapplying it frequently. I... do not advocate for that.) Everything I find interesting about Pink Sugar would have faded by the time anyone smelled it on me, leaving just a vague aura of musky sweet. I'd actually love to smell a fragrance made of all the notes that aren't cotton candy: Pink Sugar Without Sugar.

I'll end by pointing out that I started with a nostalgic story about preschool and sugar—and a different fragrance. Most people reviewing Pink Sugar mention nostalgia as part of its appeal, but it doesn't evoke memory for me at all, and I think that's because the musk is so strongly present for me all the way through. I will argue, though, that the Secret Third Thing it comes up with is more sophisticated than people give it credit for.

Perfume discussion masterpost