#heavy oil burners | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebearer · 1 year ago

Text

the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching.

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to.

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.”

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning.

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware.

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught.

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in.

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.”

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you.

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him.

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it.

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways.

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier.

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date.

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-”

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-”

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.”

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent.

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.”

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.”

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly.

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-”

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.”

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder.

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other.

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.”

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese.

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly.

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it.

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful.

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming.

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze.

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-”

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly.

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly.

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

1K notes · View notes

lushrue · 2 months ago

Text

currently in my priceghost era and wanted to write something with price as the more submissive one

cw: nsfw, oral (m/m), light scent kink, sub space

john sat back in his chair, huffing out an exasperated breath. fireworks exploded behind his eyelids as he dug the heels of his hands in, trying to push out the ache of eye strain. a cursory glance at the clock on his desk revealed that it had been six hours since he’d sat down to start on the mountain of paperwork on his desk. six hours of rifling through mission reports, briefing memorandums, and recruit personnel files. six hours of squinting to read tiny print because he wasn’t old enough to require reading glasses, thank you very much.

he could feel the familiar burning pain creeping up into his shoulders, a reminder of the horrid posture he’d been sitting in the whole time. he felt stiff, unnaturally so. on top of it all, he felt tired. it wasn’t his usual training-all-day-and-shouting-at-unruly-sergeants type of tired. this sank into his bones, gave his skeleton a weight it didn’t have before. even the thought of dragging his heavy body all the way back to the barracks made his back ache and his temples pulse.

his mind had been running a million miles a minute for the past week. it seemed like there was an urgent task lurking around each corner, waiting to demand his full attention. nothing could wait until tomorrow, nothing could be put on the back burner until something else was completed. everything needed done yesterday and he found himself struggling to keep up. if only the world would stop spinning for five minutes, he thought to himself. then I could catch up. it was at that moment he remembered the one man who could bring his world to a halt, if only for a little while.

price had a complicated relationship with his lieutenant. the two of them were…something to each other. they’d both chosen not to put a label on it, simply for the fact that it didn’t need one. their relationship was symbiotic, one hand washing the other for the sake of cleaning both of them. it was a fact of nature that simon was there for john in the ways that he needed, and john repaid simon in turn. in their eyes, relationships like that didn’t need a label. barnacles don’t call the whale it hitches a ride on their lover; a clownfish doesn’t commit to the anemone that provides it shelter. they simply exist in this moment in time to serve a purpose for one another, and that was that.

the captain raised himself from his chair, dragging his heavy feet down the hall towards simon’s office. john knew that simon was up to his nose in paperwork just the same as him. the two of them had talked at length over a pack of cigarettes about how a paper trail was inconvenient at best and dangerous at worst. they both had a nasty habit of putting it all off until later and having to burn the midnight oil more than once to make up for it. his knuckles rapped four times against the door, the rhythmic pattern of it identifying who was knocking. simon had developed it, a way to know that the person on the other side of the door was important enough to put down the pen.

he was met with a gruff “come in” from the lieutenant, his fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the doorknob and twisted. when he pushed the door open, the sight of simon, maskless, greeted him. it was rare for simon to go anywhere on base without at least the balaclava on, but the state of his hair showed that he’d just pulled it off. on nights like these, simon didn’t wear it. it was far too important to john to be able to see his face. simon’s eyes were soft, gentle, as they took in the way john stood in his doorway. shoulders slumped, the lines on his face deeper, the bags under his eyes heavier. simon could read any man like a book, but when it came to his captain, he knew things no one else had ever gotten close enough to know. there was a look in john’s eyes, a certain helplessness that was reserved only for him.

“rough night?” simon asked, leaning back in his office chair and nodding to John to close the door. john did as instructed, a dry chuckle bubbling out of his chest. “you don’t know the half of it,” he replied, voice raspy. he sounded as worn as he looked. it reminded simon of the dirt caked into the tread of his boots, stomped on a thousand times before finally getting to rest. simon just grunted in reply, picking up the pen from his desk. he made a small tick on the report he was reading to mark his place before turning his full attention to his captain. “would you like to talk, or not talk?” simon asked, his words laced with a meaning only the two of them could discern. john met his gaze, a weight seeming to lift off of his shoulders as he made his decision. “not talk.”

simon nodded in understanding, the movement curt and quick. it was almost tactical the way the two of them moved around each other. simon took up his position on the small sofa in his office, parting his legs shoulder-width apart. he took one of the pillows from beside him, holding it out to john as he circled around to his own position. john took the pillow, placing it on the floor between simon’s feet, and lowered himself down onto it. he grunted as his knees hit the tile floor, the blow gratefully softened by the fabric and stuffing. they’d quickly discovered that it was a necessary part of this routine.

“you solid?” john looked up to find simon’s eyes on him, the deep brown of his irises laced with concern. the captain swallowed down the lump forming in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “solid,” he replied, his tone short. he didn’t want to concern himself with how he felt. not now, not when it all felt too big to handle. simon simply nodded, raising a hand to rest on the back of john’s head. he guided it to his thigh, letting john rest against him for a moment. john didn’t want to talk, and that was fine with simon. he usually did all the talking on nights like these anyway. hours upon hours of silence left him with a lot to say.

“you deserve this, y’know,” he said, stroking his fingers along the length of john’s scalp. “deserve to put down the reins for a bit, have someone else take ‘em up.” john shivered under simon’s touch, goosebumps rising on his arms. it was never true in his own head, but when simon said it, john drank it in like it was gospel. he nodded, his cheek rubbing against the fabric of simon’s fatigues. “i deserve this,” he repeated softly, voice strained with the weight of the emotion he was keeping in.

simon nodded in approval, pleased with john’s acceptance. in the beginning, when they’d first started this little ritual, the captain had done everything he could to keep simon at arm’s length. he’d never stay for long once he’d been given what he needed and eye contact was scarce. now, john had reconciled with the fact that sometimes, he didn’t want to be in charge. sometimes, he needed someone else to tell him what to do. taking orders was as natural as breathing for him, especially when giving them felt like a burden he couldn’t bear. “that’s a good lad,” simon praised, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “you know just what ta do, don’t you? meltin’ in a puddle at my feet.” john’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, turning his head to press his face into simon’s thigh.

simon just chuckled. his boy could be awfully shy when he wanted to be. “look at me,” he commanded. john felt a shiver down his spine at simon’s tone. it wasn’t the same one he used with the sergeants, or when he was training the recruits. it was reserved specially for him, a low timbre that rattled around his brain and dislodged any unwanted thoughts still hanging around. the captain turned his head up, hazy blue eyes meeting simon’s dark chocolate ones. “so beautiful. ya know tha’? most beautiful thing on God’s green earth, on your knees for a nasty bugger like me.”

john wanted to protest, to assure simon that he was far from the nastiest bugger he’d ever knelt for, but the words wouldn’t come. thoughts swirled around in his head like smoke, thin and incorporeal. he tried to grasp at them, but his hands went right through. all he could do was hum and shake his head. simon shook his head, lips rounding in a soothing shushing noise. “don’t think. let me do tha’ for ya.” he placed a finger under john’s chin, stroking him like one would a cat. john’s eyes fluttered shut, letting the feeling of simon’s calloused trigger finger against his throat lift the weight of reality that hung heavy on his shoulders.

slowly, john’s head started to drift off into a much nicer place. it was softer, gentler. mission reports and recruit files fell to the wayside, briefings and emails and memorandums were long forgotten. all there was, in this moment, was him and simon. simon caught every moment of john’s slip, the way his jaw went slack and his eyes stared beyond him. he admired the way john’s eyes seemed to sparkle, admiration shining bright in them. when the stresses of the outside world fell away, all that was left was simon. the lieutenant shifted his hand, dragging his finger up john’s jaw until his hand came to rest on the crown of john’s head. the weight was comforting and grounding, keeping him tethered to the earth.

“tha’s a good boy,” simon praised, his thumb stroking john’s scalp. the captain practically purred, pressing his head up into simon’s touch. it felt nice and his one-track mind wanted more of it. simon shifted on the sofa, sweatpants growing tight. something in john’s far-away gaze made him chub up, the way he was so vulnerable and trusting beneath him. here, simon held all the power. “jus’ needed a li’l stress relief, hmm? needed your simon to get ya through.” john nodded, drool leaking against simon’s thigh.

simon chuckled at the sight, reaching forward and wiping some of the spit from the corner of john’s mouth. with a gentle motion, he pressed his thumb to the seam of john’s lips, pressing insistently. john’s mouth fell open and simon pushed his finger in, letting his thumb rest against john’s tongue. the way his lips closed around the digit made simon groan. he’d quickly discovered that his boy had an oral fixation, always needing something in his mouth to keep him occupied. all those damn cigars, he’d figured. john hollowed his cheeks, eyes fluttering shut as he bobbed his head on simon’s thumb. he whined low in his throat when he realized it wasn’t quite what he needed, shifting impatiently on the pillow.

“settle, lovie. i’ll give ya what ya need soon enough. jus’ wanna enjoy the sight of ya.” simon leaned back against the sofa, utterly transfixed by the man in front of him. john’s tongue curled around simon’s finger, teeth lightly scraping the skin. with his eyes heavy-lidded, he looked the very picture of debauchery, letting go and giving simon his soft underbelly. drool pooled in the corners of his mouth, wetting his lips and cheeks. if simon thought hard enough, he could pretend that it was his cock between john’s lips instead. he groaned aloud at the mere image, cock tenting his sweats. he used his free hand to push the waistband down, dragging his boxers down with it.

john opened his eyes, teeth digging into the flesh of simon’s thumb as he caught sight of what he truly wanted. he could smell the musk coming off of the lieutenant, thick and heavy in his nose. he pulled his head back and released simon’s thumb, leaning forward to mouth at his cock. his tongue trailed along the protruding vein at the base, humming softly when simon shivered with delight. simon’s head fell back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut as his cock twitched. precum dripped down his shaft, the tip red and angry at having been ignored thus far.

simon cupped the back of john’s head, coaxing him to look up. john met simon’s gaze, baby blue eyes pleading for permission. “this what you wan’, baby? want this fat cock down your throat?” simon asked, voice rough and gravelly. john nodded, the stimulation of his cheek against simon’s cock making his thighs clench. he couldn’t find the words, mouth moving to beg, but simon shushed him. “none o’ that. not gonna let my best boy go without,” he cooed, adjusting his hips so that the tip of his cock laid against john’s lips.

john’s tongue darted out, lapping up the precum that was beading up. it was salty and bitter, but he drank it in like the sweetest ambrosia. simon moaned loud, the sound coming from low in his chest. he’d long since given up on trying to be quiet on these nights. there was hardly anyone around, and if there were any nosy recruits, he’d shut them up with latrine duty. “tha’s it, right fuckin’ there,” he groaned, hips bucking to press his cock deeper into john’s mouth. “take it all, lovie. know you can, so good for me-”

simon’s words were cut off when john took him to the hilt, the captain’s throat rumbling with a satisfied moan. electricity shot up his spine, simon’s hands scrambling for purchase on the sofa. the pleasure was heady, thoughts dissipating like clouds and the room spinning like a carousel. as pent up as he was, it only took a few minutes and a well-timed swallow for simon to lose himself. he spilled down john’s throat, pearly-white spend shooting into the back of his mouth. john drank it down, needy moans vibrating around simon’s cock as he sucked him through his orgasm.

the moment simon’s soul came back into his body, he eased john’s head back, tapping his cheek to coax him to breathe. john was panting, eyes glistening with tears from all the times he’d gagged. his cheeks were flushed, a cum-drunk expression on his face. simon was satisfied, and it seemed john was too. needs fulfilled for each other, symbiotic relationship solidified. john took his moment of rest, catching his breath before parting his lips again. simon acquiesced, placing his softening prick on john’s waiting tongue. there was no need for pleasure, no work to be done. the two of them could rest here like this for as long as they needed, basking in the glow of the moment they’d shared. “good boy,” simon praised breathlessly, petting john’s hair. “keep it warm for me, tha’s it.”

a few hours later, once they’d parted ways and john had settled in for bed, he found a different kind of weight had settled on his chest. perhaps these nightly routines were more than just quid pro quo, but no matter. simon could help him figure it all out later.

#call of duty #cod smut #cod #cod fic #captain john price #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #priceghost #ghostprice

142 notes · View notes

lustfulslxt · 1 year ago

Text

Baby - Chris Sturniolo

summary : you and chris go live on instagram, cooking dinner in the kitchen, singing and dancing to music together while fans gush over how cute you are.

—

You were in the kitchen, pulling out all of the ingredients you needed to make dinner. Your playlist on shuffle, softly playing in the atmosphere. You had a clean house, a free weekend, you were making your favorite dinner, and spending the night with your boyfriend. You were content.

"Gorgeous?" Chris speaks in a sing song voice, trailing behind you.

You hum in acknowledgement, still laying everything out.

"Can I help you?" He asks, linking his arms around your waist, planting his head on your shoulder.

"Of course, so long as you don't mess anything up."

He places a soft kiss on your neck, pulling away from you with his hands in surrender, "I promise. I'll do whatever you need me to."

You give him a smile and nod in agreement, softly pecking his lips.

On the counter, laid a pot, a skillet, a plastic spoon, noodles, oil, seasonings, jars of sauce, chicken, and heavy whipping cream.

"Fill this pot up with water." You instruct him, "Once you're done with that, place it on the big burner, on high."

He gives you a salute, "Yes, ma'am."

You knew he had the gist of it, but you wanted to be extra and explain every little thing to him. He followed your instructions, very simply. Once the pot of water was on the stove, he turned to you, expectantly.

“We’ve got to wait for it to come close to a boil before we start the chicken, that way they’re done at the same time.” You tell him.

He nods, before going to your phone and turning the music up. “Want to go live?”

After pondering for a split second, you agree and he logs onto Instagram and starts the live. Soon enough, there were thousands of fans watching.

“Hi guys!” You exclaim, standing next to Chris.

He greeted them as well, tossing an arm around your waist. The fans went crazy over it, causing you to lightly blush. Your music had stopped for a second, changing to the next song, which was Baby - Justin Bieber.

“Aw shit!” Chris grins, propping his phone up and pulling you back into the middle of the kitchen “Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah.” He sings, twirling you around.

Your laughter fills the air as the two of you sing and dance, oblivious to the fans screen recording and blowing the comments up, gushing over your relationship.

“She make my heart pound, and skip a beat when I see her on the street. And at school on the playground, but I really wanna see her on the weekend. She knows she got me dazing, cause she was so amazing.”

Even though it was just a song, with the way he was staring into your eyes and singing every lyric to you, while shamelessly dancing around the kitchen, in front of thousands of people, you nearly melted. The smallest things had you falling harder every day.

He pulled you into a soft kiss, not having a care in the world about the live. He loved you and he was never afraid to express it. Once he let you go and continued dancing like a fool, you went back to get the chicken started, a deep blush coating your cheeks.

You cut the chicken up, seasoned it, and put it in the skillet with oil. Next, you started the noodles. As that was going to take some time, you went back to join Chris and his shenanigans.

“I must apologize for acting stank and treating you this way.” You sing with him, “Cause I’ve been acting like sour milk all on the floor, it’s your fault, you didn’t shut the refrigerator. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve been acting so cold.”

You both laugh again, enjoying everything about the night you’re having. Chris pulls you in the direction of his phone, so you guys could read some comments and interact with the viewers for a moment.

“You guys are the cutest.” Chris reads out loud, turning his head towards you with a proud smile on his face.

“True love.” You read another comment, nodding in agreement as you looked back at him, staring in pure adoration.

“The love of my life.” He whispers, only you being able to hear him.

That didn’t stop fans from dissecting what he said through the movement of his lips, and they went absolutely barnacles. The way Chris admired everything about you and was relentless with his affection, made them crazy. They truly loved your guys’ relationship.

He pulled you into him once again, just holding you in his embrace. His scent pleasantly engulfed you as you deeply inhaled, taking in every second of it all. He was warm and you felt safe and content, you felt home.

“Y’all, I’m gonna marry this girl one day.” Chris tells the live, causing your face to heat up as the biggest smile pulled to your lips.

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” You giggled in a whisper.

“Sorry, gorgeous, I can’t help it. You drive me mad, in the best way possible.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. You guys were perfectly in sync, merging together as one.

“I’m so in love with you.” You breathed into him lips.

“Let’s end the live.” He whispers, suggestively.

You let out a loud laugh, going to the phone, “Okay guys, we’re gonna call it a night. Gotta finish dinner. See you later!”

Chris threw up a peace sign with duck lips, bidding the fans goodbye.

You turned to him with a cheeky grin, “Maybe after dinner, you can show me how mad I drive you.”

“Don’t tempt me, baby.” He smirks.

You both laugh, going back to the cooking, happy to be with one another.

—

a /n : ok this was so shit, lowk feel like i rushed the ending.. still not proofread lolol. but like imagine chris dancing w you while y’all cook dinner and shit 😭 baby me now. send in requests pls pls

#the sturniolos #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #fluff #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #imagine #fanfic #request #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you

561 notes · View notes

kremlin · 5 months ago

Text

(@cheekedupwhiteboy @ffoxer)

sure, here is the recipe i'm using. it's worth reading all the way through once since it's ordered a bit strangely, i'll share what i've learned that isn't already in the recipe here. it was written with the intention of re-creating restaurant/takeout fried rice at home for real e.g. not something that sounds half-right but will turn out tasting like white people fried rice, if that makes any sense

moisture is #1 what you want to avoid, but doing so isn't straightforward, you can't cheat by cooking the rice with less water, you really just have to let it dry overnight in the fridge or under a fan

using too much oil will also make it turn out soggy, and the oil's job is mostly to coat the wok. i double the recipe but don't double the amount of oil, and it works better than if you use twice as much oil

you really need everything prepped and ready to go, *everything*, before you start cooking. i go as far to have everything lined up in the order i need to add them; the cooking happens extremely fast and you don't want to break your focus by having to refer to the recipe or measure something out. i think its crucial you're 100% focused, not so much to avoid burning, but to properly be able to "feel it out" and know when you need to keep things moving and when to let it toast

to do this right you need lots of heat. i'm lucky enough to have stove burners that pump out a lot of gas, but if you don't, don't bother fucking with a stove, just get a very cheap propane burner and wok mount and do it outside. cook it fast and hot.

the recipe does indeed specify to pour the sauce/wine around the rim of the pan, but it loses a bit of nuance: the idea is that with the rice packed in the center, you're pouring the liquid directly on the screamingly hot work and spreading it out so it heats up extremely quickly. this is good, but i don't know exactly why

if you screw up and get some burnt rice at the bottom, it's weirdly not game over, it doesn't ruin it as much as you'd think.

i substitute carrots for green peas which add nothing to the flavor, but they make the end result much prettier

use a heavy hand when it comes to the soy sauce (only the light soy sauce, really, the dark just adds color) and a lighter hand with the MSG.

the marinade doesn't need to sit a full 24h, i don't see any benefit past 30m or so.

don't bother trying to time the chicken to be 90% done when you take it out initially, just cook it all the way, it's fine

avoid starting fires & trips to the burn ward which seem to be incredibly conducive to this kind of cooking

24 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 3 months ago

Text

On December 1st 1787, the first modern lighthouse in Scotland was lit at Fraserburgh.

Made by Thomas Smith and Robert Stevenson at Kinnaird Head, the lighthouse was built on top of a 16th-century castle, and is now Scotland’s Lighthouse Museum.Kinnaird Head near Fraserburgh, built on an 16th Century castle, was the first lighthouse to be put into operation by the Commissioners of Northern Lights, and sustained the most powerful lamps of their time.

The lamps were 17 whale oil filled burners and were said to be visible from 14 miles away.The lighthouse was constructed by Thomas Smith and his son in law Robert Stevenson, grandfather of author Robert Louis Stevenson, with a lantern set at a 120 feet above the sea on a corner of Kinnaird Head Castle. Each oil-burning lamp was backed by a parabolic reflector and arranged in three horizontal lines to produce a powerful beam for seamen working some of the toughest waters in Europe.

Previously, coal fires had generally been used to guide sailors to safety. Mr James Park, a ship’s master, was appointed “Keeper of the light” at 1/- per night, The appointment was made on condition he had another person with him at the lighthouse every night, who he was to instruct in cleaning the lanterns and lighting the lamps. Whale oil was brought to Kinnaird Head by Smith, a tin smith of Broughty Ferry, which was a major whaling port of the day.

In 1824, a new lighthouse tower was built within the original castle tower with Robert Stevenson building a new lantern and reflector array.

In 1929, another first was recorded for Kinnaird Head when it took possession of a radio beacon. During WWI, enemy bombers struck the lighthouse only once despite repeated, heavy bombardments on the surrounding area due to Fraserburgh’s ammunition works. Records show that on 19 February 1941, two bombs from an aircraft exploded 50 yards from the Lighthouse Buildings. Damage included 41 panes of broken glass.

The Wine Tower at the lighthouse is the only surviving remnant of the old castle, and in fact is the oldest building in all Fraserburgh. Legend tells us that Isobel the daughter of Alexander Fraser, 8th laird of Philorth had fallen in love with a servant piper, and that the laird was not happy about this. So to separate the two the laird had the piper tied-up in the cave under the Wine Tower known as Selches Hole (Seals Hole). The laird then locked-up his daughter in the uppermost floor of the tower and retired to Kinnaird Castle.

Unfortunately for the servant there was an abnormally high tide due to a storm, and the poor man drowned. When Isobel the laird’s daughter was informed of her lover’s fate, she was distraught and committed suicide by jumping from the top of the tower onto the rocks below. The rock that she fell on is still painted red to this day. It is said that Isobel is seen prior to bad weather, and when the weather is bad it is said that you can hear the skirl of the pipes being played by the ghost of the piper for his lost love

The first pic is from 1850 and shows the Lighthouse and Wine Tower are still there,, but the third tower - the Doocot - was demolished soon after the scene was captured.

#scotland #scottish #history #lighthous #Fraserburgh

14 notes · View notes

denovoburners · 2 years ago

Text

Dungs air pressure switch - De Novo

DUNGS AIR and GAS Pressure switch LGW-_A2, LGW_A4…..

The differential pressure switches LGW3A2, LGW10A2, LGW50A2, LGW150A2, LGW3A4, LGW10A4, LGW50A4 and LGW150A4 are adjustable differential pressure switches per EN 1854 for automatic burner controls.

We have All Range of Dungs Available Contact Us to Know more,

DE NOVO INDUSTRIAL GAS/OIL BURNERS SPARES & PARTS DISTRIBUTOR MORE EFFICIENT & ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY BURNER & Burner SPARES PARTS Call us: +91 - 011 - 45755000 / +91 - 9910499471/72 E-mail id:[email protected] / [email protected] Web address: www.denovoindia.com

0 notes

texas-gothic · 10 months ago

Text

Dracula Daily - May 3: Chicken Paprikash!

Welcome boils and ghouls to another year of Dracula Daily. It is the 3rd of May, and as our dear friend Jonathan treks his way across Central Europe, bound for ominous castle of Count Dracula, we encounter the first real star of this most foundational gothic novel: a spicy chicken dish fixed up with paprika. That's right, everyone! It's time for Chicken Paprikash!

Earlier this week, most of you (or at least I'm assuming most of you, because holy cow did a lot of y'all pile in after I posted it) will recall my guide to gathering the ingredients for this most essential of Dracula Daily Dinners. Tonight, we will discuss it's preparation, and whether or not the deviations I have made from the previous cycles rendition will pay off or not. So, if you've got those pots and pans ready, let's go!

Lets begin with the equipment you'll need for preparing Chicken Paprikash.

All the usual suspects are here. Knives, cutting board, some whisks and woodem spoons, a couple of bowls for ingredients. But the real stars of this show are going to be a large dutch oven, and a large building pot. Examples of these can be see in the photo above.

Once you have all your equipment ready, it's time to move on to the most annoying part of every dinner. It's time for...

Part One: Mise En Place

Cooking can be hard, or cooking can be easy. It all depends on how well prepared you are. If you have everything you need ready beforehand, actually cooking the meal can be a breeze. Sadly, this process will usually take up most of the time you spend making dinner. Is it worth the peace of mind later on? Probably, but I've never passed up a chance to gripe.

So, what all must we prepare for our Chicken Paprikash. Let's make a list:

Roughly 2 Pounds of Chicken Thights (salted preferably 1-4 hours beforehand)

2 Cups of Chicken Broth (or Stock)

2 Medium Yellow Onions (Chopped or Diced, to your preference)

2 Roma Tomatoes (Diced this time, with their seeds removed)

2 Hungarian Wax Peppers (Diced as well, be sure to remove those seeds unless you want to go for a ride like dear Jonathan)

2 Cloves of Garlic (Minced) (Don't let your desire to protect yourself from the undead lead you to add more, garlic is one of those flavors that can radically alter a dish in only small quantities)

About half a stick of butter (Though for this task you could substitute with some kind of oil or lard. Lard will make this dish even more rich, but butter is the easier option.)

3/4 Cup of Full Fat Sour Cream

1/4 Cup of Heavy Whipping Cream (make sure to shake your carton beforehand, this stuff gets clumpy if it's left undisturbed)

3 Tablespoons of All Purpose Flour

4 Tablespoons of Sweet Hungarian Paprika + 1 Tablespoon of Hot Hungarian Paprika (Stirred together for ease later on)

Salt + Pepper (To your liking)

1 Bag of Spaetzle

With all this completed, it's time to get started in earnest

Part Two - Get Cooking

Alright, with all our ingredients in hand, its finally time to start cooking.

The very first thing we're going to do is brown our chicken thighs. Set your dutch oven over a large burner, and get the heat up high. When ready, turn the heat down to medium or medium-high. This change is important, unless you want to smoke out your kitchen. Remember, smoky paprika is great, but nobody likes smoky dry wall.

Once you've prepared your pot, and lightly brushed your thighs with a high heat cooking oil (I prefer avocado) begin to brown them. Lay your thighs skin-side down for 45 seconds to 1 minute. Any longer than this risks burning the skin. Repeat in batches until all your chicken thighs have a nice crispy exterior.

(Sadly, this is where the demonstration photos stop. Turns out, a breezier cooking schedule doesn't leave much time for snappy pictures.)

Once you've brown your thighs, remove them and set them aside. Now, it's time for the real corner stones of this dish. Take that half a stick of butter you have sitting around, and give it a good swirl around the bottom of the Dutch oven. As the butter melts (this will be very quick, so you must act accordingly) do everything you can to scrape up the delicious fond left over from browning your chicken. This residue will add flavor to our dish.

The moment your butter has fully liquified, and coated the whole bottom of your dutch oven, add in your onions. These we will stur around and fry until they are a nice golden brown. You can use this time as well to keep scraping up that fond on the bottom of the pot. Make sure to keep the heat on medium throughout.

Once your onions are nice golden brown, add your tomatoes and hungarian wax peppers. Stir these around with the onions and allow to cook for 2-3 minutes. When you begin to approach the last 45-30 seconds, add in your garlic, and cook until fragrant, but not a moment longer.

This next step is crucial. Remove your dutch oven from the heated burner, and allow to cool for roughly 3 minutes. Paprika is something of a tender spice, and it scorches very easily when heat is applied to it. Once the pot is no longer smoking hot, stir in the combined Paprika, and give it a good mix around all the ingredients in the pot. When you have finished, return the dutch oven to the heated burner.

Return your chicken thighs to the pot, and pour in the 2 cups of chicken broth. The thighs should not be entirely covered, but mostly. Bring the pot to a boil, and once boiling, cover, reduce the heat to medium-low, and allow to simmer for a little under an hour, about 40 minutes.

Now, while this is happening, we will prepare our dairy thickener. In a bowl, mix the sour cream, heavy whipping cream, and flower. I prefer to use a tiny whisk for this task, as it does a very good job of moving through every part of the mixture, and combating any clumps from forming. A normal whisk should still work.

While you wait, you're going to pour about a quart of water into that steel pot, and bring to a boil. About 28 minutes from the completion of the paprikash, stir in your spaetzle to the boiling water. Allow to sit, undisturbed for roughly half an hour.

Once the 40 minutes are up, once again remove your chicken from the pot, and remove the dutch oven from the heat. Allow to cool once more, which will prevent your dairy mixture from curdling. Once cool, mix in the cream. Return the chicken to the Dutch oven, place the cover back on, and allow to heat through. About another 5-10 minutes.

And just like that, we're done! Now, let's find out how we did, shall we?

Part Three - Paprikash

This is how mine turned out. And I'm happy to report that my experimentation payed off! The heat really comes through this time, creating that good warming feeling you should get from chicken paprikash. The paprika is warm and smoky, and the chicken is tender and delicious. I'd never had spaetzel before, but I really liked it. It's still not as spicy as our good friend Jonathan described, but I think it's time that I stop differing to the opinions of a 22 year-old English orphan when it comes to any kind of cuisine.

The August Kessler Spatburgunder (Pinot Noir) proved to be an excellent pairing. The wine possesses a splendid earthiness, and it makes a beautiful partner for that smoky paprika flavor.

Well, that about does it for this year's Chicken Paprikash. Did you make Paprikash this year? How did it turn out? Anyway, I'll be making a dedicated effort to make more conversational posts with the program this year, and I cannot wait to discover what rocks we'll turn over this time around.

Join me on Sunday when we'll be diving into Tokaji, the Hungarian desert wine Dracula serves to Jonathan Harker at the end of his, if I may, strange journey.

Happy Dracula Daily, Everyone!

#dracula daily #re: dracula #chicken paprikash #paprika hendl #paprika #jonathan harker

35 notes · View notes

zoomlineaasphaltplant · 2 years ago

Text

Asphalt Plant Burner Testing at Our Factory Before Shipment.

The burner of the asphalt mixing plant is also called the asphalt equipment burning machine. The burner is an indispensable part of the asphalt mixing plant and an indispensable heating machine in the combustion furnace! We can choose gas, oil, pulverized coal, etc. as fuels for the burners of the asphalt mixing plant.

We customize the production of pulverized coal and fuel oil dual-purpose asphalt mixing plant burners, gas and oil dual-purpose burners, coal, oil and gas multi-use Burner etc. according to customer needs.

1 note · View note

denovoindustrialburners · 2 years ago

Text

Best Industrial Heavy oil burner in India @De Novo

The oil heater consists of a tank with an electric element while a system of preset thermostats controls the regulation of the fuel temperature in order to ensure the optimum performance of the fuel used.

We deal in gas burners, high speed diesel oil, industrial heavy oil burners, dual fuel burners, industrial natural gas burner, light oil industrial burners, make CIB UNIGAS, Italy.

DE NOVO

INDUSTRIAL GAS/OIL BURNERS SPARES & PARTS DISTRIBUTOR

Call us: +91 - 011 - 45755000 / +91 - 9910499471/72

E-mail id: [email protected] / [email protected]

Web address: www.denovoindia.com

1 note · View note

al-the-remix · 3 months ago

Note

14, bucktommy!

This was a really good first roll... Good Hurt by Chappell Roan, this is definitely a Tommy coded song. Tommy Kinard all fucked up after the breakup because no one fucked him quick like Buck did, no one ever had his number in quite the same way, prodded Tommy into showing him what he wanted despite hesitation. Made him roll over and show all the messy vulnerable parts of himself that he's sure would disgust Buck but only proved to make him curious and enthusiastic instead. Who took him apart, figured out what made Tommy tick and applied himself liberally. And he definitely didn't think it would be as hard to go back to the way things were before, when he didn't have some one who not only knew how to satisfy him sexually but also cared so so much, who Tommy loved-- 😌

I haven't written a second person pov fic for this ship yet which I really enjoy doing from time to time, especially ones that focus heavy on internal reflection/character studies etc. Lol, this would probably turn into more tommy kinard pain kink of one flavour or another because that is my favourite thing...

///

(cw for breath play and dubious consent)

Most of all it was the scent that lingered with you.

The acridity of lighter fluid burning as you sat on the sidewalk, heat bathing your face, the glowing eyes of your childhood home staring back. somewhere inside is your father.

Beside you your mother moaned. An animal sound hucked up between sobs.

The smell of smoke clung to everything afterwards; your hair, the pyjamas you’d been wearing, the inside of the cherry red ford pinto you were now living in. It wouldn’t come out until a week later when you’d finally reached your aunt’s house and even then when you woke with a start in the middle of the night with the rest of your senses dulled you still thought you could taste it on the night air.

Lighter fluid gets replaced with the scent of fry oil and burnt coffee, slow cooking on their burners behind the counter at the diner. You do most of your homework sitting there, when you bother to do it at all.

There’s a lot you don’t remember: your first beer, your first kiss, or your first time, but you remember the scent of sweat and the close press of bodies in the locker room before practice and the color of the grout between the tiles in the shower, damp and a little moldy the way it tickles at the back of your throat. Football doesn’t lead to college–it leads to the army–but it prepares you just the same.

He touches you like he hates you. Like it’s your fault he wants you the way he does. In close quarters of the broken down shower stall on the outskirts of the base, the air is hot and dry, it tastes like metal and you can barely breathe.

The emulsified night blankets you as you swallow him down. You think if you’re going to die anyway you might as well do it with a cock down your throat. You hate yourself a little bit too, for loving it as much as you do. Even when his fingernails scrap sharply against your scalp and his cockhead presses rudely up against your soft pallet.

You bury your nose in his pubic hair, wild and musky. The scent of the pair of you is pungent, you can practically taste it. Spit and come drips molten down your chin and you’re not sure if you’re ever been this hard.

You leave not long after that and the scent of the crisp night air makes everything feel sharp and real in ways that you don’t want to acknowledge.

You go back again the next night. It's someone different this time, you can tell by the grope of his hands and the sounds he makes as he ruts against you. His body molds to the contours of your side, pressed up all along your bare skin and hot, hotter than the fire at his feet which had burned down to ruby embers; a pulsing glow that penetrated the darkness not unlike the combustion of the burn pits that bleed heat in thick waves, dotting the border of base camp. The smoke that stung your eyes and the back of your throat and lit the bellies of the wheeling birds above like they were burning from the inside out.

The air is already so hot it burns and when he wraps a callused hand around your throat you think this time, this time you might actually die.

You don't, instead you paint the rusting corrugated wall with your release. It's going to be a while before you can feel heat on your face and smell mildew and not get a little bit hard about it.

It's a bad recipe for a first responder, but at this point you're running out of options and couches to sleep on. When you're not facing a wall of blistering heat, it's a mess of body fluids and dark, cramped spaces. All things that would put you on edge if you were wired properly.

Sal slaps what is probably supposed to be a commiserating hand on your shoulder after your first loss, a woman who the fire got to before you could. The sweet scent is familiar, comforting in a way you wont be mentioning to anyone any time soon. It makes you think of your father in your house, your friends you left in Iraq.

You skip the offer of a round with the team at the ladder bar after a rough shift in favour of a place you scoped out a week after moved here. Half an our later your face in pressed into a pillow and there's a large hand keeping it there, fingers webbed out against the back of your skull like impact fractures. You wonder if it would be weird to ask since he was already inside you rearranging your bowels he could to the same for your brain too, sink his fingers inside and pluck out the important stuff.

White starbursts break against the curtain of your eyelids as your breathing becomes laboured. You barely feel more than a prickle across your skin when you come, head filled with cotton balls and fingers clenching weakly at the bead spread.

You don't realize you've blacked out till cold water is being poured on your face and you're sputtering back into consciousness. A guilty looking man with a spent dick is apologizing because he didn't know what else to do.

After that you stop for a while because what haunts you more than the feeling of heat on your face and a hand around your throat is the thought of your colleagues finding your body, still hard, and your bulging tongue a telling purple.

///

When you first meet even he smells like soot and sweat. His fingers are long and tapered when he peels his gloves off to shake your hand.

(I'm stopping here because I'm literally falling asleep while writing this but I'll try and add a part 2 with Buck this weekend)

#tommy kinard #bucktommy #mine #sorry for typos & any lines that straight up don't make sense I can't undersell the raw-doggedness of this...#asks

12 notes · View notes

themirokai · 1 year ago

Text

I did my at-least-annual tradition of making my family’s chicken soup recipe on Sunday, and I took process photos, so I thought I’d share. Here’s what I have written down but for all its vagueness it’s still not accurate.

I think every generation has modified some stuff about the process and tweaked it for their particular tastes.

Instead of using a whole chicken, I use a split chicken breast (2 halves) plus a pack of chicken thighs (4). I like this better because the ratio of meat to fiddly bits is better and Surfski likes CHICKEN soup (lots of chicken per bowl). You could easily use half a breast or one or two fewer thighs, but I think the mix of white and dark meat is important for flavor.

Next is something I added to the recipe after reading Salt Fat Acid Heat. I salt my raw chicken and let it sit out for at least half an hour before I put it in the water. I think this helps the chicken hold flavor through the cooking.

While the chicken is sitting (so a change from the order of the recipe) I chop a large sweet onion plus the carrots, celery, and parsnips. I think I used 5 skinny stalks of celery, 4 carrots and 5 parsnips, but especially given the size variability you’ve got to judge this based on vibes. How much of each vegetable does your heart tell you that you need in your soup? The one exception to this is if you are not familiar with parsnips and you are considering skimping on them or leaving them out. That is not your heart. That is the devil and you must resist. Trust me on this and use about as many parsnips as carrots.

The next step was added by my great aunt who was a genius in the kitchen (also very good at refurbishing antiques but that’s less relevant). You heat up some butter and olive oil and sautee your vegetables in it. Yes it makes another pan to clean but it’s completely worth it. You don’t cook it for long! Just until the carrots and celery get bright and the onion is just starting to get translucent and everything is a tiny bit soft.

Ok, set the veg aside but I highly recommend snacking on some of the parsnips at this point. Every time I make chicken soup it always makes me want to make roast parsnips and I always forget when I’m meal planning.

Next it’s chicken time! Load your chicken into a big heavy pot and cover it with water. I just barely cover it because I’m going to need room for lots of veg.

Put that on your biggest burner and boil it. It will take a while to come up to a good boil. Once it’s boiling it will start to foam. This stuff.

Ick. Skim that off and throw it away.

Now, when the foaming is done, turn down the heat and dump in your veg. Mix it all in there then put your bunch of dill on top. Make sure you take off the twist tie or anything else holding the dill together.

My mom added this next step which she got from a friend of hers. It’s this shit called Better Than Bouillon.

You can use the plain chicken variety. Roast chicken is just what my grocery store had. I’m not 100% sure what it is but it really does add gorgeous flavor to the soup. I put one big spoonful in a big pot. This is what it looks like out of the jar.

Now you let everything cook together until the chicken is cooked. How long will that take? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Depends on the size of your chicken pieces and how high you have the heat, etc. When you think it might be done, pull out your biggest piece of chicken and poke it. It should be white and firm. If it is, pull the rest of the chicken out too and turn the heat way down but leave the veg and the dill in to simmer.

Now you walk away. Go scroll tumblr. Read a chapter of a book. Draw something. But you gotta let the chicken cool down.

Why? Because you’re going to shred that with your fingers and you don’t want to burn your fingerprints off. Or maybe you do. I don’t know your life.

Anyway, this is a good spot for me to stop and hit post because I’m on mobile and I’ll run up against the 10 image limit.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this so far! The rest of the recipe and the end product will be in a reblog.

#miro irl #cooking with miro #family recipe #cw meat #cw food #chicken soup #chicken soup recipe #long post

27 notes · View notes

jakey-beefed-it · 2 years ago

Text

3 Kingdoms Chicken Recipe

This one's a little more involved than burrito glop, but I'm up to making it most nights and I'm a depressive lump who can barely drag himself out of bed half the time so it's gotta be relatively low-spoons, right? Right.

First things first: the name is a joke. It's got nothing to do with the 3 kingdoms period in Chinese history. Instead it's because the dish includes chicken (animalia), lots of veggies (plantae) and mushrooms (fungi).

You will need:

rice and a means of making rice

a big pot

a pan (if you've got non-canned chicken)

boneless chicken breasts, thighs, or canned chicken

butter or sesame oil

cream of mushroom soup concentrate

chicken broth

bok choi, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms of your choice.

seasonings of your choice.

My seasonings:

powdered garlic (lots)

onion flakes (also lots)

soy sauce (not as heavy as the garlic but not light)

kitchen bouquet/maggi (a modest amount)

fish sauce (a modest amount; like a single 'bloop' per can of soup. you can sub with oyster sauce if you've got that instead; both are good, if a bit different end results)

lemon juice (added in to cut the flavor if it gets too heavy/dark, to taste)

pepper (as desired)

sesame seeds (as desired)

chilli powder (as desired; I go light, you do you)

Prep:

Chop up your vegetables (and mushrooms if they're not pre-cut)

Defrost your chicken, tenderize it such that it's relatively flat and will cook more evenly.

Cooking:

Dump the can(s) of cream of mushroom concentrate into the big pot. Add about half a can's worth of chicken broth per can you're using. Set the burner to a low-ish heat, like 3 to 4.

Add your seasonings to the soup, stir thoroughly. Add your vegetables and turn the heat up to 4 or 5. Cover so it heats up faster, but leave the lid off once it's bubbling well so some of the liquid can boil off.

Make your rice. I recommend about a cup of rice per person you're serving, but maybe you really like rice and want to make loads of it. Don't let me stop you. Minute rice is fine, but you can literally use minute rice proportions (one cup water per cup of rice) to make basmati rice in the goddamn microwave if you don't have a rice cooker. Feel free to add a bit of ginger if that tickles you. I don't always, but sometimes I'm in the mood for it.

Heat up the pan, add a thin layer of sesame oil OR throw a pat or two of butter in and make sure it melts and covers the whole pan. Or do both, fuck, do what you want; rules are made up. Lay out your chicken breasts or thighs and sautee them, flippin' 'em and cutting them open as necessary to ensure they're thoroughly cooked.

Note: There is no such thing as 'medium rare' chicken. That is how you get food poisoning. Don't do it. Cook your chicken all the way through. No more pink should be showing. Love yourself, love your family, cook your food thoroughly.

Serve rice, serve chicken, pour soup/veggies over both. Eat it with a knife and fork unless you're the sort to pick up pieces of chicken and just tear them apart with your teeth.

Alternately, if you're not feelin' it, you can just throw some canned chicken in the pan for a bit, or even directly in with the soup and veggies and serve that over rice. If you're cooking for yourself, just throw it all in one big bowl, eat your fill, and put any leftovers in the fridge for later.

You can also cut up the chicken into chunks if you're gonna eat it with chopsticks, or if you just like it better that way. Ideally you sautee the breasts or thighs whole, then cut them up after they're cooked (they're juicier that way) but you can cut 'em up and then fry 'em if you like, make yourself happy.

This one has a lot more prep time involved (mostly in remembering to defrost the chicken, then tenderizing it, and in chopping up veggies) but you can cut corners by using pre-chopped frozen veggies and/or canned chicken. It's not as good, but it's still pretty great compared to the alternative depression meal of like, a whole sleeve of saltines or a few pre-cooked hot dogs.

There are no hard and fast rules to seasoning. I like to add it as I go, sampling the broth and judging what it needs more of. Too tangy? You overdid the lemon juice; add more carrots and a bit more kitchen bouquet/maggi. Too salty? You overdid the soy sauce; add more carrots and a bit of chilli powder to hide it from the people you're serving it to. You'll know, at least, for the next time.

#Jake cooks a thing #Three Kingdoms Chicken

11 notes · View notes