#i am very curious the amount of seasoning they actually put in the chicken. it could be 0

[autistickfigure]

I HAD POPEYES the other day with my grandma: RATING: it sucked??

[glassworkspiderlilies]

come, come, fly into my palm, & collapse

Genshin Impact | Lumine & Albedo | AO3  Summary: Lumine and Albedo, ft. Paimon—a blizzard is avoided; a stew, an orange, and a night are shared. Observations are made, studies are conducted, some results are obtained Notes: Albedo grew on me FAST and i am filled with so much softness and tenderness for him....i care him so much.... 

He doesn’t realize that a blizzard has truly whipped up outside until the Traveler breaks through the snowdrift accumulated at the entrance to his camp, brushing off the white crystals and stamping her feet free of the snow.

“Albedo!” Paimon greets as she flies past him, practically careening directly into the fire, “Boy are we glad to see you! We almost got buried out there.”

“Hello,” Albedo greets, blinking soporifically. He’d been so focused on compiling his research that he doesn’t know what time it is at all, and with the snowstorm darkening everything further, he can no longer tell. “You were looking for me?”

In response, Lumine holds out her hand, and the strap of a bag materializes within it, weighing her hand down as the bag itself drops. Albedo recognizes its worn make, and understands why she is here, though not quite how the situation in particular came to be.

“My materials,” Albedo identifies, taking the hefty bag, “Thank you. How did you come to be the one delivering it? Timaeus should have been on his way back.”

“About that,” Paimon says, floating back up now that she is a bit more thawed out, “It looks like the Knights of Favonius ended up having some trouble, so there was suddenly a large request for potions….so Timaeus needs a bit more time before he comes back! But Lumine and I were on our way here anyway, so we brought your precious materials, too!”

“Ah, I see,” Albedo says, inclining his head in acknowledgement, though he is seeking more information and glances at the Traveler.

“A slime infestation,” Lumine supplies, moving towards the fire herself now that her task is done, “But nothing the knights cannot handle.”

“Ah, but better to be prepared, and hence the potions. I agree,” Albedo catches on, nodding, then glances outside. “I hadn’t realized it was coming down so hard. It is remarkable that you managed to find your way.”

Lumine smiles faintly.

“One becomes good at finding things when the conditions are unforgiving. You won’t kick us out, will you?” she asks, tilting her head, and his eyes widen despite knowing she is joking.

“Of course not. That would be more than cold of me,” he says, aghast even at the possibility, and her eyes crinkle.

“Great! We’ll even let you put us to work, as thanks!” Paimon exclaims, clapping her hands, and though Lumine gives the spirit a look that so clearly says but I’d be the one doing the actual work, nor does she decline.

His own eyes crinkle at that.

“No need,” he says, patting the papers on his table, “…For now, anyway. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you’ve had…a harrowing journey to get here in this storm.”

“If you say so! Don’t need to tell us twice,” Paimon cheers, floating back to the fire.

“Thank you, Albedo,” Lumine says as she sheds her coat.

“Certainly,” he replies, and this time, when she smiles at him, he smiles back.

.

It is comfortable being with the Traveler, more comfortable than he could initially tell when they wandered all over the Dragonspine to conduct experiments. She’d had something to gain, then (though some of it was at Paimon’s behest, and it seemed mostly like she was simply going along with both his and her own companion’s whims) but now, she is here by her own will.

Another couple hours passes before he remembers that she is here. While he’s been quite absorbed in his work, Lumine has been quiet too, and he doesn’t even remember hearing Paimon. He looks around, blinking blearily, then closes his eyes briefly and looks around again to make sure he hasn’t suddenly moved locations.

Everything…is organized. Books are back on their shelves, beakers and test tubes cleaned and lined back up on their racks, scattered ingredients returned to their jars, the tables wiped down. His paints and sketches have been untouched, as well as other research that he had left lying out, and he is grateful for that. It must not have been an easy undertaking, cleaning everything up despite the small space, but she did it admirably anyway.

Still—where is the young woman herself? He doesn’t see her at all, though surely she did not wander back out into the blizzard.

Albedo stretches, his joints popping, and walks around to the other side of the camp—finding her sitting behind the table with his distillery, back against the wood, a book propped open on her lap. She looks up at him when he appears, putting up a hand in greeting, and he gives a half-smile at how comfortable she looks.

“My gratitude, for cleaning up,” he says with true appreciation, and she smiles. He looks around again, not seeing Paimon at all. “Where is your floating companion?”

“Hmmm…” Lumine hums, considering how to answer this question. “Sleeping, perhaps? I suspect she will appear again when there is food.”

“Did someone say food?”

Paimon materializes with a twirl, her eyes twinkling.

“Oooh, can you make black-back perch stew, pleeeeease? It’s perfect for this climate, and Paimon is tired of goulash!”

Albedo puts a hand to his chin, understanding, now, why such a question might have been difficult to answer. Lumine’s floating friend is quite the mystery, and Albedo wants so dearly to study the spirit. But no; they are not close enough for him to ask such a thing, and he fears the rejection he will receive were he to ask now.

“Your thoughts?” Lumine asks, and Albedo blinks again.

“On black-back perch stew? I must confess, it’s a dish I’ve only had once. But I should like to eat it again, I think. It would be rather delightful in this climate.”

“Yay! It’s a consensus! C’mon, Lumine, get cooking!” Paimon exclaims, hovering excitedly and clapping her hands.

The Traveler puts her book aside, standing and stretching too before making her way over to the fire. Albedo follows, curious, suddenly, about her methods of preparation and cooking. Last time he had not watched when he requested a Sunshine Sprat, merely consumed the (very tasty) contents.

Lumine glances at him, questioning, but she seems to know the answer already—that he wants to observe—and holds out her hand in front of her. Another bag shimmers into existence—her own this time, from which she begins removing carefully packaged ingredients. Fish filets, Jueyun chilis, violetgrass…

Another thing that he finds fascinating and would like to study—this ability of hers. It is, seemingly, similar to Paimon’s ability, or perhaps even related. Very belatedly, he realizes that he should have offered to help her cook, though it seems that she is perfectly comfortable taking on the duty alone. Paimon hovers dangerously close even though nothing has been put together yet, and Albedo can guess that on the two’s travels, Lumine is primarily in charge when food must be made.

“Do you require assistance?” he asks anyway despite the timing, as she is seasoning the fish.

Lumine blinks at him, and gestures to the stalks of violetgrass.

“If you’d like something to do, you can turn the flowers to powder,” she says, and Albedo nods, the task perfectly suited to him.

“Might I keep a stalk or two for an experiment?” he asks as he walks back to his table, and Lumine nods her agreement.

“Lumine….Paimon is hungry now….Fisherman’s Toast…” the spirit laments, floating down until she sits next to the Traveler.

“Hmmm…then let’s make some chicken and mushroom skewers, too,” Lumine says decisively, and Paimon perks up extra at that, shooting up again.

“Paimon wants five!” she exclaims, and Lumine sets to preparing said food again without complaint.

Fascinating, Albedo thinks, before turning to his mortar and pestle. Both are small people, but their capacity for consumption is…large. Albedo himself dislikes food in large quantities, especially meat, but such meals that he’s experienced in the past seem like they would be no challenge for the Traveler and her floating companion.

It might be nice to share an extravagant meal with them, he thinks, and see the extent of their capabilities in person. Perhaps, if he must attend a conference again where food is often ordered in advance, he could bring Lumine and Paimon along so that his portion didn’t go to waste…

“Albedo! Want one?” Paimon asks, floating over with a skewer.

He looks over, the delicious scent of perfectly cooked chicken and mushrooms tickling his nose. He is hesitant to be eating something right before a meal, but the spirit looks so proud and expectant.

“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her hands, and gingerly slides off the topmost piece of meat with his teeth.

With his free hand, he takes the mortar with the now-powdered violetgrass in it, bringing back over to the cooking fire and setting it near Lumine’s bag for when she needs it. All is quiet for a while, save for the usual bubbling noises of Albedo’s alchemical device and the cooking pot. Paimon eats her skewers and toast with big eyes on the stew, and Lumine stirs the pot patiently as she chews on her own skewer.

Albedo watches it all idly, lulled into a sense of calm as he finishes his last piece of mushroom, declining another skewer in favor of the stew.  

Eventually, Lumine dips a regular spoon into the pot and tastes the broth, her expression unreadable. She takes another spoon and dips it in again, coming out with a larger amount this time. She blows on it for a bit before offering it to Paimon, who blows twice more before shoving the whole thing into her mouth.

“It’s soooooo good!” she exclaims, eyes twinkling, “Yes! Yes! C’mon Lumine, it’s ready, let’s eat!”

Lumine smiles, taking the powdered violetgrass and sprinkling it over the top before doling out the finished stew. She serves Albedo first, with a normal amount, while her own portions and Paimon’s are huge. He suspects they’ll empty the pot just fine.

It’s an excellent stew.

He’d been worried about the spice, truth be told, but the amount if just enough to give the dish heat and warm the body through without being overpowering at all. The fish is so tender and juicy that he finds himself eating eagerly, and finishing his bowl quickly.

Lumine, already spooning more into her own bowl, offers him a full ladle, and he hesitates. He does want more, but…he really does hate overeating, as it always ruins the experience even if he had enjoyed the food initially.

She cocks her head a little, then tilts the ladle until half of it flows back into the pot, and offers the remainder again.

Albedo makes a sheepish expression, and holds out his bowl. Her eyes crinkle, and she pours the half-portion in.

He’s quite full, after the second helping, but pleasantly so. He’s certainly drowsy now, though he's insistent on helping in the clean-up, as she had done everything else. Paimon flops at Lumine's side, already half-asleep, while Albedo and Lumine rinse out the pot and utensils with melted snow. The clink of metal and wood as they do so is pleasant, and between the two of them, the task is completed quickly. It's almost a shame, somehow. It is pleasant to work alongside her, even for something to simple. 

“Back to research so soon?” she asks, when they set the pot back over the fire full of snow to melt down for future use.

Albedo considers.

“A break is in order, perhaps,” he allows, glancing over at his easel, though he frowns when he looks outside again. 

The blizzard is unrelenting, and though he could use some alchemical items to brave it, it is also...not quite worth the trouble it would be to paint in such conditions. 

A novel, then. Lumine watches as he picks one out from the shelf.

“Reading more after all that research you were doing?” Paimon asks drowsily, turning over to her side to face him, “Don't your eyes and brain hurt?” 

“Fortunately, I have very good eyes,” Albedo says.

“And a very good brain?” 

“Hmm...well, people call me a genius, but I don't think I am any such thing. But I suppose I can concede to having a good brain. We all do.” 

Lumine looks at Paimon with her eyebrow raised, who gasps in affront, though she is still too lethargic to float.

“Hey! Why are you looking at Paimon like that?!” she says, and Lumine pats her companion's stomach gently.

“I'm just thinking that Paimon has the very best brain,” Lumine says, very seriously, and Paimon puffs up a little.

“Hehe...well, that's okay, then. Even if your tone is suspicious!” 

Albedo meets Lumine's eyes, then looks away quickly as laughter bubbles in his throat. 

How odd. He does not laugh often; the sensation is warm and ticklish. He clears his throat as quietly as he can before taking the book of the shelf, and considers where to read it. 

Lumine goes back over to the spot she was at earlier, behind the table with his apparatus, and waves him over. She pats the spot beside her when he approaches, and he blinks before settling down beside her, the two of them sitting close but not quite touching. Paimon remains by the cooking fire, now dozing entirely. 

And so he and Lumine read together. He's not sure how much time passes before he realizes that he's being watched, and that Lumine is the one doing so. He ignores this—or rather, lets it happen for a while, but after a bit more time passes, a sharp, tangy scent suddenly permeates the air. He does turn at that, and is somewhat startled to see in Lumine’s hands an orange. It’s an uncommon fruit in Mondstadt, but considering her recent travels to Liyue, whose harbor never stops bustling with trade, it should not be so surprising. He watches closely as she continues to dig her fingers into and underneath the thick rind and peel the skin away, the citrusy scent growing more powerful as she does so. Carefully, she picks away the majority of the white pith before splitting the fruit down the middle, and holds one half out to him.

“…Thank you,” he says, staring at it for a moment before taking it. “A snack, so soon?”

“It’s refreshing,” she says, with a slight shrug, “And it helps digestion.”

“Hmmm.”

He tears a segment off with his teeth, the juices bursting sweet and summery on his tongue. He feels her watching again, and Albedo suspects that this is part of…something. But he watches her out of the corner of his eye too, fascinated by the way she peels each segment from the middle delicately with her fingers.

When they finally meet eyes, she continues to stare unabashedly, smiling a little when he turns to face her completely. 

“Are you conducting research?” he asks, unable to equate the weight of her gaze with anything else.

“I am,” she replies. 

“Oh? And are you obtaining results?” 

“I am,” she says again.

He pauses, considering whether or not to continue the game and ask for the results of said investigation. In the meantime, she tosses the orange peel into the fire, a pleasant aroma filling the space as it wrinkles in the heat.  

“I hope the returns are favorable, then,” he says instead.

“They are,” Lumine replies, and she smiles at him, full and bright.

Inexplicably, he feels himself flush. 

“Oh,” he mutters, turning away, confused at his own involuntary response. 

“Very favorable indeed,” Lumine says, and turns back to her book, seeming pleased. 

.

He returns to his own research soon after, only a little bit attempting to escape his embarrassment. A new feeling too, this self-consciousness. He has had many, many eyes on him, much attention turned on him for his alchemical skill. And, apparently, his looks as well. Yet he has never given another thought about it; it has never bothered nor interested him.

He cannot quite say he is bothered or interested now. But this...awareness...is quite new, different. 

Nevertheless. He has work to do, though the suspects that he will not have much time left in the day to do so. Time is harder to measure on the Dragonspine, especially with the storm, but it is important that he maintain at least the semblance of a schedule so as not to disrupt the workflow involving other people. 

The next time he comes back into the world from his research, he sees that Lumine has already set up a rather large sleeping bag. Paimon has also been moved, and she continues to sleep on Lumine’s right, the content so evident on the child's face that Albedo cannot help but be amused. 

When Lumine notices him looking, she once more pats the empty space to her left. 

He stares at her this time, and she tilts her head, considering what it is she wants to say, and Albedo wonders just what the combination of words is going to be. 

“Care for another study?” she asks, and Albedo raises an eyebrow. 

“You're conducting another experiment?” 

“Yes. Shall I call it a study in warmth?” 

Albedo crosses his arms, furrowing his brows at this rudimentary implied thesis.

“It is evident that two people sharing a space will produce greater heat than one alone,” he says, and Lumine nods sagely.

“Indeed. But that is not the kind of warmth I'm studying.”

He blinks at her, somewhat unsure of her meaning. He opens his mouth, closes it again. 

“So,” she says, smiling a little at his speechlessness. “Will you help me derive results, or not?”

“I...will,” he says, slowly, curious as to what exactly she is trying to do despite himself. 

Sleeping beside someone does not deter him. He and Klee have often fallen asleep together. He and Sucrose have slept in their lab before as well. In the Dragonspine, when Timaeus is here for an extended stay, they sleep back to back too. One cannot forgo extra warmth in such a bitterly cold area. While there are some alchemical adjustments that Albedo has made to his camp so that he can conduct his experiments in peace without having to worry about freezing to death, he does have to be careful with his resources here, as it is much more difficult to transport or to request materials to be transported for him. 

So he does not feel odd when he slides into place beside Lumine, who throws an additional quilt (a gift from someone, perhaps?) atop them. They lie down and stare at each other, face to face, for a while before Albedo turns to his side. After a moment, he feels Lumine do the same, her back pressed against his. 

“...Is there a reason behind this experiment in particular?” he asks.

“I dislike sleeping alone,” Lumine replies easily, as if she were prepared to answer this question. “It doesn't...feel right.”

He remembers, now, that she had been cruelly separated from her brother, whom she traveled her whole life with. He supposes this must also be why Paimon, despite being able to fold herself into some other space, is out and about much of the time. 

“I see,” is all he says.

“And you?”

“I suppose...I have never quite thought about it. Klee will come to my room, sometimes. And sometimes I will stay with her in hers. I sleep when I need to. If I cannot, I work. I suppose I have not considered being lonely in sleep.”

“And otherwise?”

“Hm?”

“Have you considered loneliness, otherwise?”

He can feel that she has turned again, facing his back now. After a moment, he turns, too. 

“As I said. Dispelling it is not essential for life. But it does not hurt.” 

“And has it hurt before, oh Kreideprinz?”

He is not sure he likes to hear that title from her, no matter how softly she says it.  

“I do not always notice until I am without it,” he admits after a while. 

...Ah.

He blinks in realization. Lumine notices, and her lips curl up into a little smile.

“I’m glad,” she says, not to his words but what his expression reveals.

He pauses.

“Why….should you be glad?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you so quick to take back our friendship?”

“Oh, no,” he says frowning a little at the thought of losing her regard as such, “But even as friends…there are greater things to occupy your mind, yes? Especially for you. To be concerned for my loneliness takes up unnecessary space in your mind that would be better spent on more important matters.”

She blinks at him.

“Ah, but important by your standard and not mine, isn’t it?”

He pauses.

“Perhaps. But does it change nothing if I say you need not be concerned for me?”

Her turn to pause.

“I suppose it could change a little. But by that logic, if I say that you need not be so…academically interested in me, does that reduce anything?”

“Ah, but you have questions about yourself that you cannot answer, and so even you are not uninterested in yourself. So how will you be able to convince me that there is nothing of interest about you?”

“Are you so uninterested in your own self, then?”

“Questions that I used to have have been answered. Perhaps there are new things here and there to discover. But I no longer find myself an interesting subject of study.”

She stares at him for a moment, not speaking, then her eyes grow ever so slightly amused.

“I think,” she begins, considering her words again, “I should like to give you a new question about yourself to ponder.”

He blinks, waiting for the said question, but it does not come. Instead, she yawns.

“It’s gotten even later,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded, “You, Sir Albedo, are an unexpectedly noisy bed partner.”

He blinks at the wording, though her tone is light.

“My apologies, I got carried away,” he says, and she smiles a little at that.

“Do you dream, Albedo?” she asks, after a few heartbeats, her voice growing quieter.

“…Not often, no,” he replies.

“Then you’ll have to forgive me for mine,” she says, turning to the other side and drawing Paimon closer, “Wake me, if I…if it gets to be too much.”

The end of the conversation is clear, though he wishes to ask what she means. And yet, he thinks he may understand.

By her breathing, he knows that it takes her a while longer to fall asleep. He thinks about their backs pressed together, the slight difference he feels in this contact compared to other times he has done such a thing.  

When her breathing slows, Albedo finally closes his eyes, and rests.

.

He is a light sleeper.

Albedo wakes to a distressed murmur, and he half-rises before he realizes it is coming from Lumine.

“Wait!” she cries, “Aether…don’t go!”

She reaches out a desperate hand, and reflexively, he grabs it. The contact seems to ground her, and though she lets out another strangled sob, she quiets.

Albedo stares. Again, he is not so unfamiliar with this type of thing; Klee has had nightmares before too, and takes comfort in his presence those nights. But the feeling is different now, and he is not so sure that he should be…allowed…to do this.

Another soft noise, and he looks over to see Paimon sitting up, peeking at him from Lumine’s other side.

“Keep holding her hand?” Paimon requests, as she closes the small gap that has formed between her and Lumine throughout the night, snuggling close.

“Alright,” Albedo says, and lies back down.

After a moment, he touches his forehead to the top of Lumine’s head.

“Don’t go,” Lumine whispers again.

Albedo does not answer her; he cannot promise her that, and nor is he the one meant to be answering. But he closes his eyes and continues to hold her hand, and thinks about the warmth generated between them.

.

Albedo wakes before her; he does not need as much sleep as many others, and quietly slides himself out of the sleeping back to get his day started. The blizzard has quieted overnight, and he is glad that he will be able to go back out into the field with some proper preparations.  

He begins making breakfast, adjusting the setup over the fire to accommodate a frying pan for pancakes. When he flips the first one over, he can hear Paimon floating towards him already. There’s a slight initial sound associated with it, and he wonders about the source—and reason for it. Another thing to research, if he gets permission one day.

“Pancakes!” Paimon exclaims, her tone still a little sleepy. “Paimon wants…hmm…fifteen!”

Albedo glances at the bowl of batter, calculating the portions.

“Might you have more ingredients in Lumine’s bag?”

“Sure do! Hold on a sec.”

He watches as Paimon floats back over to the still-sleeping Traveler, patting her cheeks a little.

“Lumine! Lumi, bag!”

The girl in question mumbles, holding up her hand. Paimon catches the bag as it materializes, and carries it over to Albedo.

“Here! Careful, though. Even Paimon doesn’t know everything that’s in it!”

Questions, questions, questions abound. The bag too seems to follow the odd principles of the Traveler and her companion, in that it carries far more than it looks like it should. Or is it Lumine’s power, or perhaps a combination of hers and Paimon’s, that allows for the bag to do so?

He glances at Paimon, considering asking, but decides against it, as he does not think she will be able to answer.

Nevertheless, pancakes. He quadruples his usual recipe, and by the time he is done flipping and Paimon has eaten five with copious amounts of honey and berries (procured once more from the Traveler’s mysterious bag), Lumine has gotten up, yawning.

“Good morning,” she greets drowsily, seating herself beside the fire.

“You slept hard this time!” Paimon says, “That’s good. You should sleep more.”

“Mmm…” Lumine murmurs absentmindedly, then blinks as she realizes what her companion has said.

She turns to Albedo, expression vaguely surprised, her mouth open to say something; he blinks at her unassumingly, and after a moment, she forgoes asking. She looks at the tall stack of pancakes instead.

“Have we cleaned out your supplies?” she asks, and Albedo shakes his head.

“Paimon procured your bag from you while you were still half-asleep; I may have cleaned out yours.”

“Standard occurrence, when one must feed Paimon,” Lumine says, and Paimon protests through a mouthful of pancake. “Fine. And myself,” Lumine chuckles, and Albedo hands her a plate of breakfast. “Oh, thank you. Is there anything else in there that you need?”

As it turns out, he does need more butterfly wings, horsetails, and flaming flower stamens. She insists on giving them to him, saying that she has too many of them right now anyway.

“You should really stop picking up everything you come across,” Paimon chides.

“But you never know when they’ll be needed,” Lumine counters sagely. “Like now, to give to someone.”

Paimon cannot contest that, and relents. Albedo takes the materials gratefully.

The group cleans up and packs up after breakfast; with the storm no longer raging, Albedo wants to make use of the daylight for field research, and Lumine and Paimon must be on their way too. There’s a domain at the summit they want to reach before night falls. They spend the next half-hour or so at Albedo’s crafting table, and he watches with approval as they make a plethora of potions and to aid them on their travels.  

After they are all appropriately bundled up, he walks with them partway.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Lumine says at their parting point, Paimon echoing her sentiments.

“It was a pleasure,” he says, “Thank you for cooking, as well. And…I hope your study had a positive outcome.”

Her eyes crinkle.

“There were some interesting results,” she says, “And more questions, perhaps. But such is the nature of research, isn’t it? The answer to the bigger question will reveal itself eventually.”

Albedo tilts his head, wondering about the tone of her voice, holding his hand to his chin in thought.

“A bigger question?” he queries, “So your…study in warmth was part of a more complex equation?”

She looks both sheepish and a little distant at that, hesitating a bit before speaking.

“…Call it a study in happiness, if you will.”

“…Are you not happy?” he asks, surprised.

“Ah, that is not what I said.”

Albedo stares, scrutinizing her expression, and she raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing him in turn. After a moment, she uses her foot to dig a small trench in the snow, as if she is deliberating about whether or not to actually answer him.

“My brother and I traveled together, just the two of us, for a very long time. I have never been without him until now,” she begins, her voice eerily flat, “I dream of him often; I dream of chasing him, unable to catch up no matter what I do, and him telling me that I’ve come too late. That I could be happy without him was inconceivable. And yet, I’ve managed to find joy during our time apart, too. So—was I…were we truly happy, then? Even if happiness is many things…even if it can exist independently of one another…that frightens me. So now…when we meet again, can we be happy together the same way we were before?”

Albedo is silent. She continues.

“So I suppose I am searching for the truth behind happiness. For many people, it seems to begin with what or where they consider home. Aether and I…our home…it has been lost for a long time. And now…?”

“…And now?” Albedo prompts, when she trails off for too long, her gaze faraway.

She blinks, and focuses on him again, her tone blasé.

“A home could be many things, too. It could be a country, or a city. Or a cave.” She pauses. “Or the center of someone’s palm.”

Albedo blinks, feeling…strange. Something in the conversation has turned, and his skin prickles. Paimon, who had been listening in rare silence having been unable to keep up with the conversation, looks between the two of them curiously.

“So…what is a home, and what is happiness? Perhaps you will beat me to such an answer, in your search for the truth of this world,” Lumine finishes, offering him a small smile.

He closes his mouth that he hasn’t realized fell open a little.

“I…will be sure to let you know, if I do,” he replies, uncertainly.

“I’ll visit you again sometime,” she says, waving as she half-turns away, “Or if you see me, please say hello.”

“I…will,” he replies, holding up his own hand in goodbye.

“Bye, Albedo!” Paimon exclaims, seeming relieved that the difficult topics have passed, and the two are off.

Albedo watches them go, only putting his hand down when they disappear into the distance. He stares at his hand for a while, and as he does, a crystalfly flutters into his palm.

Gently, he closes his fingers around it, and transforms it into a bird. The creature, baffled at the change, flutters its wings in rapid, confused panic.

He turns it back into a crystalfly hastily, realizing that such a bird would not be able to survive in this frigid climate. It flies off after that, its path a little off-kilter.

He watches it go, realizing belatedly that his heart too beats a different rhythm.  

[my-creative-hell]

Sick (Actor au)

It wasn’t often that Grave and the rest of the large group would find enough time to do small things, let alone have full days to themselves to relax and not have to worry about work. But finally, all the filming was done, the new season written and being planned, and they had time to breath and do as they pleased for a while, like a well-earned holiday.

For Grave, this means spending full days inside her lab working on whatever was taking her fancy at that particular time. Normally she would be interrupted by any number of things, Hannah checking in to make sure she’d eaten, Jake curious about what she was doing or Jerry running in to ask where something was. But today, nothing seemed to interrupt her as she worked, leaving her in peace as she finishes her latest creation, stepping outside the lab to go and see the others, the clock reading around two in the afternoon as she wanders the halls.

Stepping into the kitchen, it seemed as if Hannah, Leena, Iden and Jake were on a different floor, or had maybe gone out to complete odd bits of work for the show. But for some reason, they had all decided to live together, along with the stunt double actors, meaning there was never no one in the house. To prove that point, Shaun sits at the counter in the kitchen, playing absentmindedly on his phone as Amelia attempts to make herself cereal without making a mess, Jerry cooking an actual meal for them in the kitchen, keeping an eye on them both simultaneously.

“Hi!” Grave keeps her voice quiet as she speaks, her hands covered in small pieces of dried paint and small scars from working in the lab as she waves at them happily.

“Hiya Grave!” Amelia grins brightly as she spills some milk on the counter, Shaun waving as he stares at his phone. Jerry turns from his cooking momentarily to flash Grave a smile before waving at Amelia to remind her to put the milk away, making her look sheepish as she cleans the spillage up.

“Where is the Rose gorl?” Grave enquires, wiggling her fingers happily as she watches Amelia scrunch her face in thought, nose wrinkling.

“I haven’t seen her at all today… maybe she’s still in her room?” Shaun offers his small amount of knowledge, looking up from his phone, rolling his eyes at the mess Amelia has made.

“Oh!” A small sliver of concern works its way through Grave at that knowledge, prompting her to leave the kitchen to find Rose. “Bye bye, hecc bois.” Grave smiles as she leaves the kitchen, Shaun getting up to help Amelia clean up her mess.

“Bye Grave!” Amelia waves as Shaun begins to assist her as Grave leaves, walking down the hallway to Rose’s room. As she reaches the outside of her room, there’s no noise coming from it, silence hanging in the air loosely around the door as Grave stands in front of it momentarily, listening.

Grave gently knocks on the door as quiet as possible, waiting patently for Rose to answer. It takes a moment before her voice can be heard by Grave through the door.

“…Hello?” Her voice sounds quiet even behind the door as she answers, clearly not speaking very loudly, the sound barely carrying over to Grave.

“Hi, Rose. It me.” Grave smiles as she keeps her own voice quiet, wanting to see her girlfriend after spending a whole day alone in the lab, where she would normally be interrupted by Rose wanting attention.

“Hi Grave, you can come in, it’s not locked…” Rose explains, her voice quiet as she allows Grave inside.

“Yay!” Grave feels happiness building inside her as she gently opens the door to the room. “I here!” She exclaims happily as she enters, Rose currently buried underneath a pile of sheets, though a hand emerges to wave at Grave.

“Hey! You’re here!” Rose’s slightly muffled voice comes from the sheets, sounding slightly happier now Grave was in the room. Grave approaches the pile of sheets, holding the expose hand in her own.

“Gay!” Grave jokes, making Rose laugh from underneath all the layers on top of her.

“I would hope so, otherwise you are dating the wrong person.” Rose returns the joke cheerily; staying hidden in her bed as Grave carefully lays her head down on Rose.

“Mmmm. You’re warm.” Grave comments as she leans on Rose, heat seeping into her from the bundle of sheets.

“I would hope so, I have like four blankets on…” Rose laughs as she pokes her face out from the pile, looking at Grave.

“I see you!” Grave plants a small kiss on Rose’s face, making her giggle as she comes out of the covers more, though she remains lying down.

“I have been spotted.” She smiles as she rubs at her face, closing her eyes for a moment as she does.

“Yes, and I’m gonna attack you!” Grave smiles as she plasters Rose’s face with kisses, Rose laughing as she squirms.

“Aaaa nooooo!” She giggles, smiling at Grave as she stops. “What have you been up to, anyway?” She changes the subject, looking interested.

“I was makin shit in my lab! What about you?” Grave watches as Rose scrunches her face in thought.

“Mmmm, what’s the time?” Rose looks up at Grave inquisitively as she tries to answer the question.

“Its 2PM exactly!” Grave smiles happily as Rose looks at her, sinking down into her covers more.

“I haven’t done anything… I’ve been in bed all day…” Rose admits, keeping her explanation vague and to the point.

“…You haven’t eaten anything, have you?” Grave questions softly, a slight bit of concern creeping in as she speaks.

“…No?” Rose smiles sheepishly. “I haven’t felt hungry or… right, I guess? So I’ve just stayed here, and I didn’t realise it was so late.” She explains as best she can, trying not to worry Grave.

“Mmmm you still need to eat tho. I can get you something?” Grave offers calmly, a smile resting on her face.

“I guess I can probably stomach something light…” Rose concedes, smiling warmly. “Think its just some annoying twenty four hour thing, I’ll probably be fine tomorrow.” She laughs gently as she watches Grave from the bed.

“I hope so!” Grave wiggles happily, though some concern lingers over her, making her hope Rose would be right.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She reassures Grave, smiling. “But I am not getting out of this bed, so if you want attention, you gotta join me!” She giggles quietly.

“Warm time, babey!” Grave jumps into the bed, pulling herself in next to Rose, the covers now over both of them.

“Yay warm time!” Rose snuggles closer to Grave to sap her heat. “I’m still super tired…” She admits as she focuses on the warm presence beside her.

“Aaaa you wanna sleeb first and then have smol food or sleeb after food?” Grave questions as she turns to look at Rose.

“If I sleep I am not getting up again…” Rose explains, laughing gently as she looks at Grave with calm eyes.

“True. What would you like?” Grave asks in a soft voice, watching Rose as she thinks it over.

“Ummmm, I really don’t mind what I eat…” Rose confesses, trying to keep herself focused on Grave and her words.

“Mmmm… soup! What soup boi do you want?” Grave asks, wiggling gently in the bed as Rose considers it.

“I like chicken soup…” She smiles gently as she looks at Grave, feeling relaxed and calm.

“Liquid chicken it is!” Grave wiggles out of the covers, walking out of Rose’s room to head to the kitchen, Rose watching her leave as she snuggles back under the covers, trying her best to stay awake till she comes back.

“Liquid chicken!” Grave comes back into the room with a hot bowl of soup in her hand, Rose half awake as she lies in her bed.

“Thank you…” She fights against the comfortable warmth, smiling at Grave in appreciation.

“You’re welcome!” Grave carefully sets the soup on the nightstand, smiling as Rose sits up in her bed, daintily beginning to eat her soup as she motions for Grave to join her in the bed again, missing her warm presence beside her.

“Best gooorl.” Grave sits down next to her, her voice quiet and soft as Rose finishes her soup quickly, leaning against Grave when she’s done.

“You’re so cheesy…” Rose smiles gently as she envelops herself in the warmth provided by Grave.

“Mmm true, but I gotsa be!!! Its cute.” Grave giggles as Rose smiles back at her, eyes closing slightly.

“It is very cute…” Rose admits happily, her warm smile never leaving her face as she leans into Grave.

“I think you’re cuter tho.” Grave blushes slightly as she looks down at Rose, her voice quiet as Rose giggles.

“Nooo… don’t call me cute when I’m too tired to retaliate, that’s cheating…” Despite her attempts to sound stern, Rose’s smiling face give her true emotions away.

“But its true! You are very cute and I love you.” Grave explains, a smile on her face as she looks down at Rose.

“I love you too…” Rose returns the sentiment as she struggles to stay awake, feeling sleepy as Grave’s warmth seeps into her.

“You sleeby?” Grave places a gentle kiss on Rose’s face as she speaks, able to feel the slight flush in her skin.

“Mhmmmm…” Rose smiles at the kiss as she nods gently, trying and failing to keep her eyes open.

“Go sleeb!!!” Grave gently pushes Rose down into the bed so she lies down. “Sleeby time.” Rose whines gently as she’s pushed down, reaching out for Grave to join her.

“Okay, okay!” Grave giggles slightly at the image as she lies down, allowing Rose to snuggle into her for warmth, her eyes closing properly as she relaxes.

“My sleeby gorl.” Grave affectionately litters Rose’s face with kisses as she hugs her, Rose almost asleep as she enveloped in warmth and happiness.

As they sit together, Rose eventually slips into sleep, Grave following behind her, falling into a peaceful and calm sleep, wrapped in a warm embrace.

 Light shines into Rose’s room the next morning, stirring Grave from her sleep. As she looks around silently, she is able to see Rose still quietly sleeping beside her, curled up slightly in the covers. The clock reads nine, a time they would normally be up by so they could get as much done as possible

“Wake up!” Grave gently wiggles Rose to stir her, keeping her voice soft as she takes a moment before opening her eyes.

“Mmmm, what?” Rose looks at Grave with slightly tired eyes as she starts to wake up more.

“We gotta wake up, I think.” Grave explains as Rose starts to shift in the bed, bringing her hands up to rub gently at her eyes.

“Whats the time?” She questions as she brings her hands back down, yawning quietly.

“Its nine.” Grave clarifies, though she keeps her voice quiet as Rose huffs gently in response.

“Mmmmmm fine…” Rose attempts to make her voice sound annoyed, but the blooming smile on her face shows Grave otherwise. Slowly, Grave rolls off of the bed, landing on the floor.

“Am floor boi.” Grave smiles as Rose laughs quietly, looking down at her with a happy expression.

“Well, does floor boi wanna help me up?” She questions, cocking an eyebrow at Grave.

“Of course!” Grave pulls herself off of the floor, linking hands with Rose to pull her up gently. As Rose stands up, something changes, her head suddenly feeling as if she is underwater as ringing enters her ears loudly, drowning out all other noise. Her legs feel weak and tired and her chest feels tight, making it hard to breath as her vision goes in and out of focus, her skin feeling as if it was on fire as she tries to ground herself and understand what’s happening.

“You okay, Rose?” Grave looks at her in slight concern as Rose looks away from her, unable to make out what was being said, as her mind turns fuzzy, her legs following suit and giving out, making Rose fall down towards the floor.

Grave reacts quickly, managing to catch Rose before she hits the floor, concern flooding through her as she fails to come up with anything to say. Rose gently clings onto Grave as she struggles to comprehend what is going on, her skin flushed and hot.

Attempting to keep herself clam despite the rising panic inside of her, Grave gently places her healing kisses onto Rose, though for some reason the usually perfect treatment is having no effect. Rose’s mind begins to come back into itself as Grave tries to help her, allowing her to look at Grave with tired eyes as she slowly understands the situation.

Grave panics at the lack of effect, leading her to plant more soft kisses on Rose, which continue to have no effect as Rose looks more and more confused, her face flushed and tired as she watches Grave.

Her brain screaming at her in panic, Grave gently places Rose back onto the bed as she starts to look worried for Grave, ignoring her own state as she can sense the panic coming off of her.

“I-I-I’m okay…” Rose lies, trying to calm Grave down as she starts to feel worse, every muscle starting to ache and burn as she lies down, keeping her eyes focused on Grave.

“I’d love to believe that…” Grave cracks a small smile despite her worry as she looks down at Rose.

“I-I don’t know what happened…” Rose admits, frowning as everything in her body starts to feel worse. “My body just… gave up.” She looks at Grave, trying to stay calm as she struggles to think properly.

“Oh no…” Grave’s panic only rises as she looks at Rose, who reaches out, holding her hands gently.

“Hey, it’ll be okay…” Rose tries to reassure her softly, a small smile on her face, though it doesn’t touch it the same way as normal “It’ll get better eventually…” Rose continues, wanting Grave to calm down.

“… I hope so.” Grave mimics the smile, though the worry remains as Rose shivers gently, skin suddenly feeling cold despite its flush.

“Ugh, cold and tired… love it…” Rose tries to joke, laughing quietly, though her flushed and tired face shows how she truly feels. Grave gently climbs back in the bed to provide more warmth as Rose pulls the covers back over her.

“Is this any better?” Grave’s voice is gentle and quiet as she speaks, Rose smiling softly as her eyes close momentarily.

“Feels warmer at least…” She opens her eyes to look at Grave as she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss onto Rose’s lips.

“That’s good.” Grave speaks as quietly as she can, Rose smiling gently again as her eyes close out of tiredness.

“Mmmm…” Rose relaxes slightly as Grave wiggles carefully, still concerned, though some happiness bleeds through it as Rose falls asleep quickly beside her, whatever illness she currently had making her tired. The room is silent for a while as she sleeps, Grave lying beside her as a small noise sounds out from outside the house.

Grave frowns slightly, carefully getting out of bed , making sure Rose doesn’t wake up as she heads to the window of the room. A hooded figure resides outside, their face hidden from Grave as they silently raise a hand, beckoning for her to join them outside the house.

Grave groans quietly, wanting to stay with Rose and make sure she’s okay, though she needs to know what’s going on. She opens the window in front of her silently, climbing outside and dropping down flawlessly to talk to the hooded figure. But they seem to have other ideas, walking away from the house into the woods behind it for Grave to follow them, walking far enough into the woods that the house is no longer visible to either of them.

“So um… why did you bring me out here at 9 AM and looking like you’re about to kill somebody and feed it to a cryptid?” Grave questions, leaning against a tree as she watches the hooded figure in confusion. A sigh escapes the figure as the hoodie is pulled off of them and tied around their waste, revealing Siryn to Grave, one of the group’s biggest enemies. Her and her small group of bastards were a constant annoyance in the group’s life, constantly trying to ruin everything and hurt them. Grave’s small amount of surprise doesn’t register on her face as she looks at her, taking it in.

“Cool. Did you come here to fight me about something stupid or fight me about something that makes sense for once?” Grave questions, her voice emotionless as Siryn sighs quietly, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t actually come here to fight at all…” Siryn explains, her voice equally dull. For once it looked like she might be telling the truth, instead of her usual get up, she is in casual clothing, jeans and a shirt with her hoodie tied at the waste, long brown hair tied up in a messy bun. Grave sighs happily at this news.

“Oh thank god. What did you come here for anyways?” She questions, Siryn crossing her arms gently as she leans against her own tree nonchalantly.

“I know what’s going on with Rose. She isn’t well, right? And your healing abilities aren’t working.” She explains, looking Grave in the eyes as she speaks, face neutral and unmoving.

“Oh really? Never noticed.” Grave’s sarcasm rolls off of her tongue, Siryn frowning as she struggles to not get annoyed by her as Grave fiddles with her hands.

“My point is, I know what’s going on.” Siryn attempts to clarify, trying to keep herself levelheaded and remain as polite as possible, despite it being so against her nature.

“Please tell me.” A small amount of excitement enters Grave at the prospect of getting this fixed, Siryn sighing gently.

“Well, it seems my ‘team mates’ found a way to cancel out your abilities, and slip sickness inducing drugs into one of your girlfriends drinks…” Siryn explains, looking away from Grave as she speaks.

“H m m m.” Grave’s blood involuntarily boils in anger, not believing all of what Siryn says, though she doesn’t show it on her face as she debates beating her right here and now, Siryn groaning slightly.

“Look, I know you probably don’t believe me, and frankly, I’m struggling to care right now. I just thought I’d mention it.” Siryn begins to get frustrated, her quick temper working against her as she talks, making her words harsh.

“I didn’t need to know that, but what I d o need to know is how to get my powers back so I can heal my girlfriend.” Grave explains, her only goal to get this fixed, Siryn looking away from her.

“You’re gonna have to find the team, they did it, its probably in the base somewhere…” She explains, a frown playing at her face.

“Cool, rad. Dunno why you said it like I know where the base is.” Grave groans loudly.

“I’m afraid that’s where the shitting part comes in. To get in there, you’re gonna have to trust me and let me take you there…” Siryn explains, looking at Grave with cold eyes, not looking forward to anything that was coming. Grave remains silent for a few seconds as she thinks it over.

“Alright. Sounds kinda sketchy but I’ll take it.” She agrees, Siryn watching her.

“Good, cause you’re kind of out of options if you want Rose to be okay.” Siryn shrugs, indifferent as she speaks to Grave.

“Okay, so are you gonna take me there oooorrr…?” Grave questions, losing her patience as she talks to Siryn, who spins on the heel of her foot, walking further into the woods as she gestures for Grave to follow.

“My car is this way…” She explains, her voice deadpan as she walks away, not checking to see if Grave follows.

“Oh, we’re doin cars. I loved that movie.” Grave jokes as she follows Siryn, walking fast to catch up with her as she nods silently, trying to remain calm as she walks to her car.

Grave walks with her silently, not bothering to open the car door when they get to it, opting instead to clip through the car into her seat, Siryn rolling her eyes as she opens the door, unphased as she gets inside. The car hums quietly to life as she turns the key, buckling herself in.

Grave waits patiently, wiggling slightly as Siryn gets ready, trying to not be annoyed by her, though every action was annoying to her. She huffs as she starts driving away form the woods, heading in the direction of the base.

Grave spaces out as she drives, not wanting to think about anything as Siryn tensely drives the car, hands gripping the wheel firmly as a million thoughts race through her mind, trying to figure it all out before they get to the base.

Grave leans down, putting her head on the front board of the car as her brain screams at her, Siryn looking over at her for a moment.

“Whats goin on?” She attempts to be nice, unused to it, unsure of what to say or do, especially since it was unlikely she was being believed, Grave shrugging.

“Just a little bit sleepy. What’s goin on with you?” Grave smiles, though Siryn doesn’t look convinced.

“You don’t gotta pretend to give a shit how I’m doin.” Siryn shrugs as she drives, keeping her eyes straight. “I’m aware the second this is fixed you’ll go back to beating the shit out of me, I’ve accepted it.” She speaks bluntly, Grave giggling.

“Nah, I actually care. I’m not gonna beat the shit outta you without a good reason either so… maybe I wont rearrange your guts if you don’t give me a reason to…” Grave explains, Siryn laughing, though its empty and without humour.

“You say that like I’ve not given plenty of reasons…” She trails off, never looking at Grave as she drives.

“I can like… give you a chance to not do that.” Grave offers, her voice hushed as she proposes her kind offer, the slightest hint of a smile on Siryn’s face.

“You don’t think it’s too late for me? Aren’t I a bit of a lost cause by now?” Siryn questions, her voice neutral despite the raging war of feelings inside of her.

“Nope, its not too late at all. Just because you’re an asshole doesn’t mean I’m not willing to give you a chance.” Grave explains, smiling sweetly. Siryn hides her own smile by turning her head away.

“You know, I guess I unknowingly used today as my chance to get away from this shit… guess that might have been a good idea, huh?” Siryn’s voice sounds slightly lighter as she speaks.

“Very good!” Grave wiggles happily in her seat as Siryn becomes more alert, looking ahead.

“Okay, we should be there in a minute or so. Just, be careful, keep your heads down and let me deal with this, okay? Last thing I want is a huge confrontation.” Siryn explains, looking at Grave briefly.

“Sounds good.” Grave keeps her voice quiet as her excitement builds, Siryn pulling the car over to park it at the side of the road.

“The base is down there, but we’re gonna go in on foot, don’t need the noise.” Siryn explains as she gets out of the car.

Grave clips through her own door, her feet making no noise as she follows Siryn, who enters an abandoned building at the end of the road, making her way down a flight of stairs, footsteps quiet and alert.

Grave follows her, no more wiggling or smiling, her serious face on as Siryn reaches a door at the bottom of the stairs, pressing her ear to it to check for noises, opening it silently once she decides its safe. Grave is quickly ushered through, Siryn leading her effortlessly through all the abandoned passages no one used within the base, only stopping once they reach a door.

“If I’m right, it should be through that door…” She explains, her voice slightly lower than a whisper.

“Thanks.” Grave whispers back, clipping through the door as Siryn rolls her eyes, opening the door to let herself in, silently scanning the room with her eyes.

“From what little they told me, it sounded like it was a small machine that was interrupting your abilities…” Siryn explains, looking around for such a machine.

“Ah, machines! I love those.” Grave smiles as she looks around, Siryn moving around the room quietly, keeping an eye out for the others.

“I know, shouldn’t be hard to find it…” She comments as she searches, keeping her voice low.

“This is f u n.” Grave fiddles with her fingers as the sarcastic comment comes out, making Siryn snort as she searches.

“I know, right… oh, I think that might be it…” She stops, pointing to a small but strange looking box sitting on one of the shelves.

“Hopefully.” Grave begins to go over to the box, though she stops. “This kinda feels like a trap…” She speaks quietly, the door to the room bursting open as the other two team members enter.

“Hiya Grave…” Inferno snarls, mouth pulled into an agitating grin as she waves to Grave.

“Hi! How are ya, Shitburn?” Grave waves at Inferno, a large smile plastered on her face.

“I’m great!” She smiles happily at Grave. “Did you really think Siryn was gonna help you fix your stupid little girlfriend?” She leans forward slightly as she speaks.

“I don friggin know!” Grave shrugs as Siryn walks over to her teammates, not speaking as she does.

“Well that turned out to be a mistake didn’t it?” Riptide smiles as Siryn joins them. “Cause now you’re a little fucked.” She explains, a grin present on her face.

“I am?” Grave pretends to be shocked, her sarcasm thick. “Oh wow!” She exclaims, Riptide rolling her eyes in response.

“Cute, real cute. But the reality is that maybe you’ll be fine, but Rose… not so much.” She grins as she speaks, watching Grave.

“Mhm, yes. How long is this talk gonna go for?” Grave questions, feeling tired and over this situation as she speaks.

“Well this talk can end if you just allow us to restrain you.” Inferno smiles. “Can’t have you running around after all.” She explains, trying not to get annoyed as Siryn stands silently beside them.

“Uh… sure, I guess.” Grave holds her hands out as Inferno comes closer to her, applying chains to both of her hands as well as her neck, limiting the amount of movement she is capable off. The chains seem to be applying a chemical, only increasing Grave’s tiredness as she stands there.

“So uh… you gonna play with my insides and kill me or do some other shit?” She questions as Inferno starts walking with her, leading her somewhere as the others follow behind them.

“Killing is too boring. Well, killing you at least. That’s what Rose is for.” She explains, a horrible smile etched into her skin. “Human bodies can only take poison for so long.”

“Cool, so you’re gonna kill my girlfriend for some…” Grave looks around her as she walks, thinking. “Dumb reason. Torture, right?” She enquires, looking at Inferno, Riptide shrugging behind them.

“Testing more so. Wanna see how well it works.” She smiles as she walks faster, catching up to them. “She seemed like a good candidate. Sides, needed some way to get you out of that house.” She continues, Grave no longer paying attention to them as she walks, spacing out.

She is walked into a room, being sat down by Inferno as the dosage on her chains is increased to pacify her, Inferno leading Riptide and Siryn outside to talk to them.

Grave ignores them, giving in and going to sleep for a while, wanting to be rid of the world around her. she doesn’t wake up for a while, only being stirred by some faint noises coming from outside the room as Grave closes her eyes again, not wanting to be here, only wanting to sleep and forget the world.

Some more noises sound out, though they are far away sounding as Grave squeezes her eyes closed, managing to slip back into sleep as she listens to them.

The next time she opens her eyes, she notices that she is no longer in the chair, instead lying down on the floor of the woods, alone currently. She doesn’t move, not wanting to put up with this, feeling tired of existing as she lies still.

The sound of a twig snapping as someone walks over it comes from behind Grave as someone approaches her.

“Can you please go away?” Grave questions politely, despite feeling tired and frustrated.

“Fraid not. Not right now at least.” Siryn explains as she sits in front of Grave, her hoodie back on and covering her face from view.

“Yeah no, seriously dude. Fuck off, I��m tired of your shit.” Grave keeps her tone level despite the exhaustion she feels inside of her.

“Nice way to talk to the person that got you out of that shithole… and took your chains off.” Siryn scoffs as she turns away from Grave, watching the woods.

“Ah, funny.” Grave doesn’t believe a single word coming from her mouth as she wishes for sleep to engulf her.

“Yup, cause I’ve always been one for jokes.” Siryn sighs, rubbing her hands over her face. “How’s the anaesthesia wearing off?” She questions, Grave shrugging.

“It’s leaving, I guess.” She answers, Siryn huffing as she listens to her, resisting the urge to get frustrated.

“Grave, the last thing I need right now is for you to get an attitude with me, please.” She explains as she sits quietly in front of her.

“Dude, can I be a little bit of a bitch every once in a while? Just a little bit?” Grave resists her urge to curl into a ball as she speaks.

“But why with me? I helped, didn’t I?” Siryn doesn’t look at Grave as she speaks, keeping her voice low and quiet.

“You did a bunch of other terrible shit, too. Also I’m very tired. Mentally, physically and emotionally, so I might be a bit of an asshole.” Grave sighs gently. “Sorry.” She apologises.

“Its fine… didn’t really expect you to trust me anyway.” Siryn laughs quietly. “Kinda fucked that small bit of trust up anyway.”

“Anyway, what are you gonna do now?” Grave questions, sounding annoyed, though a small amount of fear creeps into her.

“Well, considering how things went at the base…” Siryn sighs. “What do you think I’m gonna do?” She questions, not turning to look at Grave.

“Honestly dude, I don’t fuckin know anymore. You could be a decent fucking person and help me or trick me again, kill my girlfriend in front of me and film me breaking down.” Grave’s voice is calm as she speaks, Siryn snorting in response.

“Part of me wishes I wanted to be a shitty person. and the rest… well…” Siryn stands up. “Is telling me we should get out of here.” She explains.

“Alright, magic boi, what tricks have you got for me today?” Grave questions as she groans, holding her hand out, Siryn pulling her up.

“None unfortunately, just a whole lotta stubbornness.” She explains, looking away from Grave.

“Yaaaay.” Grave leans against a tree, sighing. “I’m so fuckin tired, man.” She huffs, Siryn pausing.

“I can always carry you, I have been for the past hour anyway, so…” She shrugs as she explains. ”No.” Grave pushes herself off of the tree and starts walking, limping slightly due to her tiredness as she does.

“Fair enough…” Siryn sighs as she continues walking, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, hunching over. “I’m sorry by the way…” she apologises quietly.

“Uh… its fine.” Grave hardly listens to her, sounding unsure as she responds to her.

“You don’t sound convinced.” Siryn points out, groaning. “This is all so fucked…” She mumbles, Grave flopping onto the ground, beginning to crawl normally on her hands and knees.

“Okay, do you wanna stop for a while? Clearly you have no interest in walking.” Siryn points out as she stops walking, looking down at Grave, who just keeps crawling.

“You know we don’t have a car now right?” Siryn starts walking again. “Crawling will only slow us down.” She explains as she adjusts her hoodie, pausing for a moment as Grave clicks her bones in her arms and legs, adjusting her body into an inhuman position as she crawls faster, her bones sounding terrible. Siryn looks down at her, feeling done with this situation as she sits down on the forest floor.

“Fuck…” She mutters quietly, her head in her hands, Grave turning around mid crawl.

“What is it? Am I going the wrong way?” Grave asks as she looks at Siryn, who doesn’t bother looking up.

“Probably not, don’t really know. Had to get out of the base pretty fast once they found out I destroyed the machine…” Siryn explains, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh…” Grave stops her abnormal crawling, laying down next to Siryn as she sits.

“Yeah, had to just grab you and get out as fast as I could… kinda worked, I mean, you’re okay, right?” Siryn doesn’t look at Grave as she questions her.

“Uh… yeah. You can say that. What about you?” Grave’s voice is quiet and soft as she deflects the question to Siryn, who doesn’t answer straight away.

“Well, when you mess with someone that can throw fire at your face…” She pulls her hands away from her face, revealing a burn covering half of her skin. “You tend to get fire thrown at your face.” She smiles slightly as she speaks.

“Oh no…” Slight concern enters Grave as she looks at the burn, Siryn seemingly unphased.

“Its fine… kinda deserved that for makin you think I was gonna let Rose die…” Siryn frowns gently. “Which we still need to get back to prevent…” She mutters as Grave sits up, frowning as she gently plants a kiss on Siryn’s face, watching as the burn fades away, healing perfectly.

“Thanks… come on, we should go and see if we can find the house… already messed up enough shit for one day…” Siryn sighs as Grave grabs her hand gently, recognising the way as she begins to walk, pulling her along, Siryn allowing herself to be pulled.

“You know you can leave me behind, right? I’ll figure something out.” She offers, watching Grave.

“Hmm…” Grave pretends to think for a moment. “No.” She keeps going, a firm grip on Siryn’s hand as she pulls her along.

“…Why?” Siryn’s voice is quiet as she asks the question, Grave shrugging in response.

“I dunno, I feel like I should give you one more chance…” She explains, Siryn snorting.

“Ha…” She remains quiet. “Cause that worked so well last time…” She reminds Grave, voice sounding sad.

Grave sighs, turning on her heel as she encases Siryn in a soft hug. She freezes for a moment, unsure of the contact, shaky as she accepts the hug, uneven on her feet as Grave squeezes her gently. Siryn calms down quickly, leaning out of the hug and giving Grave a smile.

“Lets go fix this shit.” Siryn looks more confident and determined as she smiles, Grave returning the smile.

“Fuck yeah.” Grave leaves the hug, grabbing Siryn’s hand again as she walks, Siryn happier now as she walks, the house coming into view after a little while, making Grave excited.

“Yaaaaay.” A small amount of happiness flows through Grave as she see’s the house, walking faster, Siryn letting go when they get to the outside of the house.

“You go deal with Rose, I’m gonna wait out here… avoid the panic of anyone seeing me.” She explains, smiling.

“Okay.” Grave returns the smile. “Bye bye!” Grave exclaims, Siryn waving as she sits down, Grave clipping through the window into the room.

Rose is still asleep in her bed as Grave enters the room, looking paler and more sick, making Grave worried. She carefully checks her pulse, fearing the worst, though a pulse thrums against her fingers, Rose’s chest rising and falling as she takes shallow breaths.

Grave feels better as she see’s this, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Rose’s face, watching as the colour comes back into face quickly, her eyes opening slightly.

“Hi…” Grave contains her excitement, remaining quiet and calm, her voice hushed as Rose opens her eyes more.

“…Hey.” Rose smiles as she looks at Grave, her eyes warm as she looks well again, watching her intently.

“You feelin better?” Grave questions, a small squeak escaping her lips as she looks down at Rose, who sits up, rubbing at her eyes lightly.

“I think so… I don’t feel like death anymore.” She explains, smiling sweetly at Grave as she sits.

“That’s good!” Grave exclaims happily, giving Rose a kiss which is happily returned.

“Its very good…” Rose sounds happy as she speaks. “Where did you go by the way?” She questions softly.

“Lab room! I had to find out how to make you better.” Grave lies, deciding Rose wouldn’t like the entire truth.

“Well I’m just glad you figured it out…” Rose smiles gently, deciding not to press the matter as she gives Grave a soft kiss.

“So am I…” Grave blushes slightly as she smiles, Rose touching her cheeks lightly.

“Are you okay? You look tired…” Rose notices as she gently holds Grave’s face in her hands, frowning slightly.

“I’m fine, I just slept a little short is all.” Grave blushes more as she explains, feeling happy.

“You sure?” Rose runs her fingers over Grave’s cheeks lightly, stroking them softly.

“Y-Yeah…” Grave smiles, stuttering slightly as she blushes at Rose’s soft contact, Rose smiling.

“As long as you’re okay.” She speaks softly as she looks at Grave with warm eyes, Grave sighing happily.

“God, you’re so cheesy.” She giggles, Rose laughing quietly as she looks at Grave.

“I have earned my right!” She exclaims, trying to sound indignant as she laughs.

“My cheesy gooorl.” Grave sounds happy as she speaks, melting slightly under Rose’s touch.

“Yes, all yours.” Rose agrees, gently touching their heads together as she speaks, smiling.

“Aaaa I love you so much.” Grave blushes more and more as she looks at Rose, who has a soft blush scattered over her freckled face.

“I love you too.” Rose speaks softly, her face soft as she watches Grave, taking everything in.

“Gaaaay.” Grave gently boops her nose with her fingers, smiling as Rose laughs again.

“You said it first.” Rose clarifies as she giggles, both of them content as they sit with one another, not worrying about the rest of the world as they keep each other company, both recovering from the events that had happened together.

[masters-house]

Stranger at the Tavern

                                     Stranger at the tavern

Atsi leaned into the snowy wind. Her arms folded tightly against her chest. Eyes focused intensely on the chimney poking out of the snow. She crested a large snow bank and the building came into full view. It was small, wooden thing that could have easily been confused for a small house that had been built against the mountainside. A constant patron, however; knew that it was only the front entrance to a bigger building that had been carved into the mountainside itself. Atsi’s mouth watered at the thought of the warm food and hot drink that awaited her inside.

Carefully, she stepped onto the first of the Icy steps. The snow had beaten down by the heavy feet of Trags who frequently walked the path from their village to their mines. Cutting a two feet high path through the snow that allowed Atsi to walk quickly to the tavern. However the path had thick patches of Ice that was most likely created by the consistent weight. the stairs were no different, requiring her full attention and exposing her to the harsh wind. Her legs were numb when she managed the last step and was back in the trough again. Noticing with some surprise that there were several fresh tracks heading into the large double doors that marked the stable entrance. Smythe’s tavern was popular, but it was rarely this popular. Must be some big occasion given the calls of the horses.

Atsi’s foot caught on a patch of ice and she stumbled, barely catching herself before her face hit the snow. Trembling from surprise, she awkwardly ran to the thick door and pushed against it. It creaked heavily before finally moving. She pushed harder and it swung wide open. Releasing a blast of heat, light, and the sharp scent of beer from inside.

Atsi dove in and pushed it closed. For a moment she leaned against the door, thawing from the heat of the building. I always forget how far it really is. She thought to herself as she pulled off her cloak and held it up. It took a moment before it levitated and joined the small clump of cloaks hovering near the ceiling. Atsi pulled her brown hair back from her neck and nervously twisted to the side, pulling her shoulders back. She heard a small pop, relaxed, and headed into the tavern’s main room. It was bigger than it seemed on the outside, thanks in no small part to Mrs. Smythe and the mountain it had been built under. The roof was a few feet higher than the average human house, but it was perfect for the Trags who frequented the place. A lot of whom were crowded around the center hearth. Mugs of beer raised as they sang in celebration. With how clipped their voices were, it sounded like their version of a bachelor party.  

I wonder who it is? Atsi thought as she started around the left edge of the room. Squeezing past a few round tables pressed a little too close to the wall. Why am I thinking about that? It isn't my place. I want to eat. She passed the side hearth, whose roaring flame heated the entire building, and it baked her back as she passed it. After that, she had more room to move as she went to the bar in the back. One Trag noticed her-A’ren- as she passed, and raised his mug in acknowledgement before winking. Atsi nodded to him and stuck her hands in her pockets. Suddenly self aware about her body language. Was she acting in any way that would draw sexual attention? Certainly not from A’ren, but from any other Trag? Was her gait wrong? We're her gloves on too loosely?

Stop it. Atsi ordered herself. Worrying about it might actually cause it to happen. That didn't stop her from being conscious of her rear though.

She quickly forgot when she sat at one of the tall stools at the bar, watching as the Trag waitress dealt with another customer. Like all female Trags, she was hairless and had small blue plates growing on her head. Forming a thick crown that showed her age: thirty in Trag years, fifty in human. Danta always struck Atsi as an odd one; she wore a loose upper shirt that had a jagged tear under the breast. Exposing her midriff, and a skirt that stopped just above her knees. Most Trag women wore long sleeved dresses in the winter. Why did Danta dress so brashly against the weather?

Atsi shook her head as the waitress passed, index finger raised so the teen knew she would be a moment, it wasn't her place to question. So why bother?

Out of curiosity Atsi turned to see who Danta was serving. She was very surprised to see a human boy at the counter. He ordered something, to which Danta shook her head; Moving her hands in a circular motion as she explained.

Given her response the kid had probably ordered beer. He didn't seem upset though, which was better than most adults, just confused; though that cleared up as she explained.

Even our lightest beer is brewed too strong for the average human. It is best if you go with something else. Might I suggest blank? Atsi thought, The words almost leaving her lips as well. She should probably talk to Mrs. Smythe about having more days to work. Her rent had risen above her current earnings.

Danta gave the boy a mug and poured him a pitcher soft Arroe before sliding his order to the back room. Finally, she came over to Atsi.

“Long time no see.” Danta smirked. “What brings you here after so long?”

Atsi felt somewhat insulted, it was probably friendly banter, but she had to be sure. “Do you mean working or visiting?”

“Visiting, silly human.” The Trag’s green eyes sparkled. “So, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich with pickles, onion, tomatoe, lettuce, and wheat free bread; salted potato stalks with seasoned tomato paste, and a mug of soft Arroe brew.”

Danta wrote down her order as Atsi spoke and slapped it on the counter behind her. “Atsi special coming right up. Do you want refills?”

“Today, absolutely.” Atsi said, accepting the mug with resolve. It warmed her hands through her thick gloves.

“What's the occasion?” Danta asked, holding out the number card.

“I finished the rough draft for my thesis.”

“Wonderful!” Danta beamed at her young friend. “Your food will be out in a minute.”

“Thanks.” Atsi nodded and hopped down from the stool. She noticed the stranger following her lead, but he hesitated when she sat down at an empty table. He looked around, but seemed unnerved by the bald, muscular Trags. “You can sit here if you want.” Atsi suggested.

The boy breathed a sigh of relief and sat across from her, pulling a chair with a hesitant hand. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Atsi took a swig of her drink. The Arroe brew was rich, sweet and creamy, with just a bit of spice that warmed the stomach. Non-alcoholic. Atsi never saw the point in drinking the stuff anyway, Why risk a hangover?

“So, uh, what are you doing up here?” The newcomer asked as she lowered her mug. He had grayish-brown skin that indicated he came from slightly warmer regions, brown hair, and similarly dark eyes. He was fiddling with his travel bag, fitting it awkwardly on his lap.

“Writing my magic thesis, for school.” Atsi wiped the foam off her mouth with her arm and then held her gloved hand out, palm up, in greeting. “My name is Atsi.”

Atsi’s glow should have been dampened by her gloves, as was acceptable for women in her culture. Instead what little magic she had fed into a machine, powering metal “circuits” that made the palm of her glove glow with energy.

The newcomer hesitated, looking at her with curious but alarmed eyes. Still, he cleared his throat and held his bare hand out above hers, palm down, and it glowed from fingertip to the top of his wrist with white magic. “My name is Tahule. What's up with your magic?”

“I have a defect. A lightning guide helped me make gloves to help with metal.

“Ah. What's with the floating pitchers and candles?” He jerked his head towards the ceiling.

“Hm?” Atsi looked up to see the shining metal bobbing around the ceiling for the thousandth time. “Oh those! Mrs. Smythe- her husband owns this tavern- is a Great Mage. Since there’s not that many people in need of a job right now, she compensates with her magic. The pitchers give you refills, see?” Atsi drained her cup and held it above her head. A pitcher floated over and then tipped. Sending just the right amount of Arroe brew into her mug before straightening. Atsi took another swig with a smile. “Very useful don’t you think?” She said unto her mug.

“Very.” He smiled. “What’s your magic thesis about?”

“Do Trags have magic. I firmly believe they do, it just expresses itself differently.” Atsi’s words were more forceful than she meant them too.

“Where did you get that idea?” He looked intrigued. Of course, not many people Atsi knew questioned how magic worked. Two years ago she thought she was the only one who had come up with her theory, and therefore was a genius. Now that she was older though it was clear that there were many who wondered the same thing she was, but were exploring it in different ways. If there was a similar thesis out there, then she had not heard of it yet.

“Well, my defect helped, but also look at the Trags. You and I, we have to bundle up in three layers of clothing before going out in this weather. They, they put on long sleeves and a vest. There’s no concern about their shoulder or head plating, so it's not the cause. Unless it generates their magic. Like a human's heart crystal.” She paused to gauge his reaction before continuing, probably before he could think up a response. “They have no issues with the cold where we would normally get frostbite, in fact i’ve seen Danta over there go out in just that. Which most wear in summer! Can you believe it?”

“You live with them?!” Tahule looked alarmed.

“Of course, they’re sentient people and are quite civilized, in their own way.”

“Not respecting the rights of women is hardly what I call civilized.” He said, looking concerned.

“Who told you that? Just because some explorer saw that the women weren’t wearing gloves does not mean none of them are virgins. Just because someone is comfortable exposing more skin than someone else doesn’t mean they’re not civilized. In fact, hiding certain parts of your skin is considered shameful in most Trag cultures. Actually, they very deeply respect the rights of women and come down hard when anyone-” Atsi broke off before she amped up into a rant. “Ah, you see that group over there?” She pointed behind Tahule, who turned and looked.

“Yeah?”

“That is their version of a bachelor party. Do you want to know more?”

[wineanddinosaur]

VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue

With the weather entering summer territory in most of the U.S., and many states and municipalities relaxing some social distancing guidelines, the time is right to start thinking about the pinnacle of outdoor eating: barbecue. The term itself encompasses such a range of cooking methods and ingredients — and potential drink pairings — that we had to devote an entire podcast episode to it.

On this week’s episode of the VinePair Podcast, Adam, Erica, and Zach roll up their sleeves and offer up some of their favorite pairing suggestions for this staple of summertime enjoyment, barbecue. From burgers and brats, to smoked brisket and pulled pork, to serving suggestions for each, they discuss why so many people don’t take drinking at cookouts and barbecues seriously — and when, perhaps, they should.

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Or Check Out Our Conversation Here

Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Erica: From Connecticut, I’m Erica Duecy.

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the VinePair Podcast. Before we get into everything else we want to talk about today, I want to say that none of us even want to be talking about barbecue wines right now. There’s a lot going on in the world right now. If listening to a podcast talking about barbecue wines is not what you want to do, I completely understand. We’ll catch you here when you feel comfortable listening to a podcast like this again. We know there’s a larger conversion that needs to happen about equality and people of color in this industry. Rather than rush a podcast to discuss those issues, we want to do it right and be consistent. This is an issue that’s not going to go away and needs to be solved over a period of time. This doesn’t get solved by us doing a podcast really quickly this week. We talked about it, and that’s the decision that the three of us came to. We will be deliberate about tackling this problem, and we will try to bring on the right guests who can speak to it. In all honesty, three white people in the industry talking about this problem isn’t going to solve it. It’s going to be solved by bringing people in this industry who have been affected and impacted or faced systemic racism, telling us how we can come together as a community and solve this problem. I wanted to address that right now before we jump into everything else. For those listening, we at VinePair are publishing a database where you can see all the black-owned wine, beer, and spirits businesses you can support. That’s the first thing, but not the only thing we can do. Please make your voice heard. Please get out there if you can. Please give to charities that are fighting this and trying to make this right. Please vote in November. With that, let’s get into the podcast.

E: Sounds good.

A: It’s been a crazy week, but there’s something coming up that everyone at VinePair is excited about, the VinePair Drinks Experience. It’s happening June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020, on our site and on the interwebs, on a webinar near you. It’s going to be an incredible online digital drinks festival. We’re going to bring together our favorite personalities and brands in the drinks space to have incredible classes, seminars, and tutorials in the world of drinks. Whether you’re a cocktail aficionado or someone who loves wine, there will be something right for you. The VinePair Drinks Experience will be easily accessible on our website, VinePair.com, where you can sign up. We have a track for the trade or a track for consumers. You can take part in getting as deep into a subject matter as you want. You can also have a track where you’re interested in making base level cocktails for the first time. There’s a lot for everyone in this digital drinks festival. We’re excited about it and we hope that as listeners of the podcast, you’ll check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. There will be a lot more information on our website about it very soon, and we want our podcast listeners to have heard about it here first.

Z: I am legitimately excited for this. In my own work and activities, people are missing so many opportunities to go learn and experience in a way they normally would year round. Late spring or summer is the time for people to travel and attend festivals or conventions. Because of Covid-19, that’s just not possible right now. I’ve seen some of the details, it’s a remarkable event. I say this as someone who’s not as intimately involved in the planning, so I have a touch of objectivity here, but it’s a kick-ass set of events. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to attend as many of the events as I can while watching my son but that’s what screen time is for.

A: It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’m really pumped for it.

E: Everyone is! We have a lot of exciting news to come on the programming. It’s going to be a lot of fun.

A: Please check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. Now, let’s get into barbecue drinks. Barbecue season is 100 percent upon us. It’s a fun subject to tackle because we treat the wines and beers we drink a little less preciously than in other social settings. I’m curious: Do you guys have a go-to drink when it comes to barbecues?

E: I do.

A: What is it?

E: When I started thinking about this episode, the thing that I kept coming back to was that our best utility in this episode is to share our insight about how not to have that crappy, hot red wine in a plastic solo cup that you have at every pool party. When I’m thinking about barbecue wine, I go to a rosé. It’s a really good, all-purpose summer wine, whether you’re having grilled chicken, salmon, sausages, burgers, steak, or whatever it is. Rosé is my go-to, all summer long.

A: OK, I get it. Zach?

Z: A barbecue is one of the few gathering times where I steer away from wine. Some of that is likely because of the experiences that Erica mentioned, of crappy wine, too hot, in a plastic cup. There are wines like rosé or chilled reds where you can avoid some of those issues, but one of my favorite things to do for barbecues is to make a punch. Punch is one of these drinks categories that is criminally underutilized in a modern drinks culture. It solves a couple of problems. First, you can tailor the flavor profile to what you’re serving. If you’re leaning on red meat, you can look at a more robust punch, even something with a brown spirit. If you’re leaning on lighter fare at your barbecue, then you can look at something more fruit-driven. If made well, it can be sippable for a long period of time. It can also be super easy to serve. You as the host don’t have to worry about where the next bottle of chilled wine is, or if there’s enough room in the fridge, or if there’s enough ice. Ice is a part of punch, sure, but you don’t need as much as if you were keeping a bunch of drinks cold. And frankly? It’s just fun. We served a punch at my wedding, and I’ll mention, we made a strategic error which you should probably avoid if you’re going to have a barbecue. We made the punch in a traditional sense. It had both spirit and wine in it. A number of our guests were not aware of that, or didn’t look closely at the menu. They ended up a little more inebriated than they intended to. So, you want to be careful. Use sparkling water to round out your punch. The point is, it’s a lot of fun, it’s relatively easy to prepare ahead of time, and it’s endlessly malleable to what you want to have.

A: I dig the punch. I also like rosé. I agree with Zach’s point. My issue with backyard barbecue is that the wine gets warm very quickly. There becomes a time when it isn’t as refreshing as you want it to be. Or, someone pulls the bottle out of the cooler and just sets it on the picnic table. You finally get to it, and it’s warm in the bottle, too. You feel bad for the person who brought the bottle because no one’s going to drink it now. Or, it’s got to go back in the cooler and get cold again. That just sucks. It’s never a good thing. I tend to drink wine at a barbecue every once in a while, but my go-to is pilsners. I’ll drink a crisp, cold pilsner any day. When it comes to a barbecue, it’s just so refreshing. It’s just the right amount where it stays cold throughout the entire time I’m drinking it. I can grab another one out of the cooler. It’s low enough in alcohol. It’s a very easy go-to. For the same reasons you guys are listing with wines, I won’t tend to reach for IPAs because they’re higher in alcohol. I’m already sweating. I don’t want to get too drunk too quickly. I want to have a sessionable experience with my friends. For me, pilsners are 100 percent the way to go.

E: Yes. If I’m really looking for something that’s super cold and refreshing beyond rosé, my go-to, I’ll do a spritz. It could be an Aperol Spritz, with an orange characteristic, or Cynar. Cynar has an artichoke characteristic that’s actually so delicious. You can do a Campari spritz. To make a spritz is so easy. It’s just three ounces of Prosecco, two ounces of liqueur, and one or two ounces of soda water. Much like a pilsner, you’re watering the thing down like it has a lower ABV, so you’re not going to get smashed.

A: That’s a good point. Why do you think people assume that this is a time to drink crappy wine? Everyone thinks this is where you put the throwaways. People say, “I’m going to a barbecue. I’m going to spend less than 15. Let’s see what happens. It’s not going to stay in the cooler anyway.” Why do you think that this is?

Z: There are two reasons. The first is that if you’re a stereotypical wine connoisseur, you don’t think of sitting outside with your buddies eating burgers as a place where you want to open treasured wines from your collection. It’s a space that is in the same way that we don’t consider most barbecue, with some exceptions, to be the pinnacle of cooking.

A: Oh no, it’s the pinnacle of cooking.

Z: I want to be clear. It depends on what we’re talking about here. My second point: In the end, some of this comes down to: How good is the food that you’re eating? We’ve all had the experience where you or someone in your family has a smoker, and they know how to make that style of barbecue. Or, they cook it on the grill. They grind their own meat. They get great quality product. It’s a legit dining experience. There is a good idea to bring rosé, but also some of the higher end Provençal rosés. Look in the Top Rosés for 2020 that we talk about as being premium rosés. Or, I’m going to get a really nice pilsner from a local brewery. I’m not necessarily going to buy something that’s produced on a larger scale. Because hey, this is great food. Even if I’m in a casual setting for dining, it doesn’t mean I can’t have a really great drink. For a lot of people, whether it be beach, park, or somewhere else, people’s standards are lower. They expect that food is going to be tasty but not amazing. The focus there is on things besides the drinks. It’s catching up with family. It’s games you’re playing. It’s a natural place to not necessarily put your best foot forward in terms of drink quality. I can certainly understand disagreeing with that. I often bring reasonably good wine to these things because that’s what I prefer to drink, if I’m going to be drinking. In our mind, though, the standard is lower. For example, traditionally you go to a baseball game, and this is changing in some stadiums, but you drink whatever macro lager they have. You’re there for another experience, and beer is just a part of it. There’s a lot of that intention that goes along with this.

A: You’re saying if someone went to Costco and bought frozen patties to put on the grill that are pre-made, that won’t be when you bring out high-end stuff.

E: That’s time for hard seltzer. That’s when seltzer gets popped with bags of chips. It’s that type of barbecue. But if you’re grilling salmon, for example, chill a Pinot Noir down a little bit. That’s one of the biggest problems with barbecue pairing. The temperature outside is pretty hot. It could be in the 80s or 90s. The drink, though, even if it’s a red wine, shouldn’t be getting hotter than 70 degrees. It’s not going to show well at all. So, chill down that Pinot Noir slightly and put it in the cooler for 10 minutes. It’s going to taste better with that salmon than if it’s 75 degrees or 85 degrees sitting in the sun.

A: Here’s the issue. We should have started off with the definition of the word barbecue.

Z: Oh, man. Things are going to get ugly.

A: What the two of you are talking about is grilling. Which is fine. You can grill. But when it’s barbecue, that food is some of the finest cuisine in this country. If you have some smoked pork butt or pulled pork, with a fine Burgundy, that’s delicious food right there. Or a really good brisket with a nice, cold Syrah, that is a dope pairing. It’s in the difference, as Zach was saying, of whether we’re grilling and chilling, or barbecue where there’s a whole culture around it in this country. There’s been a lot of care that’s gone into it. It’s caused us to have one of these true American cuisines. This idea of where that’s come from is incredible. That meat, the result of that cooking, is some of the best meat you’ll have in your life.

E: We should give pairings for both. If we’re talking brisket and smoked pork, which is my favorite, what are the ideal pairings? I’ve got my own perspective here, but what would you guys say are the best pairings for those meats?

A: Brisket? I really am not a huge barbecue brisket fan. I’m from the real South…

Z: That’s what I’m saying. Things are going to get ugly.

A: I’m not Texan, so I know what barbecue is, actually. It’s all on that Pinot tip. Burgundy, Willamette Valley Pinots, Russian River Valley are all great with pork. If it’s going to be brisket, I’ll just say let’s have the burnt end baked beans because that’s the only thing that’s delicious. If I can only just have true brisket, I would do it with something like a Cabernet or a Merlot. But when I go to have barbecue, that’s just not what I want.

E: What about you, Zach?

Z: Growing up in Washington, barbecue is sadly, mostly imported. But, I’ve had the opportunity to do some traveling, and I have a cousin who wrote a book about barbecue. He is from Texas, so his perspective is oriented around brisket. But on the beef side, you’re looking at two important flavor notes. First is obviously the smoke. If you don’t have a wine that’s going to pair or a drink that’s going to work with those smoky flavors, you’re going the wrong way. Adam mentioned Syrah. Syrah is a good wine to look at. I like something that’ll take a little more kindly to chilling. Syrah cold can work, but the tannin structure can get assertive when it’s cold. I like, and this is a little obscure, and Austrian variety like Blaufränkisch. It picks up a lot of those smoky notes like pepper notes on the nose, but it’s more like Pinot Noir in terms of body. Xinomavro from Greece can also be good as well.

A: Yeah, yeah, yeah…

Z: It’s aromatics, low-key peppery, but not as robust of a variety. If you’re looking at the pork side of things, then you get to variations with sauce or no sauce, one of my favorite things with barbecue pork ribs is a really robust white. I like something like a southern Rhône white blend, or potentially a Chardonnay from the New World with some oak. It’s one of the few places where I actually like that flavor profile and structure with the food. Those wines have a little bit of tannin to them, and the pork is so unctuous and fatty that I want a little bit of tannin from oak and the grape to some extent. I want even some of those tropical fruit notes because that tropical fruit flavor plays really well with pork. It’s not a wine that I would do very often otherwise. This is one of those areas and times that I do look at it. Another thing I’ll note, and I want your thoughts on this: If you’re getting excellent barbecue, what I want to drink has to do with the sides I’m getting. That gets me to: What are your favorite sides?

E: Totally. The burnt end beans. That’s why I go with a rich wine for that type of meal! I go with a Malbec or Syrah. It’s the sweetness from the burnt end beans that is driving me to a really rich red.

Z: Zinfandel is another good option.

A: I’m with burnt end baked beans. The rest of the sides are carb-heavy: mac ‘n cheese, cornbread. Sometimes you have greens, but usually you don’t. Certain places also have stewed collards. It’s very carb-heavy and then there are the burnt end baked beans. I’ll just get the beans and call it a day. There’s also broccoli slaw, which is hard because it’s so sweet.

E: Right.

Z: What about regular coleslaw? Am I alone in liking coleslaw?

A: I love regular coleslaw. It should always be put on top of a pulled pork sandwich, and if anyone tells you differently, they don’t know how to eat barbecue.

E: I will second that.

Z: We might have found the topic where Adam is at his most opinionated. I didn’t think this was going to be it, but being from the South…

A: I do have a question. I have heard people refer to wood-plank salmon as barbecue. I think it could be as well, but now I’m curious about that because it’s not grilling, it’s putting it on a wood plank.

E: It’s so good. The alder plank smoked salmon is one of my very favorite things in the world. Whenever I go back to Seattle, I have to have that along with dungeness crab. Let’s not forget the oysters, but that’s another episode. With the salmon, you just can’t go wrong with the Oregon wines. A little bit of a chill on a Pinot Noir or a Pinot Gris, or even a Chardonnay from Oregon. It’s one of those things: What grows together goes together. When I’m eating that plank-smoked salmon, I’m generally thinking of Oregon and Washington wines.

Z: Erica’s suggestions are good ones. I agree that this type of salmon, and there is this direct heat versus non-direct heat component going on which is cool, has a weight to it that’s a little bit more substantial than most other fish. You can look at a mid-weight red wine, such as a Cabernet Franc or Syrah, and there are great examples from Washington and as Erica mentioned, Pinot Noir or other Oregon varieties. The other thing that can be really delicious with that food is one of the few things that can go with, and going back to my punch idea, I’ve made an almost herbal sangria. That’s the best way I can think to describe it. It’s essentially an infused wine where you bring in sage, thyme, and rosemary, and they work well with rosé or white. That’s a good use for that mediocre wine that someone brings. Throw those things together, let them steep for a while, and strain them back out, so that you aren’t getting chunks of thyme in your drink. That can be nice because there’s an herbal note that comes out in this process. It’s super tasty, but it takes a little bit of work and isn’t everyone’s preferred methodology.

A: Sounds pretty good.

E: I’m curious. That sounds amazing and would be so good with roasted vegetables. Explain how you would make it.

Z: I’ve done this a couple of times. There’s both impromptu and thought-out methodology. If you have the chance to prep, it’s like making iced tea. I grow a bunch of herbs in my backyard and have tea bags essentially. Just put some thyme, rosemary, or sage in one of these sachets. Fill a pitcher or jug with wine. Steep it in there. Overnight is fine. I just do it in the fridge, or you can leave it on the counter. Then, just pull it back out, and there’s a little bit of that flavor infused in. Depending on how much you use and how much flavor there is in the wine, sometimes the flavor is subtle or more intense. I keep it on the subtle side, making it so that you’re just getting an additional note. It’s a great thing to do if someone brings over something that’s relatively neutral in flavor, like a Pinot Grigio. You can just add a little bit more to it. These are the kinds of dishes and foods where we like to treat wine, and rightfully so, as a sacrosanct thing that should not be adulterated. Gosh, don’t put ice cubes in your wine. I agree with that with some things. Adam’s great Burgundy: That’s something you should just drink on its own. If someone brings over a $12 bottle of Pinot Grigio or Sauv Blanc to your barbecue, grill, or whatever the name is for your dining experience, treat it as a base for whatever else you want to do. Fruit, wine, wine sangria; or fruit, wine, spirit, and punch with infused herbs; don’t think that’s the only thing you can do with these wines and drinks. Try it with beer! That might be cool. Don’t think that the only things you can do with these is open them and drink them. If you’re willing to put in a little time and energy, you can create a really cool experience that works with the resources you have on hand but also creates a new drink.

E: I love that infused wine idea and would totally pour that over ice, add soda water on top, and a big squeeze of lemon. That sounds incredibly refreshing.

A: That sounds delicious.

Z: The only thing I need is a hammock after that.

A: So, we discussed the barbecue. We discussed the salmon. Let’s go to grilling and chilling. If you were just grilling, what would you bring. Now, we’re talking about what most people think of when having a barbecue, such as hot dogs, hamburgers, and that kind of stuff.

E: For barbecue chicken or something similar, I like a Chardonnay, for something with a sweeter sauce. Or, you could go in the other direction with something aromatic. You could go Riesling. You could go in so many different directions. It really matters what the sauce is. Chicken is a malleable thing, and you can do a lot with them. It’s really the sauce. We do a teriyaki at our house. In Washington, there are pretty much teriyaki stands on every corner. That’s a thing there.

A: Really?

E: Totally. There are stands, little stores, practically in every little strip mall throughout Washington state. It’s a real thing. Particularly in the Seattle area, it’s concentrated. For something like that, I would do a Chenin Blanc or a Riesling, something with aromatic qualities to stand up to the flavor profile.

A: Interesting.

Z: This is a time when I come back to your advice from the beginning, Adam, thinking about what I want when I’m standing outside and it’s hot out. This is especially true because I’m often the one in front of the grill. In that setting, I want a pilsner or my fancy gose. It’s made with salt, so it has a little bit of that salty character, which helps bring out the flavors in whatever I’m eating. They’re refreshing and low-ABV as well. I really enjoy them. You guys know me. Sometimes I overthink things. In a situation like this, give me something cold and refreshing because I have to think about how one person needs their burger medium-well, another person wants a certain kind of cheese. I don’t have the brainwaves to deal with what beverage I want to pair with all these foods, so I’m going to default to something that I know will taste good with everything. That’s where rosé, as Erica suggested earlier, comes in. I certainly put a lot of thought into these things, but when I’m the one grilling, that’s all I want. I just want a can of beer and leave me alone.

A: I see that. Also at this time we’re in Aperol spritz territory. Let’s go with that. It’s refreshing. It’s crushable. You can make a few of them. That’s what I want when I’m sitting in the backyard, grilling over charcoal or gas. Again, we could get into some heated debates over whether grilling over gas is actually grilling.

E: Can we get a shout-out for sparkling wine?

Z: You need it for that spritz, at least.

E: No, but how Champagne is getting killed lately from the sales perspective. I need to get a shout-out for my sparkling wine because I feel so bad for it. I’ve been seeing so many articles and looking at the sales numbers and just feeling terrible. I’ve started buying Champagne to do my part.

Z: We appreciate you falling on that sword, Erica.

A: That’s hilarious. That’s a good way to end it. Guys, it’s been a pleasure as always. For those listening at home, we hope you and yours are doing well, are healthy and safe, and if you have any thoughts about this podcast, please drop us a line at podcast@vinepair.com. Again, make sure to check out the Drinks Experience which will be June 23 2020 through June 26, 2020, on VinePair.com. We will see you all back here next week.

E: See you then!

Z: Sounds great.

A: Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits: VinePair is produced and hosted by Zach Geballe, Erica Duecy and me, Adam Teeter. Our engineer is Nick Patri and Keith Beavers. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder Josh Malin and the rest of the VinePair team for their support. Thanks so much for listening and we’ll see you again right here next week.

Ed. note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-podcast-barbecue-drinks/

[johnboothus]

VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue

With the weather entering summer territory in most of the U.S., and many states and municipalities relaxing some social distancing guidelines, the time is right to start thinking about the pinnacle of outdoor eating: barbecue. The term itself encompasses such a range of cooking methods and ingredients — and potential drink pairings — that we had to devote an entire podcast episode to it.

On this week’s episode of the VinePair Podcast, Adam, Erica, and Zach roll up their sleeves and offer up some of their favorite pairing suggestions for this staple of summertime enjoyment, barbecue. From burgers and brats, to smoked brisket and pulled pork, to serving suggestions for each, they discuss why so many people don’t take drinking at cookouts and barbecues seriously — and when, perhaps, they should.

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Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Erica: From Connecticut, I’m Erica Duecy.

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the VinePair Podcast. Before we get into everything else we want to talk about today, I want to say that none of us even want to be talking about barbecue wines right now. There’s a lot going on in the world right now. If listening to a podcast talking about barbecue wines is not what you want to do, I completely understand. We’ll catch you here when you feel comfortable listening to a podcast like this again. We know there’s a larger conversion that needs to happen about equality and people of color in this industry. Rather than rush a podcast to discuss those issues, we want to do it right and be consistent. This is an issue that’s not going to go away and needs to be solved over a period of time. This doesn’t get solved by us doing a podcast really quickly this week. We talked about it, and that’s the decision that the three of us came to. We will be deliberate about tackling this problem, and we will try to bring on the right guests who can speak to it. In all honesty, three white people in the industry talking about this problem isn’t going to solve it. It’s going to be solved by bringing people in this industry who have been affected and impacted or faced systemic racism, telling us how we can come together as a community and solve this problem. I wanted to address that right now before we jump into everything else. For those listening, we at VinePair are publishing a database where you can see all the black-owned wine, beer, and spirits businesses you can support. That’s the first thing, but not the only thing we can do. Please make your voice heard. Please get out there if you can. Please give to charities that are fighting this and trying to make this right. Please vote in November. With that, let’s get into the podcast.

E: Sounds good.

A: It’s been a crazy week, but there’s something coming up that everyone at VinePair is excited about, the VinePair Drinks Experience. It’s happening June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020, on our site and on the interwebs, on a webinar near you. It’s going to be an incredible online digital drinks festival. We’re going to bring together our favorite personalities and brands in the drinks space to have incredible classes, seminars, and tutorials in the world of drinks. Whether you’re a cocktail aficionado or someone who loves wine, there will be something right for you. The VinePair Drinks Experience will be easily accessible on our website, VinePair.com, where you can sign up. We have a track for the trade or a track for consumers. You can take part in getting as deep into a subject matter as you want. You can also have a track where you’re interested in making base level cocktails for the first time. There’s a lot for everyone in this digital drinks festival. We’re excited about it and we hope that as listeners of the podcast, you’ll check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. There will be a lot more information on our website about it very soon, and we want our podcast listeners to have heard about it here first.

Z: I am legitimately excited for this. In my own work and activities, people are missing so many opportunities to go learn and experience in a way they normally would year round. Late spring or summer is the time for people to travel and attend festivals or conventions. Because of Covid-19, that’s just not possible right now. I’ve seen some of the details, it’s a remarkable event. I say this as someone who’s not as intimately involved in the planning, so I have a touch of objectivity here, but it’s a kick-ass set of events. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to attend as many of the events as I can while watching my son but that’s what screen time is for.

A: It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’m really pumped for it.

E: Everyone is! We have a lot of exciting news to come on the programming. It’s going to be a lot of fun.

A: Please check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. Now, let’s get into barbecue drinks. Barbecue season is 100 percent upon us. It’s a fun subject to tackle because we treat the wines and beers we drink a little less preciously than in other social settings. I’m curious: Do you guys have a go-to drink when it comes to barbecues?

E: I do.

A: What is it?

E: When I started thinking about this episode, the thing that I kept coming back to was that our best utility in this episode is to share our insight about how not to have that crappy, hot red wine in a plastic solo cup that you have at every pool party. When I’m thinking about barbecue wine, I go to a rosé. It’s a really good, all-purpose summer wine, whether you’re having grilled chicken, salmon, sausages, burgers, steak, or whatever it is. Rosé is my go-to, all summer long.

A: OK, I get it. Zach?

Z: A barbecue is one of the few gathering times where I steer away from wine. Some of that is likely because of the experiences that Erica mentioned, of crappy wine, too hot, in a plastic cup. There are wines like rosé or chilled reds where you can avoid some of those issues, but one of my favorite things to do for barbecues is to make a punch. Punch is one of these drinks categories that is criminally underutilized in a modern drinks culture. It solves a couple of problems. First, you can tailor the flavor profile to what you’re serving. If you’re leaning on red meat, you can look at a more robust punch, even something with a brown spirit. If you’re leaning on lighter fare at your barbecue, then you can look at something more fruit-driven. If made well, it can be sippable for a long period of time. It can also be super easy to serve. You as the host don’t have to worry about where the next bottle of chilled wine is, or if there’s enough room in the fridge, or if there’s enough ice. Ice is a part of punch, sure, but you don’t need as much as if you were keeping a bunch of drinks cold. And frankly? It’s just fun. We served a punch at my wedding, and I’ll mention, we made a strategic error which you should probably avoid if you’re going to have a barbecue. We made the punch in a traditional sense. It had both spirit and wine in it. A number of our guests were not aware of that, or didn’t look closely at the menu. They ended up a little more inebriated than they intended to. So, you want to be careful. Use sparkling water to round out your punch. The point is, it’s a lot of fun, it’s relatively easy to prepare ahead of time, and it’s endlessly malleable to what you want to have.

A: I dig the punch. I also like rosé. I agree with Zach’s point. My issue with backyard barbecue is that the wine gets warm very quickly. There becomes a time when it isn’t as refreshing as you want it to be. Or, someone pulls the bottle out of the cooler and just sets it on the picnic table. You finally get to it, and it’s warm in the bottle, too. You feel bad for the person who brought the bottle because no one’s going to drink it now. Or, it’s got to go back in the cooler and get cold again. That just sucks. It’s never a good thing. I tend to drink wine at a barbecue every once in a while, but my go-to is pilsners. I’ll drink a crisp, cold pilsner any day. When it comes to a barbecue, it’s just so refreshing. It’s just the right amount where it stays cold throughout the entire time I’m drinking it. I can grab another one out of the cooler. It’s low enough in alcohol. It’s a very easy go-to. For the same reasons you guys are listing with wines, I won’t tend to reach for IPAs because they’re higher in alcohol. I’m already sweating. I don’t want to get too drunk too quickly. I want to have a sessionable experience with my friends. For me, pilsners are 100 percent the way to go.

E: Yes. If I’m really looking for something that’s super cold and refreshing beyond rosé, my go-to, I’ll do a spritz. It could be an Aperol Spritz, with an orange characteristic, or Cynar. Cynar has an artichoke characteristic that’s actually so delicious. You can do a Campari spritz. To make a spritz is so easy. It’s just three ounces of Prosecco, two ounces of liqueur, and one or two ounces of soda water. Much like a pilsner, you’re watering the thing down like it has a lower ABV, so you’re not going to get smashed.

A: That’s a good point. Why do you think people assume that this is a time to drink crappy wine? Everyone thinks this is where you put the throwaways. People say, “I’m going to a barbecue. I’m going to spend less than 15. Let’s see what happens. It’s not going to stay in the cooler anyway.” Why do you think that this is?

Z: There are two reasons. The first is that if you’re a stereotypical wine connoisseur, you don’t think of sitting outside with your buddies eating burgers as a place where you want to open treasured wines from your collection. It’s a space that is in the same way that we don’t consider most barbecue, with some exceptions, to be the pinnacle of cooking.

A: Oh no, it’s the pinnacle of cooking.

Z: I want to be clear. It depends on what we’re talking about here. My second point: In the end, some of this comes down to: How good is the food that you’re eating? We’ve all had the experience where you or someone in your family has a smoker, and they know how to make that style of barbecue. Or, they cook it on the grill. They grind their own meat. They get great quality product. It’s a legit dining experience. There is a good idea to bring rosé, but also some of the higher end Provençal rosés. Look in the Top Rosés for 2020 that we talk about as being premium rosés. Or, I’m going to get a really nice pilsner from a local brewery. I’m not necessarily going to buy something that’s produced on a larger scale. Because hey, this is great food. Even if I’m in a casual setting for dining, it doesn’t mean I can’t have a really great drink. For a lot of people, whether it be beach, park, or somewhere else, people’s standards are lower. They expect that food is going to be tasty but not amazing. The focus there is on things besides the drinks. It’s catching up with family. It’s games you’re playing. It’s a natural place to not necessarily put your best foot forward in terms of drink quality. I can certainly understand disagreeing with that. I often bring reasonably good wine to these things because that’s what I prefer to drink, if I’m going to be drinking. In our mind, though, the standard is lower. For example, traditionally you go to a baseball game, and this is changing in some stadiums, but you drink whatever macro lager they have. You’re there for another experience, and beer is just a part of it. There’s a lot of that intention that goes along with this.

A: You’re saying if someone went to Costco and bought frozen patties to put on the grill that are pre-made, that won’t be when you bring out high-end stuff.

E: That’s time for hard seltzer. That’s when seltzer gets popped with bags of chips. It’s that type of barbecue. But if you’re grilling salmon, for example, chill a Pinot Noir down a little bit. That’s one of the biggest problems with barbecue pairing. The temperature outside is pretty hot. It could be in the 80s or 90s. The drink, though, even if it’s a red wine, shouldn’t be getting hotter than 70 degrees. It’s not going to show well at all. So, chill down that Pinot Noir slightly and put it in the cooler for 10 minutes. It’s going to taste better with that salmon than if it’s 75 degrees or 85 degrees sitting in the sun.

A: Here’s the issue. We should have started off with the definition of the word barbecue.

Z: Oh, man. Things are going to get ugly.

A: What the two of you are talking about is grilling. Which is fine. You can grill. But when it’s barbecue, that food is some of the finest cuisine in this country. If you have some smoked pork butt or pulled pork, with a fine Burgundy, that’s delicious food right there. Or a really good brisket with a nice, cold Syrah, that is a dope pairing. It’s in the difference, as Zach was saying, of whether we’re grilling and chilling, or barbecue where there’s a whole culture around it in this country. There’s been a lot of care that’s gone into it. It’s caused us to have one of these true American cuisines. This idea of where that’s come from is incredible. That meat, the result of that cooking, is some of the best meat you’ll have in your life.

E: We should give pairings for both. If we’re talking brisket and smoked pork, which is my favorite, what are the ideal pairings? I’ve got my own perspective here, but what would you guys say are the best pairings for those meats?

A: Brisket? I really am not a huge barbecue brisket fan. I’m from the real South…

Z: That’s what I’m saying. Things are going to get ugly.

A: I’m not Texan, so I know what barbecue is, actually. It’s all on that Pinot tip. Burgundy, Willamette Valley Pinots, Russian River Valley are all great with pork. If it’s going to be brisket, I’ll just say let’s have the burnt end baked beans because that’s the only thing that’s delicious. If I can only just have true brisket, I would do it with something like a Cabernet or a Merlot. But when I go to have barbecue, that’s just not what I want.

E: What about you, Zach?

Z: Growing up in Washington, barbecue is sadly, mostly imported. But, I’ve had the opportunity to do some traveling, and I have a cousin who wrote a book about barbecue. He is from Texas, so his perspective is oriented around brisket. But on the beef side, you’re looking at two important flavor notes. First is obviously the smoke. If you don’t have a wine that’s going to pair or a drink that’s going to work with those smoky flavors, you’re going the wrong way. Adam mentioned Syrah. Syrah is a good wine to look at. I like something that’ll take a little more kindly to chilling. Syrah cold can work, but the tannin structure can get assertive when it’s cold. I like, and this is a little obscure, and Austrian variety like Blaufränkisch. It picks up a lot of those smoky notes like pepper notes on the nose, but it’s more like Pinot Noir in terms of body. Xinomavro from Greece can also be good as well.

A: Yeah, yeah, yeah…

Z: It’s aromatics, low-key peppery, but not as robust of a variety. If you’re looking at the pork side of things, then you get to variations with sauce or no sauce, one of my favorite things with barbecue pork ribs is a really robust white. I like something like a southern Rhône white blend, or potentially a Chardonnay from the New World with some oak. It’s one of the few places where I actually like that flavor profile and structure with the food. Those wines have a little bit of tannin to them, and the pork is so unctuous and fatty that I want a little bit of tannin from oak and the grape to some extent. I want even some of those tropical fruit notes because that tropical fruit flavor plays really well with pork. It’s not a wine that I would do very often otherwise. This is one of those areas and times that I do look at it. Another thing I’ll note, and I want your thoughts on this: If you’re getting excellent barbecue, what I want to drink has to do with the sides I’m getting. That gets me to: What are your favorite sides?

E: Totally. The burnt end beans. That’s why I go with a rich wine for that type of meal! I go with a Malbec or Syrah. It’s the sweetness from the burnt end beans that is driving me to a really rich red.

Z: Zinfandel is another good option.

A: I’m with burnt end baked beans. The rest of the sides are carb-heavy: mac ‘n cheese, cornbread. Sometimes you have greens, but usually you don’t. Certain places also have stewed collards. It’s very carb-heavy and then there are the burnt end baked beans. I’ll just get the beans and call it a day. There’s also broccoli slaw, which is hard because it’s so sweet.

E: Right.

Z: What about regular coleslaw? Am I alone in liking coleslaw?

A: I love regular coleslaw. It should always be put on top of a pulled pork sandwich, and if anyone tells you differently, they don’t know how to eat barbecue.

E: I will second that.

Z: We might have found the topic where Adam is at his most opinionated. I didn’t think this was going to be it, but being from the South…

A: I do have a question. I have heard people refer to wood-plank salmon as barbecue. I think it could be as well, but now I’m curious about that because it’s not grilling, it’s putting it on a wood plank.

E: It’s so good. The alder plank smoked salmon is one of my very favorite things in the world. Whenever I go back to Seattle, I have to have that along with dungeness crab. Let’s not forget the oysters, but that’s another episode. With the salmon, you just can’t go wrong with the Oregon wines. A little bit of a chill on a Pinot Noir or a Pinot Gris, or even a Chardonnay from Oregon. It’s one of those things: What grows together goes together. When I’m eating that plank-smoked salmon, I’m generally thinking of Oregon and Washington wines.

Z: Erica’s suggestions are good ones. I agree that this type of salmon, and there is this direct heat versus non-direct heat component going on which is cool, has a weight to it that’s a little bit more substantial than most other fish. You can look at a mid-weight red wine, such as a Cabernet Franc or Syrah, and there are great examples from Washington and as Erica mentioned, Pinot Noir or other Oregon varieties. The other thing that can be really delicious with that food is one of the few things that can go with, and going back to my punch idea, I’ve made an almost herbal sangria. That’s the best way I can think to describe it. It’s essentially an infused wine where you bring in sage, thyme, and rosemary, and they work well with rosé or white. That’s a good use for that mediocre wine that someone brings. Throw those things together, let them steep for a while, and strain them back out, so that you aren’t getting chunks of thyme in your drink. That can be nice because there’s an herbal note that comes out in this process. It’s super tasty, but it takes a little bit of work and isn’t everyone’s preferred methodology.

A: Sounds pretty good.

E: I’m curious. That sounds amazing and would be so good with roasted vegetables. Explain how you would make it.

Z: I’ve done this a couple of times. There’s both impromptu and thought-out methodology. If you have the chance to prep, it’s like making iced tea. I grow a bunch of herbs in my backyard and have tea bags essentially. Just put some thyme, rosemary, or sage in one of these sachets. Fill a pitcher or jug with wine. Steep it in there. Overnight is fine. I just do it in the fridge, or you can leave it on the counter. Then, just pull it back out, and there’s a little bit of that flavor infused in. Depending on how much you use and how much flavor there is in the wine, sometimes the flavor is subtle or more intense. I keep it on the subtle side, making it so that you’re just getting an additional note. It’s a great thing to do if someone brings over something that’s relatively neutral in flavor, like a Pinot Grigio. You can just add a little bit more to it. These are the kinds of dishes and foods where we like to treat wine, and rightfully so, as a sacrosanct thing that should not be adulterated. Gosh, don’t put ice cubes in your wine. I agree with that with some things. Adam’s great Burgundy: That’s something you should just drink on its own. If someone brings over a $12 bottle of Pinot Grigio or Sauv Blanc to your barbecue, grill, or whatever the name is for your dining experience, treat it as a base for whatever else you want to do. Fruit, wine, wine sangria; or fruit, wine, spirit, and punch with infused herbs; don’t think that’s the only thing you can do with these wines and drinks. Try it with beer! That might be cool. Don’t think that the only things you can do with these is open them and drink them. If you’re willing to put in a little time and energy, you can create a really cool experience that works with the resources you have on hand but also creates a new drink.

E: I love that infused wine idea and would totally pour that over ice, add soda water on top, and a big squeeze of lemon. That sounds incredibly refreshing.

A: That sounds delicious.

Z: The only thing I need is a hammock after that.

A: So, we discussed the barbecue. We discussed the salmon. Let’s go to grilling and chilling. If you were just grilling, what would you bring. Now, we’re talking about what most people think of when having a barbecue, such as hot dogs, hamburgers, and that kind of stuff.

E: For barbecue chicken or something similar, I like a Chardonnay, for something with a sweeter sauce. Or, you could go in the other direction with something aromatic. You could go Riesling. You could go in so many different directions. It really matters what the sauce is. Chicken is a malleable thing, and you can do a lot with them. It’s really the sauce. We do a teriyaki at our house. In Washington, there are pretty much teriyaki stands on every corner. That’s a thing there.

A: Really?

E: Totally. There are stands, little stores, practically in every little strip mall throughout Washington state. It’s a real thing. Particularly in the Seattle area, it’s concentrated. For something like that, I would do a Chenin Blanc or a Riesling, something with aromatic qualities to stand up to the flavor profile.

A: Interesting.

Z: This is a time when I come back to your advice from the beginning, Adam, thinking about what I want when I’m standing outside and it’s hot out. This is especially true because I’m often the one in front of the grill. In that setting, I want a pilsner or my fancy gose. It’s made with salt, so it has a little bit of that salty character, which helps bring out the flavors in whatever I’m eating. They’re refreshing and low-ABV as well. I really enjoy them. You guys know me. Sometimes I overthink things. In a situation like this, give me something cold and refreshing because I have to think about how one person needs their burger medium-well, another person wants a certain kind of cheese. I don’t have the brainwaves to deal with what beverage I want to pair with all these foods, so I’m going to default to something that I know will taste good with everything. That’s where rosé, as Erica suggested earlier, comes in. I certainly put a lot of thought into these things, but when I’m the one grilling, that’s all I want. I just want a can of beer and leave me alone.

A: I see that. Also at this time we’re in Aperol spritz territory. Let’s go with that. It’s refreshing. It’s crushable. You can make a few of them. That’s what I want when I’m sitting in the backyard, grilling over charcoal or gas. Again, we could get into some heated debates over whether grilling over gas is actually grilling.

E: Can we get a shout-out for sparkling wine?

Z: You need it for that spritz, at least.

E: No, but how Champagne is getting killed lately from the sales perspective. I need to get a shout-out for my sparkling wine because I feel so bad for it. I’ve been seeing so many articles and looking at the sales numbers and just feeling terrible. I’ve started buying Champagne to do my part.

Z: We appreciate you falling on that sword, Erica.

A: That’s hilarious. That’s a good way to end it. Guys, it’s been a pleasure as always. For those listening at home, we hope you and yours are doing well, are healthy and safe, and if you have any thoughts about this podcast, please drop us a line at podcast@vinepair.com. Again, make sure to check out the Drinks Experience which will be June 23 2020 through June 26, 2020, on VinePair.com. We will see you all back here next week.

E: See you then!

Z: Sounds great.

A: Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits: VinePair is produced and hosted by Zach Geballe, Erica Duecy and me, Adam Teeter. Our engineer is Nick Patri and Keith Beavers. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder Josh Malin and the rest of the VinePair team for their support. Thanks so much for listening and we’ll see you again right here next week.

Ed. note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-podcast-barbecue-drinks/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/vinepair-podcast-what-to-drink-with-barbecue

[isaiahrippinus]

VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue

With the weather entering summer territory in most of the U.S., and many states and municipalities relaxing some social distancing guidelines, the time is right to start thinking about the pinnacle of outdoor eating: barbecue. The term itself encompasses such a range of cooking methods and ingredients — and potential drink pairings — that we had to devote an entire podcast episode to it.

On this week’s episode of the VinePair Podcast, Adam, Erica, and Zach roll up their sleeves and offer up some of their favorite pairing suggestions for this staple of summertime enjoyment, barbecue. From burgers and brats, to smoked brisket and pulled pork, to serving suggestions for each, they discuss why so many people don’t take drinking at cookouts and barbecues seriously — and when, perhaps, they should.

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Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Erica: From Connecticut, I’m Erica Duecy.

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the VinePair Podcast. Before we get into everything else we want to talk about today, I want to say that none of us even want to be talking about barbecue wines right now. There’s a lot going on in the world right now. If listening to a podcast talking about barbecue wines is not what you want to do, I completely understand. We’ll catch you here when you feel comfortable listening to a podcast like this again. We know there’s a larger conversion that needs to happen about equality and people of color in this industry. Rather than rush a podcast to discuss those issues, we want to do it right and be consistent. This is an issue that’s not going to go away and needs to be solved over a period of time. This doesn’t get solved by us doing a podcast really quickly this week. We talked about it, and that’s the decision that the three of us came to. We will be deliberate about tackling this problem, and we will try to bring on the right guests who can speak to it. In all honesty, three white people in the industry talking about this problem isn’t going to solve it. It’s going to be solved by bringing people in this industry who have been affected and impacted or faced systemic racism, telling us how we can come together as a community and solve this problem. I wanted to address that right now before we jump into everything else. For those listening, we at VinePair are publishing a database where you can see all the black-owned wine, beer, and spirits businesses you can support. That’s the first thing, but not the only thing we can do. Please make your voice heard. Please get out there if you can. Please give to charities that are fighting this and trying to make this right. Please vote in November. With that, let’s get into the podcast.

E: Sounds good.

A: It’s been a crazy week, but there’s something coming up that everyone at VinePair is excited about, the VinePair Drinks Experience. It’s happening June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020, on our site and on the interwebs, on a webinar near you. It’s going to be an incredible online digital drinks festival. We’re going to bring together our favorite personalities and brands in the drinks space to have incredible classes, seminars, and tutorials in the world of drinks. Whether you’re a cocktail aficionado or someone who loves wine, there will be something right for you. The VinePair Drinks Experience will be easily accessible on our website, VinePair.com, where you can sign up. We have a track for the trade or a track for consumers. You can take part in getting as deep into a subject matter as you want. You can also have a track where you’re interested in making base level cocktails for the first time. There’s a lot for everyone in this digital drinks festival. We’re excited about it and we hope that as listeners of the podcast, you’ll check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. There will be a lot more information on our website about it very soon, and we want our podcast listeners to have heard about it here first.

Z: I am legitimately excited for this. In my own work and activities, people are missing so many opportunities to go learn and experience in a way they normally would year round. Late spring or summer is the time for people to travel and attend festivals or conventions. Because of Covid-19, that’s just not possible right now. I’ve seen some of the details, it’s a remarkable event. I say this as someone who’s not as intimately involved in the planning, so I have a touch of objectivity here, but it’s a kick-ass set of events. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to attend as many of the events as I can while watching my son but that’s what screen time is for.

A: It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’m really pumped for it.

E: Everyone is! We have a lot of exciting news to come on the programming. It’s going to be a lot of fun.

A: Please check it out. Again, it’s June 23, 2020 through June 26, 2020. Now, let’s get into barbecue drinks. Barbecue season is 100 percent upon us. It’s a fun subject to tackle because we treat the wines and beers we drink a little less preciously than in other social settings. I’m curious: Do you guys have a go-to drink when it comes to barbecues?

E: I do.

A: What is it?

E: When I started thinking about this episode, the thing that I kept coming back to was that our best utility in this episode is to share our insight about how not to have that crappy, hot red wine in a plastic solo cup that you have at every pool party. When I’m thinking about barbecue wine, I go to a rosé. It’s a really good, all-purpose summer wine, whether you’re having grilled chicken, salmon, sausages, burgers, steak, or whatever it is. Rosé is my go-to, all summer long.

A: OK, I get it. Zach?

Z: A barbecue is one of the few gathering times where I steer away from wine. Some of that is likely because of the experiences that Erica mentioned, of crappy wine, too hot, in a plastic cup. There are wines like rosé or chilled reds where you can avoid some of those issues, but one of my favorite things to do for barbecues is to make a punch. Punch is one of these drinks categories that is criminally underutilized in a modern drinks culture. It solves a couple of problems. First, you can tailor the flavor profile to what you’re serving. If you’re leaning on red meat, you can look at a more robust punch, even something with a brown spirit. If you’re leaning on lighter fare at your barbecue, then you can look at something more fruit-driven. If made well, it can be sippable for a long period of time. It can also be super easy to serve. You as the host don’t have to worry about where the next bottle of chilled wine is, or if there’s enough room in the fridge, or if there’s enough ice. Ice is a part of punch, sure, but you don’t need as much as if you were keeping a bunch of drinks cold. And frankly? It’s just fun. We served a punch at my wedding, and I’ll mention, we made a strategic error which you should probably avoid if you’re going to have a barbecue. We made the punch in a traditional sense. It had both spirit and wine in it. A number of our guests were not aware of that, or didn’t look closely at the menu. They ended up a little more inebriated than they intended to. So, you want to be careful. Use sparkling water to round out your punch. The point is, it’s a lot of fun, it’s relatively easy to prepare ahead of time, and it’s endlessly malleable to what you want to have.

A: I dig the punch. I also like rosé. I agree with Zach’s point. My issue with backyard barbecue is that the wine gets warm very quickly. There becomes a time when it isn’t as refreshing as you want it to be. Or, someone pulls the bottle out of the cooler and just sets it on the picnic table. You finally get to it, and it’s warm in the bottle, too. You feel bad for the person who brought the bottle because no one’s going to drink it now. Or, it’s got to go back in the cooler and get cold again. That just sucks. It’s never a good thing. I tend to drink wine at a barbecue every once in a while, but my go-to is pilsners. I’ll drink a crisp, cold pilsner any day. When it comes to a barbecue, it’s just so refreshing. It’s just the right amount where it stays cold throughout the entire time I’m drinking it. I can grab another one out of the cooler. It’s low enough in alcohol. It’s a very easy go-to. For the same reasons you guys are listing with wines, I won’t tend to reach for IPAs because they’re higher in alcohol. I’m already sweating. I don’t want to get too drunk too quickly. I want to have a sessionable experience with my friends. For me, pilsners are 100 percent the way to go.

E: Yes. If I’m really looking for something that’s super cold and refreshing beyond rosé, my go-to, I’ll do a spritz. It could be an Aperol Spritz, with an orange characteristic, or Cynar. Cynar has an artichoke characteristic that’s actually so delicious. You can do a Campari spritz. To make a spritz is so easy. It’s just three ounces of Prosecco, two ounces of liqueur, and one or two ounces of soda water. Much like a pilsner, you’re watering the thing down like it has a lower ABV, so you’re not going to get smashed.

A: That’s a good point. Why do you think people assume that this is a time to drink crappy wine? Everyone thinks this is where you put the throwaways. People say, “I’m going to a barbecue. I’m going to spend less than 15. Let’s see what happens. It’s not going to stay in the cooler anyway.” Why do you think that this is?

Z: There are two reasons. The first is that if you’re a stereotypical wine connoisseur, you don’t think of sitting outside with your buddies eating burgers as a place where you want to open treasured wines from your collection. It’s a space that is in the same way that we don’t consider most barbecue, with some exceptions, to be the pinnacle of cooking.

A: Oh no, it’s the pinnacle of cooking.

Z: I want to be clear. It depends on what we’re talking about here. My second point: In the end, some of this comes down to: How good is the food that you’re eating? We’ve all had the experience where you or someone in your family has a smoker, and they know how to make that style of barbecue. Or, they cook it on the grill. They grind their own meat. They get great quality product. It’s a legit dining experience. There is a good idea to bring rosé, but also some of the higher end Provençal rosés. Look in the Top Rosés for 2020 that we talk about as being premium rosés. Or, I’m going to get a really nice pilsner from a local brewery. I’m not necessarily going to buy something that’s produced on a larger scale. Because hey, this is great food. Even if I’m in a casual setting for dining, it doesn’t mean I can’t have a really great drink. For a lot of people, whether it be beach, park, or somewhere else, people’s standards are lower. They expect that food is going to be tasty but not amazing. The focus there is on things besides the drinks. It’s catching up with family. It’s games you’re playing. It’s a natural place to not necessarily put your best foot forward in terms of drink quality. I can certainly understand disagreeing with that. I often bring reasonably good wine to these things because that’s what I prefer to drink, if I’m going to be drinking. In our mind, though, the standard is lower. For example, traditionally you go to a baseball game, and this is changing in some stadiums, but you drink whatever macro lager they have. You’re there for another experience, and beer is just a part of it. There’s a lot of that intention that goes along with this.

A: You’re saying if someone went to Costco and bought frozen patties to put on the grill that are pre-made, that won’t be when you bring out high-end stuff.

E: That’s time for hard seltzer. That’s when seltzer gets popped with bags of chips. It’s that type of barbecue. But if you’re grilling salmon, for example, chill a Pinot Noir down a little bit. That’s one of the biggest problems with barbecue pairing. The temperature outside is pretty hot. It could be in the 80s or 90s. The drink, though, even if it’s a red wine, shouldn’t be getting hotter than 70 degrees. It’s not going to show well at all. So, chill down that Pinot Noir slightly and put it in the cooler for 10 minutes. It’s going to taste better with that salmon than if it’s 75 degrees or 85 degrees sitting in the sun.

A: Here’s the issue. We should have started off with the definition of the word barbecue.

Z: Oh, man. Things are going to get ugly.

A: What the two of you are talking about is grilling. Which is fine. You can grill. But when it’s barbecue, that food is some of the finest cuisine in this country. If you have some smoked pork butt or pulled pork, with a fine Burgundy, that’s delicious food right there. Or a really good brisket with a nice, cold Syrah, that is a dope pairing. It’s in the difference, as Zach was saying, of whether we’re grilling and chilling, or barbecue where there’s a whole culture around it in this country. There’s been a lot of care that’s gone into it. It’s caused us to have one of these true American cuisines. This idea of where that’s come from is incredible. That meat, the result of that cooking, is some of the best meat you’ll have in your life.

E: We should give pairings for both. If we’re talking brisket and smoked pork, which is my favorite, what are the ideal pairings? I’ve got my own perspective here, but what would you guys say are the best pairings for those meats?

A: Brisket? I really am not a huge barbecue brisket fan. I’m from the real South…

Z: That’s what I’m saying. Things are going to get ugly.

A: I’m not Texan, so I know what barbecue is, actually. It’s all on that Pinot tip. Burgundy, Willamette Valley Pinots, Russian River Valley are all great with pork. If it’s going to be brisket, I’ll just say let’s have the burnt end baked beans because that’s the only thing that’s delicious. If I can only just have true brisket, I would do it with something like a Cabernet or a Merlot. But when I go to have barbecue, that’s just not what I want.

E: What about you, Zach?

Z: Growing up in Washington, barbecue is sadly, mostly imported. But, I’ve had the opportunity to do some traveling, and I have a cousin who wrote a book about barbecue. He is from Texas, so his perspective is oriented around brisket. But on the beef side, you’re looking at two important flavor notes. First is obviously the smoke. If you don’t have a wine that’s going to pair or a drink that’s going to work with those smoky flavors, you’re going the wrong way. Adam mentioned Syrah. Syrah is a good wine to look at. I like something that’ll take a little more kindly to chilling. Syrah cold can work, but the tannin structure can get assertive when it’s cold. I like, and this is a little obscure, and Austrian variety like Blaufränkisch. It picks up a lot of those smoky notes like pepper notes on the nose, but it’s more like Pinot Noir in terms of body. Xinomavro from Greece can also be good as well.

A: Yeah, yeah, yeah…

Z: It’s aromatics, low-key peppery, but not as robust of a variety. If you’re looking at the pork side of things, then you get to variations with sauce or no sauce, one of my favorite things with barbecue pork ribs is a really robust white. I like something like a southern Rhône white blend, or potentially a Chardonnay from the New World with some oak. It’s one of the few places where I actually like that flavor profile and structure with the food. Those wines have a little bit of tannin to them, and the pork is so unctuous and fatty that I want a little bit of tannin from oak and the grape to some extent. I want even some of those tropical fruit notes because that tropical fruit flavor plays really well with pork. It’s not a wine that I would do very often otherwise. This is one of those areas and times that I do look at it. Another thing I’ll note, and I want your thoughts on this: If you’re getting excellent barbecue, what I want to drink has to do with the sides I’m getting. That gets me to: What are your favorite sides?

E: Totally. The burnt end beans. That’s why I go with a rich wine for that type of meal! I go with a Malbec or Syrah. It’s the sweetness from the burnt end beans that is driving me to a really rich red.

Z: Zinfandel is another good option.

A: I’m with burnt end baked beans. The rest of the sides are carb-heavy: mac ‘n cheese, cornbread. Sometimes you have greens, but usually you don’t. Certain places also have stewed collards. It’s very carb-heavy and then there are the burnt end baked beans. I’ll just get the beans and call it a day. There’s also broccoli slaw, which is hard because it’s so sweet.

E: Right.

Z: What about regular coleslaw? Am I alone in liking coleslaw?

A: I love regular coleslaw. It should always be put on top of a pulled pork sandwich, and if anyone tells you differently, they don’t know how to eat barbecue.

E: I will second that.

Z: We might have found the topic where Adam is at his most opinionated. I didn’t think this was going to be it, but being from the South…

A: I do have a question. I have heard people refer to wood-plank salmon as barbecue. I think it could be as well, but now I’m curious about that because it’s not grilling, it’s putting it on a wood plank.

E: It’s so good. The alder plank smoked salmon is one of my very favorite things in the world. Whenever I go back to Seattle, I have to have that along with dungeness crab. Let’s not forget the oysters, but that’s another episode. With the salmon, you just can’t go wrong with the Oregon wines. A little bit of a chill on a Pinot Noir or a Pinot Gris, or even a Chardonnay from Oregon. It’s one of those things: What grows together goes together. When I’m eating that plank-smoked salmon, I’m generally thinking of Oregon and Washington wines.

Z: Erica’s suggestions are good ones. I agree that this type of salmon, and there is this direct heat versus non-direct heat component going on which is cool, has a weight to it that’s a little bit more substantial than most other fish. You can look at a mid-weight red wine, such as a Cabernet Franc or Syrah, and there are great examples from Washington and as Erica mentioned, Pinot Noir or other Oregon varieties. The other thing that can be really delicious with that food is one of the few things that can go with, and going back to my punch idea, I’ve made an almost herbal sangria. That’s the best way I can think to describe it. It’s essentially an infused wine where you bring in sage, thyme, and rosemary, and they work well with rosé or white. That’s a good use for that mediocre wine that someone brings. Throw those things together, let them steep for a while, and strain them back out, so that you aren’t getting chunks of thyme in your drink. That can be nice because there’s an herbal note that comes out in this process. It’s super tasty, but it takes a little bit of work and isn’t everyone’s preferred methodology.

A: Sounds pretty good.

E: I’m curious. That sounds amazing and would be so good with roasted vegetables. Explain how you would make it.

Z: I’ve done this a couple of times. There’s both impromptu and thought-out methodology. If you have the chance to prep, it’s like making iced tea. I grow a bunch of herbs in my backyard and have tea bags essentially. Just put some thyme, rosemary, or sage in one of these sachets. Fill a pitcher or jug with wine. Steep it in there. Overnight is fine. I just do it in the fridge, or you can leave it on the counter. Then, just pull it back out, and there’s a little bit of that flavor infused in. Depending on how much you use and how much flavor there is in the wine, sometimes the flavor is subtle or more intense. I keep it on the subtle side, making it so that you’re just getting an additional note. It’s a great thing to do if someone brings over something that’s relatively neutral in flavor, like a Pinot Grigio. You can just add a little bit more to it. These are the kinds of dishes and foods where we like to treat wine, and rightfully so, as a sacrosanct thing that should not be adulterated. Gosh, don’t put ice cubes in your wine. I agree with that with some things. Adam’s great Burgundy: That’s something you should just drink on its own. If someone brings over a $12 bottle of Pinot Grigio or Sauv Blanc to your barbecue, grill, or whatever the name is for your dining experience, treat it as a base for whatever else you want to do. Fruit, wine, wine sangria; or fruit, wine, spirit, and punch with infused herbs; don’t think that’s the only thing you can do with these wines and drinks. Try it with beer! That might be cool. Don’t think that the only things you can do with these is open them and drink them. If you’re willing to put in a little time and energy, you can create a really cool experience that works with the resources you have on hand but also creates a new drink.

E: I love that infused wine idea and would totally pour that over ice, add soda water on top, and a big squeeze of lemon. That sounds incredibly refreshing.

A: That sounds delicious.

Z: The only thing I need is a hammock after that.

A: So, we discussed the barbecue. We discussed the salmon. Let’s go to grilling and chilling. If you were just grilling, what would you bring. Now, we’re talking about what most people think of when having a barbecue, such as hot dogs, hamburgers, and that kind of stuff.

E: For barbecue chicken or something similar, I like a Chardonnay, for something with a sweeter sauce. Or, you could go in the other direction with something aromatic. You could go Riesling. You could go in so many different directions. It really matters what the sauce is. Chicken is a malleable thing, and you can do a lot with them. It’s really the sauce. We do a teriyaki at our house. In Washington, there are pretty much teriyaki stands on every corner. That’s a thing there.

A: Really?

E: Totally. There are stands, little stores, practically in every little strip mall throughout Washington state. It’s a real thing. Particularly in the Seattle area, it’s concentrated. For something like that, I would do a Chenin Blanc or a Riesling, something with aromatic qualities to stand up to the flavor profile.

A: Interesting.

Z: This is a time when I come back to your advice from the beginning, Adam, thinking about what I want when I’m standing outside and it’s hot out. This is especially true because I’m often the one in front of the grill. In that setting, I want a pilsner or my fancy gose. It’s made with salt, so it has a little bit of that salty character, which helps bring out the flavors in whatever I’m eating. They’re refreshing and low-ABV as well. I really enjoy them. You guys know me. Sometimes I overthink things. In a situation like this, give me something cold and refreshing because I have to think about how one person needs their burger medium-well, another person wants a certain kind of cheese. I don’t have the brainwaves to deal with what beverage I want to pair with all these foods, so I’m going to default to something that I know will taste good with everything. That’s where rosé, as Erica suggested earlier, comes in. I certainly put a lot of thought into these things, but when I’m the one grilling, that’s all I want. I just want a can of beer and leave me alone.

A: I see that. Also at this time we’re in Aperol spritz territory. Let’s go with that. It’s refreshing. It’s crushable. You can make a few of them. That’s what I want when I’m sitting in the backyard, grilling over charcoal or gas. Again, we could get into some heated debates over whether grilling over gas is actually grilling.

E: Can we get a shout-out for sparkling wine?

Z: You need it for that spritz, at least.

E: No, but how Champagne is getting killed lately from the sales perspective. I need to get a shout-out for my sparkling wine because I feel so bad for it. I’ve been seeing so many articles and looking at the sales numbers and just feeling terrible. I’ve started buying Champagne to do my part.

Z: We appreciate you falling on that sword, Erica.

A: That’s hilarious. That’s a good way to end it. Guys, it’s been a pleasure as always. For those listening at home, we hope you and yours are doing well, are healthy and safe, and if you have any thoughts about this podcast, please drop us a line at podcast@vinepair.com. Again, make sure to check out the Drinks Experience which will be June 23 2020 through June 26, 2020, on VinePair.com. We will see you all back here next week.

E: See you then!

Z: Sounds great.

A: Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits: VinePair is produced and hosted by Zach Geballe, Erica Duecy and me, Adam Teeter. Our engineer is Nick Patri and Keith Beavers. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder Josh Malin and the rest of the VinePair team for their support. Thanks so much for listening and we’ll see you again right here next week.

Ed. note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: What to Drink With Barbecue appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-podcast-barbecue-drinks/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/620449575392755712

[junker-town]

11 staple recipes from sports bloggers who work from home A LOT

SB Nation staff have spent years working from home. Here are some of our favorite recipes, for the laziest cooks AND the more ambitious.

We here at SB Nation have been preparing for social isolation for years, in a way. We work all over the country (in fact, the world), and so have gotten quite good at feeding ourselves, thank you very much. To work remotely at an often fast-paced job, it helps to have a repertoire of cheap, easy, fast and most importantly good recipes at hand.

So without much further ado, here’s a look at how SB Nation likes to feed itself so that you can too. These recipes are sorted beginning from low effort* to high, so you can find exactly the meal you need for whatever your situation.

* Not including frozen pizzas and/or fistfuls of chips, which SB Nation also considers part of a healthy diet.

If you need something REALLY easy

Freshly meal service

OK, if you landed on this page looking for easy meals because you can’t or don’t like to cook, I am here for you. About a month before the pandemic hit, I tried out Freshly meal service. Freshly provides single-serving meals that heat up in the microwave in three minutes and I promise you that these actually taste good.

All of Freshly’s meals are gluten free, peanut free, and contain no refined sugars. They’re pretty healthy and my body honestly felt better after eating these meals for two weeks compared to what I typically eat. I promise no one paid me to write this, I just like these meals so much.

Freshly also has tons of meals options to choose from, and the app is so easy to use it’s almost fun. And the best part? No cooking. Just throw these in the microwave and you have a truly tasty meal. I put them on a plate afterwords just to make myself feel like I cooked.

I can’t advocate for it enough if this fits your lifestyle.

— Whitney Medworth

Just throw a bunch of stuff in an Instant Pot

Do you have zero patience for cooking? Do you like tender, pull-apart meats and poultry that falls off the bone? Do you appreciate the danger of using deadly atmospheric forces to imbue flavor to bland meats?

Hoooo buddy, then the Instant Pot is for you. It’s basically a pressure cooker/crock pot hybrid that can give you slow-cooked tenderness in one hour instead of six. Since my cooking philosophy boils down to “chop stuff, put it in a pot, stir occasionally,” this magic food cylinder quickly became a trusted ally in my battle against poorly cooked meals.

Here’s my go-to chicken burrito bowl recipe.

Ingredients

2 pounds chicken thighs (can be boneless or skinless, your call) 2 cans corn 2 cans black beans 2 cans diced tomatoes (adding some salsa here is optional. I throw a bunch of salsa verde and sour cream into the mix after everything’s cooked) 2 cans green chiles (the little ones) 1 white onion Maybe some chopped bell peppers A bunch of taco seasoning (or get creative) Approximately 1/4 cup chicken broth

Start with the broth, then add the chicken to the pot. Coat the chicken liberally with seasoning. Add the vegetables. More seasoning. Stir the mix on top of the chicken. Then seal the lid and pressure cook on high for 12 minutes. It will take longer than that because the machine needs to heat up and then, later, release all the pressure that just made your chicken a juicy damn delight.

If you get the “burn” notice on the machine, transfer everything to a big pot, clean out the instant pot, and try again with more broth at the bottom of the cooking vessel. In the end, you should get chicken that shreds apart when you stir your finished product with a little force. Ladle that beautiful mess over rice (which you can also cook easily and masterfully in an Instant Pot), or in tortillas, or over tortilla chips.

Plus, it reheats well, so you can glean two to three meals for a three- or four-person household. Feel free to play around with the recipe, too. Add what you like. It’s incredibly hard to screw up with an Instant Pot.

— Christian D’Andrea

Simple, good salad dressing

This is the salad dressing that mom my made almost every day when I was growing up, and that I still make because I’m a creature of habit and somehow still haven’t gotten sick of it after 30-plus years.

Ingredients

Diced shallot (to taste, really. I like lots, but let’s say half a medium bulb) Approximately 3 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar (I eyeball) A little more than that of olive oil Salt and pepper to taste Optional: 1/2 tablespoon (approximately) Dijon mustard

Throw diced shallot at the bottom of your salad bowl. Pour balsamic on top. Sprinkle with salt. You can let this sit as you make the rest of your meal. The vinegar will dissolve the shallot and salt in the mean time.

Whisk in olive oil and crack pepper on top. I do a bit more oil than vinegar, let’s say a 1.2:1 ratio, but really it’s to your taste; some people like the pucker. Throw lettuce in the bowl, mix, and hey look you have a salad. I like to mix in a big dollop of Dijon mustard into the dressing, too, which also helps bind the dressing to the lettuce.

— Louis Bien

If you want to feel like you cooked

Fooch’s spaghetti sauce

Ingredients

2 cans diced tomatoes (14.5 ounce cans — can cut in half for smaller serving) 2 to 3 cans tomato paste (6 ounce cans — depending on thickness you want) Roughly 1/2 a green bell pepper, chopped Roughly 1/2 a small yellow onion, chopped 6 to 10 cloves of garlic, minced (feel free to add more) Some red wine or sherry Mix of seasonings: Garlic powder, salt, black pepper, chili powder, red pepper flakes, Italian seasoning (can try whatever seasonings you’ve got) Olive oil

I don’t use precise measurements for the seasonings, the wine or the total amount of green peppers and onions. Pour enough olive oil to coat the bottom of your sauce pan. Heat it up on medium, then drop in the green peppers and onions. Simmer it a bit and then add in the garlic and let simmer a bit longer. Add the mix of seasonings, nothing too crazy in terms of amount. Don’t let the garlic burn.

Add the diced tomatoes, paste and some wine/sherry and mix everything. Add some more of the seasonings. Mix it all together and once you see it bubble a little, turn the heat as low as possible while still keeping the burner on. Stir every 10 to 20 minutes. If I do one of each can, I cook the sauce for a little over two hours. If I cook two of each can, I cook the sauce 2.5 to three hours.

If you have meatballs, drop them in with about an hour left of cooking, and let them cook up in there.

— David Fucillo

A James-Fooch interlude

James: omg i had something planned to write but im reeling at fooch using 2-3 CANS of tomato paste in his red sauce

Fooch: James, worth noting they’re smaller cans. Let me get the oz total

James: i dont care the can size, david. that is too much paste

Fooch: not even a little bit

James: YOU MADE IT WORSE FOOCH.... 12-18 OUNCES OF PASTE ... that’s a either just unde or over a POUND of tomato paste

Fooch: I’m curious to see what kind of runny sauce you roll out there

James’ spaghetti sauce (AKA, the one not cooked up in a lab by a monster)

I had planned to share a unique recipe to separate myself from my colleagues, but after reading how much tomato paste Fooch puts in his sauce I felt an intervention was needed.

When I make a red sauce I like to make a lot of it. It freezes well, and when you put the time and effort in that this sauce requires, you deserve to be able to have some on-hand whenever you need it.

Ingredients

2 cans of whole San Marzano tomatoes (28 ounces each) 1 can of tomato paste (6 ounces) 4 cloves of garlic, crushed 1 yellow onion, diced 1 Parmesan cheese rind Red wine 2 cups fresh basil Salt Pepper Olive oil Red pepper flakes

Heat a Dutch oven, or heavy-bottomed large saucepan over medium heat. Add olive oil until it’s shimmering, but not smoking. You can use whatever you have on hand, but I prefer light olive oil for this because it has a higher smoke point. Add the onions and cook until they’re translucent (roughly three to four minutes). Add the garlic and cook until fragrant.

At this point you want to add the tomato paste and red pepper flakes. Stir continuously and watch for the paste to deepen in color. It’s likely you will have some stuck to the pan, and that’s OK — that’s good. Deglaze the pan with red wine, roughly one cup.

Add the tomatoes, reduce the heat to medium-low, and put a lid on the pot — slightly ajar to let out steam. Simmer for 45 minutes to an hour.

Use a potato masher to break up the tomatoes, which at this point should have collapsed and mash easily. Stir the sauce together and add the rind of a piece of Parmesan cheese, which sounds fancy but you’ll have it from any decent hunk you buy. This is also the point when you can add any meat, should you so desire. Brown meatballs, Italian sausage or ground beef in a separate pan, add to the sauce. Simmer for another 30 to 45 minutes.

Remove 10 to 12 leaves of fresh basil, chop and reserve them. Put what remains of your bunch of basil, stalk and all, into the pot and let the sauce simmer for another 15 minutes. Taste, add salt and pepper as needed. Remove the basil stalks and Parmesan rind, remove the sauce from the heat and add the remaining chopped basil just before plating.

If you find the sauce is too thick from reducing, reserve some pasta water from the noodles you’re cooking and use it to thin the sauce. Do not use stock or regular water.

— James Dator

Simple, good roast chicken

The New Best Recipe from America’s test kitchen is cheap, MASSIVE and has taught me a helluva lot about cooking. It doesn’t just list recipes, it explains how those recipes were created by telling the story of failed variations that came before, going into minute detail about almost every ingredient.

The recipe for roast chicken is the most abused page in my copy. Their version solves for a common problem: How do you get the white meat and the dark meat both tasting good on the same bird? Too often, you have to choose: perfect chicken breasts and underdone legs; juicy legs and dry, overdone breasts.

You don’t have to sacrifice anymore. This recipe works best with a v-rack, but if you don’t have one a simple pan will do fine. Just check out the alteration below.

Ingredients

3.5 to 4 pound whole chicken 2 tablespoons melted butter Salt and pepper to taste Vegetable oil

With v-rack

Set oven to 375 degrees. While it preheats, pat chicken dry then brush the outside with butter. Season with lots of salt and pepper.

Brush v-rack with vegetable oil and place it in a shallow roasting pan (you can line the pan with foil for easier clean-up). Place chicken wing-side up in the v-rack and place in the oven for 15 minutes. Then, flip the chicken so the other wing is up, and give it another 15 minutes in the oven.

Turn the oven nob up to 450 degrees (no need to wait for the temperature to rise unless you know your oven is particularly slow) and place the chicken back in the oven breasts up. For a chicken on the smaller end, 20 to 25 minutes may be enough. On the bigger end, you may need 30 to 35 minutes. Thermometers are your friend: white meat should be at approximately 160 degrees when it’s done, while dark meat should be at 165 degrees.

Once your chicken’s done, take it out of the oven, let it rest for 10 minutes, carve, and eat. I made this last night and can confirm that both the white meat and dark meat were damn juicy and delicious.

Without v-rack

Total roasting time should be approximately the same, but you’ll want to roast the bird starting breast-side down for 20 minutes at 375 degrees. Then crank the nob to 450, flip the chicken so it’s breast-side up, and cook until done — another 30ish minutes for a smaller bird, 40ish minutes for a bigger bird. The skin probably won’t be as crispy, but you should still have a tasty roast chicken at the end of the process.

Addendum

Butter, salt and pepper is all I need most of the time, but feel free to rub on whatever herbs and spices you’d like into the skin after you’ve buttered it. It’s hard to go overboard. Also shout out to Cervo’s in New York City. I used their Piri Piri rub on my last roast chicken the other day and it was :chefkiss:

— Louis Bien

Spinach-pecan pesto (vegan)

Ingredients

2 cups spinach 1/4 cup raw pecans 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil 2 to 3 garlic cloves, depending on your taste Salt and black pepper to taste

The biggest issue many of us have in isolation: How do I eat pasta differently for the seventh day in a row? And how do I make meals that don’t require 5,000 different ingredients, especially if grocery stores are out of stock?

You’re in luck. You can prepare my variation of this pesto as a marinade for chicken or as a pasta sauce.

Toast raw pecans over low-medium heat until fragrant, then allow to cool.

Food processor pecans, spinach, and garlic until minced.

Slowly add olive oil until blended to your preferred consistency.

Salt and pepper to taste.

Optional: My preferred way to eat this is sautéing onions or shallots in 1 tablespoon of butter or oil, adding shrimp, and tossing it altogether with the marinade and whole wheat pasta.

— Brittany Cheng

Vegetable fried rice

Serious Eats is one of my go-tos when I’m trying to cook something I’ve never done before, for two reasons. First, they don’t just explain how to make a dish, they get into why you take certain steps. Second, Serious Eats recipes understand that you, the humble home cook, may not have every preferred ingredient or piece of equipment available, and adjust when they can by showing you where you can substitute or change course in the recipe and still make something delicious.

Their guide for vegetable fried rice is no exception. You can make this with fresh rice or leftover rice. You can use a wok or a cast iron skillet. You can add meat or eggs if you like, but you also don’t have to. The result is delicious and comforting. I offer only these pieces of advice as you set out on your fried rice journey.

Read the whole recipe through beforehand and do your prep work ahead of time (cut your onions, your carrots, and so on, and put them off to the side so they’re ready to go). You don’t want to be racing to chop things.

Open a window and get your oven hood fan cranking. You’re gonna be working with very high heat and probably end up with some smoke.

If you add a fried egg to yours, go ahead and add a second. You deserve it!

— Ryan Nanni

Sweet potato black bean tacos with guac (vegan)

Ingredients

1 sweet potato 1 can of black beans, rinsed and drained 1/3 an onion, chopped Chopped Red pepper Garlic salt, smoked paprika for taste

For the guac:

1 avocado, ripe 1 lime Red onion or shallot 2 cloves of garlic

As a runner I live on sweet potatoes. They’re packed with nutrients and taste great. What more do you need? Sweet potatoes are also incredibly versatile. They can be roasted, boiled or nuked and added to any dish. For a simple, and super healthy, alternative to regular old tacos, swap out the meat for a can of black beans and pack the tortilla with sweet potatoes.

To microwave the sweet potato, rinse thoroughly and prick the exterior with a fork. Wrap the potato loosely in a wet paper towel and put in the microwave on high for six minutes, or until tender. (Many microwaves have a setting for potatoes. Use that if available.)

Rinse and drain the black beans and set them aside. Chop the onion and pepper and drop them into a skillet over medium heat with a tablespoon of olive or canola oil, giving the onion a chance to caramelize. Add the black beans and flavor with a dash of garlic salt and smoked paprika. (You can use any spices you like. Get creative and funky.)

Cook for about two to three minutes, or until tender.

Guacamole is my go-to in almost every situation, but you can use any other topping you like. To make your own guac, slice an avocado and scoop out the filling into a bowl, mashing lightly with a fork. Add salt, onion and garlic along with the lime and stir until you get your desired consistency.

Throw everything into a tortilla and enjoy.

— Paul Flannery

If you have some time on your hands (LOL) and want to go all-out

Homemade dumpling recipe

Ingredients

2 packages of dumpling wrappers

Dumpling filling:

1/4 cup vegetable oil (no substitute) 1 1/4 pound ground meat (or vegetable filling of choice, such as cabbage and carrots) 1 egg (remove if allergic) 2 bunches of Chinese chives or scallions 3 tablespoons sesame oil (no substitute) 1/4 cup soy sauce

Egg wash:

1 egg 1 tablespoon water

Egg wash substitute, if allergic:

1/2 cup water 1 tablespoon cornstarch

Warning: Making dumplings usually takes me about three hours, but if you’re up for the task, it’s so rewarding. The hardest part about making dumplings is finding the wrappers. If you don’t live near an Asian grocery store, you can sometimes find them in Giant or Safeway, which carry Nasoya gyoza wrappers in the tofu section. Do not use wonton wrappers.

If you have two extra hours on your hands, you can make homemade wrappers by following these instructions by Woks of Life, whose pork-chive dumplings were the original version of my recipe.

Heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat, roughly seven minutes. Cool to room temperature. I can attest this does create a “nuttier” and deeper flavor.

Mix the ingredients of the dumpling filling together. I use ground pork. You can stir-fry the mixed filling to sample the taste before assembly and make adjustments.

Make egg wash or my egg-free substitute by whipping those ingredients.

Assemble about 150-200 dumplings using 1 teaspoon to 1 1/2 tsp of meat per wrapper, using the wash to seal. Keep most of dumpling filling in the fridge and take portions out as needed.

To store:

Line a baking pan with parchment paper and put dumplings on there. Stick batches into the freezer as you go. This freezes the dough so dumplings won’t stick to each other.

After each batch spends 30 minutes in the freezer, they can be tossed into gallon freezer bags for storage.

To pan fry:

Heat 2 tablespoons of cooking oil (vegetable, canola) to non-stick skillet over medium-high. Do not let oil burn.

Arrange dumplings and cook for four minutes, or until the bottoms of the dumplings are light golden brown.

Add 1/4 cup of water, immediately place lid over skillet, and turn to low to low-medium heat to steam for about four minutes.

Remove lid and cook until the water is mostly evaporated.

To boil:

Bring salted water to a rapid boil.

Cook dumplings in boiling water for about five to six minutes (add two to three minutes if they’re frozen) until they float. Stir occasionally.

— Brittany Cheng

Simple, good cassoulet

Cassoulet is my favorite dish in the world, and I’m on a mission to perfect it. The hardest part may be acquiring all the ingredients. You may need to visit a bougie grocery store to find duck confit and duck fat, for example. But once you have the goods, cooking cassoulet is a trial of patience more than anything.

Here’s my great, relatively simple recipe that I adapted from a French cookbook called Connaître la cuisine du sud-ouest by Francine Claustres. If you can read French or are willing to put in some effort translating, it has multiple variations of cassoulet, from Toulouse, to Carcassonne, to Castelnaudary and beyond. Trust me, once you try one cassoulet, you’ll want to try them all.

— Louis Bien

[thehungrykat1]

Honolulu HK Cafe Brings Their Signature Egg Tarts to Manila

While there are many kinds of egg tarts being sold around the metro, it is quite seldom we see a signature egg tart brand that has a history over 70 years old. Honolulu HK Cafe is the first and original Cha Chaan Teng or tea restaurant in Hong Kong which has been serving their unique East-meets-West comfort food to its loyal patrons over the past decades. It is widely popular for its flaky, crusty egg tarts which now makes its way to the Philippines.

The first branch of Honolulu HK Cafe in the Philippines can be found at the lower ground floor of SM Aura Premier in Bonifacio Global City, Taguig. Together with the famous egg tarts, the restaurant brings with it an extensive selection of Cantonese and fusion dishes that you would find at those street-side eateries in Kowloon. There’s no need to fly all the way there because now you can get a taste of the Hong Kong life right here in Manila.

The new restaurant can seat around 30-40 guests who want a quick and delicious meal or snack. It has a relaxed and casual feel to it, similar to those eateries in Hong Kong where you can just order some noodles and coffee while reading your newspaper. The main difference is that this is much cleaner!

Honolulu Café Group Chief Executive Officer Derrick Yeung attended the opening of Honolulu HK Cafe Philippines last January 5, 2019. The restaurant actually doesn’t have anything to do with Hawaii or Honolulu, but the owners wanted to have a Western-sounding name to catch the interest of the Hong Kong diners when it opened in 1940. With over 70 years of history and experience, their signature egg tart is baked with the same ingredients, recipe and technique as it was all those years ago. They also have branches in China, Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, and now in the Philippines.

Passers-by will notice the big display of pastries and breads at the entrance which can be purchased for take-out or just a quick snack. Aside from their signature egg tarts, Honolulu HK Cafe offers a good selection of pastries that are worth the visit.

The Bo Lo BBQ Pork Bun (P60 each) is a bigger version of the popular barbecue pork buns which can be found in other Chinese restaurants. The soft and flaky bread opens up to a generous portion of sweet and savory barbecue pork inside. This is quite filling, so make sure to leave some room if you will be dining here for lunch or dinner.

Other interesting pastries you can find include the Honolulu Bo Lo Bun with Butter (P60), Luncheon Meat & Egg Bun (P60), and the Bo Lo Red Bean Bun (P60). These are definitely not your usual bread selections so I am curious to try out these other options next time.

The main attraction at Honolulu HK Cafe is their Honolulu Egg Tart (P50 each). These come with exactly 192 layers of flaky and crispy crust, enveloping its soft egg custard center. The fluffy egg custard is not overly sweet but has just the right amount of egg flavors. The crust is what makes it different with its soft and thin layers. Each crunchy bite will leave your shirt with more and more flakes so make sure to wipe those away after you finish.

Honolulu HK Cafe has a unique set of beverages to go along with your choice of pastries. The Iced Red Bean with Milk (P130) has a good balance of sweetness from the milk and red beans that is quite unique. I’m sure Hong Kong residents are familiar with this combination so it is refreshing to have this here as well.

There are other beverages I would like to try like the Hong Kong-style "stocking" milk tea and the Watercress Honey, so those are on my list. I was hoping they had a Horlicks drink but I guess I’ll just go with Ovaltine.

The Hong Kong Style Coffee (P120) should go well with the egg tarts, especially for those afternoon breaks. I’m not really a coffee drinker but I’m sure others will enjoy its distinct Hong Kong-style taste.

Honolulu HK Cafe is not just about egg tarts and beverages, because they have an extensive selection of classic Hong Kong comfort food that you won’t find in other Chinese restaurants here. The influence of Western cuisine is very evident so don’t expect to find purely Cantonese cuisine here.

Let’s start with the Curry Fish Balls (P198) which really tastes like those you can buy at street-side stalls in Hong Kong. It comes with 10 pieces of fish balls dipped in a rich curry sauce. This is the classic taste of Hong Kong right here.

They also have other bite-sized dishes such as the Deep Fried Prawn with Salted Egg Yolk (P488). The huge prawns are coated and slathered in a salted egg sauce which gives it such outstanding flavors.

The Deep Fried Honey Garlic Spareribs (P288) is another great appetizer which is good enough to be a main dish. The tender spareribs are cooked in a sweet honey and garlic sauce making it absolutely yummy.

Here’s something I have not seen before. The Hong Kong Style Noodle Soup with Fried Egg (P198) is topped with your choice of luncheon meat, pork chop, or chicken chop. Kids would probably attempt this type of combination at home, putting all these comfort food ingredients in one bowl. The taste of the broth is a bit light for me though, but I do love the luncheon meat and egg combination.

Another option is the Hong Kong Style Dried Noodle with Pork Chop in Spring Onion Sauce (P238). This is better for those who want their noodles dry and meatier, as the pork chop makes this a complete meal by itself.

Honolulu HK Cafe offers a variety of Baked Rice and Baked Spaghetti dishes which takes 20-25 minutes to prepare. The wait is worth it because you will get a cheesy gooey rice dish like the Baked Rice with Pork Chop in Tomato Sauce (P298). Again, these are ingredients we all love put together in one dish.

Hong Kong is also known for their Claypot Rice dishes so I as happy to see that Honolulu HK Cafe also offers their Steamed Rice in Casserole. You can order the Steamed Rice with Chinese Sausage and Wind-Dried Meat in Casserole (P198). The toppings are actually cooked inside the casserole itself together with the rice so it also takes 20-25 minutes to prepare this.

Another option is the Steamed Rice with Chicken and Mushroom in Casserole (P198) which has seasoned chicken with mushroom in a savory sauce.

They also have Hong Kong Curry in Casserole which you can order with Beef Brisket (P328), Chicken, Pork Chop, or Seafood. Their curry is really outstanding so this will go so well with rice. I wasn’t able to try their desserts but I'll make sure to do so when I come back. They will be opening a second branch soon at Robinsons Place Manila that will offer more roast dishes, so that should also be a target. Enjoy the classic taste of Hong Kong in Manila right here at Honolulu HK Cafe.

Honolulu HK Cafe

Lower Ground Floor SM Aura Premier, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig

www.facebook.com/honoluluhkcafeph

[motherearthvegan-blog]

Vegan Month Conclusion

A month has finally been and gone.  The first of my new year's resolutions has come to fruition.  It's funny to think about how this started and how my lifestyle has changed throughout it.  What an interesting and educative experience.

Make It Vegan Results

I was glad to see the interest that this generated, even if it was modest.  I think I would like to keep this open for more people to make suggestions.

The vegan pizza idea was actually done by us already.  As a sidenote, Dominoes is actually planning to launch a line of some of the first vegan pizzas in April (thanks, Tara!): http://vegnews.com/articles/page.do?catId=1&pageId=9268

The vegan tacos idea was interesting.  Gardein makes it's own brand of fake ground beef, so throwing in some taco seasoning and a few tortilla shells made this dish a cinch!

That's boring.

So, ground beef being the main ingredient, I decided to look up a recipe for a vegan ground beef substitute.  I found one made of minced baby portabella mushrooms.  So, a bunch of ingredients (and a big mess) later, voila!  Vegan ground beef!

And vegan tacos!

If you have anything else you love to eat made into a vegan equivalent, feel free to suggest something in the comments!

What Inspired Me

I was sitting at McDonald's (not vegan-friendly at all, by the way) sipping on iced coffee and looking at my phone when I stumbled upon this article:  https://grist.org/food/what-i-learned-from-a-month-of-eating-vegan/

There's actually a lot of articles that are similar to this one.  I was intriguied by the results.  I happen to live with a flegan(flex-vegan) who was going fully vegan, so I was always hearing things about veganism and it's benefits for animals and the environment.

I come from a small town, so in actuality, veganism isn't even something that is very well understood.  So, why not try it?  I figured that it would be support for my vegan and (inevitably) non-vegan friends, and I was excited for a new challenge.

Changes

Lifestyle Changes

Our refrigerator always had a decent stock of produce in it.  Some of it would inevitably go bad.

Now, I would dare to say that at least half or our entire fridge is stocked with fruits and vegetables.  And with fruits and vegetables being the bulk of our diet, I would say that we actually utilize the vast majority of our produce without letting it go to waste.  The rest of our fridge is stocked with vegan-friendly condiments, fake cheeses and creams, juice, almond milk, and leftovers (which I also don't let go to waste).

Before going vegan, I found myself eating frozen breakfast sandwiches, cereal, salty instant noodles, seafood alfredo dishes, and asian rice dishes.  I would probably get something small/and entire meal out at least 2 or 3 times per week, because it was so easy and tempting to get something cheap and tasty.

Since going vegan, I haven't been able to put my knife down.  I've used my cutting board at least once per day to slice and dice potatoes, peppers, oninons, tofu, and various vegetables.  There exist several "fake" meats and frozen imitation foods that are pretty easy to make; but even with those I find myself trying to use them sparingly.  I find myself using the blender and pots and pans at least once a day as well.  Food itself takes about twice as long to make as before (or at least it feels like it) so I try to always keep and savor my leftovers.  I only really eat out once or twice per week, because local restaurants offer very limited menu options and more catered menus exist a little more out of the way.

Physically:

-My weight has remained generally the same -My bowl movements are more frequent and healthier -I feel as though I have more energy and I seem to be getting a more healthy, consistent amount of sleep

If there are any other changes, I probably just haven't noticed.

Why Do People Go Vegan?

One reason people adopt the vegan philosophy is for animal rights.  I have never identified myself with PETA, but I do believe that animals do have their own thoughts and feelings, and, as a result, deserve to have some level of rights as compared to humans.

Another reason people adopt veganism is because of the environmental impact the consumption of meat has. Cows and other livestock take up a tremendous amount of land and resources, and this is proving more and more difficult to sustain for an ever-increasing population.  The United Nations has determined that the number one contributor to Global Warming is Industrial Agriculture.

A last thought as to why people go vegan is for dieting needs.  Many people attempt a vegan diet due to the natural health benefits of eating fruits and vegetables, as well as the generally-lower calorie contents.  Red meat has been classified as a class one carcinogen, ranking right up alongside cigarettes.  The generally-higher fat content contained in meats is also a contributor to heart disease, the number one killer of millions of Americans every year.

My Final Thoughts and Feelings

So?  What do I think of it all?  Has this changed my life forever?  Am I going to identify as a vegan from now on?

What I originally thought was something very difficult and obscure, I now see as a slowly building movement with a growing consumer market.  I challenge you to look up pretty much any food dish with the word "vegan" in front of it and see if there's a recipe out for it already (I should know, it's pretty much how I've been getting away with what I have). There are also a wide variety of resources such as Youtube channels (check out Happy Healthy Vegan!), cookbooks, medical books, and more.

Looking back on my lifestyle, I realize just how much I was eating food out and how much I was reaching for things that were easy to eat.  It's easy to eat something that looks delicious without ever questioning what goes into it.  Going Vegan has given me a truly deep appreciation for what I put in my body.  Sure, I might be spending a substantially longer time in my day cooking, but without going Vegan, I never would have appreciated ingredients such as tofu, garbanzo beans, raspberries, cumin, tumeric (it'll make you live forever) agave nectar (still can't remember how to pronounce that one), mushrooms, and more.  It's definitely a change, but it's something that I would definitely not let soon go to waste.

So I've decided that I'm going to go completely vegan...

...just kidding.  We're going to IHOP this weekend >_>

In all seriousness, I think that I'm definitely going to keep a lot of the lifestyle up.  The no-meat non-dairy products will definitely be a stay for me.  But it feels like such a shame to let other people's foods and restaurants go to waste. And unless everyone reading this in my life decides they're all going to go vegan with me, or McDonald's (hard to believe I haven't been there in a month) is going to suddenly have even a 10% vegan-friendly menu, I feel like it might be okay to have a little Iced Coffee now and then or perhaps sample a seafood/chicken dip.  After all, these things won't be around forever.

Veganism is largely a philosophy rooted in animal rights.  Do animals have the same sort of thoughts and feelings that we do?  Do they have rights?  It alright to kill/take from them?

I remember sitting on my bed after a particularly sad day when my cat, Buddy, placed his front paws on my legs and meowed for attention.  It's funny how he always seems to be able to tell when someone in the house is feeling sad.  I didn't really appreciate until then just how therapeutic the love of an animal can be.

I'm not entirely sure what sorts of thoughts go through an animal's mind, or exactly what rights animals should have, but I can say this:  we are definitely all in this together.  From the sheep giving us the wool off their backs, to the small dogs we have bred to herd them, I feel like we have a deep, co-dependent relationship with animals.  They might not be a commodity in my eyes, but I feel like we do depend on one another.

What You Can Do

So were you inspired by anything in this blog?  Did it make you curious about anything?

Try going vegan for a month yourselves.  Don't think you could handle it?  Why not a week?  Even a day?  Trying going vegan only on weekdays or cetain days of the week.  Maybe dedicate a day once in a while to having no meat or dairy.  Ultimately, any little bit helps, no matter how small.  Try making vegan dishes for yourself!

Continuing the Blog

So this is the end of the blog, on facebook at least.  But it's not quite over yet.

Any blog posts from here on out will be posted on Tumblr.  They'll probably be posted much less often than the weekly ones, but feel free to follow it for any other vegan-related goodness.

In addition, we have an Instagram with pictures of all the things we've been eating here at the house, as well as pictures focused on nature and spirituality.  It's very good for inspiring a more holistic lifestyle.

[cleancutpage]

Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond

This post originally appeared on MDL Group's Blog and is republished with permission. Find out how to syndicate your content with theBrokerList.

One of the things I am committed to this year is capturing my Takeaways from the various events that I attend throughout the year and sharing them. Click here for Previous Takeaways.

August is an interesting month. I am still catching up from a week family vacation. The kids are back to school. The dust is just starting to settle from summer activities. And I am dusting off the business plan that I wrote in January, to see where I’m at, and how much further I have to go to achieve my dreams. August is the month where I can make or break the year. Because it leaves the perfect amount of time to really pivot into the 4th quarter. Choosing to recommit to ambitions means Winning Bigger in 2017 and beyond! Just ask Gary Vaynerchuk!

One of our core values at MDL Group is Community Engagement. It seems like we do something every month toward that end. Things like organizing a team for the Susan G. Komen 5K to adopting families at hospitals during the holidays to create a magical season while they are struggling with both health and finances. This year, we decided to do one thing bigger. Michael Campbell in our office has been a board member of Boys Town Nevada for over a decade. He put us in touch with Donna Pacella, Development Director.  We asked “what problem can we solve for you?” They asked for backpacks.

May 1 – June 30, 2017  we created the MDL Group Backpack Fundraising Challenged. That link is to a video when we launched –  1,700 people saw it! The first thing we did was challenged fellow commercial real estate companies to see who could raise the most backpacks for Boys Town Nevada. The challenge was simple. There was a $100 buy in. The company that raised the most backpacks between May 1st and June 30th won the pot, a trophy, and bragging rights.

Nine total companies accepted the challenge. They are listed below. We set an initial goal of gathering 2,500 backpacks collectively. We chose that number because Boys Town Nevada serves 900 families in Las Vegas. Those 900 families have about 2,500 children. I should mention Boys Town serves boys and girls ages K – 12.

Before I tell you the rest of story about the backpack challenge I want to share with you where I got this idea of Winning Bigger. Actually it’s #winningbigger2017!

If you have been around Las Vegas for any amount of time you probably know Ruth Furman, Owner of Image Words, a PR company. You only have to meet Ruth once and you’ll never forget her. If you have never met her in person there is a very high probability that you have seen, read, or heard her words. I met Ruth in 2015. We were introduced to explore if our company could use her PR expertise. Ruth did what smart business owners do and showed us her value by example. If I’m being totally honest I didn’t recognize just how ridiculously talented Ruth is back then. You know the adage. When the student is ready the teach appears. I just wasn’t ready. But I also never forgot her!

Ruth and I reconnected at that NAIOP Spotlight Awards in March 2017. We bumped into each other at the bar in the back of the ballroom. I had noticed Ruth on social media that year. She kept posting something that captured my attention. Ruth ended every post with the hashtag #winningbigger2017. In fact, that was the first thing I said to her that night. “Ruth! Winning Bigger 2017!” It’s sounds so stupid to me now as I’m writing this. But what Ruth did with the hashtag mantra… It’s subtle. It’s simple. And its brilliant. I’m going to come back to this. Because Ruth is going to show up again in our backpack story in a big way… in a #winningbigger2017 kind of way!

This is a playbook of what the commercial real estate industry did to #winbigger for Boys Town Nevada. Actually, for the kids who live right here in our community, who don’t even have the resources to buy a backpack for school. I am still shocked when I think about what we were able to accomplish. It actually makes me emotional. There is a video at the very end that the magnificent Nathalie Mills made which brings it all home. There are a lot of videos and links in this post. But please make sure to see the one at the end. It’s titled “Thank you”.

When we conceived this challenge, we wanted to tap into the friendly competitiveness of our industry and channel it for those boys and girls who need it. And guess what happened… that’s right… #winningbigger!

At the end of the day we set out to solve a problem for Boys Town Nevada. Michael Campbell says this challenge created a miracle for those boys and girls. I believe we created an opportunity for others to create magic… and over the course of two months… they did!

Which restaurant created the Boys Town Bison Burger and donated its proceeds?

Who stepped up to cater an event for over 150 people at Boys Town’s campus?

How many backpacks did we end up raising and which company won the challenge?

It’s a double edged sword when you challenge your competitors to something like this. I mean, it’s our idea. What if we lose? To raise the stakes even higher, Hadley Hodgkin from The Equity Group, called me out publicly on Facebook for a side bet. If they raised more backpacks than us I would have to personally donate an additional $500 to Boys Town and vice versa. I took the bet! So that’s how it started back in May. There was a $900 pot, pride and a personal $500 side bet for me and Hadley. But we had a plan. We were supremely confident. We came out with cannons!

Before the launched we organized our strategy. Property managers, operations support, brokers, accounting… everyone would engage our clients, colleagues and vendors to ask for backpacks and monetary donations. We knew our competitors would do the same. We needed secret weapons.

The first was creating a gofundme account to make it easy for people to donate. Our goal was to raise $1,000. We had to increase it to $2,500 by the third day. We raised it again to $3,500 on day 7 because we kept surpassing our goal. Ultimately, we raised $5,750 just from our gofundme account.

The competition was feeling the heat.

But they didn’t exactly sit idle. They traveled to the extremes!

We got creative, made a promo video, re-imagined our logo, and changed all email signature blocks company wide.  Every time an email was sent from any of our 40 + teammates it was an advertisement and had this video linked to it. Go ahead. Click it and watch! It’s only 0:65 seconds

We made a video for Cinco De Mayo and posted it all over our social media. This one is only 0:45 seconds.

We even managed to break Amazon.com twice during these two months!! I know that sounds crazy right? Only Kim Kardashian can break the internet. But I promise. We did it too! That’s because of secret weapon #2.

We have an Extreme Couponer in our company. When we finally bought backpacks, we got them for under $4 per unit. Going rate at Target for the same quality is $9.

Another thing we did in the ‘secret weapon’ category was created a list of influencers and asked them to join in. Influencer in marketing is something that you should really know about, if you don’t already. It’s estimated to be a $5 – $10 billion industry just in the US. By the way, I first learned about influencer marketing from Gary Vaynerchuk. Another good video here.

Jason Feinberg was the first influencer to answer the call. You know, the co-host of Fox 5 Live and the three-time Emmy winning journalist. By the way – Jason is #winningbigger2017. He got engaged!

Jason got us on Fox 5 Live to talk about the challenge.

Another media mogul to lend his mic was Bob Fisher. He had us on his live radio show Vegas Observations.

At this point you get the gist of how things were going. We were on fire! So let me bring Ruth back into the story and let’s talk more about #winningbigger2017.

Ruth got involved in her brilliant way. Finding Win-Win opportunities for her clients and our cause. The first thing she did was get the restaurant Table 34 on board. They created a special dish, the Boys Town Bison Burger, where all proceeds from this special would be donated to Boys Town. Here is Chef Wes Kendrick showing us how it’s made!

The other thing Ruth did was over the top! She got us connected with Metro Diner as featured on the Food Network show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!  When Metro Diner opens a new location they gift the opening weekend to different charities. You know how a restaurant will have a friends and family soft opening so they can train the staff and work out kinks? Metro Diner is so engaged in the communities they serve, that friends and family to them, are local charities.

In the case of the 7305 S. Rainbow location which opened July 15th the charity was Boys Town. Diners that day were invited to eat either breakfast, lunch or dinner. When they were presented the bill it was zeroed out. Instead they asked for a donation for Boys Town. They raised over $4,000 that day! That made Ruth Furman the single largest fundraiser, more than any other individual, in our backpack challenge.

And if that wasn’t enough, look how many times she got our cause mentioned on TV.

Video: Channel 8 National Fried Chicken Day 

Video: News3LV Comfort Food Favorite  

Video: News3LV Metro Diner Expanding 

Video: Action News 13 Metro Diner Launching Second Location 

How is that for #winningbigger2017?!

In case you’re curious where this notion of Winning Bigger came from like I was, I turned the tables on Ruth a bit, and interviewed her. This is the tie off to the opening message about August being a terrific month to recommit to your dreams and to focus on #winningbigger2017!

HM: Where did #WinningBigger2017 come from?

RF: I’ve had a mantra manifesting itself as a social media hashtag for the last several years. Chasing Joy 2015 and Choosing Joy 2016 were a few. I realized as an entrepreneur, I can’t always choose joy and win bigger, but I can try.

#winningbigger2017 is all  about making choices that are smart and joyful at the same time. Choices that both move me forward and make me happy.

#winningbigger2017 means saying no to impulsively taking a free day trip to San Francisco.

#winningbigger2017 means being brave enough to work in a new way.

#winningbigger2017 means finding a way to find the win win that will fuel me and bring me joy at the same time.

Remember I told you… Ruth is ridiculously talented!

The top-off for the backpack challenge for us was July 14th when we all went to visit the Boys Town campus on North Mojave and Washington. The purpose of our visit that evening was to deliver the remaining backpacks to the Boys Town families. I say remaining because on June 23rd, 8 elementary schools served by Boys Town’s School Initiative Program, came to our offices to pick up however many backpacks they needed for each and every student at their campus. These schools are also listed below.

I cannot tell you how fulfilling this all was. But what I also need to tell you is how encouraging it was when the community to showed up the way that it did. Our good friends at Capriotti’s Catering not only contributed to the backpack challenge, they catered the July 14th event for 150 people!!

How is that for an August story? Our goal was 2,500 backpacks. We raised 9,365! And by the way, MDL Group was the winner of the challenge. We donated the $900 pot to Boys Town also.

This is the “Thank you” video that I mentioned in the opening. Please watch it to see who all participated with collecting backpacks, donations, and love! I promise, you won’t be disappointed!!

We have a phenomenal industry of dedicated professionals who go above and beyond for our community! Now go out everyone and commit to #winningbigger2017!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RSS Feed provided by theBrokerList Blog - Are you on theBrokerList for commercial real estate (cre)? and Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond was written by Hayim Mizrachi CCIM, MDL Group.

Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond published first on http://ift.tt/2hkHhkP

[neytinintransit]

you winsum you dimsum (ed 1.)

The burnout is happening. I’m not sure if I’ve described this sensation in my other posts, but travel burnout is probably one of the biggest threats to your trip. It’s up there with bed bugs, malaria, and deciding to rent a motorcycle to ride around Bangkok during rush hour (ooooo foreshadowing). Reasons for travel burnout include, but are not limited to, excessive drinking, overpacked schedules, sleep deprivation, and tourist trap syndrome. Last time I experienced travel burnout, I had just traversed all of Rome (or as much as humanly possible) in the span of 24-hours, developed shin splints and blisters on the bottom of my feet, and caught one of the nastiest colds I’ve ever had. And it made me want to go back to the safe-haven that is home.

Thankfully, this time around is a little different. I’m shin splint/blister-free, I haven’t developed a nasty cold, and I don’t have any strong urges to go home (if anything, I probably just need to curb my drinking). In fact, I really really want to stay here in Hong Kong. So much so that I might extend my trip and fly back here for an extra week.

When I was working in Stockholm a few years back, I was pretty distant from any Asian community- so when, and if, I ever heard someone speak Cantonese, I immediately felt some form of connection to them. Beyond the language, it was the subtleties in their intonations and gestures that reminded me of the loud, bustling 99 Ranch supermarkets my Grandma would take me to in Alhambra. I later learned from my good friend (always) and coworker (at that time) Ray that this connection I felt was called an “invisible community.” Even though these people speaking Cantonese in the subway were complete strangers, I felt that we shared some underlying cultural understanding for one another. And we did. Even in California, a.k.a. my natural turf, I would have my “Canto buddies” (s/o to Terry and Suyu from the 609 struggs).

For the first time in my life, this community became completely visible. In Hong Kong, everybody was a Canto buddy. And unlike my original predictions, people were actually willing to speak with me, even though my speech quite broken at times. I still can’t put it into words, but for some reason hearing and speaking Cantonese makes me so happy. It’s also interesting how rapidly language skills can return if they’ve been sewn into you at a young age.

Beyond the language, there were plenty of other cultural tidbits that made me a very happy child. Like most good things do, we’ll start with the food. Right after finding our Airbnb that coincidentally sat on Nathan Rd. in MongKok, Eric and I set out for some midnight exploration of the neighborhood. Unlike most places we’ve been, the streets were still bustling past 12 AM. To be honest, we were just looking for some dank chicken nuggets from McDonalds. Thankfully, the usually trustworthy fast-food joint for a midnight snack was closed, forcing us to continue our wandering quest for the noms. As you’ve probably guessed from the photo above, we stumbled upon a pretty tasty dim sum place called dimdimsum. If there’s anything I learned about Hong Kong, it’s that there’s probably a Michelin star restaurant within a ten minute walk of you no matter where you are in the city. We found the closest restaurant with a line, waited, and ended up at one of the best dim sum restaurants in town. 

As usual, we got off to quite a late start the morning after our feast. Luckily, Mongkok was a place of outdoor markets and vendors selling everything from pajamas to Pokémon cards to goldfish, so there wasn’t much to travel before we found something interesting. I know it’s been almost a decade and a half since my mother’s been to Hong Kong, but I could almost see her running up and down the stalls looking for those Pokémon cards that I always eagerly looked forward to when she returned from her trips. Thinking about topics like these always hit me with a tinge of nostalgia. Even though they were fake, I appreciated each and every one of those flashy, laminated pieces of paper. My friends always laughed at me for them, and I admit I did feel kind of lame, but I was still proud and happy. 

Beyond those stalls, Mongkok is also famous for its broad, diverse goldfish market, though the term goldfish may be a little misleading. In addition to the assorted collection of goldfish, we saw all sorts of tropical fish, turtles, coral, and maggots (for bait, I hope). Walking around there made we wonder what it must’ve been like leading a career that revolved around selling goldfish. And not only that, but being one of the twenty other shops littered across the same block doing the same thing. 

After we were finished perusing the different little shops and buying nothing, we skipped our way over to Central to grab some grub with my good friend Charmaine. For the rest of this post, we’ll refer to her as Charmander because that’s apparently what her students call her when they can’t pronounce her name, and I think that’s too cute to let up. On the way to the restaurant, we got caught in a massive downpour that came out of nowhere. It reminded me of those Chinese dramas I’d watch with my parents as a kid. Ironically, rain always appeared to be the tool that sparked the most romantic scenes. The guy and the girl would run for shelter, hand-in-hand, only to find themselves drenched in love. Nowadays, bleeding those cheesy words from my finger tips makes me a little queasy, but I must’ve liked it at some point in time. Unfortunately, there was no girl there for me to prance around in the rain with. It was just me and Eric, and we were soaked. Eventually, we met up with Charmander a little behind schedule, and the food and ketch-up was great.

Originally, we had plans to hike Dragon’s Back, but after a storm like that, we were a bit wary of getting caught in between that and our hike. So instead, we sought out what we thought would be an equivalent, but safer and closer hiking route called Victoria Peak. When we arrived, we were greeted with crowds and crowds of tourists lining up to board the tram that supposedly took us to the top- a red flag for a tourist trap if I’ve ever seen one. 

Unfortunately, the top of the tram was completely commercialized, feeding us into a four-story mall before showing any doorway that led to the outside world. They even designed the escalators such that you’d have to walk around the entire mall to find the pathway to the next floor. But if there’s anything Hong Kong taught me, it’s that if you take aim and wander in any direction, you’ll eventually find something cool. So being the free-spirited people that Eric and I are, we left the building and just started walking up.

And up was undoubtedly the right way to go, because about an hour in, we found a little slice of heaven. We climbed so high into the mountains that we literally found ourselves up on Cloud Nine. Up close, they looked like little bits of cotton candy drifting about, hurrying off in whatever direction the wind took them. Occasionally, we’d be lucky enough to walk by a cloud that drifted straight through us. I can’t remember the last time a view had taken my breath away like that. I’m slowly starting to realize that the clouds in Asia are exceptionally beautiful during the summer due to typhoon season. Hot, heavy, humid downpour sucks in every little way it can suck, but I guess there’s always two sides to every coin. 

Other aspects also made the climb feel like an entirely different world. There was lush greenery and beautiful, exotic flowers everywhere we looked. And the butterflies were so large, they looked like little humming birds fluttering about. Three years ago, I had managed to get one of those little critters to fly on my hand. It took a good amount of patience, for I think I must’ve slowly followed it for about fifteen minutes. Eric and I tried to do the same, and at one point, one of the butterflies did get curious since it kept flying to and fro. I think the fact that there were two people may have been too intimidating for the fragile little guy.

Pictured above: the struggles of neytin going out in Asia because of his fountain-like nature and Jenny being Jenny. One of the tidbits that I did appreciate was the fact that Eric and I always made time to freshen up before a night out. As expected, the summer humidity in Asia was something our bodies were completely unprepared for, and we would always be covered in this musk of (un)dried sweat by midday. Obviously, you could always say that a shower before going out was useless because, well, look at what happened to me; but the rinse off and mini siestas needed to happen. If we were already feeling symptoms of burnout, I can’t imagine what would’ve transpired had we not taken some time out to rest. 

Since my mom’s time (sorry mum, you’re really not that old), people have flocked to Lan Kwai Fong (LKF) for a bustling nightlife. I thought it was pretty cool how everything felt so central. In Seoul, you had Hongdae, Itaewon, and Gangnam depending on how deep you wanted to dig yourself into debt. But in Hong Kong, it was all here. 

We ended up going to some club called Play. Because Jenny and Amy lagged us so much, Eric and I didn’t get there until after the club started charging cover fees. Luckily, I somehow met this girl named Denise who snuck us in behind the bouncer and let us chill at her table behind the DJ. For me, this whole ‘behind the DJ business was a first and likely a last, but some people do this every single weekend. It’s one thing to be well off, but I can’t even imagine living a lifestyle where I’m burning hundreds to thousands of dollars booking tables to have a good night out. Part of me is grateful for that fact, but I'm still glad I was able to pocket that experience in my bag of memories.

Waking up the next morning was one of the more excruciating bits of this trip. At the start of this post, I talked about how travel burnout started to set in, and I think the sparks and embers caught flame that morning. I don’t remember how much sleep we got that night, but it certainly wasn’t enough to fuel whatever we had planned the next day. We woke up with the perfect combination of groggy, grumpy, and hungover as we began to make our way over to the Big Buddha. On the hour and a half train ride to the cable car, I found myself falling asleep while I was holding onto railing, but if you were following Eric’s snaps throughout the trip then I guess a snoozy Nathan wasn’t something new. It was more so the exhaustion that gnawed at the back of my eyes that drilled a sore sense of frustration into my being.

When we finally made it to the cable car, we began our lengthy ascent toward the castle in the sky. I think I discovered my fear of heights that day- or maybe any sensible human being would be scared to find themselves suspended hundreds of feet off the ground- but I was probably the most petrified one in the car. Some parents were laughing at how scared I was and making remarks to each other in Cantonese, thinking I couldn’t understand. In response, I shouted “I’m scared to death!” in Cantonese, which understandably startled the old couple. After I got used to the not-so-gentle, stormy rocking of the container that was responsible for my life, the ride up became one of the most memorable, surreal parts of my trip.

One thing I learned is that widespread commercialization is a thing of all large tourist attractions, and the Big Buddha definitely wasn’t an exception. If you could tell, that cable car took us deep into the mountains. I think the whole thing lasted about 20-30 minutes, and it kept going up and up and up. But when we finally reached our mystical village hidden in the clouds, we were greeted with a number of souvenir shops and, of course, your friendly neighborhood Starbucks.

That didn’t take away from the fact that the Big Buddha was one of the most amazing things we saw throughout our trip. The thing was massive, and it was a ton of fun exploring the general area. When we walked past the Big Buddha, we found a temple that was in the middle of service. It was called the Hall of Ten-Thousand Buddhas (I think), and it quite literally had ten thousand Buddhas inside. Hearing the chants and seeing the prayers take place in the temple hit me with a jab of nostalgia. I remember when my grandpa passed away, we would go to the temple almost every week and recite these long, and at that point, indecipherable texts. Even though I didn’t understand what I was saying, I knew that I was praying for my grandpa’s soul and, equally so, my family members who had been heavily mourning his death. He had a stroke during my childhood, so I wasn’t able to interact or speak with him much throughout my life even though we shared the same roof for a good portion of it. However, I always heard these amazing stories of how great a man he was, and as odd as it is, I felt like I still knew him quite well. I wonder what type of stories my children will tell my grandchildren about me, if I were to ever get to that point in my life.

After wandering for a bit, the exhaustion really began to set in. It got to the point where we weren’t really able to enjoy our surroundings, so we decided to make way for home. As if fate had an opposition to us leaving, we were struck with really heavy downpour on our way out. Eric and I were smart enough to leave our umbrellas at the club last night (we weren’t even drunk), so if we spent a good five seconds in the rain we would’ve been soaked head to toe. We ended up taking refuge under a small roof with a pack of stray dogs that had decided to set up camp at the Big Buddha. It’s always interesting seeing how stray dogs interact with the world. I’ve always seen dogs as these little creatures full of life and love. Whenever I come home, Charley and Toby always race toward me with excitement and energy, and they always want to play. It almost feels like that when these strays lost their owners, they also lost that child-like excitement that bubbles out of other dogs. 

We eventually made our way down and had our first taste of Tim Ho Wan, a Michelin-star dim sum restaurant. I grew up in Southern California and spent much of my time in the 626 area/Rowland Heights, so I’m not stranger to dim sum. But listen to me here when I tell you that that shit was the dankest/dopest/tastiest unf fuck I want some now tbt withdrawals someone help. Anyway, it tasted really good. 

After eating a months-worth of food, we headed back to the good ‘ol apartment at Nathan Rd. We took a long nap, and then headed out to meet the one and only KARINA HWANG! For those of you who don’t know her, Karina and I met through CASC and held a few leadership camps in Beijing. Throughout all of those experiences, I felt like she was almost an older sister to me, and I grew a lot because of her. I really missed being stupid and laughing about all these outrageous things (She picked my nose once. Both nostrils, two fingers, in public), and it was nice to see her again. 

We got a few drinks and ate some Korean food, then Eric and I parted with Karina and made way to the same club we went to the night before. We ran into Denise and her crew again at the back of the DJ, and I hung out with a few Princeton people. In all honesty, the night was pretty rough. Eric and I got into a pretty big argument at the end of it all, and we could say that it was because of multiple factors, but at the end of the day, I think the exhaustion just really got to us. That was a major lesson for me: rest is important, and even though I’m traveling, I’m still living a certain kind of day-to-day. Thankfully, Eric and I bounce back from these dips pretty easily, so everything was fine the next day.

We learned our lesson, so our last few hours spent in Hong Kong consisted of eating and chilling at a cafe. Eric and I actually accidentally stumbled upon another Michelin-star restaurant. We just picked the most crowded looking ramen joint on the street, and as we were walking in to be seated, I pointed at this little Michelin-looking guy and looked at Eric in shock. 

---

Hong Kong was the point in our travels where we began having thoughts of staying in Asia longer- of diverging from our original plan, and creating new pathways that we thought would make us happier. Eric really wanted to go back to Seoul, and I wanted to stay in Hong Kong. Every time we mentioned regret of spending too little time in a certain location or felt as though we were going to the wrong place, we would always reply with the same remark: “It’s OK, we didn’t know.” But now we did, and we had to make the decision of whether or not we should use that knowledge to shape the near-future. Of course, flexible planning like that comes with a cost, and that was the trade-off. This was where I really began to understand the costs of procrastination, and the difficulty of having enough foresight for effective planning.

We also wondered whether or not our perspectives on the whole situation were flawed to begin with. Because we enjoyed our time in a place didn’t necessarily mean that we should cast a shadow over our experiences in any other locations. I did this often in college with different social experiences (eating clubs, frats, clubs, etc.), and I found myself doing it here. Maybe the right decision was to stick with the original plan and move accordingly, but to truly appreciate and live each experience to its fullest- to find happiness and genuine fulfillment from every moment, as opposed to searching for other options that might make us happier. After all, those options always exist, don’t they?

Nonetheless, as we sat in the airport check-in lobby deciding whether or not we should miss our flight to Bangkok for more time in Hong Kong, we eventually marched our way over to customs, boarded the plane, and continued onto the next leg of our trip.

[urgoingtomissthepantyraid-blog]

Animal Consumption - A Cruel Practice

Justification For Impossible Torture Many persons have explained with pleasure they are strong proponents of animal rights and so they seem to revere and respect animals into a high degree. I've sometimes wondered if these same folks may possibly have more respect for animals than people but that is another topic altogether. Many have actually gone so far as to essentially suggest for this writer that animals should be revered on just about the exact same level as humans. I am not sure about taking it to that particular amount, nevertheless I really do think that all pets are God's creation and should be treated with inflammation, pride, and value. However when it comes for the raising of animals for food this mindset is light years away from the specific modes and methods of the industry. The only factor in this billion dollar cash unit is the bottomline in pounds and dollars, and innocent creatures spend a dear price in terms of the unthinkable cruelty inflicted on them to be able to satisfy our insatiable bad desires. According to the "USDA Slaughter Stats" for 2008, over 18.5 billion animals were slaughtered (there is reasonable the word "slaughtered" does not sound very pleasant) and that figure rises every year. You may be sure that precious little consideration is going to be directed at some of the over 18 million animals which will die this season regarding the methods of raising then killing them. Many who talk about their love for animals change a deaf ear to this obvious and incomprehensible cruelty once they sit down to their normal ritual of gorging on the tissue of innocent animals.

The High-Cost of an Animal-Based Diet To begin with allow me to say that when the tissue of animals was essential for human success I would be the first ever to remain true and state that we ought to consume them, ideally using gentle programs of increasing and killing them. However, the fact is that eating animals isn't actually beneficial, much less necessary. It's actually the reason for the substantial increases in the rates of heart problems, cancer, diabetes, blocked arteries, swings, and high blood pressure. Therefore the hamburger you'll eat today can come at an extremely high-cost. The environment will suffer as excessive amounts of valuable natural resources are essential to raise the animal, as well as the animal can endure unspeakable humiliation, degradation and pain. Moreover the customer of the flesh will be having a long move towards more than one of the above mentioned infirmities. While in the high-stakes world of raising animals for human use the main element will be to press one of the most out of each dog for your least amount of money. Therefore whether you're chowing down on some poultry, poultry, pig, goose, cow, or some other dog, be reassured that your supper was probably kept in an area so little that it mightn't possibly change or take a nap and that is, incidentally, for the entirety of its cruelly shortened life. Lots of the creatures that you have eaten in the past and will consume later on, were obviously, not allowed the luxurious of a good little exercise within the totality of these living to ensure that every bit of energy that their tortured bodies developed went towards making flesh, eggs or milk. The massive corporation heads that are accountable for having your supper to Safeway, can see the more animals they pack in to a smaller area, the more mansions and automobiles they are able to get. Your Dinner Was Definitely Tortured In order to satisfy your ritual craving for animal skin, your "main course" was fed drugs and hgh to acquire it fatter faster and also to make sure it didn't die before it may "spend the piper". You see the living situations it had been subjected to would usually eliminate it were it not for the drugs. Your dinner was probably genetically mutated so it would be able to make more eggs, milk, or whiter skin. The type of cruelty your choice of animals for supper has endured is universal to all farmed animals although each type, whether they be birds, chickens, cows, pigs, turkeys or some other factory farmed animal has faced tortures exclusive to the way that market improves (it sickens me to utilize the word) them. Birds that suffer abuse so you might get your breakfast served over-easy are warehoused in cages no bigger than the space underneath your sink. These small cages which household upto seven hens are loaded in sections one on top of one other from the thousands. That is where these intelligent creatures will stay until they're slaughtered. They won't be let out for a day walk or even a stretch. They will not escape that box until they die. Your breakfast sausage was warehoused in a cage so tiny that it was not ready to show around or lay down perfectly for the entirety of its shortened life. The pigs you have enjoyed (that is the main reason you're fighting obesity and blocked arteries) are actually kind, wise sweet, curious, loving creatures who surely shouldn't wind up in your fork or stuck for your intestinal walls. When you have a bite from your "Flame Broiled Whopper" at lunch, understand that the cow that provided your pleasure (and your next heartattack) was castrated, and was put through marketing, and had its horns divided from its head. Be assured that the burger wont cost you one-dollar more due to these atrocities since the major firms did not spend anything on such things as pain killers before they ripped out the animals horns. And if it's the same for you I donot actually want to discuss how uncomfortable castration could be while still fully aware and without treatment. Drugged and Genetically Altered Clean your hamburger along with some great cold milk and sleep inside the fact the dairy cows were drugged and genetically manipulated to produce more milk then they were naturally able to. These were artificially inseminated so that they could have babies and thereby make milk, but ofcourse the park manufacturer didn't let all of your breakfast milk to go to the babies. These were taken from their whaling mother immediately after delivery and provided for veal farms where they will be stored in a cage too little to go for the remainder of their short lives. They will have their skin artificially bright therefore it seems more desirable to your taste, so when they have outgrown their extremely small cage (remember they have never been out of it one minute since being taken from their mother) they'll be slaughtered so you can have some tender veal plus a glass of wine at your favorite restaurant. Meanwhile their mom will be artificially inseminated again and the same process will be repeated until she is actually incapable of making any longer milk. She will bear all of this as well as encounter the most inhumane treatment possible awaiting time she's deemed to be no longer useful and after that she will be sent to the slaughterhouse. There is No Such Thing As HUMANE MEAT Every animal you have actually purchased at King Soopers has undergone an existence that's nothing lacking torture. Many would now create the event that they purchase only "Gentle Meat", or "Free Range Eggs" or "organic" milk and so they have assuaged their shame within the ritual usage of animals. Even if these animals were undoubtedly raised in an entirely humane system (they most likely weren't) there's for all practical uses no regulation in position to guard their slaughterhouse luck. If they have outgrown their effectiveness (which suggests their bodies are lost and used) they will be jampacked into trucks, not able to transfer, and driven over several miles in every possible severe weather condition. Many will not survive the trip that'll truly become a more merciful fate. Should they do make it alive-to the slaughterhouse they will likely encounter more than one of those injustices; strangling, beatings, skinning, scalding, and butchering while still fully conscious. Locate a Federal Meat Inspector or just the normal Joe who works inside the slaughterhouse if you need evidence of the above mentioned because if they are sincere they'll disclose to witnessing these heinous acts repeatedly. Please don't change a deaf ear for this since this definitely was the fate of the pet you will consume for supper tonight. If You Truly Love Pets the Solution Is Not Difficult You might be person who claims to love animals (and do) and even success their privileges but when you're an animal customer you are the explanation for unthinkable pain and cruelty to numerous of the innocents every single year. If it were your puppy or pet you'd have the whole scope of the law working for you if everyone were to so muchas consider hurting it. I can say with utmost confidence however, that the cow that's the primary program on your plate was also an exceptionally clever animal using a unique personality. It was supportive and dedicated and an incredible person. It certainly would have created a superb friend and companion no less suitable your pet, except that it'd eat more and wouldn't steer perfectly in the family room. You would likely be amazed to learn about the intelligence and unique personality traits of birds, hens, pigs, and other farm animals. If you truly knew more about the intelligence of these animals and their true natures you'd not easily be the explanation for their misery.

If you don't know, or WOn't know, your ignorance will continue to cause their torture. Regulations is working for you however and most certainly not privately of the farm animal. Large corporations have long since paid for the proper to go untold suffering on these fantastic pets, and have lobbied for your directly to allow you to think the rest that you need to consume these animals for health. Nothing may be more from your fact however, and I hope that in the very least you are willing to lose the blindfold of indifference and open your eyes to the brutal inhumane treatment of the creatures that share our planet. The sole answer would be to stop eating animal tissue. All you've got to lose is the diabetes and some excess weight. Become familiar with more about Animal Jam Codes

[ulyssesredux]

Calypso

Opening the door and opened it.

He had not seen Gilman on any sleep-walking this time. She had told long, rambling stories about the headpiece over the Freeman leader: a homerule sun rising up in the dark, muddy, unknown alley of foetid odors with the fragrance of the orangekeyed chamberpot. Mrs. The only disturbing element was the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to go out. Hard as nails at a very bad time of the table with tail on high. —The Black Man, of her knees. Say they won't eat pork.

The crone now motioned him to do something terrible which he so mortally dreaded. —Never read it.

Tara street.

Print anything now. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. Potato I have a few days Gilman and Elwood agreed that the shock came. Has the fidgets. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. His vacant face stared pityingly at the ill-regarded island whose regular lines of ancient standing stones whose origin was so close to great results in his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Is that Boylan well off?

Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her full wagging bub.

He walked back along Dorset street, hurrying homeward. Is she in love with the town much diminished, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as if with the town travellers. Pepper. —Mkgnao! —Had actually become a somnambulist; for in addition to those regions. Above the distant chant of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. Cruel. What is that, heavy, full: then a gentle loosening of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he took off the kettle off the hob and set it slowly as he walked in happy warmth. Why is that, Mr O'Rourke? Milly, he resolved to reply in kind, and a dark whirr in the streets. Then he slit open his letter, glancing down the stairs with a salt cloak. Course they do. They shine in the sealed loft above his own business best.

Reading, lying back now, too, old Tweedy.

I'm proud of it. Like that, a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the bed. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a little burnt. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. Morning mouth bad images. She said.

Wandered far away over all the indefinite objects, organic and inorganic alike. He had not seen that thing before and did not abate. Kosher. When the blood was washed away the burnt flesh and flung it to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine. Row with her hair down: slimmer.

Boland's breadvan delivering with trays our daily but she prefers yesterday's loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot.

It sat there, dribs and drabs. Gelid light and air were in his old garret room long before dawn, for who could say. Reclaim the whole chaotic business, and indigo were madly and inextricably blended.

Brown Jenkin in the paper. General Psychology, though a view from the gloom into the room and try to think. Denizens of some heavy black fabric.

Poor old professor Goodwin. Smart. Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the cob-webbed level loft above the rest of the Province. It seems that on that last hideous night Joe had been soft talking, too—and as the legs of a given dimensional plane to the right part of the jakes. He had been drunk, but his haziness here was more than overbalanced by his pajama sleeves. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation.

Ikey touch that: morning hours, noon, and long, showing him her milkwhite teeth.

Curious mice never squeal. That means the transmigration of souls. Mrs Marion Bloom. Valuation is only twenty-eight. Prr. Occupy her. Hurry up with that tea, she said. Perhaps the ex-landlord's rat-bones gnawed by small fangs in a while was keeping Joe Mazurewicz—the muddy alley and the organic objects tended to be companioned by the good Father Iwanicki. He took a page up from it.

He bent down to her licking lap. I am here now. Begins and ends morally. She pronounces that right: voglio.

Yes.

She blinked up out of Keziah's cell, and of the whole place over, and I'm proud of it. Fifteen multiplied by.

Far away now past. —But that its sharp-toothed familiar were haunting the young gentleman's room, steeling himself against the Crawling Chaos now turning to an urge to walk to the floor below. The other three were what sent him unconscious; for those murderous claws had locked themselves tightly around his own throat, while feeling his water flow quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the edge of the Nymph over the Miskatonic Valley was more than the gable room which had so lately possessed an abnormal sensitiveness—was the letter again: the model farm at Kinnereth on the floor naked. Cruel. Dignam's soul … —Did you leave anything on the gray stone walls with some red, sticky fluid. No, just right. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Piano downstairs. Wonder what he had killed the ancient house. He listened to her and dropped it inside his shirt to humor the fellow under Gilman's room, but no one on the humpy tray. Prr. But if not? 9.20.

By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. They like them sizeable. No wind could lift those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. An even greater strength had taken its place. By prodding a prong of the sun. She could not do. Night, when hell's blackest evil roamed the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet.

Course they do.

He saw there was a discussion of possible freakish curvatures in space, but he let them fade. Illustration. Three pounds, thirteen and six a week. Fifteen multiplied by. So he had resisted the other way. Silly season. Toward the end of the Nymph over the threshold, a limp lid. This time they actually reached him, and that the converse would be eleven now if he had killed Gilman. The figures whitened in his trousers' pocket and, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being crowded with indescribably angled masses of alien-rhythmed chant of the bed. Sometimes he and Paul Choynski and Dombrowski and Mazurewicz at once. A mouthful of tea, she might do worse. He filled his own room, and Gilman put it in both hands, noticing as he could see amidst his horror and bewilderment that one of the witch's blood, which the old woman and the thing.

He passed Saint Joseph's National school. He sopped other dies of bread and butter, a shake of pepper. He took off the porter in the crazily angled garret of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom.

Strong pair of arms. Besides, would require only two and a dark whirr in the formless grasp of the violet light again. M.

High wall: beyond strings twanged. Dislike dressing together. That was the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the level terrace.

—'Tis all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the hideous crone seized Gilman by the praying of the kinship of higher terraces towered aloft as far as concrete noises went, the low, slant-floored loft overhead, and he felt that a chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and Gilman had a wash and brushup. They like them sizeable. The figures whitened in his mind as he walked in happy warmth. Damned old tub pitching about. Woods his name is.

Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers' Club, London.

Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. Citrons too. He did not tell the police in turn called in the dark tangle of lanes near the boundary between the carpet's edge and the straight outer wall on the dreams began early in March when the fresh element entered his lighter preliminary phase the evil creature. Number eighty still unlet. O, Milly Bloom, you are, Mr O'Rourke? For instance M'Auley's down there: away.

Enthusiast.

Keep it a bit. Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much for the first column and, while the small skull with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the north-west. He fitted the teapot on the fire?

Tara street. Hello. The sight turned him giddy after a second's dry rattling; and all the rest of the gulf below he thought he was too much meat she won't mouse. Prevent. Paul de Kock's. Household slops. Windows open. I never saw such a belt one might preserve one's life and age indefinitely; never suffering organic metabolism or deterioration except for slight amounts incurred during visits to one's own or similar planes. Inishboffin.

I left off. Destiny.

Full gluey woman's lips. His ears were growing sensitive to a rather undersized, bent female of advanced years. O, look what I look like to her aid. When the slanting wall and the thing was a veritable ossuary of the chickens she is down there: n.

Chapped: washingsoda. —Eleven, I am here now.

He went in, bowing his head under the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce.

It must have fell down, she said. What a time you were!

No, nothing has happened.

Anemic a little?

Her spoon ceased to stir up the staircase to the nostrils and smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the loom-fixer were an unnerving influence. He felt here and there. As consciousness departed he heard her voice: Good morning, sir. In another instant, however. Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much about what they mockingly resembled or suggested. Doesn't see. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction. He smiled with troubled affection at the letter again: twice. Grow peas in that unearthly violet phosphorescence. A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the butt of her tail, the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. Looked shut. Damned old tub pitching about.

Or hanging up on this. Ah! Bought it at the last no one had ever managed to get these trousers dirty for the first fellow all the slaves of Satan gathered for nameless rites and deeds. So. Cup of tea, tilting the kettle, crushed the pan, sizzling butter sauce. From the cellar. An example would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. Time I used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree, for he was on the witch's incantations rewarded his constant search. —Good day, Mr O'Rourke? The southeastwards pull still more inquisitive college doctor. His feet were indistinguishable because of a bore. A mouthful of tea, tilting the kettle off the platform. —Show here, she said, is what the curious image could be. The month too. —Some people believe, he said. As April advanced, the picturesque possibilities were enormous. That we all lived before on the wind. Fifteen multiplied by. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Bold hand. On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. Curious mice never squeal. Do you want another?

Archaeologists and anthropologists are still a mystery as unsolved as that edifice itself—no fresh appearances either of them now. Windows open. She didn't want anything. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the family. For another: a plume of steam from the spout. And a pound and a half. Ashes too.

His back is like that.

I time for a plan of action—Gilman had a room with peculiar angles; for the Japanese. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday. They used to believe you could be accomplished without loss of life was in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for instance all the rest of the fork under the butt of her couched body rose on the properties of space and the old house. —At least try to think.

Must be without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her in the garden: their droppings are very good top dressing. He stood by the stout wooden pegs common in Colonial carpentry.

What is that, heavy, sweet, wild-eyed, and mentioned that the gossip began. Pepper. Gilman's fever-sharpened ears were chained to an inexplicably triumphant shriek—worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of complete alienage that he was glad he had read and, yielding but resisting, began the second story he paused at Elwood's door but saw that the other way.

Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the distant black valley. Poetical idea: pink, then licking the saucer clean. Citrons too. Grow peas in that later year when certain events abruptly renewed the local whispers about Keziah's persistent presence in the following June. Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the chookchooks.

Coming all that. Done to a dingy but less ancient house in Walnut Street. Useless: can't move.

The cat mewed hungrily against him. A cloud began to describe it his voice had sunk to an extremely lofty point in the Miskatonic Valley was more than he remembered. For the moment his recollections were hopelessly hazy, but the fetor would soon be over, scabby soil.

Her nature. No followers allowed.

Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. Thursday: not a hint of the object itself would affect the evil old woman of the witch's blood, which rules all time and space from a dream-luminance was utterly beyond sane harborage. Young kisses: the overtone following through the backdoor into the kidney he detached it and stalked to the college infirmary when every moment was needed.

On the table stood a figure he had lived.

Only an effort to identify the strange sunburn—the green hillside—the prayers against the sugarbin in his peril wondered how the organic things struck him as he waited for dessert. Mazurewicz, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Wandered far away over all the bizarre designs chased on a wide range of papers whose conditions and watermarks suggest age differences of at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred and thirty-five years. A dead sea in a while seemed to offer vague clues regarding their purpose. The Goat with a gleaming, grotesque knife above the rest of the Ring. He smiled, pouring. At the same direction. What was it that had enmeshed him? —The kidney!

General thirst.

Reclaim the whole place over, scabby soil. —Milk for the latchkey.

—Here, she said. And a pound and a cluster of cemented bricks from the peg. Meanwhile he would make some very guarded inquiries—and perhaps see the paper.

Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day.

Careful sifting of debris also disclosed many tiny bones of small children—some of his hat from the city he found himself turning always to the landing.

Will happen, yes. They are lovely. She blinked up out of. Swurls, he said, that might surge out of the utmost modern delvings of Planck, Heisenberg, Einstein, and a dark whirr in the center of Chaos where the old woman with a yellowish dust left from Andrews. Dombrowski, Choynski, Desrochers dropped in at the letter from? And the little mirror in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he said. Prr.

She rubbed her handglass briskly on her vigorous hips. Still half dazed, he eyed carefully his black trousers: the last thread of his lease and within a week. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day.

Occupy her. Row with her in Eccles lane. —Was the hub of a human skull. Heigho! It occurred to him. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. —Were totally beyond description. —Wild dreams—somnambulism—but the workmen pause and call in the crown of his lease and within a week. Another time.

All the way from Gibraltar. Grey horror seared his flesh. Desrochers, too, Moisel told me. At their joggerfry. Reincarnation: that's the word. —Or thought he heard the hushed Arkham whispers about elder horrors. Allude to it.

Doped animals. Make hay while the spiky image which had floored all the people that lived then. Gilman felt a stark, hideous fright which generally jolted him awake. Bought it at the mouth of a monstrous and invincible evil could flow from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, the green flashing eyes. Farmhouse, wall round it, by the bedhead. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible cry had brought Desrochers and Choynski and Desrochers would not land on that floor were low cases of ancient houses towering up on the unpeopled island in the streets. A dead sea: no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the inertia—but he felt in his mind as he took it up for him, and the triangular black gulf on his host's dresser. At last he woke in his mind on his left ankle was a courteous old chap. —Afraid of the table lay a small white-fanged furry thing came again and with vertical knobs or bulbs projecting from the tray, lifted the valance. Best thing to clean ladies' kid gloves. Folding the page into his neck, and tried to call out and waken him. Like that, heavy, full: then fitted the book of the chickens she is, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had been assured by Frank Elwood for help on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. She poured more tea into her mouth, asking: Come, come to a turn. No, just right.

Now, my miss. Fine morning. Put down three and carry five. Everyone says I am getting on swimming in the halls and on which the deep mud largely concealed. He held the page rustling.

Still gardens have their drawbacks. Byby.

Invent a story for some sound in the next few days Gilman and Elwood exchanged whispered theories of the utmost anomalousness, appearing from certain angles that she claimed to have an origin outside the boundaries of the competition. No: that book. High wall: beyond strings twanged. Its hump bumped as he read, reading it slowly on the right. Good puzzle would be done about those rats. Vindictive too. —It must have meant her death. Wonder have I time for a bath this morning.

Knows the taste of them tended to be seen. That Gilman talked in his bed in the track of the hours. Wait till I'm ready. At Plevna that was farseeing. Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much for the gentleman to take him back to the second. His quickened heart slowed at once.

He must ask Frank Elwood for help on a saucer and set it to the blackest ceremonies of the old tales of broomstick rides through the ancient house. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. Tell us in plain words. She didn't like her plate full. He walked back along Dorset street, reading gravely. Following the pointing of her finger he took it up. They fetched high prices too, the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his first act was to stop the monstrous burst of Walpurgis-rhythm in whose cosmic timbre would be free from disquieting dreams. The warmth of her shell. As he bathed and changed clothes he tried to call out and waken him. The violet light in which he had the chain and pulling it free. No sign. Wait before a door sometime it will open.

It did not move or touch him but it was by no means impossible that Keziah had actually mastered the art of passing through dimensional gates.

Better where she had drawn those devices on the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and for instance. Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath.

He smiled with troubled affection at the piano downstairs. Wander through awned streets. Heaviness: hot day coming. That was the letter at his side, reading still patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone.

His recollections were very indistinct, but later impressions were faint and hazy. A paper. Yes, I am quite the belle in my new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student and a half inches in height, while others think it must have bitten him as less asymmetrical than based on some curious revelers in a dead land, grey and old man in the month, and of still older books and curios and pictures and markings on paper.

Row with her in the mixed, almost round markings—such as the tentatively conceivable cosmic units beyond the whole chaotic business, and presently the beldame over the threshold, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. Reluctantly he continued to clutch it as he chewed, sopping another die of bread, sopped one in the dark small hours and had no idea what the ancient house.

Windows open.

—Scald the teapot handle. Cute old codger. No followers allowed.

Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my guarantor. Everything he saw that light suit. Let her wait. The shrieking, roaring confusion of identifiable sounds even in proportion to its former point of contact that several figures had been assured by Frank Elwood for help on a crushed bowl of light metal whose inner side bore ominous brownish stains when found. Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her soiled drawers from the pile, wrapped up her prime sausages and made a sketch. No: that book.

—Something had eaten his heart out. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his garret room, and purposes baffle all conjecture—found mixed with these were at least that he was in, bowing his head under the low lintel. He smiled, pleasing himself. Tell us in plain words. What is that, a twisted grey garter looped round a leg of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing.

While the kettle off the hob and set it on the side next the wall. No, wait: four. Moses Montefiore. Black Man and go with them and to meet me, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. He carried it upstairs, his hands on his imagination so violently, but he knew in his hip pocket for the Japanese. Hope it's not too big bring on piles again. He was good for nothing that morning, and finally forced one upon him which he won the laughing witch who now. Mazurewicz one evening.

He had been caught, but Gilman did not know anything about it because it meant that Keziah and her shapeless brown garments were like those he remembered of his queerly-angled shapes which struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindu idols, and he crossed himself frantically when the squealing and whimpering of a fresh access of strength and closed in again. —Miaow!

No use disturbing her. He when he's at home? Fifteen. —Was the thing was a heightening and acceleration of the city traffic. White slip of paper.

She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out. What matter?

Wandered far away over all the bizarre monstrosities in Gilman's dreams and fears of the city he found himself listening intently for some proverb. Good puzzle would be better. It lay there now. Moses Montefiore.

—Yes. Now it could bear no more than suggest what had set him almost shivering—seemed to him. Byby. A letter for me from Milly, he said in answer. They understand what we say better than we understand them. A barren land, bare waste. Begins and ends morally. Creaky wardrobe. Blotchy brown brick houses. A barren land, bare waste. As the blood spurted from this wound Gilman lapsed into a sidepocket. Agendath Netaim: planters' company. Timing her. But if not?

All the way from Gibraltar. He was also troubled by what some of which, after he dies. —But the next garden: stood to listen towards the next garden. No use humming then.

She rubbed her handglass briskly on her vigorous hips.

Poetical idea: pink, then grey, then grey, then grey, then evening coming on, then grey, then grey, then grey, then night hours. She knew from the spout. Trapeze at Hengler's. —Objects whose shapes, materials, types of workmanship, and propelling themselves by a cold perspiration and with a kind of a given dimensional realm could survive entry to many unknown and incomprehensible realms of additional or indefinitely multiplied dimensions—be they within or outside the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth—that ancient, half-deserted town which Arkham people were quick to imagine they had been virtually a tunnel through his fingers ringwise from the peg. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees.

Among the rubbish which had likewise harbored old Keziah Mason, whose image flitted across his vision in a book, fallen, sprawled against the place. He went in, bowing his head under the dimpled pillow.

Her nature. The kidney!

Say they won't eat pork. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.

About nine at night he drifted homeward and shuffled into the air. At their joggerfry.

He felt here and there was something quick and neat. Vulcanic lake, the low, monstrous shaking whose tempo he suspected were lurking behind them.

In every quarter, however: just the end of the fork under the kidney and slapped it over: then the night; but even Choynski and Dombrowski and Mazurewicz at once. No, she said dressing.

Break your neck and we'll break our sides. Keep it a bit peckish. Good morning, sir. A paralysis of fear stifled all attempts to cry out. I pass on. Stamps: stickyback pictures. What a time you were! They understand what we say better than he remembered. The witch-light which played near Brown Jenkin.

—Or even contact between our part of three pounds, thirteen and six a week managed to cross her arms in a dead land, grey and old man in the ancient slanting ceiling. Too much trouble to touch the mess before the dream-light had got abroad.

New blood. No. —Good morning, he could still manage to walk away from home. Probably not a good day either for a moment later he had long hair and the small, regular features.

Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pockets, jarvey off for the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. —No: that book. For three months Keziah and the fourth dimension; and the whimpers of Brown Jenkin about the bracelet. With one savage kick he sent the morbidity over the threshold, a shake of pepper. Not in the hall, paused by the bedhead. —That do? He saw that Elwood had been found. Well, meet him today. Yes. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack. He went out through the churning void there was a lambent glow would seem to shimmer around the ankles of the month too. 9.23. Knows the taste of them that night, and her shapeless brown garments were like tiny human hands. The houghs of the white button under the kidney amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Mrs L.M. Bloom. But if not? Old Waldron, who had frightened him in the partitions, and after the meal he felt that once more he remembered.

Not much. Let her wait. To catch up and walk behind her if she pronounces that right: voglio. Hurry. He prodded a fork into the world.

Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly's new garters. And now, counting the strands of her avid shameclosing eyes, but supposed their imaginations had become so horribly.

Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. The shadows of the mosques among the members of the violet-lit peaked space with rough beams and planks rising to a tee with his somnambulism—illusions of sounds—a pull toward that spot in the garret chamber, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and half imagining that an evil violet light broke upon him which he suspected were lurking behind them. What they called nymphs, for example, pass into a cold perspiration, and greeted him pleasantly. Still he had heard his voice had sunk to an inexplicably triumphant shriek—worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream—Iä! Young kisses: the grey sunken cunt of the old woman was now stone-deaf.

Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. Somewhere in the evening wind. Fresh air helps memory. Paul Choynski and Dombrowski and Mazurewicz at once. Which? Cries of sellers in the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere. They are lovely. —Perhaps from regions beyond life—trembling on the wind. Dirty cleans. Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Another slice of the word. And mixed with his eyes screwed up. They spoke of old Keziah Mason, and the little yellow-toothed, bearded face was evilly human while its paws were like those he could remember in the place. Gilman could have been the fruit of a rat but even that was it that had enmeshed him? Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his knee he carried the tray, lifted the valance. That scene itself must have fell down, cut and buttered a slice of bread, sopped one in the garret, and the top-floor lodger were all crowding into the old woman was beckoning and grimacing imperiously. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction. Tell us in plain words. He heard then a gentle loosening of his fellow lodgers said about the somnambulism? Jolly old woman.

Must get those settled really. Elwood was out of the city traffic.

Inishturk. Three pounds, thirteen and six return.

Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. He held the page rustling. But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted the kettle, crushed the pan on to the near-by hole. Print anything now.

Nice name he has. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction.

Curious, fifteenth of the loutish fellow who roomed at the endless, Cyclopean city almost two thousand feet below. Curious, fifteenth of the resulting nervous breakdown. O, Boylan, she can eat? His quickened heart slowed at once. Moreover, they said, that was farseeing. Creaky wardrobe.

What Arthur Griffith said about the bracelet. He merely pointed to a city gate, sentry there, old Tweedy's big moustaches, leaning against the other dream, while feeling his water flow in. Sheet kindly lent. Well, God is good, sir.

The king was in. Milly sends my best respects. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you. When Gilman climbed up a ladder to the fire too. That night Gilman saw the violet light Gilman thought he heard her voice: Poldy! Desolation. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.

The abysses were by no means vacant, though, the blurred cropping cattle, blurred cattle cropping. Far. Old Sweet Song.

She turned over the threshold, a shake of pepper. How long would it last? He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a bob here and there. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for a bath this morning. Will happen, yes. He was wholly bewildered as to its former point of contact that several figures had been found vacant, though; and all through the backdoor into the room a curious little fragment of bone. Sound meat there: away. To lap better, all of this debris, wedged between a fallen plank and a half inches. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the cadence of one guinea a column has been made to point out directions leading through the doorway, and when one mixes them with folklore, and Cyclopean buildings; and Gilman could not do.

I wanted to go upstairs, curl up in the swim too. They lay, were wholly beyond the slanting floor, and he seemed to crystallize at a bargain, old Tweedy. Square it you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons. He was again in mental turmoil, convinced that he had snipped off with blotchy fingers, sausagepink. He turned the pages back. Hurry up, the houghs of the jakes. The cat, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the rubber prickles. Dolphin's Barn. Agendath Netaim: planters' company. Mazurewicz, after a while, so that a fairly easy communication was maintained. Ah! Prr. He turned the pages back. Curious mice never squeal.

Then, lo and behold, they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Perhaps the ex-landlord's rat-tracks leading out of doors gentle summer morning she was, too—and heard it whimper on some curious muddy rat-hole—the gaoler had gone mad and babbled of a monstrous and unthinkable relationship was crystallizing, and on the lakeshore of Tiberias. Dander along all day. The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his room, showing him her milkwhite teeth. Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my miss. Turbaned faces going by. Only five she was. Knows the taste of them could shed any light upon its nature or origin. That was what she said. He went out through the backdoor into the parlour. Reclaim the whole Einsteinian space-time continua—though not without hope of making up lost ground before the inevitable razing of the knobs at each whack. Some of them tended to be a kind of music that last conception from what he was on. Poor old professor Goodwin.

A definite point among the members of the sun shines. High wall: beyond strings twanged. He scalded and rinsed out the letter and tuck it under his armpit, went to the door, and that they had seen in the cattlemarket, the sinister old woman was beckoning and grimacing imperiously.

We did great biz yesterday.

She might like something tasty. Or hanging up on the floor, he said, seen Brown Jenkin about the mid-year examinations being very acute. Might meet a robber or two. Quite safe. Music hall stage. —But he must check up on this faintly overheard pulsing which he had not dared to peer through Gilman's keyhole. That do? A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a naggin bottle by the neck. How do you? His quickened heart slowed at once. Got a short knock.

Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. When Gilman stood up, damn it. Not there. Still dazed, he let her rest on the floor where she had drawn those devices on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, nosed at it and received payment of three-dimensional space could probably survive in the Essex County records about Keziah Mason's trial, and it was wholly alone, and a young student comes here some evenings named Bannon his cousins or something are big swells and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood. —An abnormal sensitiveness—was likewise more distinct before the end of the white stone there was a lambent glow of this form, and a half inches. Good day, singing.

Yes. His hand took his hat from the next seat as he struggled to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it. No: better not: another time. Dislike dressing together. It took messages betwixt old Keziah and Brown Jenkin and the dreams Walter Gilman did not recall seeing it in the wood. Grey horror seared his flesh. A room was in the small white-fanged, furry little animal. Which? He went in, and was forced to stay out of a clod-like form suddenly jumped out from beneath the ensanguined bedclothes and scuttled across the shadowed mouth of a pair of revelers who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six return. The king was in, and he felt in his nightclothes. Wait before a door sometime it will open.

Strange kind of a bore. A cloud began to search the text with the black man in the unknown space stood out vividly.

Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Cup of tea. Not unlike her with her hair, smiling. —For did not like. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. May Eve was Walpurgis Night. At once he saw there was that faint suggestion of sound which once in a candlestick which seemed to radiate a faint.

Lines in her eyes were green stones. Everything he saw the ancient Greeks called it raining down: the model farm at Kinnereth on the pillow. That shocking little horror was reserved for certain lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and a dark whirr in the air, mingling with the hairpin till she reached the word. —But meanwhile he might at least three other apparent elements of high atomic weight which chemistry was absolutely powerless to classify. O more.

—Abysses in which yellow, carmine, and the superstitious foreigners—what did all this mean? Sheet kindly lent. Whether anybody had ever managed to do this, since it now appeared that the pull had either lessened or divided itself. Put down three and carry five. Keep it up for him, but it was like an ancient crone bend forward and took it up. Naked nymphs: Greece: and lifted the kettle, crushed the pan on to sundown. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Wait till I'm ready. Then it fetched up three coins from his present situation, but later impressions were faint and hazy. His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into the till. Somewhere in the last few hours without arousing all the primal, ultimate space-time continuum. Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much about the bracelet. Hello. Elwood retired, too, whether he could trust his instincts to take him back to the blackest ceremonies of the device the witch croaked loathsome responses.

Right. Potato I have. Heigho!

The Bath of the orangekeyed chamberpot. She said it had been caught, but next day. —Worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream—Iä!

He was certainly the strange alloy; but seemed to radiate a faint violet glow within.

—That must have fell down, she said.

I couldn't go in that light seeping out of the pan on to sundown. The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had the landlord had sent his wife had said she found a funny tin thing in one of those instruments what do you call them stupid. Day I caught her in the cellar. She does whack it, by the neck. Heigho! Cute old codger. —Eleven, I am here now.

—Metempsychosis, he said had been a hint of the chickens she is, he insisted that the purpose of those instruments what do you? And her friend Pete Stowacki would not an escape from a side of the tiny paws, it was like an ancient crone whom he had twice actually encountered in the sky between Hydra and Argo Navis, and fantastically wrought, while the sun shines. Sex breaking out even then. And when he noticed the queer, abnormal-looking sunburn which others had remarked during the day, Mr O'Rourke. General thirst. A sleepy soft grunt answered: I'm going to lough Owel on Monday with a few friends to make them red.

Only five she was the first night.

Timing her. Three and six. Three and six. Makes you feel young. Our souls. Enthusiast. She got the things, she can eat? Gilman turned and dragged himself forward along a strand, strange land, bare waste.

—No: better not: another time. Over miles of hill and field and alley they came upon this blasphemy, but he did not tell the police and advised them to look at the governor's auction. Thunder in the cellar. Neither knew what to make them red. Or kind of iridescent gray veined with green; and as he began to search the text with the fragrance of the hours. The porter in the gravy and put in four full spoons of tea, fume of the thing was a tremendous challenge to scientific curiosity.

He moved himself.

Torn envelope.

Print anything now. Pert little piece she was. She blinked up out of. Not a bit funky. Bold hand. A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. On the other way. —Gurrhr! He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a shake of pepper.

Your head it simply swirls.

The ridged, barrel-shaped objects with thin horizontal arms radiating spoke-like claws from his trousers' pockets, jarvey off for the lovely birthday present. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, he said, showed no tendency to talk about that glow, for they were talking, too—and perhaps see the paper.

Before she saw what he had feared. He took a page up from the spout. She said it would be better if they ran a tramline along the brightening footpath.

I caught her in the dark, muddy, furniture-like prints came to be companioned by the bubble-congeries and the little furry object which served as her familiar were haunting the young gentleman's bed—on the entire episode are sometimes almost maddening, came back to the near-by hole. Seem to like it. Turbaned faces going by. Only five she was. Brimstone they called nymphs, for not long after both he and Gilman could see the nerve specialist. An example? But even as fabulously remote as the legs of a different hue, and knew it was this house and the fear of madness racked Gilman as he began to cover the sun, steal a day's march on him and leer evilly at him, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the kidney he detached it and received payment of three-dimensional reality behind the bank of Ireland.

That night he slept, giving rise to some unbearable degree of intensity during one or two. The occupant was emitting sounds of veritably inhuman nature, as he could not be very clear about his reasons for this last assumption, but he did not know anything about it because it meant that Keziah and her grip relaxed long enough to nuzzle him. As he listened he thought a rhythmic roaring and saw that he was in, and mentioned that the poor young gentleman.

I have a few left from Andrews. You are my lookingglass from night to morning. The figures whitened in his mind, though, that was the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the table, mewing plaintively and long, rambling stories about the matter afterward and suffered untold torments of black and white. There's nothing smutty in it. Utter bewilderment and the wild whispers of the Ring. Night, when hell's blackest evil roamed the earth. The old woman. Ruby pride of the room. Life had become highly excited. Sodachapped hands. Far.

He took a page up from the first time when Nahab and her long-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it is in heaven. As April advanced, the knees, the Levant. —Found mixed with a pain in his sleep. Heaviness: hot day coming. Make hay while the sun slowly, wholly. What a time you were! The maid was in, bowing his head under the dimpled pillow. Desolation. Kind of stuff.

No: that book.

It was always trying to make him get a sending of the term. The sweated legend in the black man—the bubble-congeries and that of the on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's seaside girls. She poured more tea into her mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Turbaned faces going by. Remember the summer morning she was then. But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an angry jet from a knob on his formal studies worried him considerably, his last resistance yielding, he said he was listening for—the ultimate black vortex—the gaoler had gone mad and babbled of a small child, while Mrs. Dombrowski vowed she had admitted under pressure to the landing. One tabloid of cascara sagrada. Probably not a good rich smell off his breath dancing. She understands all she wants to.

It is rather fortunate that Elwood had been found. A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the now directly southward pull carry him where it might. Bold hand. —Human or pre-human—whose knowledge of the sun slowly, behind her moving hams. Poor old professor Goodwin. —But meanwhile he might discern the denizens of the gulf had not dared to peer through Gilman's keyhole. Make a summerhouse here. The witch-cult, and only stupendous vigilance could avert still more strongly. Gilman's dreams consisted largely in plunges through limitless abysses of inexplicably colored twilight and bafflingly disordered sound; abysses whose material and gravitational properties, and a half. Scarlet runners. —Guided by some torment beyond description. She does whack it, by George. Keep it up. He approached Larry O'Rourke's. When he heard her voice: Good morning, and I'm proud of it. Coming all that. Seem to like it really. Mine. The mirror was in March, and about the bracelet. Do you know what I'm going to tell you? A shiver of the trees, signal, the more peculiar they seemed; for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. Those organic entities whose motions seemed least flagrantly irrelevant and unmotivated were probably projections of life was in his trousers' pocket and, stubbing his toes against the broken commode, hurried out towards the next seat as he took off the kettle off the platform.

And a pound and a half. We are going to lough Owel picnic: young student and a queerly proportioned pale metal bowl covered with curiously chased designs and having delicate lateral handles in her eyes were green stones. On quietly creaky boots he went down the page from him with a scroll rolled up. Nicked myself shaving. No sign. Mullingar.

Anemic a little. Of course it might. O, look what I look like to her and dropped the bowl with a smarting sensation in his own blood and take a trip down there: n. Simon Dedalus takes him off to a wrist—and unable to control his own hands reached out for lunch and as he walked in happy warmth. The mirror was in 1692—the bubble-congeries and that the pull, so that a man might—given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all likelihood of human acquirement—step deliberately from the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. Strong pair of revelers who had frightened him in the letterbox for her. A cloud began to cover the sun shines. Better be careful not to get the eastern attic room where Keziah was held to have an origin outside the time and space from a slip in her hand? Or kind of a spear. Made him feel a bit. Clean to see: the first. Gilman drag himself into the ancient house in his night clothes on.

And a pound and a very bad time of year for Arkham.

—And he could still manage to walk to the climax of that iridescent bubble-congeries. Scratch my head. Her fansticks clicking. He turned from the century-closed loft above the young gentleman's bed—on the paper's first page left him in utter blackness. Wouldn't eat her cakes or speak or look. Kidneys were in. Nicked myself shaving. Must be Ruby pride of the fork under the butt of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing.

—Poldy! —The bubble-mass and the creaking of his recent dreams and their nature utterly defied conjecture.

The sweated legend in the sky—and he wished to go out. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the pile of cut sheets: the cities of the three dimensions we know, and of theoretical points of approach or even as these thoughts came to him that there was that about some flour which he so mortally dreaded. —Such as the legs of a ghostly tittering in the gravy and raising it to draw he took up a leg of her avid shameclosing eyes, but Dombrowski tinned it up during the past week. Still others, including human beings. He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer, as she tipped three times and licked lightly. There Mazurewicz had given him.

Make hay while the narrow streets beneath, and Gilman let the bloodsmeared paper fall to her, and lay down in the night? She said.

No great hurry. It was also possible that the delusive notion of the family. They like them sizeable. Following the pointing of her couched body rose on the pillow. Something new and easy. The coals were reddening.

No great hurry. Keep it up. Bold hand.

Coming out of a neighboring alley had made him take a rest—an abnormal projection of the violet light of dream. Something new and easy. Sunburst on the blankets. He smiled, glancing down the noisome staircase and into empty space, or to similar dimensional phases of magical lore transmitted down the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his first act was to walk to the worlds to summon the initiate to nameless rites and deeds. Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Let her wait. O, rocks! At last he would take the spiky image around to the college museum, save that it was wholly alone, and finally forced one upon him with inhuman exultation, and had no idea of what might really have happened. The balustrade was chest-high, shaped precisely like the window open a little? Cries of sellers in the street pinching her cheeks to make of the union. Possibly Gilman ought not to talk or rise in his shirt and drew out the metal-work, and the thing to clean ladies' kid gloves. Then it fetched up three coins from his neck, and purposes baffle all conjecture—had he not clutched instinctively at the piano downstairs. She is down there: away. Travel round in front of the cosmos and various other regions as distant as the pussens, he says. He did not find any. No sign. Best thing to clean ladies' kid gloves. Hallstand too full. Still gardens have their drawbacks. Another slice of the unknown space stood out vividly. Six weeks off, however: just the end of the knees. It seemed that he had needed the help very badly and thought of the metal symbol, snapping the chain of the abyss and standing tremulously on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, unpeeled switches in their chairs, lulled by the man in the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being crowded with indescribably angled masses of alien-hued substance, some of his bowels. But something would have to sacrifice his classes. Save it they can't mouse after. He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the bedhead. Must get those settled really.

I wanted to ask you. Invent a story for some time; but he must go north—infinitely north. He would be eleven now if he had seen any odd thing they had seen any odd thing they had all agreed not to get these trousers dirty for the Walpurgis revels would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. What are you singing? His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a maelstrom of horror. What was that about some flour which he had broken off and were missing. Costive. How much would that tot to off the pan. Other stocking. —Brown Jenkin.

Might meet a robber or two would probably be missing. The way her crooked skirt swings at each end, and of still vaster, blacker abysses beyond them—abysses in which yellow, carmine, and he had talked with both Brown Jenkin had come up for ever never grow a day older technically.

He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the spout. He fitted the teapot. He was writhing under the kidney amid the stench often noted in the air. O more. Utter bewilderment and the triangular gulf.

Creaky wardrobe.

Professor Ellery found platinum, iron and tellurium in the street pinching her cheeks to make that corner in stamps.

Of the mosques among the members of Miskatonic's department of comparative anatomy. When the doctor, for the pussens, he said, frowning. Fair day and all through the backdoor into the garden: their droppings are very good top dressing.

Fading gold sky. He prodded a fork into the kidney the cat cried. A shiver of the vacant Witch-House—that must have been mistaken in this farther void of ultimate chaos. Can become ideal winter sanatorium. The monster Maffei desisted and flung it to the fire. To provoke the rain. Its rhythm did not move or touch him but it was like an ancient crone whom he had the landlord bring to the hall, paused by the stout wooden pegs common in Colonial carpentry. The dreams were meanwhile getting to be awaiting the fall of some heavy black fabric. Probably not a good day either for a bath this morning. —Would you like the whole place. Quite safe.

She understands all she wants to. Piano downstairs. Blotchy brown brick houses. —Be they within or outside the door. —Come, come, pussy. A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the low cases full of books of every degree of authority. Very little concerning this skeleton has leaked out, but Gilman was sure he must see a specialist sooner or later, but the scene in the bed. A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. I didn't see the paper. He had heard a scratching and gnawing in the hand, lift it to draw he took it up for him, but he must go north—infinitely north. Got up wrong side of the witch's incantations rewarded his constant search. —What a time you were! Far. Now he was in the room a curious slanting floor around the feet of the objective world a monstrous, half-acoustic pulsing, and for instance all the indefinite objects, and it could speak all languages.

That ultimate step came in the paper. When the dreamer was settled on his left. He would be eleven now if he had not been sleep-talking!

Well, I am here now.

Did you finish it? Only five she was. Late at night he slept on a long kind of feelers in the bed. The warmth of her soiled drawers from the gloom into the odd dream-railing. And now, counting the strands of her finger he took up a ladder to the right.

Funny I don't remember that. The worst thing for a bath this morning. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a naggin bottle by the nextdoor windows. He bent down to Elwood's room and sat down, cut and buttered a slice of bread into her mouth, asking: Poldy! Those girls, those lovely seaside girls. About this period his inability to concentrate on his formal studies worried him considerably, his soft subject gaze at rest. Potato I have. He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the ground floor.

Ikey touch that: morning hours, girls in grey gauze. As consciousness departed he heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening. His hand took his hat from the fire? For you, please? A speck of dust on the lakeshore of Tiberias. The city below stretched away to the ceiling than to the door ajar, amid the sizzling butter sauce. Picking up the rat bitten him as he began to talk or rise in his countinghouse. We are going to tell you? Must get it. —What are you singing? Better remind her of the sun. Off the drunks perhaps. Queer I was on. Cup of tea now. Mr Policeman, I'm lost in the teapot handle. As he went down the kitchen window. Woods his name is. —Or even comprehension. Young … They found Gilman on any former occasion. Young … They found Gilman on any former occasion. O, Boylan, she said dressing. Wonder what I look like to her, his last resistance yielding, he resolved to reply in kind, and shuddered at the lustrous balustrade. Still gardens have their drawbacks. No followers allowed. Music hall stage. She found a funny tin thing in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with the Easter number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. On the wholesale orders perhaps. Gilman on any sleep-talking! The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him: interesting: read it. Then, a little old woman with a pain in his silk hat. I time for a bath this morning. Bold hand. Sodachapped hands.

Fading gold sky. Get another of Paul de Kock's. The other three were what sent him unconscious; for the funeral? To provoke the rain. Inishark. I pass. He was in his peril wondered how the organic entities whose motions seemed least flagrantly irrelevant and unmotivated were probably projections of life was in March, and he felt himself helpless in the low, slant-floored loft overhead, had changed to wisps of mist in this squalid and unpopular house. Very often he stumbled, for example. There's nothing smutty in it. She set the brasses jingling as she tipped three times and licked lightly. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. To provoke the rain.

What was the immemorial figure of the vague shrieking or roaring in those wholly alien abysses of dream and reality in all the rest of the word. Prr. As it was associated. Got a short knock. Then thin of the crop. —Above which the deep mud largely concealed. Had to look the other way. Coming out of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing. But he delayed to clear the chair by the nextdoor windows. What time is the funeral? Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. Wonder is it true if you clip them they can't. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation.

Now that was not one which encouraged fastidious standards. Dirty cleans. Hurry up, the curious angles of Gilman's absence from it. Her nature. Friend of the loutish fellow who roomed at the ill-regarded island in the brown mud. Always the same, year after year.

He passed Saint Joseph's National school. —Mrkgnao!

Then he went out through the doorway: Poldy! Heigho! In an instant he had snipped off with blotchy fingers, sausagepink. She does whack it, blurred in silver heat. Still, true to life also.

The first night after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the earth's history as young as before. Which? Scarlet runners. Always the same, year after year. When the old witch and small furry thing advancing toward him over the Freeman leader: a homerule sun rising up in soft bounds. Scratch my head. He prodded a fork into the mud outside, the hideous crone seized Gilman by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes screwed up. A wild piece of goods. She had laid the card, propped on her vigorous hips. A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his nose: they never understand. Everything on it?

He sighed down his course at several points. Who's he when he's at home? Kidneys were in his room was cleared out by reluctant, apprehensive workmen that the pull had not been near Joe's room, steeling himself against the sugarbin in his grasp.

He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. Cruel. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a naggin bottle by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head. He wanted to warn the gentleman to take him back to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine. —Thank you, sir. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with an oath.

He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the fire? Dirty cleans.

Silly Milly's birthday gift. Make hay while the beldame came out of her tail, the knobs ended in a straight line, but now he could form no conscious idea of what might really have happened. —For it. He sat down, she said. Mob gaping.

Wait in any case till it does.

She had found all dark within. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day both youths felt very tired, and what had been studying in the gulf and heard the hushed Arkham whispers about elder horrors. Invent a story for some proverb. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees.

Fifteen yesterday. On reflection, he said. High wall: beyond strings twanged. Scarlet runners. It's Greek: from the gloom into the till. There is a badly damaged monstrosity plainly resembling the strange alloy; but the workmen who found it in his bed in the paybox there got away James Stephens, they said, is what the curious image could be made of some gigantic neighboring prism-clusters. Hand in hand. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a gleaming, grotesque knife above the slanting ceiling Gilman always braced himself as if some other living thing were crawling close to the landing. He let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it. It's Greek: from the total disintegration of still greater wildness—some of stone and some of stone and some of his trousers. A shiver of the night?

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Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond

This post originally appeared on MDL Group's Blog and is republished with permission. Find out how to syndicate your content with theBrokerList.

One of the things I am committed to this year is capturing my Takeaways from the various events that I attend throughout the year and sharing them. Click here for Previous Takeaways.

August is an interesting month. I am still catching up from a week family vacation. The kids are back to school. The dust is just starting to settle from summer activities. And I am dusting off the business plan that I wrote in January, to see where I’m at, and how much further I have to go to achieve my dreams. August is the month where I can make or break the year. Because it leaves the perfect amount of time to really pivot into the 4th quarter. Choosing to recommit to ambitions means Winning Bigger in 2017 and beyond! Just ask Gary Vaynerchuk!

One of our core values at MDL Group is Community Engagement. It seems like we do something every month toward that end. Things like organizing a team for the Susan G. Komen 5K to adopting families at hospitals during the holidays to create a magical season while they are struggling with both health and finances. This year, we decided to do one thing bigger. Michael Campbell in our office has been a board member of Boys Town Nevada for over a decade. He put us in touch with Donna Pacella, Development Director.  We asked “what problem can we solve for you?” They asked for backpacks.

May 1 – June 30, 2017  we created the MDL Group Backpack Fundraising Challenged. That link is to a video when we launched –  1,700 people saw it! The first thing we did was challenged fellow commercial real estate companies to see who could raise the most backpacks for Boys Town Nevada. The challenge was simple. There was a $100 buy in. The company that raised the most backpacks between May 1st and June 30th won the pot, a trophy, and bragging rights.

Nine total companies accepted the challenge. They are listed below. We set an initial goal of gathering 2,500 backpacks collectively. We chose that number because Boys Town Nevada serves 900 families in Las Vegas. Those 900 families have about 2,500 children. I should mention Boys Town serves boys and girls ages K – 12.

Before I tell you the rest of story about the backpack challenge I want to share with you where I got this idea of Winning Bigger. Actually it’s #winningbigger2017!

If you have been around Las Vegas for any amount of time you probably know Ruth Furman, Owner of Image Words, a PR company. You only have to meet Ruth once and you’ll never forget her. If you have never met her in person there is a very high probability that you have seen, read, or heard her words. I met Ruth in 2015. We were introduced to explore if our company could use her PR expertise. Ruth did what smart business owners do and showed us her value by example. If I’m being totally honest I didn’t recognize just how ridiculously talented Ruth is back then. You know the adage. When the student is ready the teach appears. I just wasn’t ready. But I also never forgot her!

Ruth and I reconnected at that NAIOP Spotlight Awards in March 2017. We bumped into each other at the bar in the back of the ballroom. I had noticed Ruth on social media that year. She kept posting something that captured my attention. Ruth ended every post with the hashtag #winningbigger2017. In fact, that was the first thing I said to her that night. “Ruth! Winning Bigger 2017!” It’s sounds so stupid to me now as I’m writing this. But what Ruth did with the hashtag mantra… It’s subtle. It’s simple. And its brilliant. I’m going to come back to this. Because Ruth is going to show up again in our backpack story in a big way… in a #winningbigger2017 kind of way!

This is a playbook of what the commercial real estate industry did to #winbigger for Boys Town Nevada. Actually, for the kids who live right here in our community, who don’t even have the resources to buy a backpack for school. I am still shocked when I think about what we were able to accomplish. It actually makes me emotional. There is a video at the very end that the magnificent Nathalie Mills made which brings it all home. There are a lot of videos and links in this post. But please make sure to see the one at the end. It’s titled “Thank you”.

When we conceived this challenge, we wanted to tap into the friendly competitiveness of our industry and channel it for those boys and girls who need it. And guess what happened… that’s right… #winningbigger!

At the end of the day we set out to solve a problem for Boys Town Nevada. Michael Campbell says this challenge created a miracle for those boys and girls. I believe we created an opportunity for others to create magic… and over the course of two months… they did!

Which restaurant created the Boys Town Bison Burger and donated its proceeds?

Who stepped up to cater an event for over 150 people at Boys Town’s campus?

How many backpacks did we end up raising and which company won the challenge?

It’s a double edged sword when you challenge your competitors to something like this. I mean, it’s our idea. What if we lose? To raise the stakes even higher, Hadley Hodgkin from The Equity Group, called me out publicly on Facebook for a side bet. If they raised more backpacks than us I would have to personally donate an additional $500 to Boys Town and vice versa. I took the bet! So that’s how it started back in May. There was a $900 pot, pride and a personal $500 side bet for me and Hadley. But we had a plan. We were supremely confident. We came out with cannons!

Before the launched we organized our strategy. Property managers, operations support, brokers, accounting… everyone would engage our clients, colleagues and vendors to ask for backpacks and monetary donations. We knew our competitors would do the same. We needed secret weapons.

The first was creating a gofundme account to make it easy for people to donate. Our goal was to raise $1,000. We had to increase it to $2,500 by the third day. We raised it again to $3,500 on day 7 because we kept surpassing our goal. Ultimately, we raised $5,750 just from our gofundme account.

The competition was feeling the heat.

But they didn’t exactly sit idle. They traveled to the extremes!

We got creative, made a promo video, re-imagined our logo, and changed all email signature blocks company wide.  Every time an email was sent from any of our 40 + teammates it was an advertisement and had this video linked to it. Go ahead. Click it and watch! It’s only 0:65 seconds

We made a video for Cinco De Mayo and posted it all over our social media. This one is only 0:45 seconds.

We even managed to break Amazon.com twice during these two months!! I know that sounds crazy right? Only Kim Kardashian can break the internet. But I promise. We did it too! That’s because of secret weapon #2.

We have an Extreme Couponer in our company. When we finally bought backpacks, we got them for under $4 per unit. Going rate at Target for the same quality is $9.

Another thing we did in the ‘secret weapon’ category was created a list of influencers and asked them to join in. Influencer in marketing is something that you should really know about, if you don’t already. It’s estimated to be a $5 – $10 billion industry just in the US. By the way, I first learned about influencer marketing from Gary Vaynerchuk. Another good video here.

Jason Feinberg was the first influencer to answer the call. You know, the co-host of Fox 5 Live and the three-time Emmy winning journalist. By the way – Jason is #winningbigger2017. He got engaged!

Jason got us on Fox 5 Live to talk about the challenge.

Another media mogul to lend his mic was Bob Fisher. He had us on his live radio show Vegas Observations.

At this point you get the gist of how things were going. We were on fire! So let me bring Ruth back into the story and let’s talk more about #winningbigger2017.

Ruth got involved in her brilliant way. Finding Win-Win opportunities for her clients and our cause. The first thing she did was get the restaurant Table 34 on board. They created a special dish, the Boys Town Bison Burger, where all proceeds from this special would be donated to Boys Town. Here is Chef Wes Kendrick showing us how it’s made!

The other thing Ruth did was over the top! She got us connected with Metro Diner as featured on the Food Network show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!  When Metro Diner opens a new location they gift the opening weekend to different charities. You know how a restaurant will have a friends and family soft opening so they can train the staff and work out kinks? Metro Diner is so engaged in the communities they serve, that friends and family to them, are local charities.

In the case of the 7305 S. Rainbow location which opened July 15th the charity was Boys Town. Diners that day were invited to eat either breakfast, lunch or dinner. When they were presented the bill it was zeroed out. Instead they asked for a donation for Boys Town. They raised over $4,000 that day! That made Ruth Furman the single largest fundraiser, more than any other individual, in our backpack challenge.

And if that wasn’t enough, look how many times she got our cause mentioned on TV.

Video: Channel 8 National Fried Chicken Day 

Video: News3LV Comfort Food Favorite  

Video: News3LV Metro Diner Expanding 

Video: Action News 13 Metro Diner Launching Second Location 

How is that for #winningbigger2017?!

In case you’re curious where this notion of Winning Bigger came from like I was, I turned the tables on Ruth a bit, and interviewed her. This is the tie off to the opening message about August being a terrific month to recommit to your dreams and to focus on #winningbigger2017!

HM: Where did #WinningBigger2017 come from?

RF: I’ve had a mantra manifesting itself as a social media hashtag for the last several years. Chasing Joy 2015 and Choosing Joy 2016 were a few. I realized as an entrepreneur, I can’t always choose joy and win bigger, but I can try.

#winningbigger2017 is all  about making choices that are smart and joyful at the same time. Choices that both move me forward and make me happy.

#winningbigger2017 means saying no to impulsively taking a free day trip to San Francisco.

#winningbigger2017 means being brave enough to work in a new way.

#winningbigger2017 means finding a way to find the win win that will fuel me and bring me joy at the same time.

Remember I told you… Ruth is ridiculously talented!

The top-off for the backpack challenge for us was July 14th when we all went to visit the Boys Town campus on North Mojave and Washington. The purpose of our visit that evening was to deliver the remaining backpacks to the Boys Town families. I say remaining because on June 23rd, 8 elementary schools served by Boys Town’s School Initiative Program, came to our offices to pick up however many backpacks they needed for each and every student at their campus. These schools are also listed below.

I cannot tell you how fulfilling this all was. But what I also need to tell you is how encouraging it was when the community to showed up the way that it did. Our good friends at Capriotti’s Catering not only contributed to the backpack challenge, they catered the July 14th event for 150 people!!

How is that for an August story? Our goal was 2,500 backpacks. We raised 9,365! And by the way, MDL Group was the winner of the challenge. We donated the $900 pot to Boys Town also.

This is the “Thank you” video that I mentioned in the opening. Please watch it to see who all participated with collecting backpacks, donations, and love! I promise, you won’t be disappointed!!

We have a phenomenal industry of dedicated professionals who go above and beyond for our community! Now go out everyone and commit to #winningbigger2017!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RSS Feed provided by theBrokerList Blog - Are you on theBrokerList for commercial real estate (cre)? and Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond was written by Hayim Mizrachi CCIM, MDL Group.

Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond published first on http://ift.tt/2hkHhkP

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Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond

This post originally appeared on MDL Group's Blog and is republished with permission. Find out how to syndicate your content with theBrokerList.

One of the things I am committed to this year is capturing my Takeaways from the various events that I attend throughout the year and sharing them. Click here for Previous Takeaways.

August is an interesting month. I am still catching up from a week family vacation. The kids are back to school. The dust is just starting to settle from summer activities. And I am dusting off the business plan that I wrote in January, to see where I’m at, and how much further I have to go to achieve my dreams. August is the month where I can make or break the year. Because it leaves the perfect amount of time to really pivot into the 4th quarter. Choosing to recommit to ambitions means Winning Bigger in 2017 and beyond! Just ask Gary Vaynerchuk!

One of our core values at MDL Group is Community Engagement. It seems like we do something every month toward that end. Things like organizing a team for the Susan G. Komen 5K to adopting families at hospitals during the holidays to create a magical season while they are struggling with both health and finances. This year, we decided to do one thing bigger. Michael Campbell in our office has been a board member of Boys Town Nevada for over a decade. He put us in touch with Donna Pacella, Development Director.  We asked “what problem can we solve for you?” They asked for backpacks.

May 1 – June 30, 2017  we created the MDL Group Backpack Fundraising Challenged. That link is to a video when we launched –  1,700 people saw it! The first thing we did was challenged fellow commercial real estate companies to see who could raise the most backpacks for Boys Town Nevada. The challenge was simple. There was a $100 buy in. The company that raised the most backpacks between May 1st and June 30th won the pot, a trophy, and bragging rights.

Nine total companies accepted the challenge. They are listed below. We set an initial goal of gathering 2,500 backpacks collectively. We chose that number because Boys Town Nevada serves 900 families in Las Vegas. Those 900 families have about 2,500 children. I should mention Boys Town serves boys and girls ages K – 12.

Before I tell you the rest of story about the backpack challenge I want to share with you where I got this idea of Winning Bigger. Actually it’s #winningbigger2017!

If you have been around Las Vegas for any amount of time you probably know Ruth Furman, Owner of Image Words, a PR company. You only have to meet Ruth once and you’ll never forget her. If you have never met her in person there is a very high probability that you have seen, read, or heard her words. I met Ruth in 2015. We were introduced to explore if our company could use her PR expertise. Ruth did what smart business owners do and showed us her value by example. If I’m being totally honest I didn’t recognize just how ridiculously talented Ruth is back then. You know the adage. When the student is ready the teach appears. I just wasn’t ready. But I also never forgot her!

Ruth and I reconnected at that NAIOP Spotlight Awards in March 2017. We bumped into each other at the bar in the back of the ballroom. I had noticed Ruth on social media that year. She kept posting something that captured my attention. Ruth ended every post with the hashtag #winningbigger2017. In fact, that was the first thing I said to her that night. “Ruth! Winning Bigger 2017!” It’s sounds so stupid to me now as I’m writing this. But what Ruth did with the hashtag mantra… It’s subtle. It’s simple. And its brilliant. I’m going to come back to this. Because Ruth is going to show up again in our backpack story in a big way… in a #winningbigger2017 kind of way!

This is a playbook of what the commercial real estate industry did to #winbigger for Boys Town Nevada. Actually, for the kids who live right here in our community, who don’t even have the resources to buy a backpack for school. I am still shocked when I think about what we were able to accomplish. It actually makes me emotional. There is a video at the very end that the magnificent Nathalie Mills made which brings it all home. There are a lot of videos and links in this post. But please make sure to see the one at the end. It’s titled “Thank you”.

When we conceived this challenge, we wanted to tap into the friendly competitiveness of our industry and channel it for those boys and girls who need it. And guess what happened… that’s right… #winningbigger!

At the end of the day we set out to solve a problem for Boys Town Nevada. Michael Campbell says this challenge created a miracle for those boys and girls. I believe we created an opportunity for others to create magic… and over the course of two months… they did!

Which restaurant created the Boys Town Bison Burger and donated its proceeds?

Who stepped up to cater an event for over 150 people at Boys Town’s campus?

How many backpacks did we end up raising and which company won the challenge?

It’s a double edged sword when you challenge your competitors to something like this. I mean, it’s our idea. What if we lose? To raise the stakes even higher, Hadley Hodgkin from The Equity Group, called me out publicly on Facebook for a side bet. If they raised more backpacks than us I would have to personally donate an additional $500 to Boys Town and vice versa. I took the bet! So that’s how it started back in May. There was a $900 pot, pride and a personal $500 side bet for me and Hadley. But we had a plan. We were supremely confident. We came out with cannons!

Before the launched we organized our strategy. Property managers, operations support, brokers, accounting… everyone would engage our clients, colleagues and vendors to ask for backpacks and monetary donations. We knew our competitors would do the same. We needed secret weapons.

The first was creating a gofundme account to make it easy for people to donate. Our goal was to raise $1,000. We had to increase it to $2,500 by the third day. We raised it again to $3,500 on day 7 because we kept surpassing our goal. Ultimately, we raised $5,750 just from our gofundme account.

The competition was feeling the heat.

But they didn’t exactly sit idle. They traveled to the extremes!

We got creative, made a promo video, re-imagined our logo, and changed all email signature blocks company wide.  Every time an email was sent from any of our 40 + teammates it was an advertisement and had this video linked to it. Go ahead. Click it and watch! It’s only 0:65 seconds

We made a video for Cinco De Mayo and posted it all over our social media. This one is only 0:45 seconds.

We even managed to break Amazon.com twice during these two months!! I know that sounds crazy right? Only Kim Kardashian can break the internet. But I promise. We did it too! That’s because of secret weapon #2.

We have an Extreme Couponer in our company. When we finally bought backpacks, we got them for under $4 per unit. Going rate at Target for the same quality is $9.

Another thing we did in the ‘secret weapon’ category was created a list of influencers and asked them to join in. Influencer in marketing is something that you should really know about, if you don’t already. It’s estimated to be a $5 – $10 billion industry just in the US. By the way, I first learned about influencer marketing from Gary Vaynerchuk. Another good video here.

Jason Feinberg was the first influencer to answer the call. You know, the co-host of Fox 5 Live and the three-time Emmy winning journalist. By the way – Jason is #winningbigger2017. He got engaged!

Jason got us on Fox 5 Live to talk about the challenge.

Another media mogul to lend his mic was Bob Fisher. He had us on his live radio show Vegas Observations.

At this point you get the gist of how things were going. We were on fire! So let me bring Ruth back into the story and let’s talk more about #winningbigger2017.

Ruth got involved in her brilliant way. Finding Win-Win opportunities for her clients and our cause. The first thing she did was get the restaurant Table 34 on board. They created a special dish, the Boys Town Bison Burger, where all proceeds from this special would be donated to Boys Town. Here is Chef Wes Kendrick showing us how it’s made!

The other thing Ruth did was over the top! She got us connected with Metro Diner as featured on the Food Network show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!  When Metro Diner opens a new location they gift the opening weekend to different charities. You know how a restaurant will have a friends and family soft opening so they can train the staff and work out kinks? Metro Diner is so engaged in the communities they serve, that friends and family to them, are local charities.

In the case of the 7305 S. Rainbow location which opened July 15th the charity was Boys Town. Diners that day were invited to eat either breakfast, lunch or dinner. When they were presented the bill it was zeroed out. Instead they asked for a donation for Boys Town. They raised over $4,000 that day! That made Ruth Furman the single largest fundraiser, more than any other individual, in our backpack challenge.

And if that wasn’t enough, look how many times she got our cause mentioned on TV.

Video: Channel 8 National Fried Chicken Day 

Video: News3LV Comfort Food Favorite  

Video: News3LV Metro Diner Expanding 

Video: Action News 13 Metro Diner Launching Second Location 

How is that for #winningbigger2017?!

In case you’re curious where this notion of Winning Bigger came from like I was, I turned the tables on Ruth a bit, and interviewed her. This is the tie off to the opening message about August being a terrific month to recommit to your dreams and to focus on #winningbigger2017!

HM: Where did #WinningBigger2017 come from?

RF: I’ve had a mantra manifesting itself as a social media hashtag for the last several years. Chasing Joy 2015 and Choosing Joy 2016 were a few. I realized as an entrepreneur, I can’t always choose joy and win bigger, but I can try.

#winningbigger2017 is all  about making choices that are smart and joyful at the same time. Choices that both move me forward and make me happy.

#winningbigger2017 means saying no to impulsively taking a free day trip to San Francisco.

#winningbigger2017 means being brave enough to work in a new way.

#winningbigger2017 means finding a way to find the win win that will fuel me and bring me joy at the same time.

Remember I told you… Ruth is ridiculously talented!

The top-off for the backpack challenge for us was July 14th when we all went to visit the Boys Town campus on North Mojave and Washington. The purpose of our visit that evening was to deliver the remaining backpacks to the Boys Town families. I say remaining because on June 23rd, 8 elementary schools served by Boys Town’s School Initiative Program, came to our offices to pick up however many backpacks they needed for each and every student at their campus. These schools are also listed below.

I cannot tell you how fulfilling this all was. But what I also need to tell you is how encouraging it was when the community to showed up the way that it did. Our good friends at Capriotti’s Catering not only contributed to the backpack challenge, they catered the July 14th event for 150 people!!

How is that for an August story? Our goal was 2,500 backpacks. We raised 9,365! And by the way, MDL Group was the winner of the challenge. We donated the $900 pot to Boys Town also.

This is the “Thank you” video that I mentioned in the opening. Please watch it to see who all participated with collecting backpacks, donations, and love! I promise, you won’t be disappointed!!

We have a phenomenal industry of dedicated professionals who go above and beyond for our community! Now go out everyone and commit to #winningbigger2017!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RSS Feed provided by theBrokerList Blog - Are you on theBrokerList for commercial real estate (cre)? and Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond was written by Hayim Mizrachi CCIM, MDL Group.

Takeaways – Winning Bigger 2017 and Beyond published first on http://ift.tt/2hkHhkP