#i want tangy cocktail sauce right now

[poz-oh-legirl]

I feel just so anxious and sick to my stomach right now for reasons I will not speak of, but on top of all of that I’m just really craving some shrimp and cocktail sauce.

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet​ @ralugraphics​​ @iartsometimes​

[shoutogepi]

Shinsou Says

Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]  

themes : sauce alert !!! dom!shinsou, (shy)sub!reader, quirk use, teasing, dirty talk��� kitten dynamics w surprise daddy

bio : Shinsou comes over in the dead of the night to find you touching yourself without permission, and he immediately has the perfect punishment in mind.

author’s note : i.. i’m not sure where this came from tbh cuz i’m not much of a shinsou fucker but… these days he has just been hittin different 😳😅

side note : usually i use the first name for bf smut, but a part of me really just wanted to keep the alliteration with Shinsou Says/Simon Says so deal with it lmao

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰 breathy sigh floats from your lips as your back arches off the mattress, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The blankets at your feet are spilling off the edge of the bed, a crumpled pile of havoc collecting on the floor. You can’t help but writhe and moan, your fingers prodding gently against your clenched walls.

The clock on the other side of the room flashes red numbers at you, reminding you that it’s much too late to call your boyfriend over. You’d gone to sleep at a reasonable hour, but you had awoken in a sweat and in the most lustful state, very much craving his touch. However, you’re aware that he has a demanding profession, and to bother him into coming over just to fulfill your wanton needs— you couldn’t possibly bring yourself into sending him a text.

The moonlight streams into your bedroom through the cracks between the blinds, illuminating the area in a soft white glow. Your phone casts a dim light in the darkness of the room, your headphones twisting as your body squirms around. The intimate video he had taken just a few sessions ago lighting up your screen, his heavy breaths fill your ears as your fingers slide across your sopping core. Teasing yourself, dipping the digits in two knuckles deep and rubbing your walls for a moment before taking them back out, trailing north to touch your clit.

You close your eyes, letting your memories take over and attempting to replay the feelings you know he can give you. Coaxing your body into recalling how his smooth palms feel as they hold your legs open, his wet kisses trailing around your torso and spending extra time on your breasts. Fuck, the thought of him whispering those nasty words he always says as his nimble fingers delve into your heat.

It’s no wonder you don’t hear the front door open.

Shinsou steps into the dark apartment, the light from the hallway licking against the wooden floor in contrast to the shadowy room. He frowns, taking the spare key out of the doorknob as quietly as he can. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to come over unannounced in the middle of the night? But after such a long day and a hopeless few hours of attempting to sleep, he’d found himself briskly walking the couple of blocks that separated the two of you. He told himself that all he’d wanted was to slip into bed and wrap his arms around you… but then again, there was the raging hard on he’d been sporting for the past hour.

All doubt leaves his mind as he hears a soft moan leak out from your bedroom, his ears almost physically perking in interest as he hurriedly takes off his shoes. He tries his best not to make a single sound, silently padding across the floor towards your door.

He can hear all the noises tumbling out of your throat now, your unrestricted whimpers of pleasure making his fingers itch with prickles and warmth rush through his body toward his pants. The door is cracked just shy of allowing him unnoticeable entrance, and he can’t help himself as he slides into the room, cringing as the hinges squeak in protest. But you don’t notice him at all, his recorded groans stopping your ears from picking up the alerting noise.

Shinsou is glad you hadn’t heard him, because the look on your face is damn ethereal. Your features contorted in rampant euphoria, he watches your hands slide along the body he adores so much, sucking in a breath of air as your lips part and let out a particularly heavy moan.

“Ugh, Shinsouuu.”

His pants suddenly feel incredibly tight, and he licks his lips, shifting his weight between his feet. The noise of your fingers plunging into your wet cunt falls heavily on his ears, making him bite his lip. Fuck, how long have you been touching yourself for? And is that your homemade sextape playing on your phone?

“Ahah— you feel so fucking good!”

Your cries throw him over the edge, his body moving before his brain can process the command. He’s at the edge of the bed in three strides, menacing over your oblivious figure rolling against your own hand.

“My, my, kitten.”

The gasp that rips through you sends a cocktail of dread and desire washing through his bones, your eyes flying open to meet his predatory gaze.

“Shinsou!” This time you squeak it out almost shamefully, your fingers flying from your pussy and landing flat on the bed next to your hips. The embarrassment thrown over your cheeks makes him gush on the inside, but all that surfaces to his face is a smirk. His eyelids are hung at half mast, his watchful violet eyes regarding you.

“Ah ah, don’t stop on my accord darling. You’ve got me quite invested in this show of yours,” he tantalizes, knees falling atop the plush mattress.

A whimper escapes you, your eyes shutting briefly at the tone in his voice. You can feel the bed dip as he slides closer to you, tugging the headphones out of your ears and disposing of them next to the pillow above you. He hangs his body over yours, hands so teasingly close to your skin.

“Did you hear me, kitten? I said, keep touching yourself,” he demands, his voice level and clear.

Your eyes still screwed shut, your now clammy palms rub on the sheets, mortified to have been caught committing such heinous acts of desire. “I— I can’t, Shinsou, it’s too… I’m so embarrassed,” you whine, brows drawing together as you wiggle slightly underneath him in distress. The friction of your thighs rubbing together makes your arousal spread, coating your skin with slick.

His lips only pull back further, grinning down at you joyfully. “What d’ya mean, kitten? I should be mad you were being naughty and playing with yourself like that, but knowing you’re so desperate for me…” he leans in closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your jaw as you throw your head to the side. “Well, what kind of hero would I be if I left my kitten all alone, knowing she’s in such distress?”

His words make a moan of shock and want slither out of you, your back bending and pushing your body against his. Your purple-haired boyfriend really has quite a way with words. Your fingers meet his knees, gliding up his lean, muscular thighs and dragging your fingernails along them. “Please, I— god, I need you so bad,” you plead, hips adjusting as you look at him again.

His eyes are drinking you up, traveling over your sinful pout to your hands on his legs, and then to that glistening pussy of yours that he just knows is fucking soaked. “Mmm, let’s see how I can help then,” his lips greet yours forcefully, passionately engaging them in a desperate dance. His hand slides under your curved back, dry fingers curling along the damp skin in contrast, his dull fingernails sending shivers to your spine. He pulls away and grabs the hand that had been in your cunt, capturing your gaze as his lips rove over your fingers. His mouth taking them in and lathering his tongue along your skin, he savors the tangy flavor of your desire with an intense look.

“You’re too embarrassed to show me how you touch yourself, baby? Why so shy?” His words only make you impossibly wetter, and your lip trembles as you mewl softly in response.

Shinsou accepts the noise as a reply, tilting his head slightly as an idea comes to mind. He sits up, his hand sliding up to the center of your back and taking you with him.

“Do you wanna play a game, kitten?” His inquiry has you curiously regarding him, trying to see if there is any ill intent lingering in him. But you can’t find anything, only being sucked into his ravenous eyes. He presses further, wanting to convince you more than anything to play along. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

You do trust your boyfriend after all— he’d never misguided your desires before, always satiating your every need. So you find yourself nodding again, arms wrapping around his neck hesitantly.

The grin on his lips makes your heartbeat quicken.

Shinsou’s hands cup the backs of your thighs, scooping you into his arms as he slides off the bed. He steals your focus away as his lips cover yours again, his tongue roaming along your bottom lip. You gladly allow him entrance, and you jump slightly as your ass touches the cold wooden floor. Peeking up at him, your breath stops in your throat at the preying look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna play a game called Shinsou Says.” You let out a moan immediately, your hand flying up to cover your lips a second too late. The pure action makes the man chuckle, his hand giving your ass a playful squeeze. “You familiar with it?”

Simon Says— you’ve played it before. Maybe back when you were younger… but you have a feeling that Shinsou’s game is going to be a lot nastier than your past experiences. This could go either very right, or very wrong. “Yeah…,” you trail off, wondering what your boyfriend’s intentions are exactly.

As if he can see the lingering wariness in your eyes, he continues. “I’m gonna tell you what to do, and you’re gonna follow my commands. If you follow my instructions without me saying ‘Shinsou says’, the game is over and you lose.”

“Is there a punishment for losing?” You ask, maybe a bit too quickly because his lavender eyes glint at you with hunger.

“Not really… you just don’t get the winning prize.”

Interest piqued, you look at him expectantly. “Well tell me what it is already!”

“The prize is my cock, baby.” Your eyes widen and fall to his lap, regarding the sizable tent in his pants. “You’ll be rewarded kindly if you show me that you can be a good girl for me. I can’t just forget that you were touching yourself without me, like a little slut. Prove to me you’re my good girl.”

Fuck, he’s a good talker. His words sound so tempting, and if you play the game, he’ll be murmuring those intoxicating desires into your ear all night. You straighten your spine with confidence. You can prove that you’re a good girl.

“If you wanna stop at any point, you’ll be able to. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay kitten?”

Even though your lip is between your teeth, you nod once again, the idea of the game appealing to you. If you just follow his instructions, it doesn’t really count as touching yourself… right? It can’t be as embarrassing...

His pleased smile is enough to make your lungs rattle with anticipation. His hands land on your waist, his fingers massaging the flesh there tenderly. “Shinsou says, turn around.”

You were planning on following his command, yet your body finds it already acting on its own accord. A tight feeling of excitement and a shred of fear bubbles in your chest, realizing that he’s using his quirk on you. He’s never used it on you before, and in all honesty, you had been wondering when he would finally man up and test it on you. When you finally turn, you aren’t expecting to find yourself in front of your floor length mirror, and your cheeks immediately flush with a telling red.

His quirk is interesting— it doesn’t feel intrusive, more like your movements are the true desire of your limbs and he is just oiling you up into performing them. This already exceeds your expectations.

You hesitantly observe yourself in the mirror, looking at the slick glaze that drips down your inner thighs. Shinsou follows the action, sitting behind you and sliding his hands under your thighs, parting your legs widely and trailing his fingers along your skin. You lean back into his chest, getting comfortable and licking your lips.

“Shinsou says,” he grumbles into your ear, watching your reflection as your pussy clenches at the words, “cup your breasts and gently pinch those nipples, kitten.”

Your exhale is shaky as your fingers collect the heavy flesh, your palms gliding along the sensitive skin. You whine as your fingertips roll the perky buds, your actions not your own but delighting you nonetheless. Your hips roll slowly in the air, shutting your eyes and tossing your head atop his broad shoulder.

“Sensitive today, are we?” His low chuckle draws another whimper from you, and the luscious noise only spurs him further. “Wow, I’ve never seen you so fucking wet before. Look at yourself.”

You keep your head where it is, an almost pained look washing over your features at having to keep the game in mind. Shinsou’s quirk is absent in your hazy mind, not pushing you into performing the incorrect action.

“Hmm, what a clever kitten I have,” he purrs, fingers running along your skin. “Now— Shinsou says— look at how soaked you are for me. And don’t you dare look away.”

Your head turns and your cheeks feel on fire as you take in your reflection, as well as the haughty smirk resting on Shinsou’s lips. Your eyes travel to your sex, and you stop breathing as Shinsou’s lithe fingers inch toward it. They delicately land along your slit, the tips running between your petals teasingly. They brush over your clit for a moment, almost mocking you as they disappear from your core completely.

“Shinsou says, touch yourself like I just did, and keep at it, too.”

Even with his quirk guiding your movements, you find yourself wanting to follow his commands. You arch into his chest, whimpering as your nails give your swollen cunt a different sensation. Your fingers just as gentle and teasing as his had been, your lust skyrockets as your touch ghosts over your clit again. You sigh, watching how your actions cause your cunt to flutter in anticipation.

The action does not go unnoticed by Shinsou, who seems delighted by your telling body. His dick is achingly hard, but the premise of the game has him holding back. He wants to push you into becoming comfortable touching yourself like this. In front of him. He wants you to see how beautiful you are when you spread yourself for him like this, how you have nothing to hide.

“Shinsou says, ease your middle finger inside that drenched cunt for me, baby.” Your finger slips into your hole, pushing all the way to the knuckle and whining when your own digit doesn’t reach as deep as you want. As deep as Shinsou’s fingers can reach.

“Please, Shinsou, fuck,” you moan, your eyes still glued to your pussy. Your finger just sitting there inside yourself, your hips shift in order to find more stimulation.

“Now fuck yourself with it.”

You cry out, your finger still frozen in your pussy. What a tease! It’s not fair, this game is too cruel. Anguish washing over you, you glare at his reflection.

The anger rolling off of you makes him laugh, but he closes his eyes, leaning in to start pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. “Shinsou says, finger yourself, kitten.”

Your finger immediately starts moving, curling in and out of your slick cunt with fervor. The pad of your fingertip pressing intently, your body shivers at the sudden stimulation. “Ahhh~ Shinsou!”

“Shinsou says, add another finger.”

The familiar stretch makes your legs shake, your back pressing into his chest. He continues his assault on your neck, but his hands leave you in favor of stripping off his jacket and his shirt. His wild purple locks shift as he pushes your body into his naked skin, collecting your thighs in his hands once again.

His teeth nip across your collarbone, tongue washing over the reddened skin in a soothing manner. “Wish those were my fingers in your pretty pussy, kitty cat?”

The filthy words he utters make your already prominent blush intensify, your legs straining against his grasp. All you can do is moan, enjoying the stimulation your fingers dutifully provide. You meekly choke out, “More, please— I need it!”

Shinsou considers your dissolute request, watching the way your fingers thrust into your throbbing hole. You’d never been so desperate before, and he wonders again how long you’d been touching yourself before he’d arrived. Gauging how eager your actions are, he attempts more foul play. “You want more? You nasty slut. Go on then, rub your clit for me.”

Your hand jerks to complete the action but immediately you gasp and slap it back down against your thigh. Your breath is shaking, your fingers pressing faster into your cunt. You look at Shinsou with pleading eyes, a mewl croaking out of you.

The bastard raises a purple brow at you, leisurely returning to kissing your neck. “Aha, that was cute, kitten, I’m impressed.”

The pleasure and the build up from his taunting words send bolts of pleasure through your body, and you begin to feel your orgasm building once again. Frantic for more of his touch, your body wriggles with urgency.

He sucks in a tight breath as your ass grinds into his crotch, your body begging for his touch. “Shinsou says, stay fucking still.”

Your body freezes harshly on its own accord, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull as Shinsou’s hand creeps down your pelvis, his fingers sliding along your own that are halfway in your pussy. He lubes the digits up on your excessive arousal, sliding the pads back up to massage your clit.

“Fuck!” You clench around your fingers at the novel sensation, and your eyes nearly shut as his other hand grabs your wrist, pushing your digits back into yourself.

“Shinsou says, tell me how that feels, darling.” His fingers on your nerve won’t quit, and the other hand shoves your fingers into your twitching cunt at a rapid pace.

Your jaw is slack, words unable to be voiced as your eyes dart between his arrogant smirk and his heavenly hands. But your body is not your own, and the words that come out of your mouth make your embarrassment increase tenfold. “It feels so fucking good Daddy!”

His movements halt and you let out a broken wail, your impending orgasm vanishing without a trace. Your wide eyes meet his in the reflection, both of you in shock at the term that he’d summoned from you.

You are his kitten, that had been established pretty quickly into your relationship. But he’s never heard such a scandalous term dare to come from your lips before.

It has him feral.

It happens so quick, you can’t even gasp as his hand closes around your throat.

“Daddy, huh?” His gaze on yours is like lava, molten desire oozing out of him so forcefully you can almost hear the crackle and sizzle. His other hand roughly shoves down his pants, thumb ripping his briefs southward.

His long length slaps his pelvis and although you cannot see it, your body shivers in excitement, ready to be split in two and filled to the brim. Your fleeting shame now crushed by your overwhelming famine for him. “Please,” you beg, the excitement of it all too much.

“Daddy’s perfect kitty-cat,” he groans, yanking you to sit up so you’re on your knees, thighs shaking. “You want Daddy to fuck this slutty little pussy? Huh, kitten?”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy—  Please!” You’re practically groveling with the words that come out, like a delirious prayer on your lips.

The hand on your neck slips back to fist the hair at the base of your skull, and he shoves you forward roughly so your hands fly out to catch yourself. Tugging on the hairs, he forces you to look at your reflection up close, your knees propping your hips up to the perfect height.

Your heart thuds in your rib cage as the head of his cock glides along your glassy entrance. A growl rumbles in his chest as he watches your strands of slick stretch as he takes his cock away, connecting your cunt to his length as if tempting him to just shove it in.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, making your eyes open and lock onto his. Your ass lowers so the tip brushes along your folds again, and you pant desperately as he grins at you. “You’re my sweet little kitten— all mine. Got it?”

You nod again. Words are just so hard to come by tonight.

His hand that isn’t on your hair slaps your ass abruptly, eliciting a loud moan from you. His fingers dig into the reddened flesh, his tongue running eagerly underneath his teeth. “Now, Daddy says…”

Your lip trembles, pussy fluttering as you look at him once more.

“Make yourself cum on my cock.”

He doesn’t need to activate his quirk this time. Your hips smash downwards, your cry and his moan filling the room as you take every inch of him, his hard cock spreading your tight walls with ease. You don’t allow yourself to accustom to his intrusive size, immediately bucking your ass upwards before slamming back down.

Shinsou’s eyes roll back, his hand laying still on your ass as you bounce on his dick, stealing his breath away. Fuck, the feeling of your steaming cunt squeezing him so well— it makes him want to dominate you.

His thick cock hits just the right spot deep inside of you, and your wetness drips onto the floor beneath you in excess. You can’t help the unabashed moans and cries floating from your lips, your twice-denied orgasm already coming back and making its presence known.

The purple-haired man notices your imminent climax too. The sounds that you’re releasing, and the way your cunt grasps his length so desperately— it's not like you’re hiding it very well. His hand claps across your ass again, and a snarl leaves him at how you clench on his cock in response.

His hand leaves your head, making your face drop and your chin drag against the floor. His hands dig into your hips, spreading your cheeks and forcing your hips onto his with purpose. He thrusts upwards as your ass crashes down, soliciting the most delicious shriek from you. Shinsou groans, forcing a pace that repeats the action so swiftly your body hums and bright stars dance along the corners of your vision.

“Did you fucking hear me, kitten?”

Your eyes open blearily, tears dotting your lashes at the sheer pleasure he’s causing. His expression is malicious, slitted eyes glaring at your mirror image, as if tempting you to follow his command.

“Daddy says, he wants you to cum.”

The pressure in your stomach heightens suddenly, so much that your jaw drops and your legs shake, your body tightening up. And then you’re orgasming, cunt squeezing the life out of his cock and thrashing on his hips in ecstasy.

His hands only tighten on your hips, and his pace does not dwindle as he plows into you with ease. The continued stimulation on your g-spot makes a trail of drool run down the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled back all the way. The persistent tempo of his thrusts draws out a string of unintelligible pleas from you, and he finally stops to give you a second to catch your breath.

Your body melts into a puddle on the floor, the forced orgasm having taken a startling amount of energy from you. Shinsou gives a tentative thrust, a soft whine dislodging from you. Wrapping his arms under and around your thighs with his hands landing beneath your ass, he pulls you off the ground, sinking to his knees in front of the mirror. He spreads your legs mercilessly, lowering your body and sinking his cock into your aching cunt.

“Mmmmph, Shinsou,” you whimper as you’re struggling for words, your body feeling a confusing mix of heaviness and lightness. Your mind is still foggy, trying to readjust after your orgasm has devastated you so harshly. You body hadn’t had enough time to prepare itself, Shinsou had just ripped the orgasm out of you before it was ready.

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, another mewl releasing as he pushes his cock inside again.

“Shh, shh shh kitten, don’t you worry. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like he always does,” Shinsou breathes into your ear, sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering with renewed energy.

The moans just keep coming out of you as his strong arms guide you to sit on his dick, sheathing himself inside you all the way and then rutting his hips up into you to rub that spot that makes you quiver. Your head not as cloudy as before, your hand wanders to your breast and you tug your nipple with your fingers.

“Mhmm, doesn’t that feel good?” He inquires, dropping your body a bit quicker on his length. Your lips open in the shape of an ‘o’, your other hand trails down your thigh. “You wanna touch yourself, darling? Not so shy anymore, are you?”

You shake your head, licking your lips at the mirror before you. It displays the sinful image of Shinsou impaling you with his mighty cock, folding your body like a flimsy lawn chair.

“Daddy says, lick your fingers and rub them on your clit,” he orders, thrusting into you faster.

Your hand on your thigh instantly flies to your lips, parting them and shoving your fingers into your mouth. You moan as your tongue lathers the digits in your spit, making Shinsou bite down on the tip of your ear and growl. Your body lurches as your fingers meet your clit, your entire core tightening at the added pleasure. “Fuck! Shinsou, ahhh— I—  ughhh,” you can't stop the groan that slips out, your overstimulated g-spot sending euphoria rushing through you with every thrust.

“Ready to cum again, kitten?” He pesters, the tension amplifying in his stomach. Just the game had him all riled up, and now, after your intense orgasm and displaying yourself like this… well, he’s getting pretty close himself.

“Yes, please just… give it to me, Daddy,” you whine, your body bracing for the impact of another orgasm. With no control over your fingers on your clit, all you can do is accept the sparks zipping through your limbs.

Shinsou drops your hips to meet his as they buck upwards at a rapid pace, the breath in your lungs being stolen as you fall off the edge, your second orgasm slicing through you. The pressure alleviating from your core, your lips part and a long whine tumbles out. Clear fluid spurts onto the mirror and the floor as you tremble against his slick chest, cunt tightening and spasming violently.

Shinsou lets out a suspended groan, the image of your release splashing out of you combined with the feeling of you gripping his cock so forcefully coaxing out his orgasm. He fills your womb with warmth, his grip on your thighs weakening.

The room is filled with ragged breaths as you both remain in a state of bliss, Shinsou’s length massaging your raw pussy as he slowly cradles your body against his. Your eyes are closed, your cunt throbbing and tingling with the aftershocks of your climax.

Shinsou presses feathery kisses onto the mauled skin on your neck. There’s a ridiculously dark and large hickey forming there, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn as he licks the bruising skin with care.

He intently watches a thick stream of white trickle out of your pink cunt and down his balls. Your body droops against his, exhaustion ebbing into your form. Shinsou pulls out of you and you whine as his heated cock leaves your trove, the stretch immediately being missed.

“How do you feel, kitten? You alright?” He asks, adjusting you in his arms as he stands, holding your body with discretion. He carries you over to the bed, laying you on the now-cold sheets.

Your overstimulated core throbs in protest as you shift, pushing the hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m good, I'm just so tired… and I can’t believe I just—” you cut off, glancing at him with a slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

Shinsou smirks, but the pride beams through his faux-suave expression. “Squirted? You sure did, kitten. And it was hot as hell.” He crawls onto the mattress next to you, his long arms encircling your waist.

Snuggled into his warm chest, you sigh in content, your body buzzing numbly from the lingering head-rush of your peak. He always knows what to say.

“You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.” His words are soft and sweet now, warm and considerate. “You proved it to me, darling, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips mould into a sated smile, which you press into the smooth skin of his muscular chest. Before you can slip away into a restful slumber, Shinsou’s fingers collect your chin, gently tugging it up so your eyes meet his.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves though, kitten. This time you were lucky I came over here needing you just as bad as you needed me.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, making your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers glide into his soft, amethyst tresses. He hums deeply, pulling back and stealing your gaze with a lazy yet ominous glower.

“But if I ever find you touching yourself again,” he pauses, lavender eyes twinkling with a refreshed carnality that makes you shiver, “Daddy’s gonna figure out just how many orgasms it takes to make you soak these sheets all the way through.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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thank you so much for reading!! I hope it was alright, as I said, I’m not well versed in the Shinsou realm heheh 

make sure to let me know if you enjoyed ♥︎ 

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. ���𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[nessaiscute]

Lemonaid break

Pathetic!” Snarled Mab, “Again.”

I got up, blood dripping down my arms, pain jolting through me like a lighting bolt. Rowen, my older brother grinning at me, this was my first real sword fight. Rowen was way stronger than me, I had only sparred with Sage a few times. Rowen had already cut me several times, and each time I fell on the ground. I gripped the sword in my hand, I was tense. This was to decide if I got to eat tonight. The rule of the winter court, you had to prove your strength to eat.  

I charged and swung my sword, it crossed with Rowen’s, he used glamor to shove me off and then cut my face and I fell to the ground.

“Is this the best my son can do??” Mab roared, “ Are you really a winter fey? You're nothing but a pathetic failure!”

Tears were welling in my eyes, Mab noticed right away and froze me in place,

“Disgusting!A fey never cries! Stay there! A failure doesn't deserve to eat. Let it rot there.”

It, I wasn’t a him to her. I was an it as long as I was weak, my heart felt really low. Had I not been frozen I would have started wailing. What I didn’t realize then, at the age of 8….

That would be the first of many nights of starvation.

“Dad!” Snapped a little boy, breaking me out of my trace.

I gasped, looking around, “What? What is it?”

The little boy was tapping his feet, He had silver hair and blue eyes, and a temper to match all of the summer court. He was wearing a little black coat and brown trousers. He looked slightly annoyed at me.

“What did I do now?” I asked in a husky voice.

“You and Glitch are supposed to spar! I only have twenty mintues before I have to go back to studying! Hurry up dad!”

I chuckled, “Alright boy. I’m moving.”

The boy ran on ahead, Kerrian, my little boy, he's a snarky little jerk but he means well. Hes naive to the world I used to live in. He would never have to worry about being frozen as punishment for being weak. He would never have to worry about being covered in scars, nor would he go to bed hungry. He might have some difficulties in life, like a broken heart or lost friends but he would live a normal carefree life. As long as I live I will protect him.

Even if it means forfeiting my own life.

The reception I got from Glitch was no better.

“About time, little lord Kerrian was going to die of boredom.”

Oh is it bully Ash day?

I drew my sword, “Talking won’t save you from me handing you your butt.”

Glitch smirked and a spark of a bad memory came back.

“Get ready Ash. I’m going to show your son how a true fey fights.”

Twenty minutes later we were panting both on our behinds and covered in sweat. A draw, like it always is. Neither one of us got any blows in though it came close many times.

“That was so cool!” Kerrian exclaimed, “Dad! You were amazing!”

I felt my face get slightly warm, “I-It was nothing..”

A Wire nymph came from the castle, “Little master. Your mother said it's time for your studies again.”

Kerrian groaned and went back into the castle and Glitch left too. He somehow recovered his strength rather quickly. Leaving me by myself, I scanned my body, Glitch might not have got a  cut but he sure left bruises, they stung. I tried to pull myself up but it wasn’t working. Ugh, great job Ash, train with Glitch! What a wonderful idea! Now if anyone were to see me I’d be a laughing stalk. ‘Hahahahha look at the iron knight, on his ass after a little training. When is Meghan going to release him?’

I realized how dumb I was being, Meghan would never release me. We promised to stay together forever. Though, I don’t want to be a burden. And-

“I see boys will always be boys.” stated a voice.

And there she was, my lovely Iron queen. Wearing a green sundress and black high heels, red lips and her hair down. Some of it was in her face, she was carrying a glass filled with lemonade, she was smiling at me.

She approached me and Handed me the glass, I took it and sipped it. The coolness refreshing me.

“Good stuff.” I commented.

“Of course it is, I made it just for you. Did Glitch get too rough with you?”

I shook my head, “No, I’m fine Meghan.” I really was fine, now that she was next to me. Her eyes full of life, her smile made me forget how tired I was. She extended her hand and I grabbed her hand and she pulled me up. I quickly realized how close I was to my queen’s face. My heart started racing, gods she's so pretty. I’d love to just kiss those soft lips. To feel her love yet again, but at the same time I love being this close to her. It's so strange, being near her makes me feel content, happy. Like I’m where I belong, there is no where I’d rather be.

Meghan chuckled, “Finish your lemonade.” and then she softly kissed my lips.

The cherry taste of her lips made my lips tingle, I sat down next to her and took a long drink. The lemonade really was good. It tastes tangy but there was a little sugar in there. I could get used to this, drinking cold drinks after long days of training. I looked to my left and Meghan was scanning my body for bruises, which she saw plenty of. Her disappointed stare was enough to make me want to run through a tornado.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you have another bad memory of your mom?”

How did she-

“A little, I guess you weren’t checking for bruises.”

“If i was checking for bruises all three of you would be grounded.”

I gulped, “Yes my queen.”

“So what was your daymare?”

“I… my first sword fight. With only a few spars from Sage I was thrown into a fight with Rowen who was a 100 years older than me, I… lost miserably,”

“Obviously, you were too young.”

I nodded, “Well Mab hated this, she...froze me still and didn’t let me eat that night.”

“How old were you?”

“8 in about human years.”

I felt a flash of anger erupt from Meghan’s soul, but she didn’t show it. Her eyes had a sympathetic look and then they lit up like she had an idea.

“I know! You’re hungry, I have new orders for you. Sit right here and don’t move till i get back.”

“And if someone tries to get me to move?” I jested.

“Tell them their queen will be very mad if you move. Don’t make me use your full name love.”

“Yes mam!” i stated.

She then kissed me and ran off, What exactly was she planning? Its not time to cook lunch? Does she really think she can cook without any-

“My queen, is it not the time for the cooks-”

“I will cook for my gods damn husband if i want to! And that final!”

I chuckled, She's so amazing and lords does she drive the staff crazy. She goes into the kitchen all the time to cook for me and Kerrian. Glitch must drive himself up the wall with all the complaints.

I didn’t hear much after that, but Meghan seemed happy. Her glamor was really high, she's gotten better at cooking but what the heck is she so excited for. Twenty minutes later I had my answer, Meghan came out with a full course meal. Not only that, my absolute favorites. Lobster tail dripping with lemon juice and cocktail sauce. And tons of shrimp, all lined up perfectly around the lobster.

“Holy crap! This is amazing!” I exclaimed

Meghan sat the plate down and then sat down, “Eat up my love.”

And lords did I, I haven’t eaten this kind of food in centuries. In fact I’ve only had it once, on my 10th birthday Rowen served it for me. But it was a trap, he just wanted me relaxed so I would fall down a hole and not come out for weeks. I was only found cause Mab went looking for me and that just got me locked in a cell for another 2 weeks.

But this wasn’t a trap, This was my wife cooking me lunch. This was my queen protecting me, her knight. This was my boy just wanting to see a bit of excitement before he had to study. This is just my family protecting me. Meghan watched me eat, her eyes full of love and kindness. I love her so much, my heart was filled with so many emotions that I couldn't even explain all of them.

When I finished, Meghan giggled, “Better now?”

“Not yet.” I smirked, I then cupped her face and kissed her softly.

The taste of lipstick sparked my soul, Meghan coiled her arms around me, I sensed a feeling of Safety coming from me. This is just another day of forever, with her.

[theancientcook]

Bruschetta fram Stardew Valley

Roasted tomatoes on a crisp white bread.

Long time no see!

It is summer which means more time to play Stardew Valley! cook!

This bruschetta recipe is perfect for summer as an appetizer or refreshing lunch since it is super easy to make. It is a little time-consuming though, so with some forward planning can you have a refreshing and crisp bruschetta that anyone would be impressed by and like. 

There are only 6 ingredients so you probably have most of the ingredients at home already and only need to buy, or bake, a baguette to make it. The recipe is also perfect if you have a day old baguette left after a picnic or something since you toast the bread for the bruschetta.

Recipe for about 6 bruschettas:

Half a baguette

250 g of cocktail tomatoes

two pinches of thyme, preferably fresh but dry also works

a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar

salt to taste  

Start with preheating the oven to 125 °C.

Cut the tomatoes in half and put them in baking dish. Drizzle about a tablespoon of olive oil and balsamic vinegar over the tomatoes and sprinkle them with thyme and salt. 

Then bake the tomatoes in the oven for about 1 1/2 hours or until they get a nice color and are a little bit dry.

When the tomatoes are done, take them out of the oven and higher the oven temperature to 225 °C. Slice the baguette a little bit diagonal in 6 pieces and lay the pieces on an oven rack. Toast the bread in the oven for about 2 minutes on both sides or until they are crisp and golden brown. 

When the bread is done is it time to assemble.

Take a piece of bread and top it with about 6 tomato halves. Now to the most important part, take the sauce that is in the bottom of the baking dish and drizzle that over the bruschetta. This sauce is a mix of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and tomato juice is sweet, tangy and heavenly good. 

Add some basil leaves if you want and enjoy!

Imagine the crunch while you bite into the toasted bread and the sweet roasted tomatoes almost melting in your mouth and then washing it down with a cool glass of rosé wine or coffee... admit that you a drooling right now.

I hope you try this recipe because it is so worth it! I will definitely make it a lot this summer.

 As I said, in the beginning, does summer (for me) mean more time to cook so I hope I can update many recipes on this blog during the summer, so look forward to that! :D 

[smilingformoney]

America’s Most Eligible 3 Diamond Scene: Create Your Signature Cocktail

You turn to the rest of your wedding party. You: Hey, everyone. Who says the night has to end now? Bianca: I’m listening. You: What say we head into the kitchen, mix up a bath of cocktails that actually work, and have ourselves a private party? Slater: Sounds like a blast. Let’s party, people! You: Come on, then! I’ll lead the way…

You and your wedding party flood into the kitchen, laughing and smiling. Your fiancée greets you at the counter. You: Okay, Wedding Party. As my first decree as your fearless leader, I say… let’s get this party started! Fiancée: You heard them! Bianca: Hell yeah! I’ll get the music going. You: And while we’re at it, we could use your help with something. My fiancée and I need a signature cocktail for our wedding. Kiana: Ohmygod, yes! Let’s make something super fruity! Slater: Or something with hot sauce in it! Eden: Slow your roll, everyone. This is Stacey and their fiancée’s wedding, remember? You: Our signature cocktail should represent us as a couple… and I know exactly what that means.

You: Our cocktail should be… -Strong and bold!

You: No matter how tough things get, my fiancée and I are always there for each other. Fiancée: We’re an unshakable pair. Our signature cocktail should represent that. Han: Yeah, baby! I’m thinking a double shot of whiskey… Eden: With some tangy fruit juice as a mixer! The sweetness of the juice can offset the kick of the whiskey. Han: Now we’re talking!

-Sweet and bubbly!

You: AME has a way of bringing out the worst in people, but my fiancée and I are always kind and decent to each other. Fiancée: Our signature cocktail should show the world we’re not afraid to be sweet… even when everyone else is sour. Kiana: I totally love that! We could start with some juice, or maybe even sweet tea. Bianca: And of course we have to add champagne. Kiana: I think we might be onto something here!

-Spicy and brazen!

You: Say what you want about me and my fiancée, but we always know how to bring the heat. Fiancée: We knew it was a risk to get together, but we couldn’t resist each other. Bianca: So you want a cocktail that’s passionate and daring? This calls for some poblano peppers! Slater: And tequila, of course. Bianca: Obviously. Is it even a real party if there’s no tequila?

Maid of Honour: I never thought about how important a wedding cocktail can be. It’s a great way to make a statement to your guests! Officiant: Plus a great way to get everyone out on the dance floor. Best Man: A little liquid courage can definitely get the party started, that’s for sure. Eden: That’s why I prefer weddings with an open bar. You never know what’s bound to happen! Kiana: Personally, I never have a problem shaking my booty on the dance floor, with or without alcohol. You: Good. When the dance floor opens at my wedding, I’ll need you guys at my side!

You: Because… -We’re totally having a dance-off!

Officiant: Are you sure you wanna challenge this group, Jamie? You’d be up against a few contenders. You: Bring ‘em on! My dance skills are unbeatable. Slater: Oh yeah? We’ll see about that. Kiana: You’re confident now, but just wait until Slater and I unleash our triple hurricane combo on you! Slater: Is that a dance? I’ve never heard of it. Kiana: Don’t worry. You’ve got all season to learn the steps!

-I hate being the centre of attention!

Best Man: But it’s your wedding. Being the centre of attention is kind of the whole point! You: Maybe at the altar, but I do not ned all eyes on me when I’m doing the chicken dance. Eden: Don’t worry, darling. Bianca and I will take the heat for you! Bianca: Totally. From the Paris runway to the Miami coast, I know everything there is to know about turning heads. Eden: And I was the captain of my cheerleading team for three years in high school. We can distract a crowd, no sweat!

As you settle down at the table with your wedding party. Han pumps his fist excitedly. Han: Even talking about this has got me stoked. Dancing is like, the main reasons I love weddings! Eden: Is that so? I personally enjoy the vows. It’s so sweet hearing two people say what they love most about each other. Kiana: Aw, babe! You’re such a romantic. Eden: What can I say? Weddings bring out the romance in everyone. Bianca: Or the drama. I once went to a wedding where the bride left her fiancée at the altar… for his sister. Slater: At the last wedding I went to, one of the groomsmen punched the cake because he ‘thought it was a ghost’. Slater: He may or may not have been extremely drunk. Han: Wait, can I change my answer? My favourite part about weddings is meeting all the babes in the bride and bride’s party! Maid of Honour: Han, you already know all of us. Han: Oh. Right. Bummer. You: Sorry we can’t provide you with fresh faces, Han… but I can promise you one thing.

You: Our wedding will be… -Full of drama!

Eden: You’re saying you want drama at your wedding? You: Of course I do! If we’re married on TV, we might as well cause a scene for the viewers to remember. You: If someone doesn’t stand up in the middle of the wedding and object to our marriage, I want a do-over. Slater: I’d be happy to volunteer my services if no one else does. Bianca: Me too! Fiancée: Careful, you two, or I’ll think you’re serious.

-A total tear-jerker!

You: I want our wedding to be moving. Emotional. Impactful. I don’t wanna see a single dry eye in the house. You: Between the vows, the speeches, and the sight of us walking down the aisle, you won’t stand a chance. Han: Wait, seriously? But my face gets all puffy when I cry! Han: Once I invited a date home to watch Field of Dreams with me. Big mistake. I looked like a tomato by the end. Kiana: Don’t worry, Han! I’ll supply you with all the tissues you need. Fiancée: Besides, you have to cry a little at every wedding. It’s an unspoken rule.

-An all-night rager!

You: Some weddings are a mellow, tasteful affair, but not ours. I want people dancing on tables by the end of the night! Kiana: I can so get behind this. Can I make a playlist to get everyone on their feet? You: Absolutely. Bianca, I’ll leave it to you to pass out the shots. Bianca: Extremely down! My jello shots are legendary. Eden: As much as I love a party, I do hope there will be some refinement at the wedding. Fiancée: Don’t worry. Jamie always manages to be classy.

Your fiancée plants a kiss to your cheek, then holds a glass to your lips. Fiancée: I hope you don’t mind, but I started a first draft of our cocktail…

-Signature cocktail

-If you chose the strong and bold cocktail

You take a sip and feel warmed from the inside out by the bold flavours of whiskey and fruit!

-If you chose the sweet and bubbly cocktail

You take a sip, savouring the smooth, sweet flavours!

-If you chose the spicy and brazen cocktail

You take a sip, and a symphony of sweet, smoky, and spicy flavours ignites on your tongue!

You: Fiancée, this is amazing! It’s exactly how I imagined it. Han: I wanna try some! Best Man: Me too! Fiancée: I was really hoping you’d say that, because I made a whole pitcher. Enjoy! The rest of your wedding party clambers to get their own glass of your cocktail. You watch their faces light up as they take sips. Maid of Honour: Okay, I could drink a hundred of these. Slater: Now that I’d like to see. Eden: These flavours are so bright and unexpected! Kiana: Just like the happy couple! Bianca: You really nailed this one, Fiancée. Officiant: That’s because they really know Jamie. Right, Fiancée? Your fiancée gives you a warm smile. Fiancée: I’d like to think so. You: It’s perfect, Fiancée… but it’s missing one little thing. We can’t have a cocktail without a name!

Name your cocktail!

Fiancée: Forever Yours… I like it! Bianca: I might like Forever Yours a little too much. My glass is already empty! You: Well, you’d better pour yourself another one, because it’s time for a toast! You: I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining us. It means the world that you believe in my fiancée and me. Maid of Honour: Please. We’ve been believing in both of you for a long time now! Officiant: What you and your fiancée have is so real… and it’s an honour to be even a small part of that. Best Man: Ditto. Being in your wedding party is our honour! You: Thank you, Best Man, but the honour is ours too. You’re going to be a huge part of our big day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Fiancée: Well said. You raise your glass of Forever Yours in a toast!

You: To… -Me and my fiancée! +50

You: May our love be everlasting! Fiancée: And may it stay as beautiful as it is now. Best Man: To the happy couple! Maid of Honour: To our favourite couple! Officiant: And to the many years ahead!

-Our amazing wedding party! +50

You: With friends like you, I know we can accomplish anything! You: Between our tenacity… Jen: And your boundless energy… Officiant: I just know we’ll be the team to beat. Fiancée: Thank you for going on this journey with us!

-An incredible season of AME! +50

You: This show is what brought my fiancée and me together, and we’re going to see it through. Fiancée: I can’t think of anything better than marrying the love of my life in front of the entire nation! Maid of Honour: To the greatest season yet! Officiant: We’ll make this the television event of the year! Best Man: Game of Love won’t know what hit ‘em!

Everyone lifts their glasses to the ceiling with a cheer! You party through the night, excited for what the rest of the competition brings…

[reneeacaseyfl]

Restaurant Review: Elysian Bar | Fortune

The Elysian Bar in New Orleans’ Marigny neighborhood occupies the 150-year-old rectory of Saints Peter & Paul. Set behind a gated garden of pygmy palms, the building is an inviting confection of brick and marzipan stucco. I don’t so much walk through the arched doorway as a magnetizing presence inside summons me forth, the single gas lantern flickering above my head like biblical tongues.

A long hallway stretches down the first floor of the former clergy quarters. There’s a snug coffee bar to the right. Two adjoining parlors to the left are lit and furnished for the sequel to Interview With the Vampire: ornately mantled fireplaces, cane chairs with crimson cushions, marble tables with legs shaped like sea serpents, eruptions of ferns and blood-purple flowers, body-length gold mirrors, bustled and billowing mustard drapes framing a burgundy gingham sofa like a theater stage. The dreamy space feels less like a restaurant than an exclusive house party you were invited to by mistake or as a cruel joke.

I pause by the entrance near a stack of menus, waiting for a host. There’s one on staff (management confirms later) but none appears, so I walk down the hallway. It’s difficult to tell the staff from the diners, but no one says hi or can I help you, so I keep going. The hall opens into a sunroom modeled after Monet’s dining room in Giverny, France. One door leads out to a brick courtyard, guarded by stained-glass saints watching from the 24-foot windows. Another doorway connects to the moody vermilion bar, whose cocktail menu showcases a grand tour of vermouths, including an Athenian rouge that smells like a bowl of vanilla and roses. I wait 10 minutes. Neither of the bartenders acknowledges me.

Hotel Peter and Paul’s rectory parlor. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

I backtrack to the foyer, where someone tells me to sit anywhere and “a server will be right over.” A server does not come right over. Then two do, a moment apart. The first takes my drink order and the second takes my food order, as if they were cocktail waitresses absentmindedly wandering the Harrah’s casino floor. Then Martha Wiggins materializes alongside my table, bearing a bowl of grilled okra and crispy, rice-floured-and-fried eggplant lashed with harissa, and the night starts looking up.

Rebirth

After she became a Popsicle tycoon but before she was a hotelier, People’s Pops founder Nathalie Jordi would pass the Peter & Paul compound—the schoolhouse, the rectory, the church, the convent—all closed more than a decade before she relocated to New Orleans from Brooklyn in 2009. “These buildings tower over the neighborhood,” she says. “They were dark and gloomy but still very beautiful.”

Jordi wanted to open a hotel in Marigny, but “much smaller and more modest” than the 71-key situation she wound up with: “I was aware of the [Peter & Paul buildings] but they just seemed out of my league because they were so big and required so much expensive renovation.” Partnering with design firm ASH NYC (the Dean in Providence, the Siren in Detroit) made the $20 million, four-year rehabilitation possible, and the Hotel Peter & Paul opened in October. The Elysian Bar, which is managed by the folks behind the Bywater smash Bacchanal, debuted a month later.

I wake up in a wrought-iron canopy bed, in an attractively monastic room at the foot of a dramatic wishbone-shaped cypress staircase in the old schoolhouse, thinking about that eggplant and okra. The tender vegetables were shellacked in fragrant, feisty pepper paste. Crème fraîche, fennel, and mint countered with cool touches. Black sesame seeds, whole cumin seeds, and peanuts made every bite crunch like Cracker Jacks.

The Elysian Bar inside Hotel Peter and Paul. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

Martha Wiggins, deliverer of the dish, is the chef de cuisine to Alex Harrell’s executive chef, and the two go way back. They cooked together at Sylvain and Angeline and have resumed their easy two-step at Elysian Bar, banging out an all-day menu featuring Southern produce and proteins on an international vacation. Huge, sweet, head-on prawns were plucked from the gulf, roasted, and bathed in fruity-hot Calabrian chile butter. Lacto-fermented corn blew up a mild-mannered cucumber salad with mini explosions of sugar, salt, and funk.

The grits were best I’ve eaten, a strain of red corn grown and dried by the Alabama coast, milled at Bellegarde Bakery in New Orleans, and finally simmered with milk and cream into a porridge as silky and beige as cappuccino foam. They came topped with a perfect poached egg, frizzled shallots, and mushrooms suspended in a barbecue-y tomato sauce, all delicious but ultimately unnecessary. These grits stand alone.

Laissez-faire

Elysian Bar’s eerie evening glamour abates in the sunlight. At 8:30 in the morning, when I shuffle across the hotel courtyard into the restaurant, the place feels like a mansion museum before the docents have arrived. There are no customers and no breakfast besides baked goods at the twee coffee bar—strange for a hotel restaurant. “The menu starts at 10:30,” says a dour barista, passing a cup of Congregation Coffee across the counter. She looks like she needs it more than I do.

I take the coffee for a walk around Marigny, where the houses are taffy-colored and the sidewalks cracked like Kit Kats. Trees turn whole blocks into canopied tunnels of greenery, and the air is thick with humidity and magnolias. There are worse places to wait for a restaurant to open.

I head back into Elysian Bar at 11 a.m. and, just like at dinner, there’s no staff to direct me. I wander into the sunroom, by daylight a country kaleidoscope of lemons and sapphires, and sit down. A server appears to inform me I have to order at the bar, and while I can order now, the kitchen won’t start serving food until 11:30. So I get up from my table, walk into the bar, place (and pay for) my order with the bartender. Nearly an hour later, the server then delivers that order to my table. Confused? Me too.

Inside the cafe at Hotel Peter and Paul. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

Harrell and Wiggins hold up their end of the deal again. The tannish-gray puck of sunchoke custard looks like something you’d use to grout bathroom tile, but it tastes purely of the creamy, nutty Jerusalem artichokes. A tangle of shaved asparagus, arugula, and radishes tossed in acidic, mustardy vinaigrette surrounds the custard like a green halo. Bourbon creates a subtle undercurrent of sweetness in the exquisite chicken liver pâté. Grilled sliced of wheat-y Bellegarde sourdough and tangy strawberry-beet mostarda accompany, and the three components eaten together harmonize like a choir.

The duck egg omelet is perfect. Made with Mississippi eggs and served with a well-dressed pile of arugula, it’s as yellow as a buttercup, pregnant with rich, runny triple-crème cheese, and not too wet or too dry. Chives and bowfin caviar bead the omelet’s sloping surface, adding balancing pops of salinity and allium heat to each luxurious forkful. I would eat this every day for breakfast and never get bored.

It’s afternoon—literally, after noon—when my “breakfast” is done. I see my server/not-server once during the meal. Because I’ve already paid, I can leave quickly, without saying goodbye.

Many people think the best thing a hotel restaurant can be is not a hotel restaurant. It’s much more valuable to be a place activated by locals, somewhere authentic, with genuinely good food and noncorporate ambiance. Elysian Bar has clearly achieved that. The smart cooking and evocative atmosphere make it a spectacular place to be, but for the guest who wants to belong to another city for one night, to feel welcomed and cared for, it’s only spectacular in how short it falls.

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—This restaurateur traded fine dining for Ben Franklin’s favorite milk cocktail

—Bar carts are back: How this revival is different

—Why Charleston’s food scene is stronger than ever right now

—Why this classic Israeli sandwich should be on your foodie to-do list

—Listen to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily

Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

Credit: Source link

The post Restaurant Review: Elysian Bar | Fortune appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/restaurant-review-elysian-bar-fortune/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=restaurant-review-elysian-bar-fortune from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.tumblr.com/post/186286560537

[weeklyreviewer]

Restaurant Review: Elysian Bar | Fortune

The Elysian Bar in New Orleans’ Marigny neighborhood occupies the 150-year-old rectory of Saints Peter & Paul. Set behind a gated garden of pygmy palms, the building is an inviting confection of brick and marzipan stucco. I don’t so much walk through the arched doorway as a magnetizing presence inside summons me forth, the single gas lantern flickering above my head like biblical tongues.

A long hallway stretches down the first floor of the former clergy quarters. There’s a snug coffee bar to the right. Two adjoining parlors to the left are lit and furnished for the sequel to Interview With the Vampire: ornately mantled fireplaces, cane chairs with crimson cushions, marble tables with legs shaped like sea serpents, eruptions of ferns and blood-purple flowers, body-length gold mirrors, bustled and billowing mustard drapes framing a burgundy gingham sofa like a theater stage. The dreamy space feels less like a restaurant than an exclusive house party you were invited to by mistake or as a cruel joke.

I pause by the entrance near a stack of menus, waiting for a host. There’s one on staff (management confirms later) but none appears, so I walk down the hallway. It’s difficult to tell the staff from the diners, but no one says hi or can I help you, so I keep going. The hall opens into a sunroom modeled after Monet’s dining room in Giverny, France. One door leads out to a brick courtyard, guarded by stained-glass saints watching from the 24-foot windows. Another doorway connects to the moody vermilion bar, whose cocktail menu showcases a grand tour of vermouths, including an Athenian rouge that smells like a bowl of vanilla and roses. I wait 10 minutes. Neither of the bartenders acknowledges me.

Hotel Peter and Paul’s rectory parlor. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

I backtrack to the foyer, where someone tells me to sit anywhere and “a server will be right over.” A server does not come right over. Then two do, a moment apart. The first takes my drink order and the second takes my food order, as if they were cocktail waitresses absentmindedly wandering the Harrah’s casino floor. Then Martha Wiggins materializes alongside my table, bearing a bowl of grilled okra and crispy, rice-floured-and-fried eggplant lashed with harissa, and the night starts looking up.

Rebirth

After she became a Popsicle tycoon but before she was a hotelier, People’s Pops founder Nathalie Jordi would pass the Peter & Paul compound—the schoolhouse, the rectory, the church, the convent—all closed more than a decade before she relocated to New Orleans from Brooklyn in 2009. “These buildings tower over the neighborhood,” she says. “They were dark and gloomy but still very beautiful.”

Jordi wanted to open a hotel in Marigny, but “much smaller and more modest” than the 71-key situation she wound up with: “I was aware of the [Peter & Paul buildings] but they just seemed out of my league because they were so big and required so much expensive renovation.” Partnering with design firm ASH NYC (the Dean in Providence, the Siren in Detroit) made the $20 million, four-year rehabilitation possible, and the Hotel Peter & Paul opened in October. The Elysian Bar, which is managed by the folks behind the Bywater smash Bacchanal, debuted a month later.

I wake up in a wrought-iron canopy bed, in an attractively monastic room at the foot of a dramatic wishbone-shaped cypress staircase in the old schoolhouse, thinking about that eggplant and okra. The tender vegetables were shellacked in fragrant, feisty pepper paste. Crème fraîche, fennel, and mint countered with cool touches. Black sesame seeds, whole cumin seeds, and peanuts made every bite crunch like Cracker Jacks.

The Elysian Bar inside Hotel Peter and Paul. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

Martha Wiggins, deliverer of the dish, is the chef de cuisine to Alex Harrell’s executive chef, and the two go way back. They cooked together at Sylvain and Angeline and have resumed their easy two-step at Elysian Bar, banging out an all-day menu featuring Southern produce and proteins on an international vacation. Huge, sweet, head-on prawns were plucked from the gulf, roasted, and bathed in fruity-hot Calabrian chile butter. Lacto-fermented corn blew up a mild-mannered cucumber salad with mini explosions of sugar, salt, and funk.

The grits were best I’ve eaten, a strain of red corn grown and dried by the Alabama coast, milled at Bellegarde Bakery in New Orleans, and finally simmered with milk and cream into a porridge as silky and beige as cappuccino foam. They came topped with a perfect poached egg, frizzled shallots, and mushrooms suspended in a barbecue-y tomato sauce, all delicious but ultimately unnecessary. These grits stand alone.

Laissez-faire

Elysian Bar’s eerie evening glamour abates in the sunlight. At 8:30 in the morning, when I shuffle across the hotel courtyard into the restaurant, the place feels like a mansion museum before the docents have arrived. There are no customers and no breakfast besides baked goods at the twee coffee bar—strange for a hotel restaurant. “The menu starts at 10:30,” says a dour barista, passing a cup of Congregation Coffee across the counter. She looks like she needs it more than I do.

I take the coffee for a walk around Marigny, where the houses are taffy-colored and the sidewalks cracked like Kit Kats. Trees turn whole blocks into canopied tunnels of greenery, and the air is thick with humidity and magnolias. There are worse places to wait for a restaurant to open.

I head back into Elysian Bar at 11 a.m. and, just like at dinner, there’s no staff to direct me. I wander into the sunroom, by daylight a country kaleidoscope of lemons and sapphires, and sit down. A server appears to inform me I have to order at the bar, and while I can order now, the kitchen won’t start serving food until 11:30. So I get up from my table, walk into the bar, place (and pay for) my order with the bartender. Nearly an hour later, the server then delivers that order to my table. Confused? Me too.

Inside the cafe at Hotel Peter and Paul. Courtesy of Hotel Peter and Paul

Harrell and Wiggins hold up their end of the deal again. The tannish-gray puck of sunchoke custard looks like something you’d use to grout bathroom tile, but it tastes purely of the creamy, nutty Jerusalem artichokes. A tangle of shaved asparagus, arugula, and radishes tossed in acidic, mustardy vinaigrette surrounds the custard like a green halo. Bourbon creates a subtle undercurrent of sweetness in the exquisite chicken liver pâté. Grilled sliced of wheat-y Bellegarde sourdough and tangy strawberry-beet mostarda accompany, and the three components eaten together harmonize like a choir.

The duck egg omelet is perfect. Made with Mississippi eggs and served with a well-dressed pile of arugula, it’s as yellow as a buttercup, pregnant with rich, runny triple-crème cheese, and not too wet or too dry. Chives and bowfin caviar bead the omelet’s sloping surface, adding balancing pops of salinity and allium heat to each luxurious forkful. I would eat this every day for breakfast and never get bored.

It’s afternoon—literally, after noon—when my “breakfast” is done. I see my server/not-server once during the meal. Because I’ve already paid, I can leave quickly, without saying goodbye.

Many people think the best thing a hotel restaurant can be is not a hotel restaurant. It’s much more valuable to be a place activated by locals, somewhere authentic, with genuinely good food and noncorporate ambiance. Elysian Bar has clearly achieved that. The smart cooking and evocative atmosphere make it a spectacular place to be, but for the guest who wants to belong to another city for one night, to feel welcomed and cared for, it’s only spectacular in how short it falls.

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—This restaurateur traded fine dining for Ben Franklin’s favorite milk cocktail

—Bar carts are back: How this revival is different

—Why Charleston’s food scene is stronger than ever right now

—Why this classic Israeli sandwich should be on your foodie to-do list

—Listen to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily

Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

Credit: Source link

The post Restaurant Review: Elysian Bar | Fortune appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/restaurant-review-elysian-bar-fortune/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=restaurant-review-elysian-bar-fortune

[pigeonmark6-blog]

Thanksgiving Recipes

It’s that time of the year again. When bakers, cooks, and even bartenders, are baking, roasting, and shaking things up for the holidays. Here’s a round-up of recipes from my blog, my personal favorites, that are great for Thanksgiving and winter holiday fêtes. There are cakes, cocktails, spreads, dips, candied nuts, cheesecake, ice cream…and more!

Pecan Pie with Bourbon and Ginger

What’s more traditional than pecan pie for the holidays? (That wasn’t really a question, because most of us already know the answer.) I love this zippy variation, with a triple dose of ginger and a belt of bourbon to boot. It’s especially good with a scoop of white chocolate-fresh ginger ice cream.

Pumpkin Marshmallow Pie

Swoops of billowy marshmallows over a custard-like pumpkin filling. For those vexed by weeping meringues, this stable, silky topping is the answer to your pastry prayers!

S’mores Pie with Salted Butter Chocolate Sauce

Speaking of marshmallows, if you’re looking for the ultimate do-ahead dessert, it’s hard to beat this marshmallow-topped beauty. Even if you’re not planning to make the pie, the Salted Butter Chocolate Sauce makes anything you put it on a thing of beauty.

Manhattans

Manhattans are my go-to cocktail. The foundation is just two ingredients, so they’re hard to screw up, which is easy to do with so many other holiday distractions. Even better, they do the job, coming together in a great, no-nonsense, high-performance cocktail. To dial ’em up for the holidays, add a few dashes of cardamom bitters or pumpkin bitters to the mix.

Cranberry Sauce with Candied Orange

Bits of homemade candied oranges provide a sweet/tart counterpoint to tangy cranberries. I stock up on cranberries for the holidays when I see them in Paris, but those stateside will want to get extra to make this sauce again and again. It’s good with ham, turkey, lamb, and a nice counterpoint to roasted root vegetables. You can also use it when building yourself a hefty turkey sandwich out of leftovers the next day.

Cranberry Sauce with Figs and Red Wine

Use some of that leftover wine to ramp up this holiday sauce, marrying two fall favorites; cranberries and figs. No leftover wine? Pas de problème: open a bottle. (I’m sure you’ll find something else to do with the rest…)

Cranberry Upside Down Cake

A buttery base holds up a toffee-like topping of cranberries. This cake is oh-so-good on its own, but a dollop of whipped cream (perhaps flavored with cinnamon or with lemon curd folded into it?) takes it to the next level. It’s also good with a scoop of cinnamon or vanilla ice cream, melting on top or alongside.

Pumpkin Cheesecake with Pecan Praline Sauce

I’ve been making it for well over a decade and can’t resist the praline sauce that accompanies it. It’s spiked with – yup – a belt of bourbon, and loaded with toasted pecans. Cheers!

Pumpkin Maple Flan

One of my favorite people, Ina Garten, provided the inspiration for this flan, a layer of creamy pumpkin custard bathed in a slick layer of dark caramel.

Cranberry Shrub and Cocktail

Start the holidays off right with this tangy shrub, a vinegar-berry elixir that’s great mixed with sparkling water for a non-boozy libation, or as a base for a bourbon-fueled cocktail. I’ve given options for both, which should please everybody at your holiday fête.

Pumpkin Jam

If the idea of pumpkin jam sounds funny to you, it helps to remember that pumpkins are actually fruits. And if that doesn’t do it, take a taste of this jam with just a hint of vanilla. It won over my Frenchman, who is my toughest critic. (And boy, do I have stories!)

If you’re the kind of person who sets out a plate of cheese (and those are the only kinds of people that I want to dine with), guests will love a swipe of this over a cracker smeared with chèvre (goat cheese) or cream cheese, or paired with slabs of nutty Jarlsberg, Comté or Gruyère as part of a cheese board. Don’t forget the nuts and dried fruit, too.

Chocolate Orbit Cake

This cake got its name because it launches chocolate-lovers into orbit. But it’s also an amazing do-ahead dessert, and keeps for quite a while in the refrigerator, which gives harried hosts and hostesses some time to enjoy an extra Manhattan, or two…  ; )

Pumpkin Ice Cream

It’s that time of year when you may want to keep your ice cream maker handy at all times, so you can churn and scoop up your favorite flavors. (If you’re a fan of The Perfect Scoop, this year marks the ten-year anniversary of the book, and there’s an updated edition with all-new photos and a bunch of new ice cream recipes.)

To reimagine the classic profiteroles for the holidays, swap out the vanilla ice cream with pumpkin ice cream, and replacing the chocolate sauce with the pecan praline sauce I noted above (that goes with the pumpkin cheesecake), or another favorite creamy caramel. Top them off with the French almonds from The Perfect Scoop; Heat 2 tablespoons of water with 2 tablespoons of sugar in a skillet, stirring until dissolved. Remove from heat and mix in 2 cups (160g) sliced almonds. Spread the coated nuts on a nonstick baking sheet, or one covered with a silicone mat, sprinkle with flaky sea salt, and bake in a 350ºF/175ºC oven, stirring once or twice while baking, until golden brown and crisp, about 20 minutes.

Persimmon Bread

What to do with all those persimmons? This loaf cake is moist and packed with flavor, with a hint of spices. It’s a favorite from James Beard, considered the dean of American cooking, and I think it’s time to upgrade his status to include baking.

Sweet Potato and Apricot Cake

This light cake comes from my friend Alice Medrich, and is low fat, but if you’d like, you can take it in another direction and top it with cream cheese frosting. Either way, this is a great cake.

Red Wine Pear Tart

I’m always amazed when I turn out this tart. The glistening, ruby-colored pears are so pretty I almost hate to cut it. But moments later, I’m glad that I did. Along with a spoonful of nutty crème fraîche, this riff of the classic tarte Tatin will get no arguments from traditionalists. And if it does, find less judgmental dining companions.

French Apple Cake

For the love of Dorie Greenspan comes this French apple cake, which relies on a mèlange of apples for its fruit-forward flavor.

German Apple Almond Cake

Our friends in Germany are mighty fine bakers as well and this cake from Luisa Weiss provides a generous wallop of apple flavor to any dessert buffet in each moist wedge. Almond paste is the secret to this cake and it’s worth stocking up on a tube or tin of it now – or several – so you’ll have them handy later.

Chocolate Pecan Pie

Circling back to pecan pie, this is another favorite recipe on mine, loaded with big chunks of bittersweet chocolate, who hold their own in a crowd of pecans.

Cranberry Raisin Pie

I reached deep into my past to find this pie, which was a favorite of the late Marion Cunningham. If you don’t have time to peel a bushel of apples, simply mix up a sack of cranberries and raisins, and voilà…you’ve got a fruit pie that will be just as memorable as Marion.

Quick Mincemeat

Traditional mincemeat has a dubious reputation, but this one will change your mind. I promise. Bits of candied orange, dried fruits, and festive spices meld together into a tasty mixture that can be added to apple pie or pear crisp, making it go from ho-hum…to oh boy!

Israeli Couscous with Butternut Squash and Preserved Lemons

Hitting the savory side, this side dish is one of the most popular in my repertoire. The squash is a no-brainer for the winter, but swap out dried cranberries for the raisins and you’ve got a holiday-friendly side dish that’s a break from the usual mash-up of carbs. Another bonus: This can be made in advance and rewarmed before serving.

Cheese Ball

Proving it’s not too late to get on the ball, I tackled this cheese ball made with several kinds of cheeses, along with chives, dates, and a dash of hot sauce, rolled in buttered and salted pecans. If you’re too high up on your horse to consider a cheese ball, Fromage forte is the way the French use up all those scraps of cheese, whipped up with plenty of garlic. It’s great to spread on slices of baguette, or even crisp apples.

Gougères

The French do have their version of cheese “balls.” These puffs are lighter-than-air and baked to a crisp. No one can resist nibbling on these, especially if you serve them warm.

Spicy Pretzel and Nut Mix

I cast a skeptical eye over recipe titles that promise something to be “the best,” but in this case, I’m going there. This is The Best Cocktail Snack Ever. A crunchy mix of salty pretzels and lots of nuts, baked in a maple syrup, brown sugar, and butter mixture until crisp. You’ll want to print this recipe out and put it at the top of your appetizer recipe roster.

Artichoke Tapenade

In a hurry? Don’t worry, who isn’t? I don’t mind opening a can of artichoke hearts and putting my food processor into service, for this Provençal-inspired spread. Do-ahead types will appreciate that it holds well in the refrigerator (ditto with the next tapenade recipe), and guests will appreciate how good it tastes spread on croutons or crackers, along with a glass of sparkling wine or Chablis.

Olive Fig Tapenade

This olive-based tapenade isn’t the pits. In fact, it’s even better than the usual tapenade because there’s less pitting involved, getting an extra boost from dried figs, whose natural sweetness compliments the salty olives and capers. I was inspired by this one from Carrie Brown of the famous Jimtown Store in Northern California.

Candied Peanuts

Looking for the perfect hostess gift? Instead of tying a bow around a bottle, make a batch of these candied peanuts and give them instead. I keep a stack of cellophane bags and raffia ready, to tie ’em up and give them out. Someone once told me that anyone can buy a gift; it’s the homemade ones that really show that you care. If that’s the case, feel free to make a batch for yourself as well. Sharing may be caring, but being selfish has its rewards, too.

Source: https://www.davidlebovitz.com/thanksgiving-recipes/

[anachef]

First Look and Review! Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes in Disneyland’s Downtown Disney District!

We’re at Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes, the newest eatery in the Disneyland Resort!

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

Located in the Downtown Disney District (you’ll find it directly downstairs from the recently opened Ballast Point Brewery & Kitchen), the incredibly popular New York City-based restaurant has brought its signature burgers, CrazyShakes, and more to its first California location!

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

We are so excited to be here! And, in fact, so are lots of other people…

Line Forming at Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

… and we’re happy to bring you right on in with us!

Atmosphere

If you’re looking for a little taste of the Big Apple when you’re in Downtown Disney, look no further than Black Tap Craft Burgers and Shakes.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

The use of black which sets the tone is not overwhelming with the balance of light woods and contrasts in the street art stylings on the walls.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

And you’ll find pops of color in some of the art which brightens things up even more.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

When reading the menu (we’ll look through it in the next section), we noticed a note where Black Tap describes itself as “upscale but not fussed up,” which is a good description of the hip vibe.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

Now, we’re not digging in quite yet, but let’s talk CrazyShakes for just a minute. (Okay, we really can’t do that without at least giving a little sneak peek…)

CrazyShakes

Black Tap Craft owns the bragging rights as being the original home for over-the-top milkshakes. Those insane topped-with-everything shakes you’ll find at spots like Beaches & Cream and Planet Hollywood Observatory in Disney World?

Yeah, you’re looking at the inspiration for all of them right here at Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes! So before we start sipping our own, there are some features that are unique to the Downtown Disney Black Tap location, and two of them are in regards to CrazyShakes. First is the walk-up window outside entirely dedicated to to-go CrazyShakes!

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes

And back inside, there is also a bar where guests can see CrazyShakes as they are made.

CrazyShakes Bar

CrazyShakes Bar

The Downtown Disney location also has its own service-style in comparison to Black Tap Craft’s other locations… and, in fact, in comparison to most restaurants around Disneyland Resort. Called “enhanced fast-casual,” guests place their order at the counter, and then seat themselves.

Orders are delivered to the table. Now here’s where the unique feature comes in… let’s say you’d like, say, another CrazyShake, or an order of Fried Mozz.

Fried Mozz

Well, then, you can stay in your seat from this point and a Black Tap team member can help you out while you remain seated.

Of course, you have to decide what you’d like to order first…

Eats

Black Tap is known for their burgers and shakes, but there’s much more to the menu. (Click the image below to enlarge.)

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes Food Menu

Outside, we received a printed menu with item descriptions to help make some decisions while waiting in line. But if you walk right in, you’ll see the menu over the ordering counters as well.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes Menu

Taking a closer look, starter snacks include classics like Fried Mozz, but also Crispy Brussels Sprouts among the offerings. And the Wings flavors include Spicy Korean BBQ and Mexican Hot Sauce.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes Menu

And, of course, those Craft Burgers make up a big part of the menu, including a Vegan Burger and Turkey Burger along with The Greg Norman 1/2 pound Wagyu beef burger. Though the emphasis is, as expected, on the burgers you’ll find a couple of Chicken Sandwiches, too. You may also want to know that vegan and gluten-free buns are available as well, for an additional $2.00.

Fun add-ons for your burger include a fried egg, bacon, caramelized onions, and any house sauce (you’ll see those listed in the next pic), to name a few.

Next up are Craft Burger Salads! These include a Black Tap Burger Salad. Fries & Onion Rings add to the offerings.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes Menu

And check out The Diz Kid (mini prime burger meal) under the Kids’ Menu!

The drink menu is where you’ll see Black Tap’s famous CrazyShakes highlighted among the offerings! Other beverage options include Craft Beer on Tap with 21st Amendment Blood Orange and Golden Road Pineapple Cart among the selections. Housemade Iced Tea, Lemonade, and Cocktails are available, too.

Black Tap Craft Drink Menu

Let’s take a closer look at the CrazyShakes by way of the printed menu. You’ll notice that the top three — Cotton Candy, The Cake Shake, and Sweet ‘N Salty — are available only for guests dining in.

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes Shake Menu

But no matter whether you dine in or pick up your shake outside, you’ll be able to order from the Classic Shakes (including Peanut Butter, Caramel, and Nutella among the choices) and five CrazyShakes including the Bam Bam (Fruity Pebbles) Shake, The Brooklyn Blackout, and the Downtown Disney-exclusive Strawberry Shortcake.

And if all that doesn’t make you ready to dig in…

LET’S EAT!

… then I don’t know what will!

DIG IN!

Starting with a couple from the Snacks list, we tried the Fried Pickles and the Fried Mozz. The Fried Pickles are served with the house buttermilk-dill sauce.

Fried Pickles

These are so fun for sharing. But even better, they’re seriously tasty! That thick golden batter ups the ante on these, and the buttermilk-dill is the perfect balance to the pucker from the pickle.

And, really, can you ever go wrong with Fried Mozz? While these are pretty much the regular awesome, crunchy, gooey things you’d expect when ordering some fried mozzarella, there are two interesting touches to point out.

Fried Mozz

First, that sauce is a smoky chipotle tomato sauce (as opposed to your regular marinara), adding some great, unique flavor. And second… you gotta love how they topped fried cheese sticks with EVEN MORE CHEESE. Nice!

But if you’re at Black Tap, you’ve clearly got to go for some burgers. And thanks to the vegan and turkey options (along with those gluten free and vegan bun options), there’s something to meet just about any burger craving.

The Texan Burger starts out like all the other beef burgers: with the “prime burger patty” of 7 ounces of 100% Black Angus USDA certified beef, and served with fries, lettuce, tomato, and a pickle on a potato roll. It’s topped with bacon, aged cheddar, and a huge onion ring, with BBQ sauce and mayo to finish.

The Texan Burger

All the beef burgers are cooked to medium (unless otherwise requested). Overall, regarding our four burgers, we thought a couple of them were a little overdone. But just by a touch and it didn’t take away too much from the flavor.

Plus the toppings are terrific, as is the case with The Pizza Burger, which is topped with marinara, fried mozzarella, and parmesan.

The Pizza Burger

We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again… don’t knock a fried mozzarella-topped burger ’til you try it, folks. It totally works!

The Mexico City is another burger topped with a huge onion ring. But heat seekers will definitely be interested in hearing about the other toppings on this one.

The Mexico City

You’re looking at pepper jack cheese and pickled jalapenos (look at the size of those slices!) with chipotle mayo for a finishing touch. This has a nice amount of kick to it for those who crave some spice!

There’s more to the Crispy Chicken Sandwich than the name implies.

Crispy Chicken Sandwich

The truly crispy chicken is topped with a tangy buttermilk coleslaw, cilantro, lime, and spicy mayo with Korean BBQ served on the side. Altogether, it’s a really flavorful sandwich that’s not just an afterthought in comparison to the burgers.

I’ve gotta say, though… we were all surprised by, of all things, The Turkey Burger! It’s topped with Swiss cheese, smashed avocado and truffle mayo.

Turkey Burger

Compared with the other burgers which lean towards over-the-top, you wouldn’t think this would be a standout. But it really was! This thing was packed with flavor thanks to some terrific seasoning, and the whole table was impressed.

We were less impressed, unfortunately, with the side of Teriyaki Broccoli. Seasoned with garlic, ginger, sesame, and scallion, it sounds pretty promising, right? I mean, it got ME to order broccoli, so that’s saying something.

Teriyaki Broccoli

But the broccoli itself was kind of limp and the teriyaki sauce was more sour than flavorful. I wouldn’t get it again.

Speaking of sauce, though, I’d highly recommend grabbing a couple of the house sauces to dip your fries or some huge, yummy onion rings. (Note that you do receive your choice of a sauce if you order a batch of onion rings or a batch of fries, but it’s fun to have a couple for the extra buck.)

Onion Ring Mickey… or is it just me seeing that?

Choices include Texas BBQ, Special Sauce, and Korean BBQ.

Housemade Sauces

Others include chipotle mayo, buttermilk-dill, and salsa verde.

Housemade Sauces

My favorite was the chipotle mayo, but my tablemates liked others the best, which is why it’s nice to have a few for the family or your friends to suit various tastes.

No matter what you order, you can’t leave without trying a CrazyShake!

CrazyShakes

Umm… or three

.

CrazyShakes

Let’s start with The Cake Shake (which, you should know, is served at a limited quantity per day. It’s the only one noted as such on the menu.

The Cake Shake

A cake batter shake (seriously, yuuuuummmmm) has a vanilla frosted rim with oodles of rainbow sprinkles. It’s topped with an entire slice of funfetti cake, whipped cream, and MORE sprinkles. And a cherry on top, of course!

The Bam Bam Shake is a Fruity Pebbles Shake.

Bam Bam Shake

This time, the vanilla frosted rim is covered in fruity pebbles, which also top that GIGANTIC pile of whipped cream. So much whipped cream, in fact, that’s it’s hard to see that there’s also a rice krispy treat, a strawberry Pop-Tart, and some Laffy Taffy in there, too, for good measure! Oh, AND a cherry on top!

The Cookie Shake has a vanilla cookie base.

Cookie Shake

And it is NO JOKE. The vanilla frosted rim is coated in cookie crumbles, and it’s topped with a “cookiewich,” crumbled cookies, chocolate chip, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce.

And what I say for one of these, I say for all… the CrazyShakes are the real deal. Not only are they the original, but they’re simply better and higher quality than the other over-the-top shakes I’ve tried (and I’ve had a few!). The baked goods topping the shakes were all super fresh and tasty in their own right. Then the shakes themselves offered their own really interesting flavors. Plus they were super creamy, not too icy at all. It is nice to know that — as Instagram-worthy as they are — the CrazyShakes aren’t just for show. They’re legit. So, grab a straw — AND a fork

— and drink up!

That said, if CrazyShakes strike you as a little much after a burger and everything else, since the actual shakes themselves are so good, you can just go with one of the Classic Shakes.

Peanut Butter Shake

May I recommend the Peanut Butter? Because, WOW!

Overall

Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes has truly delivered at the new Downtown Disney District location! To put it simply, it’s really good food making it a spot that’s well worth a visit. Plus, it’s fun! Though one of the first pictures in this post did have a line (and there was actually a longer one during my time there for the first day), it had definitely died down and was not crowded at all by the time we left. So don’t let fear of a line keep you from stopping by and enjoying some New York City eats at Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes on your next trip to Disneyland Resort!

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Are you hoping to visit Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes? Please let us know with a comment!

Related posts:

See the CrazyShakes To-Go Menu With A First Look at Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes in the Downtown Disney District!

Opening Soon! Black Tap Craft Burgers & Shakes in Disneyland’s Downtown Disney District

Salt & Straw Ice Cream Cookbook Tour Will Stop in Disneyland’s Downtown Disney District

from the disney food blog http://bit.ly/2UXocbA via http://bit.ly/LNvO3e

[anamorales]

Friday Faves

Hey hey! Happy Friday! How was your 4th? Hope you enjoyed the holiday and have had a lovely week. It’s been a great one, and thanks to the mid-week holiday, it feels like the week flew by so quickly! Part of me is enjoying that, but a huge part can’t believe that we really only have a month-ish left of summer before the girls are back in school. Bananas. We’re focused on living it up and enjoying as much of summer as we can! We’re doing a staycation this weekend at a local resort and I have some little adventures planned in the next couple of months.

(Chilling in the backyard in our inflatable pool + Uni the sprinkler unicorn. Swimsuit is from J. Crew; on sale right now)

For our 4th celebration, I enjoyed a leg-shaking class at barre3

(you can always find me with 2 YumEarth lollipops in my purse) and

we headed to my brother Kyle’s house for a family BBQ. Kyle got a smoker for Father’s Day, so he smoked chicken and ribs for about 5 hours. The chicken was the RIDICULOUS. You could taste the smoky flavor and it was basted in a tangy and slightly sweet BBQ sauce.

Meg and Kyle had an amazing spread of watermelon, berries, potatoes, broccoli slaw, the most ridiculous gf brownies with walnuts, and my nana brought her famous Jell-O salad. (I gave Liv a bite of mine and she said, “I don’t want to share with you. Please get me my own.” haha)  

We watched the kiddos play in the sprinklers and in a giant inflatable pool (Tucson life), ate amazing food, drank cocktails and chatted. To be totally honest with you guys, I’ve been feeling a bit blah/down lately, and I feel SO thankful that we’re in Tucson for a bit.

Having the fam around has been a huge blessing, and the girls love running around with their cousins. 

We made s’mores around a fire pit and watched Moana outside on the projector. World to the world: if you haven’t had banana and Reese’s on a s’more, you need to do it. 

We drove home with the girls in their swimsuits, completely covered in dirt + s’mores remnants, and watched the fireworks from 3 different locations at the same time. It felt like the quintessential summer day, and everyone crashed hard.

For this morning, it’s time for the weekly Friday Faves party! This is where I share some of my favorite finds from the week and around the web, and I love to hear what you’re enjoying, too. Please shout out any faves in the comments section if you’d like to join in the fun!

(Pics from OB farmer’s market with Betsy last week)

Food + recipes:

These cookie dough energy bites are happening. 

New Four Sigmatic goodies. My friends at Four Sigmatic sent me a little sampler pack, which included a few things I haven’t tried. I’m particularly stoked about the Cordyceps elixirand the lemonade.(If you place an order, the code FITNESSISTA gets you 10% off.)

It’s watermelon eegee time aka the most wonderful time of the year. 

Read, watch, listen:

Check out this week’s podcast episode with Dr. Patrick Flynn here on iTunes, or stream on the podcast page. He is so knowledgeable about women’s health and hormones, so I was pumped that he was able to be on the show. I’ll have an episode up with an RD friend next week.

Source

How to do anything.

Tips on living a minimalist life with kids.

Book ideas! I’m going to check out this list because I’m ready to start a good book this summer. (With the move, I’ve had zero time for reading so I’m going to start something new this week. Please let me know if you have any summer faves! Nothing too intense/dark so I can read it before bed pleeeease.)

Fitness:

Peloton treadmill classes! When we were packing up our Valdosta house, I saw the movers carrying my spin bike into the moving truck destined for storage. In my mind, I ran after the spin bike in slow motion, yelling “Noooooooo” with arms outstretched until they carried it back out of the truck and to it’s rightful destination. In real life, I was carrying P in one hand, a stack of important papers in the other hand, and wasn’t wearing shoes, so I figured I’d just let it go and see it again when I see it. Well, I REALLY MISS THAT SPIN BIKE. I was doing Peloton classes at home 1-2 times a week and it was so incredibly convenient. I went to pause my subscription this week and saw that they’ve added a ton of yoga, bodyweight strength and now treadmill classes to the app. I tried a HIIT interval workout this week and LOVED IT. So, I guess I’m keeping my subscription… and trying to be patient until my spin bike is back, even though I have no clue when I’ll see it again at this point. 

How much protein should you eat and when.

5-minute build-a-burpee workout.

Try this yoga strength workout.

Hope you have a very happy Friday and I’ll see ya soon.

xo

Gina 

The post Friday Faves appeared first on The Fitnessista.

Friday Faves published first on https://immigrationways.tumblr.com/

[missfart]

"Sandra Lee is the Devil" semi-homemade Pasta Bolognese

I love Food Network. I love it. So much. I've seen almost every show and love each and every Food Network chef like family. All except one; Sandra Lee. Sandra Lee, for those who don't know, had a "cooking show" (I use the term loosely) where she made canned chili dogs and boxed cakes and chased them with absurdly complex and boozy cocktails. It's a train wreck and actually who am I kidding it’s amazing television. I love it. However, there is something to be said about semi-homemade. I don't disagree with the principle behind good eating on both a time and money budget. It can be incredibly hard and expensive to make completely scratch made meals every night. So let's explore a dish that doesn't require you make every little thing, takes about a half hour, and costs under $20 for 4 people. Pasta Bolognese. Perfect for winter time when it's freezing out and you want something hearty you can reheat for days. (Vegan and Vegetarian friends should stick this through, because I’ll show you how to tweak this at the bottom. Unless you’re really squimish about raw meat pictures, which there will be a few.)

Part 1: Your Ingredient List 1 Jar of the red pasta sauce of your choosing (Newman's Own Sockarooni is my personal favorite, but you're the chef. I would not recommend a low quality brand like Prego or Kraft unless that is your only option.) 1-1.5 LBS of ground chuck (more beef yields more of a stew like sauce while less gives more of that traditional, looser, pasta sauce) 1 onion, finely minced 3 cloves garlic, finely minced 1 half pint heavy cream 1 box of penne (more or less depending on how many you're feeding, but this sauce recipe can feed 6 people comfortably or 4 people to the point of stuffed. Also, it MUST be a strong noodle like something in the penne family or the cavappati category. Fusilli, riggatoni, anything that is built to not go limp when up against thick meat sauces. Shells, spaghettis, linguinis, stuff like that won’t be the same.) 3 Tablespoons all purpose flour Extra virgin olive oil (you’ll need a bit at different intervals so keep it handy) Spices (of the Italian variety) Salt (OPTIONAL) Balsamic vinegar Apple cider vinegar Brown sugar Red wine Vodka Tomato paste

Part 2: Cooking 1. Dice up your onions and garlic, then get them started on medium in a large pan with about a table spoon of olive oil. Sweat them down for about 7 minutes. TIP: you want this minced finely, so using a push chopper is totally worth it here.

Vince isn’t lying. It’s good white people bullshit to have around the kitchen. Slap that shit.

Mmmmm yes. Sweaty perfection. Moving on.

2. Get your water for your pasta boiling while the onions sweat. You want to salt your water enough to wear you can taste it, but don't listen to the people who say you have to have it like ocean water. Too much salt for this recipe.

3. While you let the water come to a boil, add in your spices to your onions and garlic. I happened to have this blend on hand.

This is a pretty straight forward blend to make, and basically what any Italian spice blend will call for give or take. You can add in your personal favorite blend or take away anything you don’t like.

4. The water should be done coming to a boil, so now add your penne. The perfect al dente penne is 10 minutes and done. 11 minutes is fine, 12 minutes it’s completely cooked through 13 you’ve gone entirely too far and ruined everything.

5. While the pasta is cooking, add in your beef to the onions. Use your spatula and break it up. Keep adding olive oil so it doesn't get too dry and burn. 

6. Add your second round of spices (same as the first) and mix. This is all up to taste, so do what you want. You can use dry and get away with it, though fresh is always more pungent. It really depends on what you’re going for. I like dry here because of the earthy tones cured spices give when used correctly.

7. Now it's time for your optional additions. I personally trust my Russian friends with about a half cup of potato or grain vodka, a nice big shot of apple cider vinegar and a drizzle of balsamic. You can add a number of things to sway your sauce the way you want it. A little brown sugar and half a cup of red wine can make for a sweeter sauce with a sharp bite, while tomato paste and balsamic makes a more sour and acidic sauce with a natural umami flavor. My personal combo makes a much more tangy flavor from the balsamic and acv with a smooth and savory after taste from the vodka. Once you've added in whatever, give it a good stir and let it sit. 

This vodka is Russian and bad ass smooth. It’s not going to leave a bitter taste after the alcohol burns off like you get with squash, or corn. It’s also pretty inexpensive and makes for a good martini as well as being very good at melding tomato flavors with cream. Eyeball about a half cup and stir.

Its ya boy, Braggs ACV. Take a shot glass, fill it, toss it in.

Let this all stew for a bit, maybe 5 minutes, while the pasta finishes.

8. Your pasta should be done. Dump it into your strainer and let it sit in the colander for a bit. Don't worry about it going cold, the sauce will heat it back up.

9. Your meat mixture is ready to be floured. Add in 3 tablespoons a spoonful at a time while stirring. Once all of that is combined, add in up to half a pint of heavy cream.

I had about a pound and a half of beef and I like it thick and rich, so I toss the whole thing in. Less means a more marinara type sauce, more means something like a tomato bisque almost.

This mixture right here is an amazing starter for biscuit gravy btw. Throw some coriander, fennel, and paprika with some brown sugar and cream, and bam. Sausage gravy. However, we will save my biscuits and gravy recipe for another day. 

10. Open your pasta sauce and dump that shit right in there. Get it all in there. Stir it up and salt to taste.

Mmmmmmmm bitch. That’s what I’m talking about. You can loosen things up with some diced tomatoes, more red wine or vodka, even a little water. I personally love having thick sauce for this because it sticks to the pasta well. Either way, let this sit for about 5 more minutes on low while you dress your pasta.

11. Chefs will all debate about putting olive oil on pasta. Put it in the water, don’t, put it in after, don’t put it on at all, whatever. Personally, I think this recipe benefits from a little olive oil for taste. Making fresh pasta and dressing it with a little oil each time will also help loosen up the sauce which tends to thicken on it’s own in the fridge when you’re reheating it.

12. Once that’s done, use a ladle and spoon on the desired amount of sauce for the amount of pasta you’ve made. I like more sauce than is necessary, but to each their own. Don’t dump it all in there because too much and the noodles just sorta fall apart.

Fuck yeah look at that. Tasty af.

So steamy the camera can’t even focus.

13. Your final step is to plate this stuff. It’s best in a bowl with hand grated Parmesan cheese off the wedge. A good chunk of fresh stuff only runs you $5. That may be a little pricey, but it is much more worth it than the green shakey can, not that there is anything to be ashamed about for the shakey can. 

There you go. Serve with your favorite vodka drink or some good red wine. Or water. Or milk. Whatever.

[VEGAN FRIENDS LOOK HERE]

To tweak this for a plant based diet, there’s going to be a few changes though they’ll be minor and maybe even less expensive. The first being is that you’re going to have to invest in a decent ground beef substitute called TVP. It sounds scary, it’s not. It’s textured vegetable protein from soy, so dried tofu basically. What you’ll do is combine 1/2 a cup of TVP with 1 cup water and let it soak for 30 minutes. After that’s done, you can follow the recipe as is. The only difference is going to be your choice of nut milk. I have found that the tomatoes and a heavy hand with spices can actually stand up to using coconut cream here and it makes for the best heavy cream substitute, though it won’t be as Italian tasting in the end. Still just as good, however. I personally recommend an unflavored almond milk creamer. You will have to be careful that you don’t get it too hot or it can “break.” Nooch makes a great topper here. Maybe even a few chopped salted cashews.

However you decide to do it, bone apple teeth as the kids are saying.

[tyleroakley-obsessed]

Though Bari is a thoroughly Italian restaurant, it’s not the sort of place to go expecting pizza and spaghetti. The menu’s hyper-regional focus on food from Puglia means that their dishes are lighter and more diverse in flavor than your typical Italian or Italian-American food. Think fresh, comforting pasta, seafood with delicate and unexpected flavors, exotic cheeses, experimental cocktails (plus all the classics), and an excellent Italian wine list. Photo: By Craig Thompson. Bari has a mural of midtown on the side of the historic building. Bari Ristorante In Overton Square At Bari, a cozy spot right off Overton Square, you can build your own meal. Want a light two-course dinner or just some cheese and snacks to go with your cocktail (more about the cocktails in a moment)? Or are you looking for a full dinner, complete with Antipasti, a cheese course, and entrees? You can construct your meal easily from Bari’s menu, which is listed by Antipasti e Primi, Insalta e Zuppa, Pasta, Fish, Meat, and Vegetable Side. Then, of course, there is an entire menu for cheese. The plates are fairly small, so you can can eat just a little bit—or you can do what I did and eat a little bit of everything.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Bari Ristorante e Enoteca (@bariristorante) on Aug 23, 2018 at 6:01pm PDT Dinner At Bari I started with two cheeses from Bari’s impressive list of more than 4o Italian cheeses and some salami. I wish I had written down what I ordered, but I do know that one was hard, tangy, and Asiago-esque, and the other was semi-soft, tart and a little stinky. The salami slices were sculpted into an impressive rose. I also had a Lattuga salad, which was a bed of buttery greens topped with nuts, creamy goat cheese and grapefruit slices. The dressing was sweet and a little smoky. I may or may not be daydreaming about it right now.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Bari Ristorante e Enoteca (@bariristorante) on Aug 17, 2018 at 5:08pm PDT For dinner, I got the Orzo Pomodoro. The sauce was tomato-based, but not overwhelmingly so. It had a peppery bite to i, but it contrasted beautifully with the chunks of sweet lump crab meat. Bari’s dessert menu is short – there are maybe five options – but it’s pretty awesome. I had the apple semolina cake, which is perfect if you want something that’s sweet, but not entirely too saccharine. The restaurant is cozy – it’s the perfect spot for a date or special occasion dinner. For those of you who don’t eat meat, there are plenty of vegetarian and vegan options on the menu.You can eat at the bar or in the small dining room. Because the dining room is small (it seats maybe 20 people), I highly recommend making reservations, especially on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Bari Ristorante e Enoteca (@bariristorante) on Dec 30, 2017 at 2:04pm PST Best Cocktails In Memphis At Bari If someone asks me for a cocktail recommendation, and I know they’re looking more for a craft cocktail than a margarita or walk-me-down, I send them to Bari. I know that their experience with the bartenders will be grand and the cocktails unmatched. The bar staff, including veteran mixologist Hunter Coleman, is constantly innovating and adapting the menu to meet all tastes. Whatever trend you’re intol, he’s got you covered and probably has something new to try as well.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Hunter Coleman (@bacchus_at_bari) on May 16, 2019 at 3:23pm PDT Go There: Bari Ristorante e Enoteca 22 S Cooper Memphis, TN 38104 (901) 722-2244 Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2020/08/brush-up-on-your-italian-for-dinner-at-bari/

[manuelclapid]

Aunt Margaret the Maven

Aunt Margaret

“Let’s go visit Aunt Margaret,” my Dad said. If I’d had a mirror in front of me, there’s no doubt my eyes and grin were wider than an airplane-hanger door. Margaret was my Dad’s older sister, and she lived with my Uncle Louie in a majestic old home in North Avondale, an original suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. Aunt Margaret was a fun aunt. Trips to her house were guaranteed good times.

Aunt Margaret was a magical woman. I’m not an expert in human genetics, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that my positive attitude, Peter-Pan maturity, and my-cup-is-overflowing outlook are directly related to her DNA.

This isn't the best photo of Aunt Margaret. She's on the left. She was the maid of honor at my Mom and Dad's wedding. This photo was taken at Aunt Margaret's house on Reading Road in North Avondale - an old Cincinnati, OH suburb.

Aunt Margaret always greeted me with a huge smile, a hug and something nice to say, except for those days when Uncle Louie had stretched her patience tighter than a banjo string.

Once my Dad and I got to Marge’s house, my Dad called her that, we entered through the back door into her huge kitchen with soaring 10-foot ceilings. I remember it was a Saturday and for some reason that always meant moist cinnamon coffee cake was somewhere on the counter. Margaret knew that I savored this treat and no sooner had I entered the room from the climb up the outside steps she inquired, “Timmy, how about a piece of coffee cake?”

My face told her all she needed to know. Standing in the center of the kitchen she handed me a generous piece of the pastry. Not wanting to sit down, I immediately took a bite and crumbs exploded from the edges of my mouth landing on her spotless floor. She just laughed poking fun at her brother asking him if they never fed me at home. Aunt Margaret always teased my Dad, but it was all in good fun. That’s what most brothers and sisters do.

Once I devoured the last bite of the coffee cake Aunt Margaret chuckled, “Well Timmy, you made a little mess. Let’s clean it up.” She didn’t get a broom or a mop out of the closet. In one quick motion, she touched the crumbs with the tips of her fingers and they stuck to her skin like nails to a magnet. I was dumbfounded. In my five long years on the planet’s face, I had never seen crumbs magically attracted to fingers like that. The floor was spotless and she just laughed. What was this mystic power that my Aunt possessed? Just like all professional magicians, she didn’t reveal her secret, but years later I figured it out.

My First Time

Aunt Margaret and Uncle Louie loved to entertain. I have crystal-clear memories of adult parties at their home. My sister and I would amuse ourselves running up and down the plush carpeted stairs to their second floor as the adults talked about money, politics, work and who knows what. The steps were unlike any I had ever seen. When you got to the top of the steps, the hallway went left and right. It was the coolest thing ever.

Margaret was all about appearances. She dressed to the nines, had gorgeous black hair and a drop-dead gorgeous smile. Although not full-figured, she was very attractive. She applied this same set of standards to the buffet of food at her parties. The sterling silver and cut-glass platters, bowls and silverware gleamed. They were filled with all sorts of scrumptious food and treats. The sideboard table in the dining room where they all resided was as crowded with people as opening day at the Reds baseball stadium.

One particular party she gently took my hand while no one was watching and whispered in my ear. “Timmy, I’ve got something I want to show you. Come with me,” the words escaped her lips like a puff of fragrant spring air. We walked across the crowded dining room to the sidebar table that was overflowing with food of all sorts.

“Try this for me please,” she purred with a smile on her face. Aunt Margaret had never led me down the wrong path. I trusted her more than an explorer does a compass. But she was handing me the strangest white thing I’d ever seen, and it appeared to be covered in thick blood. I must have grimaced and pulled back, but with her lips inches from mine, she softly implored, “I know you’ll love this. Go ahead and take a bite.”

Mustering up all the courage a kid can when presented with strange food, I gulped and didn’t disappoint her. After all, it was Aunt Margaret, I loved her, and she was looking deeply into my eyes as any temptress would. At that instant in time, I’m convinced she wanted me to eat that cocktail shrimp more than she wanted life itself. She knew how good they were, and she wanted to be the first person to show me.

I bit down into the ice-cold crustacean, and the cocktail sauce flavor set my mouth slightly ablaze. There was just enough horseradish in the ketchup to give the sauce a tangy flavor. The firmness of the shrimp was intoxicating, not to mention it was tasty. Aunt Margaret’s laughter undoubtedly was sparked by my eyes lighting up in response to the heat and taste. I’m sure my request for more intensified her chuckle.

Aunt Margaret was but one of my fun aunts. All three of her other sisters had great smiles, perky personalities and each took me under their wings in a special way. Thelma, Juanita, and Edna Mae were a bright spot in my childhood, but Margaret’s magical fingers are something I’ll never forget, much less her raven hair, sweet smile, and taste in food.

As I’ve grown older, I’m convinced Margaret saw herself in me. I often have that same vision when I see children. You just seem to be able to predict what they’ll turn out to be. I wish Margaret were still alive today, so she could see if her intuition was spot on. Now that I think about it she didn’t need the proof - she already knew. God bless you, Aunt Margaret!

The post Aunt Margaret the Maven appeared first on Ask the Builder.

from Home https://www.askthebuilder.com/aunt-margaret-the-maven/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[williamccreynolds]

Aunt Margaret the Maven

Aunt Margaret

“Let’s go visit Aunt Margaret,” my Dad said. If I’d had a mirror in front of me, there’s no doubt my eyes and grin were wider than an airplane-hanger door. Margaret was my Dad’s older sister, and she lived with my Uncle Louie in a majestic old home in North Avondale, an original suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. Aunt Margaret was a fun aunt. Trips to her house were guaranteed good times.

Aunt Margaret was a magical woman. I’m not an expert in human genetics, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that my positive attitude, Peter-Pan maturity, and my-cup-is-overflowing outlook are directly related to her DNA.

This isn't the best photo of Aunt Margaret. She's on the left. She was the maid of honor at my Mom and Dad's wedding. This photo was taken at Aunt Margaret's house on Reading Road in North Avondale - an old Cincinnati, OH suburb.

Aunt Margaret always greeted me with a huge smile, a hug and something nice to say, except for those days when Uncle Louie had stretched her patience tighter than a banjo string.

Once my Dad and I got to Marge’s house, my Dad called her that, we entered through the back door into her huge kitchen with soaring 10-foot ceilings. I remember it was a Saturday and for some reason that always meant moist cinnamon coffee cake was somewhere on the counter. Margaret knew that I savored this treat and no sooner had I entered the room from the climb up the outside steps she inquired, “Timmy, how about a piece of coffee cake?”

My face told her all she needed to know. Standing in the center of the kitchen she handed me a generous piece of the pastry. Not wanting to sit down, I immediately took a bite and crumbs exploded from the edges of my mouth landing on her spotless floor. She just laughed poking fun at her brother asking him if they never fed me at home. Aunt Margaret always teased my Dad, but it was all in good fun. That’s what most brothers and sisters do.

Once I devoured the last bite of the coffee cake Aunt Margaret chuckled, “Well Timmy, you made a little mess. Let’s clean it up.” She didn’t get a broom or a mop out of the closet. In one quick motion, she touched the crumbs with the tips of her fingers and they stuck to her skin like nails to a magnet. I was dumbfounded. In my five long years on the planet’s face, I had never seen crumbs magically attracted to fingers like that. The floor was spotless and she just laughed. What was this mystic power that my Aunt possessed? Just like all professional magicians, she didn’t reveal her secret, but years later I figured it out.

My First Time

Aunt Margaret and Uncle Louie loved to entertain. I have crystal-clear memories of adult parties at their home. My sister and I would amuse ourselves running up and down the plush carpeted stairs to their second floor as the adults talked about money, politics, work and who knows what. The steps were unlike any I had ever seen. When you got to the top of the steps, the hallway went left and right. It was the coolest thing ever.

Margaret was all about appearances. She dressed to the nines, had gorgeous black hair and a drop-dead gorgeous smile. Although not full-figured, she was very attractive. She applied this same set of standards to the buffet of food at her parties. The sterling silver and cut-glass platters, bowls and silverware gleamed. They were filled with all sorts of scrumptious food and treats. The sideboard table in the dining room where they all resided was as crowded with people as opening day at the Reds baseball stadium.

One particular party she gently took my hand while no one was watching and whispered in my ear. “Timmy, I’ve got something I want to show you. Come with me,” the words escaped her lips like a puff of fragrant spring air. We walked across the crowded dining room to the sidebar table that was overflowing with food of all sorts.

“Try this for me please,” she purred with a smile on her face. Aunt Margaret had never led me down the wrong path. I trusted her more than an explorer does a compass. But she was handing me the strangest white thing I’d ever seen, and it appeared to be covered in thick blood. I must have grimaced and pulled back, but with her lips inches from mine, she softly implored, “I know you’ll love this. Go ahead and take a bite.”

Mustering up all the courage a kid can when presented with strange food, I gulped and didn’t disappoint her. After all, it was Aunt Margaret, I loved her, and she was looking deeply into my eyes as any temptress would. At that instant in time, I’m convinced she wanted me to eat that cocktail shrimp more than she wanted life itself. She knew how good they were, and she wanted to be the first person to show me.

I bit down into the ice-cold crustacean, and the cocktail sauce flavor set my mouth slightly ablaze. There was just enough horseradish in the ketchup to give the sauce a tangy flavor. The firmness of the shrimp was intoxicating, not to mention it was tasty. Aunt Margaret’s laughter undoubtedly was sparked by my eyes lighting up in response to the heat and taste. I’m sure my request for more intensified her chuckle.

Aunt Margaret was but one of my fun aunts. All three of her other sisters had great smiles, perky personalities and each took me under their wings in a special way. Thelma, Juanita, and Edna Mae were a bright spot in my childhood, but Margaret’s magical fingers are something I’ll never forget, much less her raven hair, sweet smile, and taste in food.

As I’ve grown older, I’m convinced Margaret saw herself in me. I often have that same vision when I see children. You just seem to be able to predict what they’ll turn out to be. I wish Margaret were still alive today, so she could see if her intuition was spot on. Now that I think about it she didn’t need the proof - she already knew. God bless you, Aunt Margaret!

The post Aunt Margaret the Maven appeared first on Ask the Builder.

from Real Estate https://www.askthebuilder.com/aunt-margaret-the-maven/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[andrewmawby]

Aunt Margaret the Maven

Aunt Margaret

“Let’s go visit Aunt Margaret,” my Dad said. If I’d had a mirror in front of me, there’s no doubt my eyes and grin were wider than an airplane-hanger door. Margaret was my Dad’s older sister, and she lived with my Uncle Louie in a majestic old home in North Avondale, an original suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. Aunt Margaret was a fun aunt. Trips to her house were guaranteed good times.

Aunt Margaret was a magical woman. I’m not an expert in human genetics, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that my positive attitude, Peter-Pan maturity, and my-cup-is-overflowing outlook are directly related to her DNA.

This isn't the best photo of Aunt Margaret. She's on the left. She was the maid of honor at my Mom and Dad's wedding. This photo was taken at Aunt Margaret's house on Reading Road in North Avondale - an old Cincinnati, OH suburb.

Aunt Margaret always greeted me with a huge smile, a hug and something nice to say, except for those days when Uncle Louie had stretched her patience tighter than a banjo string.

Once my Dad and I got to Marge’s house, my Dad called her that, we entered through the back door into her huge kitchen with soaring 10-foot ceilings. I remember it was a Saturday and for some reason that always meant moist cinnamon coffee cake was somewhere on the counter. Margaret knew that I savored this treat and no sooner had I entered the room from the climb up the outside steps she inquired, “Timmy, how about a piece of coffee cake?”

My face told her all she needed to know. Standing in the center of the kitchen she handed me a generous piece of the pastry. Not wanting to sit down, I immediately took a bite and crumbs exploded from the edges of my mouth landing on her spotless floor. She just laughed poking fun at her brother asking him if they never fed me at home. Aunt Margaret always teased my Dad, but it was all in good fun. That’s what most brothers and sisters do.

Once I devoured the last bite of the coffee cake Aunt Margaret chuckled, “Well Timmy, you made a little mess. Let’s clean it up.” She didn’t get a broom or a mop out of the closet. In one quick motion, she touched the crumbs with the tips of her fingers and they stuck to her skin like nails to a magnet. I was dumbfounded. In my five long years on the planet’s face, I had never seen crumbs magically attracted to fingers like that. The floor was spotless and she just laughed. What was this mystic power that my Aunt possessed? Just like all professional magicians, she didn’t reveal her secret, but years later I figured it out.

My First Time

Aunt Margaret and Uncle Louie loved to entertain. I have crystal-clear memories of adult parties at their home. My sister and I would amuse ourselves running up and down the plush carpeted stairs to their second floor as the adults talked about money, politics, work and who knows what. The steps were unlike any I had ever seen. When you got to the top of the steps, the hallway went left and right. It was the coolest thing ever.

Margaret was all about appearances. She dressed to the nines, had gorgeous black hair and a drop-dead gorgeous smile. Although not full-figured, she was very attractive. She applied this same set of standards to the buffet of food at her parties. The sterling silver and cut-glass platters, bowls and silverware gleamed. They were filled with all sorts of scrumptious food and treats. The sideboard table in the dining room where they all resided was as crowded with people as opening day at the Reds baseball stadium.

One particular party she gently took my hand while no one was watching and whispered in my ear. “Timmy, I’ve got something I want to show you. Come with me,” the words escaped her lips like a puff of fragrant spring air. We walked across the crowded dining room to the sidebar table that was overflowing with food of all sorts.

“Try this for me please,” she purred with a smile on her face. Aunt Margaret had never led me down the wrong path. I trusted her more than an explorer does a compass. But she was handing me the strangest white thing I’d ever seen, and it appeared to be covered in thick blood. I must have grimaced and pulled back, but with her lips inches from mine, she softly implored, “I know you’ll love this. Go ahead and take a bite.”

Mustering up all the courage a kid can when presented with strange food, I gulped and didn’t disappoint her. After all, it was Aunt Margaret, I loved her, and she was looking deeply into my eyes as any temptress would. At that instant in time, I’m convinced she wanted me to eat that cocktail shrimp more than she wanted life itself. She knew how good they were, and she wanted to be the first person to show me.

I bit down into the ice-cold crustacean, and the cocktail sauce flavor set my mouth slightly ablaze. There was just enough horseradish in the ketchup to give the sauce a tangy flavor. The firmness of the shrimp was intoxicating, not to mention it was tasty. Aunt Margaret’s laughter undoubtedly was sparked by my eyes lighting up in response to the heat and taste. I’m sure my request for more intensified her chuckle.

Aunt Margaret was but one of my fun aunts. All three of her other sisters had great smiles, perky personalities and each took me under their wings in a special way. Thelma, Juanita, and Edna Mae were a bright spot in my childhood, but Margaret’s magical fingers are something I’ll never forget, much less her raven hair, sweet smile, and taste in food.

As I’ve grown older, I’m convinced Margaret saw herself in me. I often have that same vision when I see children. You just seem to be able to predict what they’ll turn out to be. I wish Margaret were still alive today, so she could see if her intuition was spot on. Now that I think about it she didn’t need the proof - she already knew. God bless you, Aunt Margaret!

The post Aunt Margaret the Maven appeared first on Ask the Builder.

from builders feed https://www.askthebuilder.com/aunt-margaret-the-maven/ via http://www.rssmix.com/