#kitchen manners

[mayasdeluca]

MAYA AND CARINA STATION 19: 7x04 'Trouble Man'

[deimosatellite]

laughing again abt the Acesan Kitchen Bit bc like ofc ace was totally hitting on him but sanji on the other hand probably wanted to kiss ace on the mouth when he asked if he needed any help with cooking bc like. YOU KNOW NONE OF THE STRAWHATS HELP AROUND THE KITCHEN sanji was like what you want to. help me cook. you . what .

[ahedderick]

Manners matter. maybe.

Now that Son has moved out, we have family dinner on Monday nights. This includes Roommate. Last night I was reflecting on this, in comparison to dinners that I grew up with.

My parents managed to somehow occupy both ends of the spectrum of parenting. Practically speaking, this meant that one day I'd be a beloved child, so smart, so good looking, have a cookie, we'll buy you a pony - followed by screaming abuse, curses, I was the worst, most Ungrateful Childe ever, silent treatment. And so on and so forth.

They also had a sort of two-pronged approach to life in general. We lived on a farm, raising beef cattle. Being barefoot and mud-smirched in the garden, or in heavy boots, smeared with blood and cow manure in the barn, went side-by-side with expectations of perfect grammar and enunciation, Emily Post table-settings and manners, and the highest grades in school. It was, in a word, very weird. And honestly, the emphasis on elegant table manners, matching silverware/tableware/glasses, etc never really sat well with me. Manners at that level always struck me as ridiculous and fake. Especially in a damned farm kitchen.

Anyhoo. This is in my mind as I regard my own table. The plates matched, almost. Cups and silverware were a random assortment. Son was talking animatedly to my husband about forestry, K and I were chatting (my elbows were on the table, as they often are), and Roommate was hunched over his plate moving his fork up and down like a sewing machine needle. Ten hour shifts welding; he's hungry. Everybody was happy, engaged, and getting full of nutritious food.

That. That was all that mattered.

[lazy-toad]

btw if you come into someone else's kitchen and start fucking vaping in there without even standing by the window I should be allowed to hunt you for sport

[izzyspussy]

people who see someone frantically shoving food into their mouth and think they're rude or gluttonous or whatever are... well "unspeakably naive" is the nicest possible way to phrase it.

[sockowl]

Kale bean soup, caramelized onion biscuit with melted cheddar, and a fresh local peach Kale, bok choi, pinto beans,and chickpeas in the soup. Heavily modified Thug Kitchen Bad Manners' Chickpea Dumpling Soup. These NYT biscuits, subbed canola oil for butter (again), hand-formed instead of cut

[bogkeep]

first week back at school and ahhhhhh everything is a little overwhelming currently

- my living space is full of boxes i have simply not had the energy to unpack at all.... hopefully this weekend (but i have also been invited to a Social Event so WE SHALL SEE)

- this school year is going to have So Much Important Stuff happening inbetween the many weeks of practice placement

- such as The Academic Text

- AND i need to finish the big project i was supposed to have finished ages ago

- our teacher this year speaks swedish with a very thick french accent and i speak norwegian with a dialect, we really struggle to understand one another but maybe hopefully that will change over time.... please...........

- i'm stressed about Stupid Bureaucracy Stuff

- and im so so sleepytired :(((

- and it's too humid and warm for comfort :(((((

AT LEAST I HAVE CUTE SOCKS

purchased in a distraught jetlag haze and subsidized by my travel insurance. they're my favourites now

[cealesti]

society will never advance as long as the discourse on self-insert characters or character/reader fics is focused solely on "it's not cringe!!! write whatever you want uwu" rather than emphasizing "bitch learn how to fucking TAG oh my god"

[good-beanswrites]

Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?

Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!

The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.

“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind. 

He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.” 

He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.

“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”

It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.

“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”

Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”

“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.” 

She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”

“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.

“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.” 

“They do a lot of other things, too.”

“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s the surest way to help someone!”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her. 

Tears poured from her eyes. 

“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”

She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort. 

She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”

He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”

She snapped her head up to look at him. 

Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you understand me.” 

He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”

“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”

“But --”

“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”

She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.

Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”

His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop. 

With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”

“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.” 

“A-alright.” 

His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch. 

And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.

The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”

He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing. 

But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”

[iftitah]

my mom's college is sooo nostalgic 😭

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I can be awfully unforgiving of other people's executive dysfunctions considering everything about me

[the-pea-and-the-sun]

having to budget for food an b careful w food an not having a lot of space to put my food can b pretty annoying but when my roomates are throwing away 3/4 of their groceries that i cannot touch it makes me feel like im going insane

[volfoss]

The worst thing actually about the color challenge I'm doing in the sims is it lets me make ABOMINATIONS of houses. Like you want me to make this all pink? It is NOT going to look good by the time I'm done

[nostalgia-tblr]

i don't dislike the idea that either or both of loki and sylvie can cook, i just think it's a very optimistic take

[chalkrevelations]

Well, gdi.

I’m 2 eps into Manner of Death, and I’ve spent the past - year? year and a half? - poking around in bl being all, ‘yeah, yeah, MaxTul, whatever,’ but you guys weren’t kidding, and this is going to send me down a MaxTul rabbithole, isn’t it?

Anyway. Bun, even before he so blatantly tried to stop you from investigating, I was guessing your friend with the mustache was the killer. Anybody with that facial hair is up to no good, plus he’s related to the local magistrate, so we’re gonna get some good corruption and coverup, I bet. Also, i don’t yet know how this ties into Natty, but I suspect the bitemarks on both bodies are not only related but are also related to the way Mustache Guy was trying to haul Jane bodily out of the party. The only thing that makes me doubt it’s him, at this point, is that y’all are telegraphing his creepiness, and it’s kind of early to be tipping your hand, so I’m wondering if this is deliberate misdirection by the show. Plus, Inspector M, or whatever his name is, from the police, is also a creepfest and does a really good job of reminding me why i don’t trust cops, so there’s also that possibility, I guess, although I’m more surprised M hasn’t roofied you, yet, Bun, and threatened your virtue. I kind of thought he was getting you sloppy drunk with a purpose in the first episode, but I guess not yet?

As for you, Tan, you could stand to be a little less of a creep, yourself. I realize this drunken stranger kissed you out of nowhere after you two shared some sort of Moment When Your Gazes Met, but hitting on him in his hospital bed with his friend - your apparent girlfriend, who you seemed perfectly willing to cheat on with him before she turned up dead - barely cold ... you can see how you look a little skeevy, right?

Bun, you are beautiful and perfect and have never done anything wrong in your life (except completely forgetting about Oat - who are you, Kinn Theerapanyakul?), and I am charmed by your self-appointed calling as speaker for the dead. You and Frank Pembleton, man.

[spocksbedsidemanner]

Made it out of the hospital in time for birthday~ Just staying home to rest 🙃