#meat patties

[keitandsarah]

Eastern European Kotlety Recipe Polish meat patties that are fried in a pan are known as kotlety. Ground beef is used to make this quick and easy version. 1 small sweet yellow onion minced, 1 1/3 pounds lean ground beef, 1 tablespoon milk, 1 clove garlic minced, 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, 1/2 cup vegetable shortening for frying, 1.25 teaspoons kosher salt, 2/3 cup milk cracker crumbs, 1 egg well beaten

[hartmanclay]

Eastern European Kotlety Kotlety are traditional Polish pan-fried meat patties. This quick and simple version is made with ground beef.

[outontheshelves]

Recipe for Eastern European Kotlety

Polish meat patties that are fried in a pan are known as kotlety. Ground beef is used to make this quick and easy version.

[scoutingthetrooper]

patty melt

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

[buffetlicious]

Mum packed home from Chong Pang this box of Fatty Char Siu (叉烧) to add to the dishes for dinner tonight. This is my Economy Rice (菜饭) brunch with leafy cabbage stir-fry, steamed minced pork patty, curry chicken and steamed egg over white rice.

[viejospellejos]

¿Hay hambre? 🍔

[sketching-shark]

tbh--and especially in this era of many protagonists getting viciously belittled by antagonists while they can't say or do anything except take it while looking sad--one of the delightful things about og classic Monkey King is how his brutal honesty about his own desires & crimes comes with a free telling his opponents to 1-800-GO-TO-HELL.

[cherryontopstims]

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Cheeseburger stimboard as requested by an anon!

[creepyolddude1973]

After some thought, I gotta go with #1

[undertalethingems]

You love eating dino nuggets

haha, no actually--i generally don't like the texture of formed chicken, and didn't even as a kid, so i didn't really go for dino nuggets even though i love dinosaurs, and chicken is one of my favorite proteins.

nah, my favorite dino-shaped gimmick food is in fact dinosaur egg oatmeal :>

[articskele]

CONFNEECTION BUILDING I LOVE YOU CONFNEECTION BUILDING............

YOU'RE TELLING ME THERE'S A WHOLE DEPARTMENT DEDICATED TO FOOD. SWEETS EVEN. AND NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT

If the thneed-making part of the factory has these giant spools and such, I wanna see what kinda machinery the confneection building has- Giant mixers and rows of ovens and super tall rolling ladders! Using rollerskates to get around faster! PASTEL DINER AESTHETIC

And you already KNOW it smells amazing in there- I wonder what the uniforms look like!! The possibilities are endless and I love it sooo so much

Thneeds aren't just selling like hotcakes, sometimes they ARE the hotcakes! Butterfly milk frosting and ice cream and gum, truffula fruit pies and syrups and wine and lemonade and jelly filled donuts!!

WAIT if cinnamon comes from inner tree bark then what if there's a spice you can get from truffula bark- WHAT IF IT TASTES LIKE BUTTERSCOTCH

[black-salt-cage]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[wombywoo]

Okay so you said something about how Quinn tries to push the limits of what Vincent and him get up to re: vampirism. Vincent feels like their relationship is a danger to Quinn and Quinn likes to take big risks and disregard his life.

...does Vincent ever feel like he's just a means to another risk Quinn takes for a rush of adrenaline?

Ooooh juicy, I love that you're already diving deeper and deeper here with just a few glimpses of these two 🥰

As for the question--Yes. Vincent does, in fact, feel like he's being used as an outlet for Quinn to enable his darker and more dangerous urges, and quite frankly, he has..mixed feelings. Quinn has a very complicated self-image and he often seeks out destructive habits. He's had to overcome a lot of his effed-up issues, but he still tends to throw himself into risky situations for some insatiable thrill. This new relationship with Vincent initially falls into that category--in the beginning, it's a real kick for him to be exposed and vulnerable to a guy who could kill him in a split second. In fact, that's probably why he hooked up with him in the first place. Quinn had previously been in a toxic relationship with an older man who was just...not a good guy at all. So, in part, this feels like an extension of that. He just didn't count on Vincent actually caring about him and treating him like a real honest human being :'D

Vincent definitely struggles with this early on--he doesn't want to hurt Quinn, but it's clear they both get off on this electric thrill due to the nature of their dynamic. He has urges too, and it forces him to confront some of the darker impulses he's tried to suppress for so long. In the early stages (ie. wild, unhinged sex, lol) it's difficult to pay attention to all the reasons why this is wrong when they're both so into it. But as time progresses, and..y'know...feelings start to happen, Vincent begins to help Quinn address some of his self-destructive habits, and they figure out what they really mean to each other...🫶

[scoutingthetrooper]

smoked chicken patty melt

[skiptoyuri]