#might make some Guinness stew some other time

[chialattea]

making stew. it’s stew time. morbillion stew recipes to try out. hit me with some good soup.

[jomiddlemarch]

While You Were Sleeping

Epilogue

“We’re never going to sleep again. Ever,” Hermione said from her end of the circuit around the kitchen, before Draco could head into the conservatory detour that Neville had suggested might at least help with their mental health, if it did nothing to aid in the ultimate goal of the twins sleeping for more than an hour at a time. She’d had to raise her voice a little, so Draco could hear her over the babies’ crying, but she couldn’t get too loud or strident, because then the crying would become howling on Rose’s part and a glass-shattering shriek on Scorpius’s. Any significant pausing in walking yielded the same response. 

“If you agreed, we could get a House—” Draco began. Again. His grey joggers were low around his hips, his feet bare, a ratty tee-shirt that couldn’t be made any rattier by regurgitated milk thrown on hastily when she’d called him from the nursery.

“Don’t start the ‘House-elves make perfectly fine nannies, see how I turned out argument.’ You know how I feel about it, even if we paid an exorbitant amount, and though I love you dearly, I wouldn’t say the nannying you received did you any favors at Hogwarts. You were a preening little prat for the first few years, when there was some pretense we were children and not pawns,” Hermione replied. “I also don’t want to hear about Black family magicks that would do the trick, either from you or your mother.”

“We’re not following Molly Weasley’s advice and using gin,” Draco said, patting Scorpius on the back in a rhythm that seemed to soothe their son. Or it didn’t and they were deluding themselves. Sleep deprivation could do that to a person, Hermione recalled, from a time when she had done research in a library, wearing a clean jersey and drinking a cup of tea hot from the pot, not stewed and cold and generally disgusting but charmed not to grow Wizarding penicillin on the surface. 

“She might have meant we should drink the gin, not that we’d dose the babies, now that I think about it. It’s all fuzzy when I look back,” Hermione said. 

“I hate gin,” Draco said. “Simply loathe the stuff.”

“I know. I remember that about you. From a time when we had drinks on a trolley in the sitting room or went to the pub,” Hermione said. He liked wine, preferably red and full-bodied, though he’d get a pint of Guinness if they went out with friends. He’d rather drink Butterbeer than a G&T and forget about a martini, dirty or otherwise. Her craving for cocktail onions had been rather a sore point during her pregnancy, though he’d fetched them and learned not to turn up his nose at her when she ate a jar’s worth in a sitting.

“What’s a pub?” Draco said wryly. 

Scorpius squawked. If his Patronus wasn’t some avian species, Hermione would eat her hat. She’d have to fit her traditional pointed witch’s hat first, but then she’d eat it. Maybe she’d chase it with a Gibson.

“Shh, darling boy, it’s all right, Papa’s got you,” Draco murmured, brushing his lips against Scorpius’ wispy blond curls. 

Despite the screaming and the exhaustion and the near-constant desire to hex her earlier overly confident and entirely wrong self, the one who’d said things like, twins won’t be so terribly difficult and maybe it’s more efficient to have them together, the babies can keep each other company and they won’t be lonely when they went off to Hogwarts, really, it was a blessing to have twins first, Hermione couldn’t help melting a little whenever she heard Draco talking to their babies, especially when he referred to himself as Papa. She opened her mouth to say something fond and tender, but Scorpius yelped and gurgled and Draco sighed.

“Another geyser. Perhaps we should get those disposable cloths Potter was on about, since we can’t risk Vanishing the spit-up,” he said. Spells around magical infants could be dicey and with a mother as powerful as Hermione, they’d had to play it extra safe.

“He’ll be hungry now,” Hermione said, not even bothering to answer the remark about the burp cloths. Once, her mind had been filled with complex runic equations and the Zaragosta variations on the Berenicean charm progression. Now, she was too tired to even spend one neuron’s worth of attention on the question of burp cloths.

“Time to trade,” Draco said. 

Hermione walked over to the rocking chair, settling Rose on her lap for a moment. The novelty of the perspective change would buy about 90 seconds of relative quiet. Draco came over, put Scorpius into the crook of Hermione’s arm and scooped up Rose. His exceptional Quidditch skills were being put to this exclusive use but Hermione suspected both the babies would be avid players, Rose the more likely Seeker. She fiddled a bit with her top and got Scorpius latched on, stroking his plump cheek very lightly so he wouldn’t get distracted and fall off, screaming with frustration. Nursing, he looked very serious, like Draco drafting a response to the Chinese delegation.

“Now, then, ma chére Mademoiselle Rose, let’s take a turn about the room and let Mummy take care of Scorpius,” Draco said. Rose made a series of noises which weren’t quite cries and could possibly be a language no adult was fluent in.

“Molly said it won’t always be this way,” Hermione offered. Scorpius was growing dozy against her breast, still nursing but with less vigor. He’d fall asleep this way but they’d probably only get an hour of rest from him and Rose’s hazel eyes were alert, peering over Draco’s shoulder.

“She would know. Circe’s garters, seven of them. It doesn’t bear contemplating,” Draco said. “My mother says we ought to be grateful, two healthy babies, no sign either will be a Squib, and I am. I am grateful and I love them—”

“You’d just like to get a full night’s sleep,” Hermione said. The first week, the babies had been drowsy and they’d had to wake them to nurse. It had been the right thing to do and Hermione still couldn’t believe they’d done it. Rose had gone nearly five hours when she was four days old and Hermione had faffed about writing thank-you cards for the new baby gifts and peering into the cradle to make sure Rose was breathing when she could have followed directions and slept when the baby slept, letting Draco be the one on duty to make sure the twins were awakened to feed. 

“I’d take four hours,” Draco said. 

“Three would do me,” Hermione yawned. Draco kept walking, Rose on his shoulder, and Hermione drifted for a bit, lost somewhere between dream and memory.

“You thought it would all go away when we came home. That it wasn’t real,” she said.

“Well, I was a fool and also besotted with you and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for about ten days,” he said. “Also, we were faking being married. I was your fake-husband.”

“This is real,” she said. She shifted Scorpius to her shoulder, patting his back until he burped, praying he’d stay asleep through it. Draco smiled, too wise to risk laughter.

“It’s as real as it gets, love,” he said. Rose grizzled a bit but lowered her head, her silky dark curls shining against his fair skin, the faint silver stubble of his five-o’clock-now-three-am-shadow. He was tall and fit and terribly kind, terribly clever; he’d do anything for the three of them and he’d gotten her all those jars of pickled pearl onions and had snogged her silly when she had Gibson-breath. He had turned out well after all…

“I might have been overly rigid about the House-Elf proposal,” she said. “A few nights can’t do any harm and we’ll make sure they have exceptional benefits, a pension. The villa in Majorca—”

*

And that was how Pithy came to be the Granger-Black-Malfoy night nanny, the first House-elf with her own Gringotts vault, and the reason Hugo was born. 

Well, a reason. There was a responsible adult creature in the household and there was that villa in Majorca.

[jessicafurseth]

Reading List, Art is Sustenance edition.

[Image via Kelly Beall]

*

"I've been holding off on writing this particular story until I knew how it ended, but it occurred to me the other day that that's exactly the wrong instinct. We pretty much only ever hear about failure when it's been redeemed by success. And maybe that'll happen eventually, but it doesn't seem likely right now, and anyway, the point isn't what's coming. The point is how it's felt to sit here for the last two years, trying to make something happen that just does not seem to want to go." Zan Romanoff

"I was sure that a coffee shop in my hometown would change my life. I would have more friends, more zines to read, more bands to listen to, and other cool things to get into. The coffee itself was a secondary, even tertiary, aspect of this desire." [Alicia Kennedy, Yes! Magazine]

"When I was a teenager, avoidance was not an option. Sometimes, I would just resolutely not do things, because I was physically unable to. But many, many other times I just had to do the things that made me feel anxious. I’m not advocating for this approach entirely: believe me, sometimes nothing good came of it. But sometimes, and this is the really important bit, I did what made me anxious – and good things happened. Interesting things. Exhilarating things. Hilarious things. Useful things, too: GCSEs, A-levels, getting a driving licence, a place at university. If I had been told from the age of 10 that I could get out of doing things that worried me, I would simply never have done anything at all." Treating anxiety as a permanent problem might just make people feel worse [Lucy Foulkes, The Guardian]

"They keep telling us to move on; to accept that Brexit is done. The problem is, Brexit isn’t done with us. It isn’t a single disabling event. It’s a degenerative disease." The next phase of Brexit will be bad for our diet, health and wealth [Jay Rayner, The Guardian]

"I cannot overemphasize how little there was to do before we all had smartphones. A barren expanse of empty time would stretch out before you: waiting for the bus, or for someone to come home, or for the next scheduled event to start. Someone might be late or take longer than expected, but no notice of such delay would arrive, so you’d stare out the window, hoping to see some sign of activity down the block. You’d pace, or sulk, or stew." What Did People Do Before Smartphones? [Ian Bogost, The Atlantic]

"As flawed as the idea of “selling out” was, it captured one incontrovertible truth: only a fool would write a song to make money. You write a song to surprise yourself, to give other people what they never knew they wanted. Perhaps what is missing from popular culture in the 21st century is sufficient contempt for those who give us what we asked for already." On "selling out", a concept lost to history [Dan Brooks, The Guardian]

My first laptop [Rachael Maddux]

The last vestiges of roadside Americana [Sam O'Brien, Gastro Obscura]

The strange survival of Guinness World Records [Imogen West-Knights, The Guardian]

'Felt presence': Why we sometimes feel invisible others [Claudia Hammond, BBC Future]

"This mundane view of a perfect life elevates tedious activities to the status of aspirational living. Your best life will be accessed by taking “pretty pictures”, wearing matching pyjama sets, cooking dinner at home, working out at 5am, buying flowers, lighting candles, stretching." Beware the ‘beige-fluencers’ [Sarah Manavis, The Guardian]

"Most people don't spend a lot of time thinking about poetry. Right? They have a life to live, and they're not really that concerned with Allen Ginsberg's poems or anybody's poems, until their father dies, they go to a funeral, you lose a child, somebody breaks your heart, they don't love you anymore, and all of a sudden, you're desperate for making sense out of this life… 'Has anybody ever felt this bad before? How did they come out of this cloud?' Or the inverse…something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes. You love them so much, you can't even see straight. You know, you're dizzy. 'Did anybody feel like this before? What is happening to me?' And that's when art's not a luxury, it's actually sustenance. We need it." - Ethan Hawke, via Nitch

[listen-to-the-trees]

Brown Bread Ice Cream

Upsides of this: I got to make the Guinness & Treacle Bread again. And I think it came out better than when I made it almost a year ago (I think. I’d have to go find my old post and check, and I’m lazy. Maybe later). It was also great with stew on a cold day. I only needed 7 grams of crumbs for the ice cream, so we could eat the rest.

Other upside: It made a surprisingly creamy ice cream that was great on a warm day (yay temperature swings?).

Downside: the caramelized brown bread crumbs in the ice cream. …I think.

Everyone who tried it said, “Well, that’s …odd. It tastes fine. But it’s…. weird.”.

I think next time I might just make it with a cinnamon and spice swirl or something. Maybe something fruity?

It’s got potential, so I think I’ll experiment with it some more, but I don’t think I’ll make it with the brown bread again.

[karimac]

Heya! My name is Anna and I got your name on my BINGO card. I have some questions for Kari:

If there is anything you could always make her happy with, what would that be?

What is her favourite color?

Does she have a memory that she looks back on fondly?

If she could travel anywhere right now, where would she go?

What is her favourite food?

Does she like to read? If so, what kind of books does she like?

Does she have any nervous habits? If so, what are they?

What is/was her family like?

Favourite way to spend any downtime she might have?

When did she get her cat and what spurred the decision?

Have a nice day/night! ☺

Thank you for the great questions, Anna!

1. The one thing that makes Kari happy is time back home in Ireland to recharge her batteries. She can be alone or with friends, but she can disconnect there in ways she can’t in other places.

2. Her favorite color is purple. Doesn’t matter the shade. She was born in February, so it reflects her birth flower (violets) and birthstone (amethyst). Second favorite color is green.

3. Her fondest memories usually revolve around her family, but the ones she thinks about most are the ones riding horseback with her brothers. Her sisters were not as fond of riding, so Kari would be up early and out at the stables with her twin Branan or her younger brothers Caedmon, Ruadhri and Malachi.

4. Kari does love to travel, and the one place she has never been to is space. To be able to see all of creation from that distance would be a truly humbling and beautiful experience for her.

5. Her favorite food? She probably never saw anything made from chocolate that she would pass up, so that would be high on the list. More substantial fare? A cold Guinness stout and a helping of Irish stew or Shepherd’s Pie.

6. Yes, Kari likes to read, and she would usually go for selected biographies or sci-fi/fantasy books. She also has a big collection of cookbooks. The only "trashy" things she admits to reading are a series of romance novels by an old friend named Devnet Casey.

7. She likes to bite her lower lip or twirl her hair a bit if she is anxious, and she also drums her fingers on counters and tabletops.

8. Kari’s family was loud and a tad crazy. She had eight brothers and four sisters as well as various cousins who would visit from time to time. Her parents always welcomed the lot into their home, even if it meant breaking up the occasional fight. Kari and her siblings were always very tight knit, despite the fact Kari lived away from them for long stretches of time.

9. Kari usually opts to head back to Ireland to be at home with her horses, but she has also spent a lot of time in New York just hanging out in her apartment. Since the current roster of Avengers is still a bit in flux, she might hang out with some of them in social settings as time permits.

10. Kari has always had animals around, and one day she just decided it was a good time to find a new companion. She had seen a story about a new cat cafe in New York City, and she decided to check it out. She was probably lonelier than she likely would admit to anyone, even herself, and that little orange ray of sunshine was just what she needed to make things a bit better.

Hope you have a great day/night, too!

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Feasts, Food and Drink

Picture yourself at a banquet held at the local Lord's castle. The music is playing, the people are chatting and rustling about in their best clothes. You sit at a table and what sits before you? Not chicken nuggets, my friend.

Food is always one of the staples of any world you build. You can get a feel of class, society and morality just by looking at the spread before you on the table.

Food for lower classes (Peasants)

Most peasants lived off the land, rearing flocks, tilling fields and tending orchards. If they lived near the sea, lakes, rivers or streams, they would fish. But since they lived on land owned by churches or lords, they would only be allowed a portion of what they grew. In cities, the peasants would buy food from one another at the market.

Peasants would make bread out of rye grain, that would make the bread very dark. In some communities they would make sourdough, which involves using a piece of dough you made the day before to make that day's bread.

Eggs were a source of food that was easy to come by as farmers kept chickens on hand.

Cheese and butter would be sold and used in the farm.

Jam would also be made as it was easy to preserve and sell.

Peasants would not eat much meat. Chickens made money by laying eggs, pigs could be fattened and sold for profit and cows and goats would be used for milk. By killing any of these animals for food they would loose a portion of money. Poaching (hunting on private land owned by the lord) would come with severe penalties.

Pottage and stew were a favourite of peasants as they could throw any vegetables or bit of meat or fish in a pot to cook for a few hours. It wasn't a difficult dish to make and often inexpensive.

Pies, pasties and pastries would be a favourite at inns and taverns in towns and cities most containing gravy, meat and vegetables.

With most villages and farms set close to forests, many peasants could find berries at the edge of fields. Blueberries, blackberries, raspberries would have all grown wild.

Food for Nobility & Royalty

Nobility and Royalty could always afford better food than the poor. However it might be a patch more unhealthy than the poor's fare. Nobility and Royalty weren't fans of vegetables.

The rich would eat a lot of meat, much of which they would hunt down themselves on their own land. Deer, wild boar, rabbits, turkey and other wild creatures would all be on the table.

Nobility and Royalty would be fond of fish as well. Lamprey eels was a delicacy only preserved for special occasions.

They could afford salt which was important for preserving meat and fish. This would allow the castle/manor/palace to be stocked in times of winter or famine.

They could also afford pepper and other spices, all of which could cost a fortune, to flavour their food.

During a feast, they would eat off of platters made of precious metals but only if you were seated at the high table. Other less important guests would eat off a trencher, a piece of hollowed out stale bread.

Sugar would be the height of dessert. The sugar would be shaped into fantastical formations to impress the noble guests. Tudor chefs would create edible sugar plates for Henry VIII to eat off of.

Swans and peacocks would be served in their plumage. Swans would be more royal diners as in England the monarch owns all the swans. In Ireland, it is illegal to kill a swan mainly because they could be children trapped in swan-bodies. Long story.

Feasts

At certain events, the noble/monarch might throw a party. Most parties would begin with a dinner.

The high table would seat the family throwing the party and the honoured guests. All the food would come to them first to be distributed to their favourites. They would drink the best wine and have the finest bread.

The rest of the hall would be seated together at trestle tables, eating off trenchers. They would be sent food by the thrower of the feast on account of their personal importance or social standing. The closer you were to the salt cellar, placed at the head of the table the more important you were. The further away you were, the lower your status.

Servants called cupbearers would serve wine and drink and move about the hall to carry jugs of wine to water the guests.

Dogs would often be found in the hall, to be fed scraps by the diners.

Drink

No world or party is complete without the booze. Since much of the water in Mediaeval times was putrid or dirty, the classes would avoid it.

Beer: was both a favourite of peasants and the nobility. It would be brewed in castles or in taverns and inns, each site having a different recipe and taste. It would be stored in barrels. Beer was widely available across the world and could be brewed at home. So therefore it was inexpensive.

The two main types of beer would be:

Ale: Ale in the middle ages referred to beer brewed without hops (a kind of flowering plant that gives beer its bitter taste). It is sweeter and would typically have a fruity aftertaste.

Stout: is a darker beer sometimes brewed from roasted malt, coming in a sweet version and dry version, the most famous stout being Guinness.

Wine: Wine would be made on site of vineyards and stored in cellars of large houses or castles. They would be expensive as they would have to be imported from regions capable of growing vines.

Port: Port wine or fortified wine would be made with distilled grape spirits. It is a sweet red wine, and also would be expensive to import from the counties able to grow the correct vines.

Whiskey: is a spirit made from distilled fermented grain mash in a device called a still (which would always be made of copper). The age of whiskey is determined by the length of time it has been sitting in a cask from the time it is made to the time its put in bottles. Whiskey was a favourite drink in colder climates and could be made any where in the world.

Rum: Rum is made by fermenting and distilling sugarcane molasses/juice. It is aged in oak barrels and would have to be imported as it could only be made in lands able to grow sugarcane.

Poitín: (pronounced as pot-cheen) is made from cereals, grain, whey, sugar beet, molasses and potatoes. It is a Dangerous Drink (honestly i still don't know how I ended up in that field with a traffic cone and a Shetland pony) and technically illegal. Country folk in Ireland used to brew it in secrets in stills hidden on their land.

[shannygoatgruff]

Big Scary Love

(Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​)

For @a-mess-of-fandoms​ Kayla’s 1K Writing Challenge: Prompt #20 (prompt in bold in text below)

Characters: Ivar || Ubbe

Genre:  Romance

Warning: None

Rating: PG

Summary: A little brother seeks approval as he’s about to make the biggest decision of his life.

A/N: I was supposed to have written and submitted this one-shot for @a-mess-of-fandoms​​ months ago, but I suck! I have struggled with this thing so much. I have literally rewritten it 19 times. I don’t know why one-shots are so hard for me. The only have to be one scene, but I struggle with did I choose the right scene, how much do I want to say about it, did I find resolution? Needless to say, I was never happy with anything I wrote. It still didn’t turn out exactly as I hoped, but it’s close.

Congrats on your many followers! I’m sorry I’m so late.

Big Scary Love

Lothbrok’s Bar and Grille sat approximately two miles south off of exit 131B  between Kattegat and Hedeby. 

Established in 1990, the bar was built from the ground up by the Sigurdsson brothers, Ragnar and Rollo, as a place where the blue-collar people of both towns could get a good meal and stiff drink. It was also the place where Ragnar’s sons had grown up and naturally where they chose to carry on the childhood tradition of their monthly family game night. 

Dating back to when Bjorn first taught Ubbe and Hvitserk how to play Go Fish, when they were the ages of 6 and 4. respectively, the boys would meet at a table in the back of the restaurant to play games. It helped keep them close, especially since Bjorn lived in Hedeby with Lagertha and the other boys lived in Kattegat with Aslaug. But, the bar was in the middle, on neutral territory. It provided a place where they could all gather and remain close when distance and the common dislike between the adults threatened to tear them apart.  

Almost thirty years later the tradition continues at 7:30 pm on the third Thursday of the month. Bjorn and his wife Gunnhild, Ubbe along with his wife Torvi, Hvitserk and his girlfriend Amma, Sigurd with his boyfriend Kalf, and Ivar who vowed to start bringing his girlfriend, Cami, would gather, at the table in the back left corner, to play the game of choice according to whose name was next on the chalkboard. 

Watching the door, Ivar’s brows raise when he recognizes his older brother cross the threshold. Slowly, he continues to organize the colorful money so that all the faces aligned in the same direction and before placing it back in the bank. A quick nod acknowledges the fact that Ubbe is headed to the bar to get a drink before he takes a seat at the large table in the back corner of the room, already set for the brothers’ monthly game. Tonight’s game is his pick, Monopoly.

Ubbe shivers slightly, trying to knock off the outside chill as he brushes the fresh snow from his black wool pea coat. As he approaches the bar, he removes his gloves and smiles at his younger brother. “Hvitserk,” he sings, clasping the younger Ragnarsson’s hand before drawing him into a manly hug, “How’s it going, brother?”

“Pretty good,” Hvitserk answers patting his brother on the back with a smile, “What are you doing here so early? We’re not supposed to meet for another,” he looks up at the clock built into the ship’s wheel on the far wall, “hour.”

“Ah,” Ubbe puts one his foot on the wooden rungs of the bar stool and balances his weight on his other leg while he plays with the coaster, “Ivar asked me to meet him here early.” He looks over his right shoulder toward the table in the back and holds up a finger to his youngest brother and then points to the bar to ask if he would like a drink. “Do you know what’s up with him?”

“He probably wants you to help him cheat,” Hvitserk explains as he takes the towel from over his shoulder and wipes down the side of the bar to Ubbe’s left. “The usual?” He prepares two drinks, when Ubbe holds up two fingers, for both of his brothers. “Oh, Angrboda just made a huge pot of Helga’s seafood stew.”

Ubbe’s eyes light up as he nods his head, “That sounds great. I’m fucking freezing. Send over a large bowl with bread, yeah?” He knocks on the bar twice, as is customary, before picking up the glasses and makes his way to the table.   

Ubbe sits the drinks on the table and smiles cheerfully, “Hey, baby boy.” He walks around and hugs his brother’s head before leaning down to kiss him on the top of his hair, “How you doing, kid? You good?” Receiving a pat on his forearm, he playfully pushes Ivar away before flopping down on a chair beside him.

“Hey,” Ivar answers watching his brother sit, holding an awkward smile on his lips, “thanks for meeting me early.” He takes a look out the window at the falling snow covering up his uneven footprints on the sidewalk, “It’s getting bad out there?”

“Nah, not really. Should have a good covering come morning, but nothing too bad.” Ubbe picks up his glass and takes a drink, stretching his lips across his teeth as the sour taste of the vodka gimlet settles on his tongue. He takes note of the way his brother is arranging the game pieces and watches for a moment before he speaks, “So…what’s going on? Why did I need to meet you here before the others?”

Ivar takes a sip of the Guinness Stout and picks up the Chance cards to arrange them all in the same direction, “Well, uh, Ubbe. I wanted to talk to you, about…about, Camille.”

“What about her?” Ubbe isn’t sure where this conversation is headed. He’s only met her a handful of times and she seems nice enough, though he’s not sure she’s the one for Ivar. There’s no reason for him to feel that way, it’s just something in his gut that says the relationship will be short-lived. 

“So,” Ivar takes in a deep breath. Having rehearsed his speech for the better part of the day, he struggles to remember to pace himself and breathe, “You know we’ve been together for a little over a year now and things are going in a really good direction with us. She’s moving in with me. We’ve even talked about looking for a small house together.” He looks up from the game box to gauge his brother’s reaction. Unable to read Ubbe’s face he continues, “I want to ask her to marry me.”

Ubbe coughs down the gimlet that gets caught in his throat as he swallows. He sits back in the chair and leans against the backrest folding his arms across his chest. He tries to keep his mouth closed to let his brother finish but the words start to spill out his mouth, “Oh, Ivar,” he chuckles, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” 

“Why because she’s Afro-Latina and not Viking? I thought you of all people would understand that our differences don’t matter to me. Hell, I’m different, and it didn’t stop her from wanting to be with me,” Ivar defends.

“Of course not, brother. I’m not a dick,” Ubbe places his hand on his brother’s arm to calm him, “I only meant that she’s your first girlfriend. I get that you’re excited, and everything is still pretty new with you two. But, you don’t have to run out and propose to the first girl that you -” he raises his brows and ducks his head to signal Ivar what he’s talking about. “You will have lots of relationships. You will meet a ton of beautiful women that will blow your mind in bed. Hell, you might even want to marry them all. We all know Bjorn tries to,” both brothers chuckle at that, “but it’s not necessary.”

“You don’t understand, Ubbe.” Ivar interrupts, “it’s not like that.”

“You don’t understand, kid. Bjorn will never release your shares from this place before you’re 30. Especially not if he knew you would be just turning it over to some girl and knowing you it would be without a prenup. Without the interest on that trust, what will you do for money, huh? Work for Hvitserk?” He raises his brow at Ivar while ignoring the flash of anger in the younger man’s eye. “Rollo and Father put every dime and ounce of sweat they had into this restaurant to give us a legacy. You are too young to remember, but there were nights when Father would not come home because he was here laying the foundation, brick by brick. There were also many times when Mother had nothing but soup to feed us all because there was no money to buy meat; father spent it all to see his dream come true. His dream was for us to have a better life and we did. When he died, we all got a piece of this place and the money from it is for our future.”

Ubbe blinks his blue eyes thoughtfully at the younger man beside him, “Besides, baby boy, you are so impulsive – as soon as you get an idea, you jump on it. You don’t always think things through. Have you really thought about this?”

“When Bjorn decided to join the Army and go to war, we didn’t tell him he couldn’t go. We let him go live out his dreams of being one of the Avengers. And was Hvitserk being impulsive when he decided that he wanted to take this place over after Helga died? He did not know the restaurant business. Liking to eat and running a restaurant are two different things, but none of us tried to talk him out of it?” Ivar rolled his eyes and slammed the game cards onto the board, “We all rallied around him and pooled our money together to help him remodel this place how he wanted. We promised that even if he fucked up we would pitch in and help keep this place afloat. My money is here, too. I should be able to have it if I want it.”

“But, Ivar…”

“I’m not finished, Ubbe,” Ivar runs his fingers through his long, loose hair and pulls it over to one shoulder, “When you decided to marry Torvi, a woman that had three children that weren’t yours, did any of us say anything? No. We could see that you loved her and that she made you happy and that was enough. And Sigurd? He was scared as hell to tell us about Kalf, but in the end, it was fine, because he’s our brother and we support each other. But why not me?”

Ubbe takes another drink and sets his cup down silently. He regards his little brother and smiles at him softly, “Because you, my little Ivar, are my baby brother and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezes Ivar’s shoulder lovingly, “I have always looked out for you. I have been your legs since you were a child. You are a part of me, brother, and I must protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from love, Ubbe. She’s my big scary love,” Ivar’s eyes drop bashfully as the blush stains his cheeks.

 “Your what?”

“That’s what we call it – big scary love. You know that love you feel all the time, but sometimes you wake up in the morning and you just say to yourself, ‘I love the fuck out of this woman?’ It’s that love that after a year I still feel fluttering in my chest when I hear her ringtone and why my world spirals out of control when I see tears in her eyes. And she loves me that way, too, Ubbe. I mean, look at me,” he opens his hands in surrender, “In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. Well, she does. She loves me like that and so much more. My legs, crawling around, breaking bones, the pain, my temper...hell, she loves me despite those things. To her, they are just additional sides of me to love.”

Ubbe listens to his brother, trying to keep the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes at bay. He can hear it in Ivar’s voice that he is truly happy. Now, he regrets not getting to know Cami better, but he admits to himself that he did not think that their relationship would last. “I am happy that you found love, Ivar.”

 “She’s pregnant.”

Ubbe unintentionally holds his breath as he tries to think of something else to say, but no words will come out. Why can’t Ivar see what he’s doing? This is all the more reason for him not to make this mistake.

“That’s not the reason why I want to marry her, though.” Ivar smile doubles in size as he thinks about the prospect of becoming a father, “I’ll admit the idea of having a baby is like…fuck! But, I want to marry her because I want to make her my family. I want it all, Ubbe; a family of my own, with her. She’s it for me.”

 “So, what do you want from me?”

With a shrug, Ivar relaxes, “Your permission? Your blessing? Congratulations? I don’t know. You’ve always been my favorite brother – I guess I just want to know that I’ll still have you in my corner. I don’t give a fuck about the money from the restaurant. If Bjorn wants to be an ass and tie it up for years, so be it. I’ll get a real job and stop living off of the family name. The only thing I want is Mother’s ring. I want to propose the right way…and maybe you in my corner.”

Ubbe cups one hand around Ivar’s cheek and gives him a few hits, “My baby brother has finally grown up!” Leaning in, he places his other hand on Ivar’s other cheek before pulling his face toward him to kiss him on both cheeks, “You’re going to be a father and husband! I’m so proud and happy for you! Of course, I will stand up for you, brother. All I have ever wanted was for you to find your own happiness.” Ubbe can’t stop the laughter coming from him as he notices Hvitserk coming over to the table. “And it would be my honor to give you Mother’s ring.”

“Sorry, it took so long. Porunn was late for her shift again. Know any good people needing a job? I could use some help around here.” Hvitserk says, sitting the bowl of soup on the table. He looks at his brothers and smiles at them laughing like loons, “What are you idiots up to?”

Ubbe gives Ivar a knowing smile as he hugs him around the shoulders. “Nothing. Just our brother here has some wonderful news to share tonight when the others arrive.”

Nodding, Hvitserk punches Ivar’s arm and picks up Ubbe’s glass to toast, “Well, to whatever your news is, Ivar,” he clicks glasses with his youngest brother and finishes off Ubbe’s drink. “I’ll get you another, Ubbe.” As he turns to walk toward the bar, he yells over his shoulder, “And you’re not banker during Monopoly tonight, Ivar. You always cheat!”

 Tags:  @youbloodymadgenius​​​ @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson​​​ @mooniemouse​​​ @didiintheblog​​​ @waiting4inspiration​​​ @tempt-ress​ @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue​​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​ @ivarthebloodyking​​​ @honestsycrets​​​   @xbellaxcarolinax​​​  @zuxiezendler​​​ @inforapound​​​​  @a-mess-of-fandoms​

[trevorbarre]

Shane MacGowan: A Crock of ****? Part One

So, we had Julian Temple’s film about Shane MacGowan on BBC4 the other night, called The Crock of Gold.. And hard work it was too; I had to watch it in three separate viewings. Just like having to spend an evening with an unpleasant and patronising drunk. (Think Sid Vicious in Temple’s film of the Sex Pistols,The Filth and the Fury, nodding out by the side of Nancy, and making about as much sense.) Now, I’m a big fan of Temple’s work, including his peon to London, London: the Modern Babylon, and the city in some way provides a link between all three of Temple’s documentaries. I’m not proposing to discuss MacGowan’s ‘Irish  poetic genius’, but do want to explore why he has been proposed as such, and to why some (mostly) men are so sycophantic and brown-nosing around and about him. An alternative title for this blog was Just like Keith Richards, in that both men have been lionised by a particular type of music fan, despite having produced nothing of any value for several decades. Both have been spuriously celebrated for being still alive at this point in time - the difference is that Richards is quite likeable and seemingly modest, and seems to be in reasonable shape. MacGowan lacks both qualities.

The Crock of Gold was financed by Johnny Depp, in the news recently for his own particular contribution to #MeToo. Depp clearly so wants to be ‘rock and roll’, and seems to find McGowan’s every utterance unutterably hilarious (they aren’t, being mostly incomprehensible). Ditto the usual suspects, Bobbie Gillespie and Nick Cave (similar exponents of macho posturing, vide Murder Ballads and Vanishing Point, for example). Even Bono gets in on the act. MacGowan’s  posturing about the IRA (in person to Gerry Adams, ffs) invites similar ridicule to Gillespie’s around The Black Panthers and Cave’s around Stagger Lee and the reductio ad absurdum of the utterly tedious ‘O’Malley’s Bar’ (on Murder Ballads). Add The Clash to make a toxic stew of white male testosterone (beefed up by unhealthy doses on narcotics, in most of these cases, Strummer excepted). Despite the incredibly loyal Victoria Clarke, MacGowan’s audience seems to be overwhelmingly masculine. (The live Pogues film clips show the audience to almost entirely consist of shouty, sweary and sweaty blokes, intoxicated with their own belligerence and pissed swagger.) The violence against women in Cave’s oeuvre has drawn much comment, but MacGowan mainly reserves his own ire for those who have somehow upset him for whatever reason, Bob Gelfof (now I wonder why?), the English generally (”I feel guilty for not joining the IRA” is one of his more preposterous  bon mots), W.B Yeats.

MacGowan’s self-presentation of a horny-handed man of the Irish soil and public house seems rather contradicted by his obvious tipple of choice (and it ain’t Guinness or whiskey): the sheer fact that he’s nodding out in nearly every ‘shot’ is testament to Thailand’s favourite export. Despite the whole ‘survivor’ shtick (which has served Keef so well), he seemed confined to a wheelchair at the time of the film, having apparently fallen down the stairs (can’t think how), coincidently the mode of death of Sandy Denny and John Balance (or lack of same, unfortunately). He looks absolutely TERRIBLE, and yet this seems to only spur on the sycophants and celebrants, who giggle at his every pronouncement and tablet from the mountain. (Sample: “the most popular Irish word is “fuck”, cue side-holding and tear-wiping from the likes of Depp and Clarke: ‘feck’ might have been more accurate?) The down side of this sort of hagiography is that it continues to promote decades-old ‘jazz cliches’ about substance abuse and creativity: McGowan’s brief spurt of creativity (approximately 1984-8) seems to have finished once he discovered the joys of narcotics.

The Pogues’ first three albums were wonderful (up to a point), but I think comparisons to Yeats himself, Joyce, Behan, O’Neill, Synge, etc. (as on the inside sleeve of If I Should Fall from Grace with God) stretch credibility, and underestimate the considerable contribution of the other band members. (For example, the best track on the latter album was by Phillip Chevron, ‘Thousands are Sailing’ and the ‘ka-ching’ fave, ‘Fairytale of New York’, was co-written with Jem Finer, it needs stating.)

To be continued...

[hoodoo12]

hi! can i make a request for rick x reader where the reader is from our dimension and somehow gets transported to the c-137 dimension? how would rick react to his biggest fan and the fact that his life is a tv show? thank you!

So …  funny story. I wrote a fill to this, then realized I misread the request. The request was for the reader to end up in c137, not for Rick to end up in the reader’s dimension … Guess what I wrote?Anyhoo, I wrote this so here it is. Apologies for misreading and la la la writing whatever. And the dogs in the story are my dogs, because fuck it. 

SFW. Rick. Reader. Rick is real; reader is understandably freaked out.

You’ve seen horror movies. You’ve read the stories on the internet about monsters. You’ve had nightmares where something slender, tall and faceless looms over your bed. But those always had the nebulous quality of nightmares, and this

this

this

was real.

You were pulled from sleep by the subtle feeling that something was wrong. Opening your eyes, you were blinded by an eddying mass of green, which silhoutted a form that was too long, too lean. Through squinted eyes, you see it lift a knee to step through, lift the other, and it was in your bedroom. 

Frightened, your fingers desperately tried to find the switch for the light attached to your bedframe. They can never locate it quickly in the dark but finally they do, and with a quiet, ‘snap!’, the single bulb flares to life, reblinding you.

It blinds this … visitor too, apparently, who snarls a curse.

“Jesus fucking christ! Gimme some fucking warning!”

You shoot up in bed.

“Nice tits,” Rick says, eyeing you. “I always wondered how many people actually sleep naked vers-versus not.”

Adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream, you try and catch your breath as you pull the sheets up. “Who–what–what are–what is–”

He grimaces down at you. “Keep go-ing. Eventually you’ll get a full sentence out.”

His voice is just as gravely and distainful as you’ve heard in thirty one episodes.

You swallow and try again. “You’re Rick Sanchez.”

He smirks. “Give the lady a prize.”

“What in the fuck–?”

“You got anything to drink? I’m parched,” he announces, and goes to your bedroom door. In a second he’s out and heading down the stairs.

You stare after him a moment, then scramble up, calling, “Uh, Rick? Rick, wait!”

Before you can catch up to him, the dogs are barking.

Pulling on an oversized shirt while tripping down the stairs, you flip on the light to find Rick in your foyer safe from your dogs, who are going crazy behind the baby gate.

“Digby! Digby! Knock it off!” you yell over the racket the larger of the two dogs is making. He’s loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Your dog only pauses for a moment before standing stiff-legged and tail straight, staring Rick down, and continuing his deep barks.

“You’re going to be kenneled!” you threaten loudly, but that doesn’t deter him.

Your other dog, small and stripey, has all her hair up and is darting back and forth, occasionally whining in a pitch that just may be more annoying than the rumbling barking.

“Pua!” you admonish. Like with Digby, it doesn’t stop her.

“This was obviously a mistake,” Rick announces. “Your dogs are not well trained.”

“They are!” you spit back at him. “They were just startled because–” It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him “a cartoon character just showed up out of nowhere!”, but you catch yourself. “–you just appeared in the middle of the night!”

He watches the two beasts for a moment, then carefully offers a hand over the gate.

Both dogs immediately rush in to smell him, Digby becoming soft and wiggly; Pua still suspicious but willing to give him a sniff.

“Don’t grab at Pua, she might snap,” you advise.

“Why doesn’t that one bark?” he asks, as he lets them continue their investigation of their hand. “It’s fucking freaky.”

Apparently there were some limits to a genius science grandpa’s knowledge.

“She’s a basenji. They don’t bark like other dogs,” you explain, as you watch Rick cautiously scritch her head. “There are two theories. One–which I don’t believe–is that their vocal cords aren’t developed the same as other domestic dogs. The other is that they’re a primative breed, and most domestic dogs were developed to retain neonatal traits like drop ears and barking, because that’s cute and people like it. Wolf puppies have those kind of traits, but adult wolves don’t, and genetics confirm that basenjis are one of the earliest dog breeds–”

“Jesus,” Rick mutters, interrupting you with an eyeroll. “So that’s how that feels?”

Puzzled, you say, “What?”

“Having someone explain something to you you don’t care about,” he expounds.

“Oh. You mean like how you do all the damn time?” In your head you add, “on the show?” but once again, keep it to yourself.

Rick flashes you a quick grin. “Yeah. Something like th-th-that.”

You shake your head.

“Well? You got anything to drink or not? Do I have to go through these dogs to get to the kitchen?”

“We can get to the kitchen here. Let me close the other door.”

You got through one kitchen door before the dogs realize they can race to you, although they hurry when they hear where you are. You close the other kitchen door in their faces, tell them to knock it off when one of them scratches at it, and stand aside to let Rick into your kitchen.

“I miss dogs,” he says quietly, which was not something you’d ever expect him to say. He gives himself a shake and, uninvited, goes over and opens up your refrigerator.

Leaning down, he peers inside. You take the opportunity to take a good look at him. His hair is the silvery-blue of someone who uses shampoo and bluing agents to make sure their grey strains don’t yellow. Even draped in a lab coat he’s skinny almost to the point of being underweight. You’re pretty sure you could wrap your arms around his waist twice and if you squeezed hard enough do some significant damage to him.

He grabs something from the back of the fridge and stands back up.

“This is all you have?” he accuses, holding up an open bottle of Guinness.

“You don’t want to drink that. I don’t know how old it is.”

“What the fuck?”

“I bake with it, not drink it!” you snap back.

Rick glares suspiciously at it and sets it on the counter. “Then what else have you got?”

“Not much,” you admit. “There’s a tiny bottle of Bombay Sapphire on the window sill you can have.”

He sees it and snags it. “This is the size-this is exactly what they give you on an airplane!”

You shrug. “Then welcome aboard. You can have it or not.”

He mutters something you don’t quite make out under his breath but breaks the seal on the tiny bottle and drains it in one go. He grimaces.

“Ugh … gin …”

“Not ‘ugh, gin’,” you correct. “Bombay Sapphire. It’s a gateway gin. If you’d given me an advance notice you were inviting yourself over, I’d have made sure I had a good gin here for you.”

It dawns on you that you just spoke to Rick Sanchez like he’s completely normal, like you were familiar with each other, like a goddamn cartoon character didn’t just appear in your house in the middle of the night.

“I like vodka,” he replies huffily.

You roll your eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

Rick shuffles over to the table at the far end of the kitchen, pulls out a chair, and sits. You ignore the dogs still scratching, whining, and snuffling at the door keeping them out of the room you’re in, and join him, awkwardly sitting down across the table from him. You’re suddenly nervous as well as weirded out.

He stares unabashedly at you. When the silence stretches, he taps his fingers on the table. You watch the movement and try to slow your breathing. When the silence stretches even longer because you have no idea what to say to him, Rick gets impatient and blows air noisely out his mouth. 

“Well?” he demands.

“Um … well, what?” you squeak.

“Well anything? You’re just going to sit there, all-all mouselike? You’re not gonna–you don’t want to talk to me?”

That assessment was completely false. “I–well … I uh, I don’t know what to talk about!” you admit. He rolls his eyes again and the annoyance radiates off him. Before he can say anything disparaging or get up to leave, you challenge him with, “You’re Rick Sanchez. Don’t you just want to fuck my brains out?”

His jaw drops a little. Then he bursts into loud laughter that startles both you and your dogs.

The laughter actually makes him wipe his eyes. You watch him suspiciously, not understanding the joke. When he’s finally able to speak again, he can’t hide the amusement in his voice. 

“Oh shit, baby, that’s gold. That’s gold right there.”

You feel your brows knit together. “What is?”

“The idea that a seventy year old man can fuck your brains out!”

That didn’t clear things up.

“What?”

Rick made a final wipe across his face, but it didn’t remove his grin. “I’m seventy years old,” he tells you, like you didn’t know. “I know what you write in your fanfics, but at my age, it’s much more likely you’d fuck my brains out rather than the other way around. Or maybe you’d screw my back up or something. What I’m saying is, sex at seventy isn’t like sex at twenty, thirty, or forty.”

Secretly flattered that he hadn’t mentioned your age, you almost answer him by making some gesture that you don’t believe him, until one part of his response bounces to the forefront of your brain.

“You read my fanfiction?!”

That makes him laugh again. “I can travel between dimensions and do what I want. I have intergalatic and interdimensional internet, so yeah. I read your fanfiction.”

You feel your face heat up and know you’re beet red from embarrassment. Rick continues to be greatly amused, and gives you time to try and muddle though an apology.

“I don’t–I’m sorry!” you stammer. “I don’t write ‘real person’ fics, I think that’s weird, I’m really sorry! I’m so sorry! I never would have done it if I knew, if I knew–”

It was on the tip of your tongue to finish your babble with, “–if I knew you were real,” but you just can’t come out and say it.

Rick lets you stew in your embarrassment for a moment, then says,

“It’s cool. Seriously. I mean, how many other people can say they’ve got groupies of people writing about their sexcapades, making them into insatiable sex gods? Not very many pay attention to details like refractory periods or anything, and that kind of adoration goes straight to my head! Man, Squanchy gets so pissed off about it!”

You try to wrap your head around this information. “So … you’re okay with it?”

“Oh yeah,” he replies, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There are some really talented writers out there! All that hot smut … it’s all creative and-and even if I haven’t done some of that stuff in real life, I feel like I have because of the universe of sex you all have come up with. I love it.”

“And Squanchy …?”

Rick chuckles. “Yeah, he gets pissed because I brag about it all the time. Who wouldn’t? But he barely gets any action, when as a person more feline than not, he’s actually ready to go all the damn time!”

His being entertained by it makes it slighty amusing for you too, and your embarrassment fades a little. It’d never occurred to you to consider writing  Squanchy in a story before …

More relaxed now, you do feel more comfortable that Rick Sanchez just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night and is sitting at your kitchen table, shooting the breeze. The two of you chat. You offer him something else to drink or eat, and end up making him a turkey sandwich at four in the morning. The dogs finally give up trying to break into the room, and you let them in to greet him. Once again, as he pets them and feeds them the crusts from his sandwich, he mentions how he misses dogs in his dimension. It’s an interesting and odd insight.

When dawn finally breaks over the horizon, Rick stands up, stretches, and tells you he has to leave. You ask if you can see his portal gun.

With a waggle of his eyebrows like you’d made some sexual innuendo, he pulls it out of his inside pocket and hands it to you. It’s lighter than you expected it to be, and the fluid in the vial on top is more viscous and iridescent, like mercury, than you’d pictured it. You give it back.

Rick conjures his portal–there’s no sound, unlike what you’ve written in your stories–on your refrigerator. Your dogs scatter to the safety of your living room. Just as he goes to leave, you say,

“I want to tell people you were here, but no one’s going to believe you just showed up! What am I going to tell them?”

“Write a story,” he suggested, with a wink.

Then he was gone and the portal constricted to nothingness, leaving you in your kitchen with a plate covered in crumbs and tiny empty bottle of gin.

fin!

[ohnohetaliasues]

• Info

Okay, first off, let me say, she is gorgeous!!!!! I’m in love with her appearance. You’ve nailed the stereotypical Irish appearance, and that has made me insanely happy as a Hetalia OC reviewer, and as a girl of Irish decent. I have that texture of hair, and the eyes are definitely a good color. I actually have green eyes myself. Not that green, kind of dull green, but you get what I’m saying. Her hair is very nice, and I’m okay with the color, as it’s stereotypical, and it’s also a natural hair color, and is something I’ve seen before in nature. The freckles are a good touch, too. I especially like the Celtic symbol on her dress in the first picture. Anyway, onto the info.

Name: Janet O’Connor / Seana Ó Conchobhair. (Janet and Seana have the same meaning, “gift from God”, but Janet is the anglicized version of “Seana” ) She has freckles, red curly hair and pale skin, with big emerald eyes. Her body is kinda curvy: she has wide hips, big thighs and butt, but a pretty narrow waist and a small bust. She has a scar behind her right shoulder from a shot of the 1916 Easter Rising. She’s kinda strong, and has a lot of strenght in her legs (due to step dancing and her love for cycling).

Very very good representation there. Irish people are stereotyped to be very robust and muscular. I like the work you put into this a lot. I especially like how her name was Anglicized, since the British had control over the Irish for a very long time.

I set her birthday on the 17th of March, Saint Patrick’s Day. I think she might look around 25.

Good. Good age too, considering Ireland is over 3,000 years old. While her birthday is fine, I’d suggest January 21 as an option as well, as that’s Ireland’s independence day from the English.

I started drawing her in this green “celtic/country-like” dress to make her look stereotypical, but of course she doesn’t really dress like this. She likes long and comfy skirts, overalls, blouses and off the shoulders shirts. She would wear any kind of boots. She’s pretty sensitive to cold so she starts wearing sweaters pretty early after the summer.

It gets cold in Ireland fairly early, so good addition.

She is just Ireland, both Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. The country was never “split” before 1921 so I thought that she decided to let England control the North together with her after the referendum. I draw her with the flag of the Republic of Ireland because it’s the country she totally takes care of.

Good choice.  

• Personality:

She’s stubborn and extremely patriotic, she says what she thinks and hates being told what to do, but she can be really friendly with people who show respect for her and her culture.

Describes the Irish in a nutshell. Good job. You obviously did a lot of research.

 Also, she’s kinda protective and caring towards the ones she loves, and really welcoming with people who visit her country. She’s very hospitable, and wants her guests to feel great. She’s a daydreamer and has a strong sixth sense, being able to perceive other’s emotions from one look, making her very sensitive and compassionate. She’s loud and energetic, and really proud of irish traditions. In her opinion, anything made in Ireland is the best, and Ireland is like heaven on Earth. She’s really sarcastic, and loves making fun of someone she doesn’t like by making witty comments (she usually swears using gaelic words and phrases). She has always been a rebel, and sometimes she can be moody and really short-tempered. She tends to hold grudges (forgive but not forget) and when she feels blue she often isolates herself from the rest of the world.

• Interests:

She’s a great fan of rugby (her favourite athlete is Brian O’Driscoll), and she can play a bit of Camogie. She also likes watching boxe, and she’s a fan of Katie Taylor and Conor McGregor. She likes swimming a lot, and often goes to the beach or to the lake to spend a lot of time in the water. She loves gardening and spends a lot of time in it; her garden is full of different kind of flowers and plants. She also cultivates a large number of vegetables, potatoes above all. She likes watching cooking shows (she’s a fan of the scottish cook Gordon Ramsay) and she’s pretty good at cooking “rural/rustic” dishes. I think she was good at hunting, but I imagine that after many battles she’s now a bit tired, and prefers other hobbies, such as playing harp (her harp is a Camac Vendome, and she called it Erin). She loves music, but she’s not so good at singing, though, even if she loves attending folk rock concerts and scream the song lyrics! She’s a big fan of Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly, The Cranberries, Clannad, Enya, Sinead O’Connor and many other musicians, but now her favourite band is probably U2. She loves to dance, especially folk music, but in her life she learnt different styles of dancing such as walzer or latin. She’s crazy about DDR (Dance Dance Revolution) and the Just Dance games on Wii (I guess Alfred was the one that let her know about these games). She can obviously see magical creatures such as the Leprechauns and all the “aes sídhe”(even the dangerous ones), and she likes telling stories, legends and jokes; she gets really excited for Saint Patrick’s Day and Halloween (Samhain), which originated in her own country. She’s pretty religious and pious, but after all the things she went through in her life she’s far from being bigot or narrow-minded. Plus, she also feels a strong bond with the ancient traditions of her land. So she’s ready to go to mass every sunday but she’s also the first being excited about celtic festivals like Imbolc, Beltane and Lughnasa.

I don’t have much to say cuz this is all so great!

She prefers beer over whiskey, and her favourite is Guinness, but her favourite whiskey is Jameson’s. Her favourite dishes are colcannon and Irish stew. Her favourite snacks are crisps sandwiches and beans on toast. She has three rabbits: a white one, a black one and a red/orange one. She called them Columba, Brigit and Patrick, just as the three major saints of Ireland. She’s scared of Banshees (the woman-like spirits that will cry and scream if a clan member from one of the major families in Ireland will soon die -such as the O’Connors-) and snakes, seen as evil spirits by Saint Patrick, who taught her many things when she was very young.

I’m very happy!

•Short history:

Talking about her history, christianity and Saint Patrick’s work had a great influence on her when she was young, but she didn’t forget her past and celtic origins at all. She was an energetic and extrovert child, but she became a little more suspicious towards strangers after the viking invasions in the IX century, but the warrior king Brian Boru was able to get them out of the island after a couple of centuries. Unfortunately, her island was declared as property of the English king Henry II in 1171, who became Lord of Ireland.

Good, I’m so glad you included this!

From then ’til 1542 was the period of Lordship of Ireland, and after this King Henry VIII officially became the first Irish King with the Crown of Ireland Act. The isle became part of the United Kingdom in 1800 (Acts of Union). During all this time Janet has always tried to rebel and gain freedom and independence, in one way or another, for example by joining “The Sea Queen of Connacht” Grace O’Malley during her journeys and fights against the english crown in XVI century. In the XVII century Penal Laws came from England in order to make Ireland accept the Anglican Church, and because of this there have always been many religious fights between them. She suffered the Irish Great Famine that happened in 1845, and she also travelled to the U.S. where she could work together with Alfred for a bit. She still hasn’t forgiven England for that period of mass starvation, even though her country received a little help. She’s grateful towards the other countries that helped her with donations.

Irish history is full of rebellions towards England and its laws: english government took away many rights from irish people, there was land expropriation, and many cultural things such as gaelic language and traditional dance were banned. Ireland has always tried to keep in touch with England’s enemies like France or Spain in order to get some help, but things didn’t always end up well. At the beginning of the XX century the rebellions ended up in some cruel fights between the two parts, also because of the birth of the IRA (Irish Republican Army) , a revolutionary military organization, born after the famous Easter Rising. This rebellion ended up in a disaster, but the next years were crucial: Ireland became a battlefield in which IRA and civilians fought against the english military forces. Michael Collins was a very important man in this period, and his work determined the end of the Irish War of Independence in 1921. After that, the Irish Free State was born, but the Northern region of Ireland (six counties) stayed with the United Kingdom. After this, a long civil war started between those who wanted Ireland to be unified and the ones who thought that it wasn’t necessary to take things too far and accept the situation. The fight went officially on ’til 1998 with the Good Friday Agreement, a treaty that explained relations between Republic of Ireland, Northern Ireland and United Kingdom at best. ( still in progress, adding more things in the future! sorry if I made any mistake, I don’t speak english as first language ^^“ )

My god that was amazing. You really did your research and I’m so proud of you! I taught you well, young Padawan.  Your English seemed fine to me! Anyway, on that note, please send in the updates asap, because I’d love to see more of this!

~Kat

[mitchellatrest]

Saturday Chats - Josh & Mitchell

When: 2/25/2017, evening

Where: The SpoonRest, Tahoe City, CA

What: A discussion between Mentor and Mentee

Mitchell looked at the fire in the lounge, watching the flames for a moment before flicking his eyes to the clock on the wall. Five pm and all was quiet, the two bookings off on their own. He'd had Josh in the kitchen most of the morning, prepping on this and that. And then had walked him through the process of menu setting and the order sheets he kept. Running the business was more than just the food after all. He sighed. "Josh? Do come sit down. There's nothing more to do today," he said with a flourish of his hand, moving towards the bar cart and plucking a bottle of red and a glass, moving to open and pour. "Care for a splash? No institute here to say no," he asked when his charge entered the room.

Josh had enjoyed all the movement of the morning, setting ready the menu along with Mitchell and now, he was finishing to set the containers in the fridge when he heard the professor calling him over. With his usual bright smile he untied his apron and set it aside before joining his boss in the lounge. “After the two very busy weekends we had, this one seems oddly calmed,” he said as he sat down and nodded at the offer “Yes, please. I think just one drink would be nice.”

Mitchell flashed the young man a smile, pouring out a second glass and handing it over as he circled around. "Excellent choice. A little blend I keep just for the easy drinking. Nothing fancy, but it's tasty." He settled into a chair, holding up his glass in salute. "Here's to us, Josh. We survived the last few weeks. Now, we do maintenance till the next holiday," he said with a teasing smile. A slow sip and a sigh, he let his eyes close for a few moments, basking in the warmth of the fire, the wine, and the company. "So how do you find it, working here under my unflinching thumb?"

Josh accepted the glass with a courteous nod and tipped his glass at the salute. He smelled the wine before taking a small sip. He smiled brighter at the professor when he explained “Is it floral or frutal?” he asked curiously since he was aware that Mitchell had an extensive knowledge about wines. “Is the next holiday spring break or is it calmer by then? I heard there will be a trip for everyone at Mousai for that week.” Josh took another small sip before answering “In all honestly, I’m loving it, but I did not think it would be so tiring,” he answered bashfully “But I am learning so much that is more than worth it.”

Mitchell gave an approving hum, flashing him a grin. "Fruit forward, most definitely. Notice how the sugars just sit on the front of your tongue a bit?" He swirled the glass slowly, humming. "The next big national holiday is absolutely Memorial day. But we've some bookings in late April that will start the summer season: spring break is exactly it." He arched an eyebrow and grinned. "There should be, if I remember correctly. We'll see if I'm able to go." He laughed, shaking his head and reaching up to loosen his tie. He'd reached the end of what he planned to do today anyway. "I'm very glad that you're enjoying it and that you're seeing it's a bit of a gut punch," he replied, a little smile flickering across his lips. "Now that is music to my ears. I hope it's not skewering your social life?"

Josh smiled and took another sip to try to notice the flavor as Mitchell had said “That is true, I can taste it now you mentioned it and I paid more attention.” The mention of the holiday had him slapping his forehead “That is true! I need to refamiliarize with our holidays here. I had spent too much time focused on other holidays than my brain only remembers the ones we have in common here and in Mexico,” he explained with an apologetic smile. “That means we will have a lot of work again soon,” he considered the idea with an excited demeanor. “If you need me to stay and help here, I have no problem with doing so,” Josh offered seriously. He nodded and grinned and the comment from the professor “I like challenges. It’s a great way to test my limits and set new goals for me and how to work for them.” A small blush spread on his face at the mention of his social life, his thoughts going immediately to two very attractive photographers. “No, not at all. I am not a very social person, and I still have time to spend it with friends.”

Mitchell laughed lightly. "Unless you want to go into professional wine tasting, the grid is useless. And too formulaic for my mind." He could hear his friend in New York calling him a philistine from here. Josh's reaction made him smile and he shifted his glance, watching the young man with kind eyes. "Ah yes, I'd grab a calendar. And familiarize yourself. Or look at the one I've got in the office. It shows booking too." He arched an eyebrow and shook his head. "You're asking to work more? How insane is that Josh! But if you want to see what goes into some Guinness Stew, we'll be doing that and mash for St. Patrick's." He laughed, shaking his head and stretching out into a luxurious sprawl in his chair. "Oh you might not be social, but you are definitely enjoying someone's society. Or has the wine gone to your face already?" he teased, pointing at the young man.

Josh smiled and shook his head “I don’t really think I would be good at wine tasting,” he said honestly. “I’m going to do that, I really need to remember the important dates here,” he agreed “I will certainly check the one you have, it will give me a better idea of how I’ll handle the holidays here. Is not that I’m asking to work more. I’m offering my help for a busy season,” he finished with a bright smile. When Mitchell called him out on the blush in his face he closed his eyes and let his head hang down slightly, feeling caught. After a small silence, he looked up again to answer “Is not the wine,” he smiled. “I’m just trying to make friend and get to know some people better,” he confessed simply.

Mitchell chuckled and shrugged. "It's a skill I never cultivated. I like tasting what I like, and matching it with food. But I don't believe in the rigors. I've friends that do." He laughed, thinking of his friend back in Manhattan before focusing back on Josh. He nodded slowly, listening as the younger man talked about the holidays and the rush. He hummed. "Well then, who am I to turn down such an energetic young pupil and protégé? Or the help. Heaven know's I like the extra competent hands." He smiled and shook his head, sitting forward and leveling him a careful glance. "Josh, that is utterly nothing to fret over. Enjoy it. Revel in the attention. Or the affection. Or the physical altercations. Whatever gets you there." He flashed the man a quick wink. "I know I enjoy those diversions."

Josh nodded “I suppose it’s even more impressive to make the wine match the food and it sounds more accurate for the business you settled here.” He wasn’t expecting the professor’s words, and even les to know he considered him his protégé “I certainly appreciate all the faith you have in me and my abilities. I would be more than glad to stay and help as much as possible. And I must say is not completely selfless. I am learning a lot. There’s no better reward than that,” he smiled. Josh sighed and offered a shy smile “I know. It’s just that I don’t want to get too distracted.” The blush caused him to blush once more “I suppose we all do. Things are just not as simple as I would hope for them to be.”

Mitchell chuckled and nodded, swirling his glass and catching the light from the lamps in the liquid. "It's a skill, to be sure. Goes into anything tasting really. I tend to prefer cocktails." He watched Josh, tilting his head and keying onto the excitement and honesty in the student's voice. He smiled, ducking his head a bit bashfully. He rather liked when people had this much enjoyment from the work, so it was refreshing to know he wasn't wrong. "So long as you don't mind being challenged, I'm happy to keep pushing you." He nodded and winked again, pulling an ottoman from under his chair and kicked it into place gently, stretching out and giving a little laugh. "Simple? Oh my dear boy, it's never simple. Run with it I suppose. Though I'm hardly one to emulate." He shrugged and smiled. "Hardly one..."

Josh nodded “I think I have a lot to learn about that. I’m not that good with cocktails, or drinks in a different setting that is not merely recreational.” Josh was glad to see Mitchell seemed glad to accept his offer to work during the spring break since he wasn0t really looking forward to join the trip he hard was on the planning for all the students. “I’m not afraid to be challenged. How else will I push myself to be better if not that way,” he agreed. Josh placed the glass on the coffee table and sat back, taking a deep breath “I know things aren’t simple, but I think I had enough of complicated. I wanted something different this time, but I suppose I’m looking in the wrong place and perhaps this isn’t the best time for me either.”

Mitchell grinned lightly and shrugged. "To be honest, most chefs have a beverage manager of somm to handle that side of things. But others like that aspect as well." He nodded, giving him a careful glance and smiling, enjoying his spirit and his drive as much as his smile. "Then I'll be more than happy of the help. Maybe we can let you set the entree for dinner that week?" he said with a teasing little smile. It was time for him to start working on that aspect of things as well, at least in Mitchell's mind. "Hm. I can understand that feeling. Sort of. Complicated is always best left to the side. Do you feel like it's detracting from your work here? This...complicated entanglement."

Josh hummed and considered he idea for a moment “I shall pay attention to my classmates then, perhaps I could find a good beverage manager among them.” Josh’s practically beamed at the suggestion “Would you really trust me with the menu for the week?” the exciting pouring from him to the point he was sitting at the edge of the couch now. Josh nodded, thankful that Mitchell seemed to understand sometimes complicated wasn’t fun or meant things were worth to fight for. He shook his head to the question “No, not at the moment. But I’m not sure how it will be once midterms and finals get closer. I don’t mind focusing on my internship and my classes, but I’m not sure how they would take it.”

Mitchell hummed, downing the last of his wine slowly and letting it sit on his tongue. He flashed the young man a pleased smile and nodded. "Not a bad idea at all. One of those culinary miscreants might be best at that." He laughed and shook his head at the excitement, giving a dramatic little shake of his empty glass. "I think it's something to think about. Look at some breakfasts to put in place and a Friday night dinner. Start thinking on it, yes? So that we can make the necessary purchases." He shrugged at the latter part, Josh's statement sounding very similar to one he made some time ago. "Ah...yes well. It's a value statement, isn't it? What you want. If they don't respect that?" He shrugged again. "Well those things are best left on the side of the road."

Josh chuckled “now that you put it like that, I have a couple of options already.” This was a great opportunity and Josh was decided to make the best out of it, so he nodded as he started to run some ideas in his head of what could work better. “I will do so! I can settle menu options for Thursday for you to check them, if that’s okay.” Josh took a deep breath and nibbled at his lip as he usually did when he was confused or nervous. “Is not that I don’t think they won’t respect it. I think they might feel I’m pushing them away or that this is just a game for me. To get their attention, and it’s not.” Josh kept quiet for a moment. “What would you suggest? Should I stop seeing them altogether and focus on what’ matters the most to me, or should I try and explain them the situation?”

Mitchell laughed, shaking his head and reaching for the bottle. "There's always a few, even in places like this without anything near an alcohol program." He snickered, watching the young man, listening as he could practically hear the gears turning in Josh's head. "Absolutely. I'm happy to listen and offer suggestions as best that I can. Use what we have here as well. Let's not double order anything eh?" He tilted his head and listened, pausing as he poured another glass before pursing his lips in thought. "That's a new one on me, Josh. Why would they think it's a game? Or you pushing away?" He shrugged and made a little frown, tapping his glass. "Honestly? I'd figure out what matters most, absolutely. Once you have that, you approach the person different, I believe. If it's more than one person that is." He paused. "I can be more specific, if I know some personality details, my dear."

Josh smiled “I might ask for your opinion once I’ve decided on the candidates,” he said solemnly. “Of course, I’ll make sure to check the refrigerators before looking for ideas,” he assured. One of the main things Josh had learned at home was to never waste any food. Josh felt a rush of blood coloring his cheeks again when he realized what he had said “I don’t know.” He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, considering the professor’s words while he decided if he could say more without getting anyone in troubles. “The most important thing for me right now are my studies. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to have someone to share all this experience with,” he paused and sighed. “It is more than one person. I have been seeing two guys, neither of them know there is someone else, and one of them doesn’t seem to care, but the other seems to want to be more serious about this. For me is a casual thing because I don’t think I’m ready nor have the time for something more than just hang out for now.” Josh couldn’t believe he was telling that to his boss, but he didn’t really regret it. It was just then when he realized he had needed to talk about it to feel the weight lifted off his shoulders.

Mitchell smiled and nodded. "You're always entitled to it, that I promise." He watched the young man go through the elation and thinking and then the blush. He held out the bottle, glass in his other hand. "Top off darling, you look conflicted. Wine helps with that." He let his face fall neutral, his gaze thoughtful as the young man spoke, laying out his thoughts and wants. He hummed lightly, and nodded. "I'd never begrudge anyone a bit of solace, someone to share with. So let's start with that being perfectly healthy and damn good." He nodded and motioned with his glass. "But you can share without it being exclusive. Frankly, I'm impressed you've got two boys wrapped around your fingers. And I applaud you knowing that it's what you want, and all you can handle right now." He chuckled. "If one of them wants more...then maybe it's the one that gets it that should get more of you?" He shrugged and sipped his wine. "Though you should really not pay any sort of attention to my advice there."

Josh nodded with a thankful smile “I certainly appreciate it, Mitchell, thank you.” Josh picked up his glass and accepted the refill. He drank a small sip as he listened carefully to what the older man had to say. A small nod followed the first statement “That’s what I thought at first. To spend time with them without making anything exclusive.” The second statement caused him to blush harder, even more when he well knew they weren’t exactly just two young students as Mitchell made it sound, but he chose not to correct him. “I am not sure I’m ready for more and I told him that. He said he understood, but I did notice a change after we talked. I didn’t want to make him feel rejected, but I know I can’t get more involved now.” Josh let out a small sigh “I appreciate the advice. I haven’t talked to anyone about this, and I hadn’t realized how much I needed to let it out.”

Mitchell joined the chat 2 days ago

Mitchell gave him a roguish wink. "Here I am, the terror of the administration. Providing drink and romantic advice." He snorted lightly. "I've never understood what precisely motivates some people to think that they get a monopoly of their partner's time. You can work as a unit and still be two very independent soul. I mean, really, I'll need separate bedrooms should I ever decide to settle down. My own Victorian ideal." He snorted lightly, smiling at the blush. "Oh so it's a good couple of boys then. Further impressed." He chuckled under his breath and nodded. "I'm happy to listen, anytime. And Josh? Honestly? It sounds like you did the right thing for you." He raised his glass in approval and sipped slowly. It sounded like one of Josh's suitors was...well Mitchell would have to reserve judgment.

Josh let out a small laugh “If you’re as good adviser as you are a successful administrator, I think I will be more than fine after this conversation,” said Josh with a smile as he took another sip form his glass of wine. He listened carefully, considering what would he do if he found himself in that kind of monopolizing relationship. Another soft laugh escaped his lips at the mention of separate bedrooms “I certainly hope you find someone who understand your schedules so you don’t have to resource to that. It could totally ruin the possibility for cuddles and late night talks. If you’re interested in those, if not, then it might work perfectly,” he ended with a smile. “I think they both are good and very mature men,” he said with a cautious tone. “May I ask why are you impressed about it?” Josh felt slightly proud to hear Mitchel approved his decision, it made him feel he had done the right things and until this moment he hadn’t found someone he thought he could rely on to ask for advices or talk about his decisions “Thank you, Mitchell. It helps to hear someone else thinks I did the right thing.”

Mitchell smirked and preened just a bit under the young man's praise. "Then I will have done my job as well as I could have hoped." He chuckled, shaking his head and motioning with his glass. "It's not just about schedules. It's about having a place to be alone with one's self. I find that a necessary withdraw every so often. Though I do rather like the late night chats. And the back rubs I get when there's a warm body in my bed." He flashed a little grin. Mature men? Well that was an interesting statement, to be sure. "Because you're going after things you want. I find too few people actually do that." He shrugged again, his smile turning a little lecherous. "That and the fact that I'm all about having options in one's entanglements."

Josh nodded and offered a smile “I am sure you will.” Josh considered the man’s words and he realized he agreed. That was perhaps one of the many reasons why his past relationships hadn’t work. He certainly enjoyed the solitude from time to time. He relished in having time of his own to think and reflection on memories or future’s plans. “I do see the appeal on having time for one’s self. I must admit I haven’t gotten the chance to enjoy the comfort of sharing my bed with someone like that yet, but that makes it even more alluring” he confessed with a small blush. The blush didn’t vanish when the professor expressed his reason to be impressed in Josh’s decisions “I suppose few people believe they can have what they want if the work hard for it,” said the boy with a shy smile. “Well, I must admit this is the first time I find myself in a situation like this and I am still struggling to find a way to handle it.”

Mitchell grinned. "You've already much of my approval, Josh. No need for flattery," he teased with another wink. He nodded as his pupil's look and thoughts, a soft little smile flickering across his lips. He liked these moments of discovery. "I think it's necessary. Relationships are about compromise, but not whole sale change. You complement each other. Or should." He flashed another lecherous grin. "Oh ho, have you not? My my, but I do hope you jump on that eventually. And I do mean that literally." He gave a laugh, a bit more open and bawdy than he usually did, relishing the flush across his cheeks. He snorted out of amusement. Handle indeed. "That one is up to you, my dear. Depends how involved and how handled you want to be."

Josh shook his head with a smile “It’s not flattery, is honesty,” he assured as he drank some more wine, feeling more relaxed and certainly enjoying this time of getting to talk to the professor in a less formal setting. “I agree, unfortunately it is not as easy to find someone to make it work with. I suppose things happen at the right time,” said Josh with a soft shrug. The grin and the tone caused him to look away and smile “That won’t be an easy task here. I have a very particular roommate. Bringing someone to my room is not an option at all. And I doubt is an option for anyone living on campus,” the blush on his face feeling quite permanent now. “Right now, I think going at this pace works. Neither of them is demanding more time or attention and I have my hands full to even think of ask them for more time.”

Mitchell laughed merrily, enjoying the back and forth he was sharing with Josh. The young man was excellent company and was more than good conversation. Plus, it was nice to have that injection of youth into his atmosphere. "You are all too true in that part my friend. It's a search, isn't it?" He smirked and sipped from his glass, arching an eyebrow. "Oh yes, Mr. Easton Kennedy. He's a man with opinions, isn't he?" Several thoughts flickered through his mind. Someone looking for privacy and discretion on campus? Well that gave him some ideas. He huffed out a little laugh, and shook his head. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not at all. I did promise you'd get your time working here." He hummed and shrugged slowly. "Though if you ever do need to swap nights for a bit of a date, I think we could arrange that."

Josh let out a small sigh “It is, and it doesn’t seem to get easier. But I believe that is what make it worth it. When things are easy one tends to lose interest quickly.” He wasn’t surprised Mitchell knew about Easton’s opinions. His roommate was always loud and clear about everything. “He is. He is a good guy, he just has strong believes on certain subjects. Things work well for us as roommates, I would hate to disrupt that harmony. No sleepovers for me for a while,” Josh added with a playful pout. Josh shook his head immediately “I wasn’t complaining! I’m very thankful for this opportunity. It gives me time to think and slow things down,” he hurried to say. “Thank you, I appreciate that. So far things work well. Having Fridays off and not early call on Saturday morning help a lot.”

Mitchell hummed lightly. "You have to make it your own as best you can, Josh. But you'll find that balance, I'm sure." He smirked. "Oh the easy ones are only good for a few throws. Then it's boring." He burst out laughing again, the description of the other young man right on the nose. He rolled his eyes at the pout and raised his glass. "Perhaps if you ask nicely I might have an idea of a place." He smirked and held up a hand in peace. "Only teasing Josh, only teasing. Though the night you do dinner service, you'll have to work that Friday, but I'll give you the rest of the weekend off."

Josh only nodded and didn’t comment more about his frustrating experience with relationships until now. The following statement caused him to smile again “I know, and those are usually not what we’re really looking for,” he agreed. “Thank you, I’ll make sure to ask nicely if the opportunity presents,” he answered with a teasing smile. “I have no problem working that Friday and the weekend. Especially if it is for Spring break. I have no plans and I’m sure everyone else will either go on the institute trip or somewhere else.”

Mitchell hummed lightly, a tuneless sound as he stretched, his eyes falling closed. He shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. The passing fancies are nice distractions from the day to day. And do work the muscles." He huffed out a laugh. "That offer isn't for everyone. I'm not running a bordello you know," he replied with another teasing lilt, but smiled, glad he could offer this young man something in that department. IT sounded complicated enough as it was. "Well let's not work you to all the bones, but if you insist. Who am I to be stingy with offered labor."

Josh set his almost empty glass on the coffee table and leaned back, feeling the wine helping him relax. “But after a while it gets boring. It is a great stress reliever but, it’s not enough.” He couldn’t help to laugh too when Mitchell did and cleared out he was indeed offering a room in the Inn “I know, that makes me appreciate the offer even more. But I doubt thing will get to that point any time soon.” Josh wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get that involved with either Eric or Beau and he tried his best not to think about it, even if he wanted to. “I do insist because I know I might be asking for some days off once midterms and finals arrive. I might need time then and I would rather to work now I don’t have so much schoolwork.”

Mitchell gave a little laugh. "You're not wrong." This was the most he'd laughed in days, or even weeks really. It was relaxing and filled him with a certain level of comfort. He flashed the young man a grin, draining his glass and setting it to the side. "Good. Or not good. Or...oh you know what I mean," he said with a little laugh. Whatever or whomever the boy wanted to do was his own business. He'd had his say on that so far, best to let it go. For now at least. "Oh I'd never presume to let this interfere with your school work. At all." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Why not stay here? We can make up a room and you can see what a full week is like. Right down to the laundry."

Josh felt his whole face flushing this time, it was probably the wine, the laughing, and the fact that he was technically talking about his sex life with his boss and professor. “I know what you meant. It’s okay,” he said looking for something else to say and change the subject. “I know, and I appreciate it, but I was just considering that I might be able to come and help those days so I could make it up.” The idea sounded very tempting and it would surely give Josh more time to learn how the B&B worked from a different perspective “That sounds like a great idea. I would love to.”

Mitchell grinned and nodded, glad that Josh could pick up his drift rather easy. That was the sign of a good working relationship, and one that he was looking forward to expanding upon. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Your work ethic is impressive, I'll give you that," he said with a little smile. He nodded, and waved his hand. "You can thank me now. But just wait till I'm waking you up at five am to start the breakfasts for special guests."

Josh was glad to hear that Mitchell sounded pleased with his offer to work harder and learn as much as possible, “Thank you. My mother always taught me to work hard. She said the only way to get what you want is working for it and I know I want to learn as much as I can while I’m here.” He didn’t let the mention of the early hour affect him “I don’t mind waking up early and since I would stay here so I won’t lose time commuting.”

Mitchell nodded, a pleased smile on his face. "Sounds like a very smart lady. Mine was similarly motivated. A strong work ethic was one of the greatest things she ever gave me. That and a tolerance for peppers." He hummed and leaned forward, giving a slow nod. "Right then. We'll ask for permission from the administration at Mousai and get you a room made up. Maybe you need a chef's coat as well," he quipped with a little smile. Every intern had been given one with the ornate spoon on left breast, a sign of their time at the Rest.

Josh grinned “I suppose all mothers are very smart, but it takes us a while to realize how much. Oh! I envy you! The tolerance for Peppers took me longer that I would’ve liked,” he said with a grimace. It was hard to hide his excitement at the prospect to get to see the full function of the Inn “Okay, that sounds great. I can talk to the Headmistress as soon as I get a chance and ask about it.” Josh frowned slightly “Is there any problem with my chef’s coats?” he asked confused.

Mitchell chuckled. "It took me much longer than your years to learn that. Good for you to pick it up so quickly," he replied with a wistful tone to his voice. "Did it? I find that there can be so much variance in the way different heats come out in the food. Rather like it, when my clientele can take it." He hummed and smiled at his excitement, shaking his head and moving to stand. "Well none of them say the SpoonRest on them, do they?" he asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Josh chuckled “It wasn’t easy at all and just as you mentioned! Heat can be an important factor when it’s about pepper.” He smiled even though the memories weren’t so pleasant. His poor tongue and stomached paid for it more than once. The simple mention to have a chef’s coat that would notice him as part of the staff caused him to beam at the professor “They don’t. Am I really getting one?” he asked excitedly.

Mitchell laughed and nodded, giving the young man a little and significant glance. "Oh absolutely. I completely agree. Though I'm rather fascinated with the dried peppers and oil infusions from Sichuan province." His family had no ties to that region, not as far as he knew at least, but the style of cooking was delicious. He smirked, and nodded. "Oh I think so. Get me your size and I'll make sure you have one by the end of March."

Josh offered a lopsided smile as his expression turned curious “I got some experience with dried peppers and oil infusion in Mexico, but now I’m very curious about the ones you mention. Could you tell me more about them? I’m afraid I’ve never tried them.” Little Josh could do to stop smiling at the news. He loved the idea of being considered part of the staff and wear one of the coats the other chefs and Mitchell wore. “Thank you. I certainly appreciate it. I’ll get you my size before leaving.” It probably wasn’t a big deal, but someone who always had troubles feeling like he fit in, this was a great gesture. “I really appreciate it, Mitchell, thank you.”

Mitchell hummed lightly and gave a slow smile. "Oh absolutely. Sichuan peppercorns are fantastically spicy. And traditionally, they're infused into the oil before the vegetables or the meat is added, putting the flavor right on the exterior of the food. It's quite...intense at times." He chuckled lightly. "I think we have some up at Mousai. I think we might need an experiment with them," he said with a smile. He gave a little hum at the young man's smile and excitement. "It's my pleasure. I figured your Mousai whites were all well and good, but you needed to rep your employer as well as your academy as well, no?"

Josh listened carefully and nodded at the perspective to get to try something new. “I would love to try them. What kind of dishes are they usually used for? Is it just meat and vegetables or is there any especial dish they are used for?” It made sense, but it was still something that made Josh feel more comfortable with the decisions he had made to transfer so far from his family to keep his studies. “I agree. Especially since I’m proud to be part of both the Institute and your staff.”

Mitchell gave a thoughtful hum. "Well, most commonly you get them in dishes with onions and leek, a vegetable stir fry or with beef and pork of many different cuts." He shrugged lightly. "A lot of flowering and leafy vegetables as well as mushrooms make their way into the cuisine. And one of the signature dishes from the region is the hot pot." He gave a little smile, glad of the young man's interest in all the different styles. "We'll make something traditional, and then see what we can do to make that more interesting. Sichuan porkbelly tacos would be magical." He laughed lightly. "My staff of me and the wonderful services of Mrs. Briar and her daughter's cleaning services? It's something, us crazy few."

Josh made mental notes of all the options Mitchell was mentioning, feeling more excited on the perspective to get to cook something completely new “That sounds interesting. There are just too many options. I thought it was more limited to certain specific dishes but it sounds great to have so many ingredients to mix and work with. I am sure the results would be completely different depending on the other components we mix with those peppers. Some vegetable could neutralize the capsaicin making the flavor more bearable for people who aren’t used to spicy food.” He grinned and nodded “That sounds like a great plan. I would love to learn to make something traditional and something more contemporary. I love to see both sides of regional cuisine.” Josh shook his head “It doesn’t matter if your staff is made of four people or four hundred. It’s still the people who keep this place running and I see a lot of reasons to proud of being part of that.”

Mitchell listened to the other man, giving a hum and a little nod. "You've quite the eager culinary mind there. I sometimes forget how agile it is," he said with a little smile. "I'll get the necessary supplies and we'll make a dish or two next weekend, and then let you loose on the ingredients. Get your spin on it." He smiled and nodded, letting the young man's ideas wash over him. It was something to consider, to be sure. "Well that's high praise and honor to my establishment. Thank you, Josh."

Josh often wondered if it was a good or a bad thing how quickly is mind focused on food facts or recipes whenever he was talking to someone and he realized he was really enjoying to have someone to talk about all those things without feeling judge or weird. “I can’t help it; my mind runs wild whenever I have a chance to try new things. New recipes, new ingredients. Sometimes is a problem,” he finished with a timid smile. “Thank you! I’m very excited now, I might make some research to get ideas.” He offered a small bow of his head “You’re very welcome. It was a praise well deserved and it is completely true. You have a lot to be proud of this place. It’s amazing.”

Mitchell gave a low laugh, looking down at his pupil and shaking his head. "Never feel weird for your passion here. I pride myself on confusing fusion dishes that make the world sing. I'm happy to encourage those skills and desires." He laughed lightly and offered a hand to pull the young man to his feet. "It's never a problem my young friend. Explore those combinations." He smiled and clapped the young man on his shoulder as he stood. "Well I'm glad you're enjoying the Rest as a place to work. That's high praise indeed." He flicked his eyes to the mantle. "I feel however, we should get you back to the Institute. I've kept you long enough tonight." He paused and flashed a little smile. "Pack yourself some lunch for tomorrow, yes?"

Josh was certainly thankful for having such an encouraging mentor “Thank you, I will keep that in mind. It’s a nice change from other professors.” He smiled and accepted the hand to get on his feet “I find it hard to believe someone wouldn’t enjoy to work here.” He nodded but turned to pick up the wine glasses “Okay, I’ll just take care of these and I’ll be ready to go,” he said in a cheery voice. “Thank you for the wine and I really enjoyed a lot the conversation. I’ll make sure to pack some lunch,” he added before heading back to the kitchen to take care of the glasses and pick up his satchel and jacket.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Tom the Bartender (4 stories in 1)

Tom was alone for the time being. They gave him a key two weeks ago and, gradually, he started coming in earlier and earlier. He was a restless soul. He needed things to do and, behind a bar, there’s always something to do.

Service wouldn’t start for an hour and a half, so Tom had plenty of time to settle in. He needed to juice citrus. He needed to restock the low boy with beer, white wine and rose. He needed to refill the backstock for the rail. He needed… a cup of coffee… yeah. He needed that.

The morning brew was a beautiful ritual. Grind the beans. Push the button. Walk the hell away. Do everything else as fast as possible cause that pot of coffee will be ready in 5 - count ‘em! - 5 minutes. Tom hustled to the radio. He cranked up something good. Something with rhythm and depth. Something to bring his mind to life and get his body going. Something real fucking good.

He didn’t dance, but there was rhythm to his movements. He kept with the beat. Sometimes, for a verse or two, he’d even sing. Most of the time, he was too busy making everything sparkle and shine. It was a beautiful bar, but it could be a mess in a flash. He had to maintain the space. All his cocktailing instruments were aligned for efficiency and a subtle touch of presentation. Everything was in arm’s reach. Everything was fresh. Everything was clean… well, not quite, but Tom would take care of it.

He was never mad about the close. More work for him meant less time to sit and stew with nothing to do. Call him a busy body. Call him crazy. Tom just knows what keeps him at ease. Puts his mind at peace. Routine. Cleanliness. Order. Coffee.

5 minutes.

It was a locally roasted blend. It tasted like coffee. The caffeine was the heart of the matter. Tom had been down the coffee snob road. He could taste those subtle notes, the delicate floral and citrus hints in a light Ethiopian single origin coffee and the harsh, burnt, oily flavor of a fuckin’ French Roast. This cup tasted somewhere in the middle, so it was damn perfect.

Restocking took a little time. Must’ve been a busy night. Juicing took as long as it always takes. Plenty of juice, but, really, just enough. They’re big on not wasting anything around these parts, but, at the same time, citrus is citrus is citrus. If you get it, you get it. Some sweeping was required. Some tables needed to be reset. Some other shit was left from the night before. It’s whatever, Tom will take care of it. There’s plenty of time.

He doesn’t sleep much, that Tom. He gets enough sleep, to be sure, but it's sporadic, inconsistent, restless. He’s used to it, but everyone tells him it’s unhealthy. He fills his days with as many shifts as possible… until he burns out and takes some time off. “Time off” in his mind is an extra day off now and again... or maybe just not working a double. Whatever he can get, really. Such is life. This is adulthood. This is having a career. This is working with what he has.

Bartending, hospitality in general, is an inherently love/hate relationship. Tom loves what he does. He loves doing it. He, sometimes, hates who he does it for. Some people are just the worst. It’s true. When the pay is dependent on the kindness of strangers, there’s a sense of trepidation that comes with every interaction. “What if this person is a greedy miser who is going to basically use me for my services and then not compensate accordingly? What if this asshole is cheap?!” It is what it is, though, and most bartenders, most good bartenders, hope for the best, treat each guest equally, and are often tipped as such. Tom is a pretty good bartender. He’s comfortable there.

It’s too cold for outdoor seating, so Tom is leaving the tables locked up and the chairs stacked. The lights are on, the sign is out, the chef is prepped, the day has begun. Now. Now we wait.

There’s a small lunch rush. A handful of tables. A couple at the bar. A woman on her lunch break with a laptop who is in a hurry but wants two martinis, back-to-back, start the second as soon as you’re done making the first, thankyouverymuch. The favorite customer of lunch sat at the end of the bar, headphones in, watching a game on his phone. He had a guinness. He had a sandwich. He had some whiskey. He finished with a good cocktail. He didn’t say much, but his words had meaning behind them. He was present. He enjoyed everything he had. He left a 15 dollar tip. Hell yeah. “Come back anytime, my friend.” Tom smiled.

There was a helluva lull before dinner, and Tom was alone all day. The bottles whispered behind his back. Taste. Taste. Taste. He didn’t need to, though. He knew what they tasted like. He’d had them all before. Just another voice in his head. Another thing to ignore. To pretend wasn’t there.

Dinner was abysmal and the late night crowd was atrocious. They tipped well enough, but they ordered food at the very last second and wanted all cocktails all night long. All in all, not a great day, but it balanced out financially. Tom was tired, a few steps from exhausted, but he still had work to do.

He blew out the candles. He turned off a few lights and set to his closing tasks. He swept. He mopped. He counted down the drawer. He logged his tips. He collected his things. He poured himself a well deserved shot and popped open a beer. It was a long day… but, hey, could be worse, right?

--

It was getting close to the end of Tom’s shift when Jess walked in. He saw her milling around outside, pondering entering. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if the place is even open. She pieced it together eventually and made her way in, crossing the space and taking a seat at the bar.

“Welcome. Hi.” Tom said genially, but with a tinge of ‘I’m getting out of here soon’ on the back burner.

Jess smiled. A good smile. One of the best Tom had ever seen. “Hi!” Jess said, reaching for the menu Tom was passing to her. “How are you?”

“No complaints. Quiet, relaxing day. I’ll be wrapping up my shift soon. How are you?” Tom replied.

“Thirsty…” Jess mused, flipping through the menu.

Tom grinned. “I have the cure.” He presented her with a glass of water. “What are you in the mood for, apart from water?”

Jess put her fist to her chin and rested upon the bar. “Ya know, I’m usually in the mood for a cocktail, but I don’t want to be that complicated right now.”

This girl… Tom thought to himself. “Cocktails don’t have to be complicated, and I’m bored enough to actually want to make one. What’s your favorite base spirit?”

“Gin.”

“Cool. Gimlet, Tom Collins or Martini?”

“I know two out of three of those.”

“Which don’t you know?”

“I’ve heard of a Tom Collins, but I can’t remember what it is.”

“Gin, lemon, simple syrup, topped with club.”

“Mmm, that. Please.”

“You got it.”

Business hasn’t been great so Tom has been juicing to order. The gin was rail, the juice was fresh, the club soda is a fancy brand, and he prepped the syrup himself. A simple classic made with love and care, that’s what Tom was all about. He shook the gin, juice, and syrup with ice and strained into a Collins glass with four nice, sizable, clear ice cubes. He slowly topped the beverage with club soda, gave it one quick stir and slid it Jess’ way. She took a delicate sip and smiled. Dimples appeared and then subsided. Tom… didn’t know what to think.

“That’s so refreshing.” Jess exclaimed.

Tom started to clean his shaker and tools. “I’m glad. Now that you have a drink, how’s your day?”

“It’s pretty good. I’m not doing much of anything today. Just waiting. Killing time. Drinking, apparently.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Tom reassured her, “I’d be where you’re sitting if I had the day off. What are you waiting for?”

“My boyfriend.” Jess smiled to herself and quickly sipped her drink.

Naturally. Tom thought to himself. “Gotcha.” He spoke.

“So.” Jess straightened her back and folded her hands on the bar. She stared at Tom. Through him.

“So?” Tom replied, raising his eyebrows and meeting her gaze with all the confidence of a bartender who was safely and comfortably secure behind their bar.

“So tell me something. I don’t know.” Jess shrugged. “It’s just you and me here. We might as well talk.”

“Ah, I see.” Tom pondered. “Well. Ok. My name is Tom.”

“Jess.”

“There. I’ve told you something.”

Jess did not smile. No dimples for that one. “No, tell me something interesting. Like… entertain me.”

“Ha!” Tom laughed. “That’s how it is? Want me to sing and dance?”

That brought the dimples back. Jess perked up and clapped her hands. “Can you sing and dance?!”

“I mean, I know how to, but I’m not going to right now.”

“Damn. Why not?”

“Because… I’m on the clock?”

“So?”

“I don’t get paid to sing and dance. I get paid to make drinks.”

“I’ll pay you to sing and dance.” Jess gave a devilish smirk. The kind of smile that speaks leagues of the person beneath.

“You couldn’t afford it.” Tom crossed his arms.

“Oh really? Well, you can’t blame a gal for trying.” Jess took another sip. “That’s so good! So you make good drinks and you can sing and dance. Tell me something else.”

“I hate talking about myself.” Tom admitted.

“Too bad. You are my captive. Tell me everything.” Jess leaned forward, eager for Tom to expound upon himself.

Tom shrugged. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Says you.”

Tom smiled wide. “Very well. Hello, bonjour, hi. I’m Tom. I’m a bartender who wants to do something else. I’ve had an exciting life full of adventures and experiences, but, the way things have been going, that’s all behind me. I just bartend. All day. Most days. I like people and love talking to my guests when it’s slow, but I hate crowds and can’t stand when it’s busy. My home life is dull. My cat is an asshole. My car needs repairs. I’m tired. How’s that?”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes.” Tom sighed. “He’s the worst.”

“How so?”

“He doesn’t know how to show affection and claws at all me all day. But he sleeps under the covers at night. That’s pretty cute.”

“That’s adorable. Yeah, some cats are terrible. Not mine, though. She’s a sweetheart.”

“That must be nice.” Tom was bemused. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like. He’s the only cat I’ve ever had.”

“Does he have a name?”

“He did when I adopted him, but I just call him ‘You Motherfucker’ these days.”

Jess laughed. “I can’t tell if that’s a joke.”

Tom smiled. “It’s the truth, but it’s a funny truth.”

“How long have you had your little Motherfucker.”

“Two years, which is two years too long.”

“Aw, poor guy. Do you really hate him?”

“Nope. I love him, but he’s very bad for me.” Tom lifted his pants leg to reveal fresh scratches and scars. “See?”

“Oh no.” Jess was shocked. “Why do you still have him if it’s that bad?”

“No one wants him.” Tom admitted. “I barely do, but the other option is… yeah. I’m stuck with the little bastard.”

“Geez… ok. Different topic. How long have you been bartending?”

“Years. Getting close to 5 years.”

“Oh wow. That’s a career.”

“Yes, I am a career bartender.”

“But you said you don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Yes, correct. I am a career bartender.”

“Ah. I get it.” Jess looked around the space. “This bar is beautiful. It’s, like, really cool.”

“I’m glad you think so. I spend a lot of time here.” Tom glanced around the space that he inhabited most of the time. It wasn’t super fancy and it wasn’t a shithole. It was a step above some other spots in the area, just enough of a concept to be different but still a welcoming, comfortable bar. Tom loved it, but…

“Is it yours?” Jess woke him from his ponderings.

“Nah. I’m a cog in the machine.”

Jess looked at Tom funny. “What machine? You’re the only person here.”

“Fair. I do work alone most of the time.”

“So you are the machine.”

Tom looked off into the distance, confidently. “I suppose I am.”

Jess drained the last of her Tom Collins and placed the glass on the bar. There was a moment. A pause. She was contemplating if she wanted another. Not another Tom Collins, another drink in general. She did. She really wanted another drink. She wanted to stay. Tom wanted her to stay, too. Neither of them needed to say it, either, but Tom is a bartender at work and there’s an empty glass, so he’s naturally going to break the silence.

“Another beverage?”

“I think I should go.” Jess admitted.

Tom smiled. “What happened to waiting for your boyfriend?”

“He’s on his way. He doesn’t really drink, so…”

“I gotcha.” Tom slid over to the register, rang in a rail gin, and presented the check to Jess. “Well, thank you for coming in. It was nice to meet you. Good way to wrap up my shift.”

“No, thank you. This was a perfect little respite.” Jess dropped $15 on the bar. “That’s all you.”

Jess gathered her things and made her way to the door. Tom began the lonely task of cleaning up after her. He kept his head down, so he didn’t see her look back as she exited. It didn’t matter, either way, she wasn’t there for him. She needed a drink. That’s why she went in. That’s all.

--

It was getting late, there were a few patrons nursing libations, and Tom was starting to close down the bar. He had a good hour before he could think about hustling his guests toward the door, but there were social cues he could use to send a clear message.

Step one was a change in atmosphere. Tom turned on some old, sad country music to bring the night down. Familiar tunes that spoke to the soul if you let them. A couple at the bar took notice as one of them started to nod and hum along with the first song. There was a man sipping a beer toward the end of the bar. He came in often, spoke rarely, and tipped accordingly.

“Who picks the music here?” The man spoke up.

“Yours truly.” Tom smiled.

“What’s with the country?” He pressed.

Tom was slightly taken aback. “I like it. I don’t know what else to tell ya.” Tom grabbed a pitcher and moved to refill glasses and check in on tables.

“I mean, it’s ok. It’s not bad country. It’s just different. I wasn’t really expecting it.” The man talked after Tom as he passed from table to table, refilling water glasses and checking if anyone needed anything. One manhattan on the rocks for table 12, seat 2. Everyone else was sitting comfortable.

Tom grabbed a rocks glass, tossed in a few cubes, and topped the ice with a luxardo cherry. He stirred the rye whiskey, vermouth and bitters concoction for a little less than usual. He wanted to leave time for the ice in the glass to melt without it watering down the drink too much. It was a boozy beverage made with a bold, high proof rye. The vermouth was subtle and the bitters added a little extra depth and character. It was good. Ready to be served.

“What’s that?” The gentleman at the bar asked.

“A manhattan on the rocks.” Tom answered as he delivered the drink.

“Can I have a manhattan, but up?” The man finished his beer.

“Of course.” Tom cleaned his utensils quickly and set to the task of repeating every step he just did, but in a different order and with a different time table. Ice in the coup glass to chill it. Stir the ingredients for longer, but not too long! Dump the ice in the glass. Pour the cocktail. Drop a cherry in at the end. Serve. The man sipped.

“It’s good.” He stated. “Now, seriously, what’s with this sad cowboy music?”

Tom, safe and sound behind his bar with the knowledge that at least one more person in the space was feeling the music, decided to push back. “Well, I like it.” He instinctively went to cross his arms, but stopped himself. “I usually crank up something that I like at the end of the night.”

“End of the night?” The man checked his watch. “It’s only 9:10.”

“Yes.” Tom stood firm. “We’ve reached the final hour.”

“You close at 10:00?”

“Yes, indeed.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I know that I’ve been here later than that.”

“It must’ve been a friday or saturday. We stay open til midnight.”

“Huh.” The man sipped his drink. “I guess.”

Tom stepped over to his clean glassware and took to the long, arduous, mechanical, mindless, instinctual, habitual and all around compulsive act of polishing glassware. He smiled at the couple that were enjoying the country music. “Sitting tight, my friends?” He asked them.

“Everything is perfect. I never get to hear this music when I’m out.” The middle aged man said.

“You’re feeling it?” Tom grinned.

“He loves this stuff.” His apparent wife (rings on fingers, talk of kids at home, it was a safe assumption) spoke up. “I’m not a big fan, but I do love how goofy he gets when he hears his old country.”

“Some of these songs… can be silly.” Tom admitted.

“Some can be downright offensive.” The woman stated.

“Too true, but I think I’ve managed to filter out most of the bad ones from this playlist.” Tom said with pride.

“Hell yeah,” the man smiled. “Good for you.”

“I do what I can.” Tom nodded and took a break from polishing to check on the tables. Table 12 was thoroughly enjoying their manhattan and was ready for their check. Table 31 was also ready for their check, and table 20 sheepishly asked for another round, which Tom was more than happy to oblige. He was starting to lag and, in his mind, longed for closing, but two quick pours of wine weren’t going to make his life any worse.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. From the bar to the table to the register to the table to the server’s station to the table to the bar. There’s a pattern, an order, to everything. Efficiency is key. Every movement, every moment has a purpose. Atleast, that’s what Tom tells himself.

“I’ll take my check,” the lonely soul at the bar broke Tom from his rhythmic movements, “since you’re trying to close up.”

Tom let the accusatory statement go, printed out the man’s check, and presented it with all the warmth of a brick wall. “Whenever you are ready, my friend.” Tom said reflexively.

The night wound down comfortably. By 10:00pm, Tom was alone. He cranked the music, but kept the somber country tunes rolling. It was a sunday and he didn’t work the next day, so Tom took his time closing. He stirred up a potent libation to sip as he went about his closing duties. He counted the money before his mind started to swim from exhaustion and booze in an empty stomach. Every other step of closing was mindless.

When he had checked everything off the checklist on the wall and the checklist in his mind, Tom, satisfied, grabbed his cash tips and made his way to the alarm. He punched in his number, turned off the lights, and stepped outside. It wasn’t cold but it wasn’t warm. He was holding his jacket. He tried to remember where he parked in the morning. It all seemed so long ago…

He turned his key. His key. He loved having a key. He really did.

He wandered around, debating popping into a late night spot, but ultimately found his way back to his car. It was a long walk, and he needed it. Time to reset. A good jaunt to re-establish his identity after another day of playing the game for a wage. Another good night’s rest on the way.

--

It was cold. Damn near frigid. Tom was always behind the weather, never with the right jacket or number of layers. The wind picked up as he skipped up the curb. The sun wasn’t up yet. He parked a few blocks away so he could get a few extra steps in. As if he didn’t walk enough. He tells himself he’s not neurotic. He tells himself a lot of things. It was going to be a long day. He’s trying not to think about it.

There was an event in the morning and normal service at night. They were a little understaffed, so Tom was on for the whole day. He didn’t have to close, but he didn’t sleep well and events can be hit or miss. Sometimes they’re way more work than they’re worth. Sometimes they’re a cakewalk. Tom had a low ABV punch to prep and had to juice oranges, then he was in charge of coffee and tea. The event started at 10:30. It was small compared to what Tom grew up doing, but, again, they were a little understaffed.

Jenna, the events manager, was printing out labels in the office. Other people slowly showed up, groggy and uncomfortable with this hour of the day. One lead bartender. One lead server. One barback. Jenna. Two in the kitchen. Tom. Point him in a direction and tell him what to do and it gets done. Everyone else had their assignments. Tom preps, builds, floats, assists and breaks down. He smiles. He gets the damn event over with.

Events were a cerebral experience for Tom. He grew up catering. His summers were spent feeding kids around his age at summer camps. His weekends were focused on 8 to 10 hours from beginning to end, the rest was unimportant teenage screwing around. When there was a job to do, it had to get done. People to be fed. Good times to be had by all. Money to be made. When it was time for an event, he turned down the volume in his mind and went on auto pilot. Jenna was his captain. He needed to follow directions.

Still, Tom couldn’t get his mind off the evening’s service. They were going to have to rush breaking down the event and prep for the night. It was going to be tight, and the tighter it got, the later he’d have to stay to back up the night crew. His mind was on the lunch service downstairs, too. He’d been running Saturdays for a few weeks now and they’ve steadily grown in popularity. Business was getting good. Finally. He needed his lunch coverage to crush service and prep for the night. He needed a cup of coffee, too.

All was moving steadily. Some people were dragging in the early morning light, others had a newfound energy. Most of them hadn’t been up this early in years, and it was working in their favor today. Tom, used to the early morning grind and a general lack of sleep, warned everyone not to burn out too early. There would be a pop at the beginning for the bar, the buffet would be frantic and madness for a few minutes at a time and the bar would be overwhelmed at last call. Tom was wrapping up his initial duties so he could start assisting with the rest of set up.

Up stairs and down stairs. Extra chairs. Chafing dishes. Cambros. Tea bags, mugs and sweeteners. A desperate, frantic hunt for clean tablecloths. A haphazard, taping together of smaller table clothes to make the buffet table look presentable. They always made it work, despite the hindrances that existed. The space wasn’t designed for events, but it was relatively adaptable and this wasn’t the team’s first rodeo.

Once guests arrived and the event was underway, a general sigh of relief was exhumed by all on staff. Less guests than had been projected. No mother-in-laws present to hastle the staff. It wasn’t a young crowd, nor was it a group of old folks. Right in the middle. Some guests tried to order off menu from the bar, as usual, but the lead bartender had built the minimal menu herself and wasn’t about to stray from the selection. Tom stood to the side, pouring mimosas and beers. He wasn’t on cocktails, which was nice.

The food went out and disappeared quick enough. More food replaced it, and a good thing, too. A few late comers arrived hungry. For noon on a Saturday, the crowd did come thirsty. Tom spent more time behind the bar than expected, but nothing was difficult. He was wondering when that would fall through.

They ran out of coffee an hour and a half before the event was slated to end, so Tom rushed downstairs to brew a fresh pot. Anthony was in the downstairs bar, hustling. There were outside tables, a practically full bar and a few couples smattered around the dining room. There was a familiar, frantic and wild look to Anthony. Tom saw it from a distance, before Anthony realized he had come down from the event.

“I’ll hop on in a second.” Tom broke Anthony’s anxious concentration and his eyes flashed with rage, confusion and then palpable relief. Anthony was weeded. He was making cocktails as fast as he could. He was still prepping for the day. He didn’t have a bus bin. Tom opened in his eyes wide and took in all he could as he prepped the coffee. He made a quick list.

“Holy shit. Thank you.” Anthony spoke, exacerbated. Tom started the coffee and spent the next five minutes refilling waters, taking orders and assisting as well as he could. The bar was Anthony’s, there was no way to assist with that, but he touched all the tables, took some food orders, poured some beers and left a few cocktail tickets on the counter for Anthony. Tom only had so much time before he had to get back upstairs.

When the coffee was ready, Tom promised he would be back down as soon as he could be and bolted upstairs. He resituated the coffee station and checked in with everyone. The event was winding down. Guests were leaving early. The bar was still steadily moving but most dishes were cleared and the buffet was ready to be broken down. Tom started the break down, Jenna came to assist, and the barback walked up and asked if there was anything he should focus on. This was Tom’s chance.

“Anthony is getting destroyed downstairs. How badly do you need me at this point?” Tom asked directly. He didn’t like being in charge, but he knew how to take charge when necessary. Jenna released Tom from the buffet and told him to check in at the end of the event. Tom flew back downstairs and he and Anthony tag-teamed service for 45 minutes. The outside tables left. The inside tables closed out. The bar started to empty. Everything right on time.

It’s safe to say at this point in the day that Tom needed a change of clothes. He had 30 minutes before his downstairs shift technically started, but there was enough of a lull between afternoon and evening service that he would probably get a break. Probably. He trekked back upstairs. A few guests were making their exits. Tom squeezed by apologetically and returned to the floor. There wasn’t much to breakdown, just a lot to be resituated. Less of a work out than the morning, but still a bit of cardio, a bit of heavy lifting and a lot of frantic energy burning away at every little calorie from his meager breakfast.

There was a tray of leftover food in the office that everyone had picked at. Tom jammed some french toast in his month and got back to work. The evening crew was starting to show up and assisting with set up for the night’s service. Tom was graciously relieved of his duties. Those who didn’t have to work anymore shared a round. Tom was gifted a shot and he threw it back before heading downstairs.

Anthony was wrapping up the paperwork from the day shift and Eric was taking over the bar. Tom asked if he could run to his car, change, and maybe take some time. Eric laughed “You take all the time you need.” He changed his shirt, added a tie, and checked to see how exhausted he looked. Pretty exhausted, but he could fake it. It was going on 4:30pm and Anthony should’ve been relieved half an hour ago. Anthony didn’t mind working extra and had insisted Tom take his time, too. Alice would be arriving around 5:00pm. Everything was fine.

So Tom checked in downstairs then went for a walk. A quick escape. Fresh air. Time to breathe…

The neighborhood was alive. It was brisk but pleasant outside and people were coming out from the city, in from the county. A line started to form for upstairs. Downstairs wouldn’t be busy until later in the evening. Tom walked for a good 20 minutes. Frantic energy keeping his steps steady. He was cooling down. Relaxing. Rolling his shoulders and reaching for the sky. The tension of the day was starting to subside… making way for the tension of the night.

Alice had arrived when Tom came back to the bar. There were a few guests sipping drinks, but most everyone had been waiting for upstairs. That was fine with Tom. He was hoping for a passably easy night. Time would tell.

Eric was taking care of the bar and in charge of cocktails. Alice was running most of the inside tables. Tom picked up the outside tables as the large groups started to arrive. Tom apologetically informed his new guests that Happy Hour was not offered on Saturdays. A part of Tom wanted the guests to be so perturbed that they left. The other part of him wanted everyone to order as much food and drink as possible so he could actually make some money this week. It’s a balancing act, being exhausted and being an attentive and charismatic host.

The temperature dropped with the sun and the outside tables cleared. Tom was happy to be back inside, mostly assisting where needed. It was around 9:15 that Eric started to disappear and reappear for minutes at a time. Tom knew exactly what Eric was doing and Tom’s heart started to flutter. Tom was finishing up a round of cocktails for a table when Eric snuck up behind him and said the magic words.

“You trying to get out of here?”

Tom smiled. Eric had been eating his dinner on the sly. 30 minutes early. It was a small victory. Tom checked in with Alice and gave her an update on the tables he’d assisted with. They all toasted to the evening and Tom ducked out before anything crazy could happen.

As Tom made his way home, he reflected. It wasn’t bad, the day, but it was a lot. Did he feel like he accomplished something? Sure. Did he feel like he had achieved something? Maybe, when he gets his paycheck, he will. Did he feel like he needed to go to bed? Yes. Hell yes.

So he did. He had to open the next day, after all.

--

submitted by /u/spsmith1902 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Frv61T

[kansascityhappenings]

Traditional Halloween foods and preparing for a cold holiday

KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Fall took a sudden cold turn this last week. On Halloween, temperatures could drop to what we usually see in winter — plus, the ground might be too wet for walking, especially for kids in costumes. There is even a chance for snow.

Not everyone likes the idea of a White Halloween, but there are some alternatives that can help keep the holiday fun for you and your family and friends.

This weekend is an excellent time to prepare in advance, buy some groceries, and to create a backup plan in case you decide to ditch the parties and keep the kids indoors.

One alternative: focus on making a memorable Halloween meal and think ahead about some kid friendly Halloween movies and shows. Some candy at home with a couple of friends over in costumes might be more manageable this year than a hike through the neighborhoods in freezing to almost freezing temperatures. Contact other parents you know and see if you can come up with an indoors plan together.

A snowy Halloween will likely be memorable for your kids, help them see it as positive

Most people on Halloween focus on getting candy, but there are also a lot of hearty foods associated with the day. The spooky holiday originates from a mixture of European influences, including pagan festivals and Christian observances. Foods that were available for these events hundreds of years ago are commonly used at fall and Halloween gatherings today including: turnips, apples, gourds, nuts, corn, squash, potatoes, beef, pork, lamb, poultry, wines, and ale.

Halloween gets a lot of its identity from an older Irish holiday called Samhain, which has a long list of savory and sweet foods associated with it. Western Christianity’s influence on Halloween led to churches and communities abstaining from meats around that time of year as a way to reflect on departed loved ones.

At the bottom of this post, there are a couple of recipes and a plan for a Halloween dinner if you need to make an alternative indoors plan this year. These foods could also be used for another cold day this week or in the near future. This post would be far too long to add a recipe for each item below, and this isn’t a cookbook. The foods on this list could also teach you more about Halloween and its history.

Side dishes

Boxty

The Irish love potatoes in just about every form. Boxty is another take on potato pancakes. It consists of finely grated potatoes or mashed potatoes mixed with flour, baking soda, buttermilk, and sometimes eggs. The mixture is fried on a pan for a few minutes, then flipped to the other side — just like a more traditional pancake. The most noticeable difference between boxty and other fried potato dishes is its smooth, fine-grained consistency. It can also be served as a type of dumpling. This is generally easy to make and great for kids.

Champ

Several Samhain foods feature potatoes, including champ. It is made by combining mashed potatoes and chopped scallions with butter, milk, salt, and pepper. It is simple and inexpensive to make. In Samhain lore, a bowl of champ along with a spoon was set at the foot of a hawthorn bush. People believed the shrub was the entrance to a fairy home — and fairies played a big role in Irish folklore. Leaving behind a bowl of champ was a way for people to honor and remember the dead, and for others, a way to give an offering to fairies.

An Irish Halloween tradition is to serve colcannon with a ring and thimble hidden in it. The dish champ is similar, but made with buttermilk. Colcannon is generally made from potatoes, butter, milk, and kale. Image taken from Wikipedia.

Colcannon

Similar to champ, colcannon is another traditional Irish dish made of mashed potatoes, but with kale or cabbage. It’s a mashed potato dish with butter and milk, with chopped up cabbage and herbs. It can contain other ingredients such as scallions, leeks, Laverbread (a type of seaweed), onions, and chives. This dish is popular at Samhain gatherings. There are several variations out there of it. Brady’s Public House in Kansas City serves colcannon.

Finnish mashed turnip casserole

This is a traditional Christmas dish in Finland — sorry, it’s not Halloween themed, but it’s one of the better turnip dishes out there. The root vegetable is popular in European dishes around autumn. The casserole is also called “Lanttulaatikko.” It’s not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

The casserole is usually served as a side to ham, fish, or other meats. It’s made of boiled and mashed rutabagas and enriched with a mixture of bread crumbs, eggs, cream, treacle, butter, and seasoned with salt, cinnamon, or nutmeg.

Irish stew

Warm and filling, Irish stew is a popular dish typically made with lamb, potatoes, carrots, onions, parsley, and beer. Many food historians believe that goat was originally the meat of choice for this classic stew; it eventually was supplanted by beef and mutton. Recipes vary widely as this meal dates back to medieval times. Recipes today generally include Guinness or an Irish stout, but there are ways to cook a pot of this without using alcohol.

Stewing is an ancient method of cooking meats throughout the world. Cauldrons came to Ireland around the 7th century AD and became the dominant cooking tool at that time. This type of stew goes great with bread.  Conroy’s Public House has a version of the stew. Browne’s Irish Market has an Irish potato soup on its menu along with several other traditional Irish foods.

Potato pancakes come in a variety of forms. Different cultures around the world have their take on the treat. Image taken from Wikipedia.

Potato pancakes

Also called boxties, draniki, deruny, latkes, or raggmunk are shallow-fried pancakes of grated potato, matza meal, or flour. It is made with a bonding ingredient — like applesauce or eggs — and flavored with garlic or onions. The dish is sometimes made from mashed potatoes to make pancake shaped croquettes. These pancakes can also be made from sweet potatoes.

Several European, Middle Eastern, and Asian countries have some kind of potato pancake recipe.

Pumpkin and squash soups

Pumpkin dominates Halloween food season, especially in the United States. In Europe, turnips are more abundant and have a tie to Halloween that dates back hundreds — if not thousands — of years. When the holiday moved overseas, pumpkins were used in place of turnips as the gourd was more common in the U.S.

There are a variety of soups that fit the fall season from pumpkin and roasted butternut squash soups, apple based soups, chilies, and vegetable broths. These are often easy to make and great to eat on a cold day.

Squash soups often include acorns. Roasting squash before putting it in a soup can help concentrate the gourd’s flavor. Squash soup can be prepared with chunks or pieces of squash. Onion, cream, sage, thyme, cinnamon, old bay, and marjoram all make for great spices with pumpkin or squash dishes. You can find pumpkin and squash like soups at Panera Bread locations, Rye Plaza, and Brown & Loe.

Sowans

Also called virpa, sowans are a Scottish porridge dish made from oats after milling. The oat husks are soaked in water and fermented for a few days. The liquor is strained and allowed to stand for a day. This allows starchy matter to settle. The liquid part can be poured out or used as a drink. The leftover sowans are salted and boiled with water until thickened, then served with butter or dipped into milk. Recipes for sowans might be complicated if you’re not familiar with these processes.

Meats & mains

Beef and Guinness pie

Beef in dark, silky gravy composed of fat and reduced stout, along with vegetables, and in a covered pastry. It’s a dish that works well to warm people up and fits for any day in fall. This food is a challenge to make and takes a lot of time – it’s for the expert cook or baker in the family to attempt. One recipe online listed it takes more than 4 hours to make and needs 2 hours of refrigeration.

Meat pies

Samhain is big on the meat pies. Historians date the pies back to the Neolithic Period around 9500 BC. It’s simply a pie with a meat filling and other savory ingredients. Meat pies are great for fall dinners and can be assembled in hundreds of different ways.

Meat pies in Kansas City are found at a variety of places including Banksia and PotPie. Ashleigh’s Bake Shop in Westport serves meat quiches.

Other meat mains

If pies don’t really satisfy your meat cravings, other main courses that might work include: roasted lamb, meatloaf, chicken fricassee, apple cider glazed chicken, garlic rosemary pork chops, honey garlic glazed salmon, and chicken Florentine.

Vegetable main courses

Try casseroles or pastas with apples, turnips, pumpkin, onions, or squash. Also, try harvest bowls with a mix of your favorite fall vegetarian ingredients.

Cakes & breads

Apple bread

For the baker in the family, there are plenty of great bread recipes online appropriate for autumn. Apple bread pairs well with foods for both Halloween and Thanksgiving. An added bonus: bread can easily be made from ingredients from your pantry without having to buy too many items from the store.  Apple bread usually consists of flour, cinnamon, white and brown sugar, vanilla, vegetable oil, eggs, baking powder, and, of course, some apples. Throw in some chocolate chips, nuts, or bacon if it fits your palette. Make sure to give yourself plenty of time if you want to make bread for a specific day.

Barmbrack is a quick bread with sultanas or raisins. For a traditional Irish Halloween gathering, a baker may add objects into the dough to play a game.

Barmbrack

Cake has long been a part of Halloween celebrations. Barmbrack is a quick bread with sultanas and raisins. The dough is sweet, but not as rich as a regular cake. It is sometimes called Bairín Breac.

The cake is often used as part of a fortune-telling game or for entertainment. Traditionally, a baker would place in the dough a pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, and a ring. Each item meant something for the person who discovered it in their slice. These items can easily pose as a choking hazard. If you ever place objects in food like this, you should warn those about to eat it… so they can look for items thoroughly before biting into something unpleasant.

The symbolism behind the traditional objects in barmbrack often had to do with marriage. The pea meant the person would not marry that year. A stick: the person would have an unhappy marriage or continuous quarrels with their spouse. A cloth signaled bad luck. The coin meant good fortune. The ring meant someone would wed within the year.

Other articles added to the cake include a medallion, usually of the Virgin Mary, to symbolize going into the priesthood or into nunhood.

Barmbrack is often sold in flattened rounds, served toasted with butter along with a cup of tea.

Garlic and herb Irish soda bread & buttered rolls

Rolls with lots of herbs and spices are a mainstay of Samhain. Throw in some whipped butter or a specialty butter and most dinner guests will be happy. Rolls and soda bread go great with stews, soups, and mashed potatoes. Browne’s Irish Marketplace has soda bread and other traditional Irish foods.

Fairy spice cakes

A delicate treat popular for Samhain will appeal to children. Fairy cakes are actually smaller versions of cupcakes. They’re widely popular in the United Kingdom, and come with far less icing than here in the United States. Our friends across the pond find our sugar addiction somewhat cloying.

Fairy cakes are traditionally made with a lighter sponge cake as opposed to the thicker butter cakes used in cupcakes. Muffin tins were not widely available back in the 1700s, so people used ramekins or individual pottery cups to make the tiny spice cakes. In Irish lore, the cakes would be small enough to serve to fairies. Children will like the size of these – but it’ll be far too easy to eat too many of them. Pack in a variety of spices to give it a punch.

Making smaller cakes in tins might also be fun for older children or teens who like to bake.

Pumpkin cider bread

For those who love both apple cider and pumpkin spiced lattes, you can marry the two flavors in a bread that will have the full taste of fall. You can use pumpkin puree (which is usually squash) or carve a pumpkin and use the pumpkin guts to make the bread… or use the guts for soups, pastas, cakes, and pies. Pumpkins are pretty versatile and soak up spices. The gourd goes well with a variety of meats, sauces, and pastries.

Red beet chocolate cake

The color of this cake is perfect for Halloween; it should come out a brownish-red hue. It might look a little like a red velvet cake. This is an earthy sweet cake – and despite the concerns around beets and whether you like them – the mix should be moist and with a slight kick to it. This cake does well with a variety of spices — the best recipes include cinnamon.

Soul Cakes are usually filled with allspice, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, or other sweet spices. They usually contain currants. Before baking, the cakes are topped with the mark of a cross to signify the food is meant for alms. Soul cakes are traditionally set out with glasses of wine as an offering for the dead — this was an early Christian tradition. The cakes are customary around Halloween, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day. Image taken from Wikipedia.

Soul cakes

A soul cake is a small round cake usually made for Halloween, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day to remember the dearly departed — this is part of a Western Christian tradition popular in the United Kingdom. The cakes were given out to children who went from door to door during  the days of Allhallowtide. The children would sing and say prayers often in exchange for gifts. The practice in England dates back to the medieval period, but it lost prominence in the 1930s as trick-or-treating became mainstream. Soul-mass loaves usually have currants in the center and include oats.

Treats

Bonfire toffee is a customary bitter treat in the United Kingdom for Halloween and Guy Fawkes Night.

Bonfire toffee

Also called the treacle toffee, Plot toffee, or Tom Trot. It is a hard, brittle toffee associated with Halloween and Guy Fawkes Night in the United Kingdom. The toffee is bitter and tastes of molasses. In Scotland, the treat is called claggum, and less sweet versions are called clack. In Wales, it is known as loshin du. The toffee tastes similar to butterscotch.

People first started using molasses in the United Kingdom in the 1660s to make gingerbread. At first, people thought bonfire toffee had medicinal value — this led to an inflation of the price. Toffee was widely popular by the 1800s. Bonfire toffee is popular in the northern part of the United Kingdom, where sweets darker in color are preferred.

Candy apples

Known as toffee apples outside of North America — these are whole apples covered in hard toffee or sugar candy coating. A stick is placed in the middle to act as a handle. These are commonly sold during Halloween, at fall festivals, and for Guy Fawkes events. Toffee apples are made by coating an apple with a layer of sugar that has been heated to hard crack stage. Humidity can prevent the sugar from hardening, so it is better to make this treat in fall and not in summer.

Caramel corn

Caramel corn is a confection made of popcorn. This is also a popular item during Christmas. A caramelized candy syrup is used in the process. Making this item is time consuming and requires skill to make without burning the sugar. You can find a bag of caramel corn at Topsy’s, Velvet Crème Popcorn Co., Popculture Gourmet Popcorn, and Walmart.

Cranachan is traditional Scottish treat with raspberries.

Cranachan

For raspberry fans, this is a traditional Scottish harvest dessert. It includes whipped cream, raspberries, oats, honey, and whiskey. These ingredients are all popular in Scotland. Cranachan is served all year round. Alternate versions of the recipe include oranges, trifle, spiced rum, and shortbread. Chocolate cranachan can be made with chopped toasted hazelnuts, light muscovado sugar, and chocolate.

Sweet potato cream cheese pie

A cheesecake-like pie made with fresh or canned pureed sweet potatoes, cream cheese, and brown sugar. Top it off with cinnamon and nutmeg. Fall foods are all about the spices and the herbs, but don’t go too crazy – too much paprika or cloves distracts from other flavors. Recipes for this item should be easy to follow and can be made in a decent amount of time, an hour or less.

Suggested Halloween menu

Irish beef stew

The hearty stew is easy to make and great for a cold night. Cooking it in a slow-cooker during the day means it will be ready for you by the time you get home.

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 pounds beef chuck, cut into 1 ½ inch cubes

1 pound of carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch chucks

6 large potatoes, peeled and cut into large chucks

1 white onion, cut into large chunks

2 cloves garlic, minced (yes, you can use more)

2 cups of beef broth

A six-ounce can of tomato paste

A 12 fluid ounce can or bottle of Irish stout beer (Guinness). If you cannot consume alcohol, substitute the Guinness with 2 cups water + 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce + 2 beef bouillon cubes crumbled. This will make it a classic beef stew.

1 tablespoon cold water

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Instructions:

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Toss beef cubes into flour to coat them, then fry the mix in the hot oil until browned.

Place the carrots, potatoes, onion chunks, and garlic in a large slow cooker. Place the meat on top of the vegetables. Mix together the beef broth and tomato paste and pour into the slow cooker along with the beer.

Cover and cook on high for 6 hours or on low for 8 hours.

During the last hour before serving, dissolve the cornstarch in cold water and then stir it into the broth. Simmer on the high setting for a few minutes to thicken.

Champ potatoes

The Irish love potatoes and there are numerous potato recipes online. Champ is an easy to follow potato recipe that’s made from scratch.

Ingredients:

22 ounces / 675 grams of potatoes (floury Idahos or russets are recommended. Peeled and quartered)

1 cup green onions

2 ounces of salted butter

2 to 3 ounces of milk

Sea salt (to taste)

Black pepper (to taste)

Instructions:

Simmer the potatoes in lightly salted water until cooked (when pierced with the tip of a sharp knife, the potato should be soft in the middle). This will take about 20 minutes depending on the size of the potatoes.

Finely chop the white part of the green onions and roughly chop the green part. Set aside.

Drain the potatoes in a colander. Place both butter and milk into a pan and heat gently until melted.

Add the potatoes to the pan and mash until smooth and creamy. Be careful not to over-mash the potatoes. You’ll end up with an unpleasant texture.

Add the finely chopped white part of the onion and mix well.

Season well with the salt and pepper to taste. Serve with the green part of the onion sprinkled on top.

Pumpkin cider bread

Ingredients:

22 ounces / 675 grams of potatoes (floury Idahos or russets are recommended. Peeled and quartered)

1 cup green onions

2 ounces of salted butter

2 to 3 ounces of milk

Sea salt (to taste)

Black pepper (to taste)

Instructions:

Simmer the potatoes in lightly salted water until cooked (when pierced with the tip of a sharp knife, the potato should be soft in the middle). This will take about 20 minutes depending on the size of the potatoes.

Finely chop the white part of the green onions and roughly chop the green part. Set aside.

Drain the potatoes in a colander. Place both butter and milk into a pan and heat gently until melted.

Add the potatoes to the pan and mash until smooth and creamy. Be careful not to over-mash the potatoes. You’ll end up with an unpleasant texture.

Add the finely chopped white part of the onion and mix well.

Season well with the salt and pepper to taste. Serve with the green part of the onion sprinkled on top.

Pumpkin cider bread

Ingredients:

2 cups of pureed pumpkin

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

2 tablespoons regular sugar

1 tablespoon nutmeg

2 cups of all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons dry yeast dissolved in a half cup of warm water

1 tablespoon salt

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1/3 to 1/2 cup molasses

2 cups of apple cider

Instructions:

Combine cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg with the pureed pumpkin.

Combine salt and 2 cups of flour. Add the cider, yeast mix, and all other ingredients. Add more flour if necessary.

Pour the dough into a lightly greased bowl, cover it, and let it rise for about 45 minutes in a warm place. Wait until it’s doubled in size.

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.

Punch down the dough and turn it out onto a floured surface. Roll the dough into a long strip and then roll it up jellyroll style to fit into a bread pan. Place in a greased pan and let it rise until double again.

Bake in the oven for 50-60 minutes until brown. A fork should come out of it clean.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/10/26/traditional-halloween-foods-and-preparing-for-a-cold-holiday/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/10/27/traditional-halloween-foods-and-preparing-for-a-cold-holiday/

[wikitopx]

Situated an hour east of Orlando on Florida’s Space Coast is Cocoa Beach.

As the name implies, this area boasts fantastic oceanfront beaches, as well as shops, entertainment, and restaurants. If you’re ready for a break from cooking, head out from your Cocoa Beach vacation rental and have a taste of the local fare. To help you choose an eatery that your kids can also enjoy, here’s a list of the top 10 kid-friendly restaurants in Cocoa Beach.

1. Cocoa Beach Pier

If you want to choose from a variety of restaurants all in one location, take a walk on Cocoa Beach Pier. For a quick bite, check out Sea Dogs for a classic beef hot dog or Polish sausage. If you’re ready to sit down and relax for a bit, sample local seafood or land lover’s delights at Pelican’s Bar and Grill, Keith’s Oyster Bar, or The Boardwalk Bar. Each of these restaurants features a kid’s menu and a great ocean view. After you eat, take the kids to Mission Control game room for an exciting round of arcade games.

2. Cafe Surfinista

Take your little foodie to Cafe Surfinista for some good-for-you fuel to keep your energy up during a day of fun. This cozy cafe is decorated with eclectic art that kids love to look at while enjoying their food. The menu is complete with smoothies, fresh-pressed juices, organic salads, and sandwiches. Make sure to try their signature dish: the acai bowls. They feature blended acai berries topped with fresh fruits and other add-ins of your choice, including coconut, bee pollen, or local honey.

3. Beachside Grill and Deli

Grab a hot breakfast or head to lunch at Beachside Grill and Deli. Kids enjoy the egg and cheese breakfast sandwiches, bagels or muffins, while the adults can build their own omelets or try a breakfast wrap. For lunch, choose from one of the restaurant’s signature salads, sandwiches or wraps, and take it to go for a picnic on the beach.

4. The Tiny Turtle

Feast on authentic Caribbean fare at The Tiny Turtle, and enjoy the eatery’s casual, laid-back vibe. Take peanut butter and jelly to a whole new level with PB&J BBQ pork sliders, or sample the island taco basket or ocean sofrito bowl. The kid’s menu features hot dogs, quesadillas, and cheeseburgers, along with some more unique options, such as soft tacos with plantain chips or grilled pork pincho with black bean rice. The Tiny Turtle also features quinoa bowls or wraps for vegetarian options.

  5. Fat Kahuna’s

A casual atmosphere that is welcoming to all meets a fine dining experience at Fat Kahuna’s. Start off with chips with black bean hummus and a cold pineapple mango sangria to drink. Choose from a variety of seafood options for dinner, including mahi-mahi, coconut shrimp, or Kona coffee-crusted Norwegian salmon, while the kids enjoy chicken fingers or fish sticks from the children’s menu. The restaurant is usually busy, so call ahead for a reservation to minimize wait times for your family.

6. A New York Pizza House

Enjoy a relaxed pizza night during your vacation by visiting A New York Pizza House. Choose from a variety of subs, calzones, and gourmet pizza options, including meat focaccia, vodka pizza, Thai chili shrimp pizza, or Sheepshead Bay pizza topped with jumbo shrimp, scallops and clams sautéed in house scampi sauce. If your family likes more classic pizza toppings, go for the meat or veggie pizza. A gluten-free menu is also available for those with dietary restrictions.

7. Roberto’s Little Havana

Sit down for some authentic Cuban cuisine in a comfortable atmosphere at Roberto’s Little Havana. Try out the Cuban eggs benedict or a specialty omelet for breakfast, while the kids scarf down the blueberry pancakes or famous egg sandwich. For dinner, start off with beef or chicken empanadas, then indulge in the Cuban style lobster creole or the paella, a combination of seafood and chicken cooked with yellow rice.

    8. Green Room Cafe

Health enthusiasts and their families love eating at the Green Room Cafe, featuring organic food choices and healthy kids meals. Children 11 years old and under can order from the kid’s menu, which features delicious options such as a peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich, cheese quesadilla, or soft tacos with a chicken-less patty. Adults love the unique sandwich offerings here, especially the Ruebio, a healthy yet tasty spin on a classic Reuben sandwich.

9. Nolan’s Irish Pub

Sometimes you just need some good comfort food, and Nolan’s Irish Pub delivers plenty of options from its kitchen. Enjoy some conversation over one of Nolan’s imported or craft beers, while the kids sip on a root beer float. Classic Irish fare, including shepherd’s pie, Guinness stew, and a beef, bacon and cheddar sandwich, are just a few of the offerings to satisfy your taste buds.

10. Jazzy’s Mainly Lobster and Seafood Company

Get a meal fresh from the ocean’s bounty at Jazzy’s Mainely Lobster and Seafood Company. Try the fresh catch of the day grilled, blackened or fried, or go for a New England style shrimp roll. The menu also includes chicken or burger options If seafood isn’t your taste. Kids love the children’s menu, which offers options such as the fried shrimp basket, chicken tenders, or grilled cheese, but their favorite part might be the ice cream sandwich that is included for dessert.

Here are a few more ideas for what to do in the area: Top 10 things to do in Cocoa Beach

From : https://wikitopx.com/food/top-10-best-restaurants-in-cocoa-beach-friendly-for-kids-700800.html

[scrapsofsky]

I am on my way home from Dublin OR have already arrived. Like science fiction, my future is fundamentally about the present. Naturally, that means Worldcon has ended along with my sadly short vacation in Dublin, Ireland, a quaint little city… Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Dublin is really cool, y’all. And since “recaps of adventures” are a thing in the science fiction community, I’m here to, well, recap my adventures. This one will be a long one, y’all. So here…we…go!

The Dublin Worldcon was a bit like a dream. I pre-supported (or whatever it’s called) fairly early in the game AND bought an upgrade for my badge at the Worldcon in Finland (2017). I really wanted to go to a Worldcon in Dublin. More importantly, I wanted to support strong bids for non-U.S. Worldcons because, well, I actually take the “world” part of the name literally, and I don’t think you can have a “Worldcon” that doesn’t make an attempt to occur in various parts of the world.[1. I also recognize that logistically, it is quite difficult to run a Worldcon in every place on Earth. First, you need an established community that could reasonably handle a con the size of a Worldcon. Second, you need a space that can reasonably provide for potential attendees. Also: with the dystopian turn around the world, I have particular concerns about safety for convention attendees, especially if they come from marginalized groups. There are no easy solutions to this problem. After all, the West has decided to flush its progressive movement down the toilet. Most of us are fairly privileged in the West, and I am reminded of my nearly tearful smile in the EPIC Museum in Dublin when the fancy screen reminded us that Dublin was the first (or one of the first) countries to legalize gay marriage by popular vote. Respecting other cultures is one thing, but we also have to consider the safety of attendees in places where rights-based progress has not occurred. And, yes, I recognize that my home country, the United States of America, has SEVERE issues when it comes to safety right now. I would be hesitant to support a Worldcon in the U.S., which is likely to attract people from Mexico and other heavily Hispanic or Latinx nations; no U.S. Worldcon can guarantee that they won’t get randomly picked up by ICE and deported even though they are legally in the country. Worse, no U.S. Worldcon can guarantee that anyone picked by ICE for deportation won’t have their lives put at risk when they are detained in some ICE facility without the provisions necessary for comfort. I’ll remind people that simply being in the U.S. is not a crime, and being in the U.S. illegally is so minor of a crime that any argument suggesting they be treated like hardened criminals is, frankly, some fascist bullshit. Yes, fascist. OK. I’ll stop now…]

Originally, I had not planned to attend the event. I recently moved to Minnesota for a new job, and that meant a lot of moving expenses ended up on credit cards (ahem, I have a ko-fi). So I made the choice that I would save my money to pay down debt (ahem, I have a Paypal, ahem). Then y’all nominated my podcast, The Skiffy and Fanty Show, for Best Fancast. And when you’re nominated for a Hugo to be announced in Ireland, you have to scrap your previous adult plans for nerd shenanigans.

Also:  I will apologize in advance for forgetting anyone I might have hung out with, encountered, conversed with, etc. Dublin was a bit of a whirlwind, and I am notoriously forgetful. I also do want to apologize to folks we meant to interview for the podcast. Stuff sorta fell through, partly because of me and partly because of things I couldn’t control. However, I expect to record new stuffs with you folks in the near future!

So with that in mind, here’s a day-by-day accounting of the events in Dublin:

Day One (8/13/19 – 8/14/19): Dubliners

Thanks (seriously, thanks) to all the lovely folks who donated to my fundraiser (to cover the flight and hotel expenses), I was able to stay a little longer in Dublin than I might have if I could only rely on work reimbursement.[2. Work will basically cover all the stuff that isn’t flight or hotel related. Without your support, I probably would have been there for two days and then come back, which is kind of a waste of a trip. This way, I could cover some bills and experience a bit of Dublin.] One of my co-hosts and co-producers, Jen Zink, had procured accommodations at Trinity College for Friday through Tuesday, so I decided I’d take a few days off from work to enjoy a bit more of Dublin.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know that my departure did not go smoothly. I left Bemidji for Minneapolis with more than enough time for a 2+ hour early arrival. But Minnesota decided the 13th would be the day to dump Florida-level rain on the whole damn state. By the time I hit Minneapolis, I had lost at least 30 minutes of lead time. In Minneapolis, things were even worse. The roads were swamped with slowed sections and accidents. I even took the wrong turnoff, which put me in even worse traffic and sent me through back roads trying to make my way. Normally, losing a 2-hour lead on a flight wouldn’t worry me. When I fly domestic, I usually don’t have any issues at the Minneapolis Airport and end up with over 90 minutes of free time. International flights aren’t always as smooth, so I was certain I’d miss the flight. So certain I think I had my first case of real road rage in a long time. I even called Jen to rant as a way to calm the nerves.

Needless to say, I made it with time to spare because Minneapolis is weird.

And if only that were the last disaster! Ha! Upon arrival in Dublin (about an hour late), I received the delightful news that the airline (KLM-Delta) had lost my luggage. And by “lost” I mean “somehow they got it off the plane and misplaced it on the way to the baggage carousel.” This happened to everyone’s luggage for the flight. The airline tried to claim that the luggage had come on a different flight due to weight concerns, but I call bullshit. [3. Pro-tip, folks. Bring a change of underwear in your carry-on luggage. T-shirt and sporty shorts are also a plus.]

At the time, this really stressed me out. In retrospect, it’s honestly not that big a deal. I was just damn tired and didn’t want to go shopping for supplies while in an unfamiliar city after a red-eye flight.

The good news? I ended that day by chilling with Gareth Kavanaugh and ickle_tayto (it’s a reference!). We had dinner at an Irish pub place, where I devoured a Guinness and an Irish stew. So the evening ended quite well indeed!

Day 2 (8/15):  Let the Great Pre-Con Spin

The second day turned out a bit better. As you do when you’re in Ireland, I started off with a full Irish breakfast at a local pub. Nomnom. Aside from lingering pain from my leg (hey, leg pain!), I had a pretty good time socializing and wandering the convention center.

One thing I did get to do was catch up with Anne Lyle, who has been one of my go-to “hey, we randomly happen to be in the same place” friends. She seems to pop up at the same conventions, and we never coordinate anything. We just run into each other, and it’s a happy friends time. On top of that, I joined up with Julia Rios and her husband, Moss (who is a delight), and all four of us had a lovely dinner at a local sushi place.

I’m also pretty sure this is the day I met Matt (a.k.a. runalongwomble). We had a beer (thank god for European conventions), chatted about a lot of stuffs, and enjoyed general merriment. Matt is awesome!

That pretty much sums up that day. I weirdly didn’t go to any panels, which I’ll blame on jet lag and the fiasco of the previous day. Honestly, if not for catching up with old friends, I imagine it would feel wasted, but as it stands:  totally a good day.

P.S.:  This is one of those days where my memory is quite fuzzy. If we talked on this day, please remind me, because the brain has deleted my browsing history…

Day 3 (8/16): The Picture of Loopdilou

By Friday, the Skiffy and Fanty crew had begun to accumulate like some kind of troupe of Might Morphin’ Power Rangers (yeah, I went there). Julia and Alex were already in town. Trish was probably hiding somewhere. And Jen was on her way from Colorado. I’m told the weather in Colorado was pleasant in her absence, which meteorologists attributed to the absence of her Storm-like aura of radiation (X-Men rule!).

I mostly spent the day enjoying good food (another full Irish breakfast, y’all — Spar’s got it goin’ on), chatting with folks, drinking beer at Martin’s (the “pub” offered by Worldcon because European Worldcons are like that), and so on. Mostly, I spent half of the day waiting for Jen, who decided to be late to the party. I also recorded an interview with Ariela Housman and Terri Ash of Geek Calligraphy (forthcoming).

Once Jen arrived, we got checked into our room at Trinity College, proceeded to hunt down Julia and Alex and Trish, attended Julia’s and Alex’s readings, and then poofed off to a local Irish pub for eats with Anne Lyle in tow. Oh, fun fact:  Jen totally fell like a cartoon character after “running into” a foot traffic barricade. It was hilarious.

After those shenanigans, we went to Julia’s hotel room, acquired some lovely alcohol, and recorded an episode of Torture Cinema with Skiffy and Fanty super fan, Linnea. You can listen to the episode here! Jen spent most of the evening snoring.

Day 4 (8/17):  A Portrait of the Panelist as an Old Fart

The next day was an eventful one. It was the first day I got to really enjoy panels at Worldcon. Here’s a quick rundown of the panels I attended (some will link to Twitter threads and what not):

One of the big panels I attended was “What is African Science Fiction?” starring Nick Wood and Geoff Ryman. This panel was meant to have others in attendance, but alas there were some issues that prevented that. You can read some of my notes on the panel via this Twitter thread:

https://twitter.com/shaunduke/status/1162667073962741761

And even more can be found via Vanessa Rose Phin’s thread:

https://twitter.com/wordfey/status/1162660343895797760

I do just want to add that the problem of tourist visas is one that we’re going to need to deal with in the future. I’m not sure how much conventions can do to mitigate the damage this causes, but we all need to be more proactive in making sure people from other parts of the world can attend conventions and be part of our conversations. Otherwise, we’re just not the global community we should be. There’s more to be said on this, but this post is already ridiculously long!

From there, I decided to hit up “Building the SFF Community Online,” which I hoped would give me some insight into managing online communities. I semi-run two semi-communities:  The Skiffy and Fanty Show and StarWarsFanJoy, both of which I’ve semi-neglected because I am overwhelmed by life. The panel starred Christopher Davis, Kat Tanaka Okopnik, fromankyra, Elio Garcia Jr., and Heather Rose Jones (M).

I also attended a “Muslim SFF” panel starring S.A. Chakraborty, Yasser Bahjatt, Harun Šiljak, and Peter Adrian Behravesh (who looks like an English professor who took a class in Awesome). I really wish I had kept notes on the panel because they mentioned a lot of old school and relatively recent work, some of which was from Arabia and some of which was from elsewhere in the world (Bosnia!). I mostly go to these panels to find new stuff to check out, and in this case, I just missed a lot because I am still fairly new to the way names from Arabia (and, well, Bosnia) are spelled. In other words, I just missed a lot of names. But there’s good news for this one:  it was streamed live on YouTube! See here:

So go get you some Muslim SF/F!

The last panel I attended that wasn’t one of my own was “Audio Dramas and Radio Plays,” starring Phil Foglio, Roger Gregg, Fiona Moore, and Jeanne Beckwith (M). I mostly went because my co-hosts, Jen Zink and Trish Matson, were interested. I think we both expected to get something different out of it:  Jen probably wanted more tips on audio narration and dramatic presentation for her work as a podcast producer on non-Skiffy and Fanty things; I mostly wanted a better understanding of audio drama to see where there might be crossover for an actual play RPG podcast I’d like to do.

And, well, we didn’t really get much out of it. Except chuckles. The panel briefly talked about podcasts, but it was pretty clear that nobody on the panel actually knew anything about podcasts. That might not bother me except they were meant to be there as experts of a kind on audio dramas and radio plays, both things that have been part of the podcasting community for longer than I’ve been a part of it (I joined in 2010 and started listening in 2008 or so). Then one of the panelists basically said you shouldn’t start a podcast just to have fun, and all three us did one of those comedic “oh really” turns, and then Jen muttered “we really fucked this up.” We probably would have disrupted the panel with laughter if we hadn’t contained ourselves just a wee bit.

Beyond that, I had one panel and one event of my own to attend. It was a busy day! My first panel for Worldcon was “The Use of SF in Higher Education” starring Mary Anne Mohanraj (M), Nora E. Derrington, David DeGraff, and Corry L. Lee, Ph.D. We largely talked about how to navigate using SF in classrooms with emphasis on getting students to think about the world around them. There’s good reason for that:  most of the panelists teach physical sciences (physics and the like). I did get to go on a mini-ramble about the importance of using literature to think about digital technology, social media, and the like. This was one of those moments when I wished that panels could be longer or that we had more time between panels to have conversations with audience members. But Dublin tried to keep things moving, so…

The last thing on the list was a Literary Beer with, well, myself. These are basically kaffeeklatsches with beer instead of coffee. Free beer, I might add. Mmm. Free beer.

Anyway. I was pretty concerned about this because I do not consider myself much of a celebrity despite being a Hugo Award finalist two times in the same decade. However, my table ended up being full. In attendance: Valerie Valdes, who I had met at some point earlier in the convention (along with her lovely husband, Eric, who chatted my ear off about cinema sound production[3. Eric, you are totally evil for getting me back into Pokemon Go. You monster!]), S.C. Flynn, old friends Evergreen and Gary, Eyal Kless, and a whole lot of other folks! Honestly, I went in feeling very much like an impostor, but left feeling pretty good. For the most part, the conversation wandered into everything from Star Wars to toxic fandom to podcasting to separating the author from their work, etc. I have no idea if that’s how these things are meant to go, but I certainly enjoyed myself.

I ended up grabbing dinner on a boat with Evergreen and Gary, which was lovely, then nabbing beers, socializing, and then towing Jen back to Trinity College. It was a pretty good day.

Day 5 (8/18): The Book of Panels

Ah, Sunday. The big day. The awards day. The day we lost another Hugo Award. Ha!

For the most part, I didn’t get to attend any panels other than my own. There was a lot of sleeping in, eating full Irish breakfasts, socializing, and otherwise keeping our minds focused on being emotional wrecks. For the most part, we succeeded.

The first panel of the day was “Academics and Acolytes: Learning in SFF Worlds,” starring Karen Simpson Nikakis, Kenneth Schneyer, and Ali Baker. We mostly discussed how learning systems function in SF/F narratives, what they get right and wrong, etc. It was pretty fantasy heavy, but I think that’s largely because most narratives with memorable education systems happen to be fantasy narratives. We did have some fun at the end when an audience member asked which school from an SF/F story we’d like to attend. My answer was pretty reasonable:  Starfleet if for no other reason than that my chances of death on campus are remarkably low. Let’s be real:  most schools in fantasy worlds put their students in a lot of danger. I have no idea how any fantasy school manages to have insurance for the premises.

The other panel was simply called “Fan Podcasts,” starring Alexandra Rowland, Jonathan Strahan, Heather Rose Jones (M), and Jen Zink. Unlike a lot of podcast panels I’ve been on, we didn’t focus on all the technical details. Instead, Heather kindly directed us to talk about the trials that go into producing a show, our intentions and desires, and related components. It led to a lot of back-and-forth between the different podcast hosts, each of whom had different perspectives. All in all, it was a solid ending to my panel allotment!

And then the real scary stuff happened! The Skiffy and Fanty Crew got to attend another Hugo Awards ceremony together, beginning with a mini-party-whatsit (which we attended with Eden Royce and her husband, Mark Taylor). Brandon O’Brien, Trish Matson, Julia Rios, and Alex Acks were also in attendance. As far as Hugo Award ceremonies go, this one had quite a few hiccups. The biggest was the closed caption failures that brought about a lot of laughter during Ada Palmer’s award introduction. At first, I did find the inaccurate translations of Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones as “Bored of the Rings” and “Cream of Thrones,” but the more I think about it, the more of a colossal screw-up it turned out to be. Obviously, they put that there for folks who are hard of hearing, but it’s clear that they needed a better system or some other method entirely, especially since the laughter completely disrupted the show. Beyond that, though, I think the awards were perfectly fine. There’s no online stream as far as I can tell, but you can learn about the winners here.

Naturally, we didn’t win. Surprise! But we did get to watch some really phenomenal folks get trophies and light the world on fire with some of their speeches.

After that, we headed to the now-infamous Hugo Losers Party. Infamous for unintended reasons… Much has been said about the issues surrounding the HLP. My voice is among the many, though I am by far the least significant voice. Instead of retreading here, I’ll simply point you to this string of Twitter threads and posts (mine will come last). A couple quick points to note:

The Dublin Worldcon folks are not responsible for the party, though they did put the invitations in finalist packets. Some of the threads tag Dublin 2019 in the mix, but they were minimally involved in the event. This suggests that there is a LOT of confusion about who runs the Hugo Losers Party, who manages things like transportation, etc.

New Zealand’s Worldcon crew are also mentioned in some of these threads. They were involved in the party, though I’m not sure to what degree. I do know that they were at the front doors and contributed, intentionally or otherwise, to the confusion outside. Hopefully, they took a LOT of notes.

There are also likely some inaccuracies in some of these threads, especially those written in the moment or the immediate wake. Again, this speaks to the degree of confusion about the event, who manages it, who said what and when, etc. It also shows just how much confusion there was at the doors. My friends and I honestly had no idea what was going on beyond “it’s full and you can’t get in,” and when we asked questions, we often got conflicting information, no information, or got told something that, in our eyes, seemed wrong (like dumping our +1s at the door like discarded luggage).

While there is a lot of anger in all of this, I don’t think anyone blames those who did attend the event for attending. It wasn’t their party, and they were simply doing what they thought they were allowed to do. More importantly, some of those folks, including convention staff, left when they found out that finalists were being refused entry. They shouldn’t have had to do that, but I appreciate that they chose to do so on our behalf. This is likely the reason Jen Zink and I managed to gain entry (see my thread below for more on that).

GRRM does partly finance and run this shindig, for which I think most people are grateful. Indeed, it’s a nice thing to do. Most of the issues that came up concern how people felt in trying to attend the event and the apparent dismissal of those feelings after the fact. You’ll see that in most of the threads.

Here are some initial reactions (understandably annoyed reactions):

https://twitter.com/katsudonburi/status/1163219408032018432

https://twitter.com/NussbaumAbigail/status/1163369795238223872

GRRM has now responded to some of these thoughts. I recommend you start with Alex Acks’ blog response to that post, which pretty well covers a lot of the major issues surrounding the party and the explanations that followed. Then look at these Twitter threads:

https://twitter.com/LoopdiLou/status/1168215279286898688

https://twitter.com/AlasdairStuart/status/1168519904179490817

https://twitter.com/_vajra/status/1168225748676726791

https://twitter.com/AlexandraErin/status/1168174552087769088

https://twitter.com/D_Libris/status/1168179746787790849

You can read my initial reactions to the party here:

https://twitter.com/shaunduke/status/1163256621985927168

And my post-GRRM explanation reactions here:

https://twitter.com/shaunduke/status/1168168091819421699

https://twitter.com/shaunduke/status/1168276842815639553

These are by no means the only reactions. I am certainly missing quite a few, so if you have suggestions for things to include, please let me know in the comments!

Other than that, the day was a good one. It might have ended awkwardly, but that’s just the way life works sometimes!

Day 6 (8/19):  Worldcon’s Ashes

Monday began with a quick meetup with Tanya DePass. Jen and I interviewed her about I Need Diverse Games and related gaming issues (forthcoming) before joining her for her reading from Game Devs & Others: Tales from the Margins. It was good stuff!

Beyond that, Monday is a bit of a blur. It was the last full day of Jen shenanigans, but she wasn’t feeling well enough to do much more than hang at the convention center. I’m sure I did a lot of socializing there, but I’m just drawing blanks while writing this (sorry).

I do know that we attended the closing ceremony party thing. We procured some bean bags with Gareth Kavanaugh. Ian Sales showed up, and we had a lovely chat about his recent move, making lists of movies where we accuse the other of being totally wrong about their choices, and other fun things. Then we retired…

Day 7 (8/20): Duke’s Travels

With the convention officially over, it was time to say goodbye to some people and get some last-minute Dublin adventures marked off the “to do” list. Jen and I joined Alasdair Stuart and Marguerite Kenner for breakfast as a farewell. They were all leaving relatively early in the day. We had a lovely conversation over burgers and fries, talked genre shenanigans, commiserated over the previous Sunday’s fiasco, babbled about audio production and Netflix shows, etc. It was pretty awesome.

Then we parted ways. I said goodbye to one of my best friends (and two new ones). To be fair, Jen and I are not allowed to be in the same region for more than 6 days due to some pesky international treaties signed between Thailand, the United States, and Poland. So don’t expect us to hang out again soon.

After that, I had the pleasure of joining Juan Sanmiguel (from Orlando’s SF/F fan community). We decided to check out Dublin Castle, which is pretty darn cool (see the pictures), the EPIC museum (also incredible), and Chapters, a massive new and used bookstore in Dublin.[4. I discovered the Antonio Benitez-Rojo wrote novels. Ask me about it some time.] I certainly didn’t get to see as much of the city as I would have liked, but you can’t have it all, right? We ended the evening at J.W. Sweetman, a brewery and pub in the center of Dublin. Yes, I tried all of their beers (in very small glasses).

As I write this, Juan is doing more Dublin things without me.[5. Actually, he’s home now, but I can’t be bothered to keep times accurate.]

Afterwards, I bought some souvenirs and turned in.

Day 8 (8/21): Thy Journey Might Cease

And so it all ended. Here I am writing up a longwinded report on my Worldcon activities from the relative discomfort of an airplane flying at 33,881 feet in -45 C temperatures at nearly 720 KMH. We just crossed the Atlantic and will land in Atlanta or something in a few hours. Be amazed that this is even a thing![7. Remember when I said I wouldn’t keep times accurate? I’m obviously not on a plane anymore, but just imagine that I am because that would mean I’ve been stuck on a plane for over a week!]

All in all, Worldcon was pretty fantastic. Yeah, there were some snafus and the like (and my leg was in extreme pain for most of it), but I met a bunch of folks, caught up with folks I already knew, and got to hang with my bestestest friend, Jen. And I got to see Dublin. It’s hard to complain too much now, right?

With that in mind, I’ll leave it to the Internets. If you attended Worldcon, what did you think? Did you have a good time? What were some of your favorite panel experiences? What did you see in the city that amazed you? Let me know in the comments!

Oh, and for those that like pictures, here you go:

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  And I'm back on the blog talking about stuff. Today's post takes a look at my experiences at Worldcon 77 in Dublin! Enjoy the rambles! I am on my way home from Dublin OR have already arrived. Like science fiction, my future is fundamentally about the present. 

[fitnesswomenshealth-blog]

Mat Fraser CrossFit Diet

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Mat Fraser CrossFit Diet

Sammy Moniz has a challenging job. Luckily, she loves her function.

She cooks for her fiancé and three-time CrossFit Fittest Male on Earth, Mat Fraser, trying to keep the champion fueled up for his demanding instruction program. Moniz estimates that she spends as substantially time planning foods as Mat does training, and when she’s not cooking, she’s reading through cookbooks and meals blogs for fun.

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She catalogues all of her culinary exploits on her Instagram, Feeding the Frasers, to show supporters a various side of the everyday living of a world class athlete. We caught up with Moniz to discover additional about her suggestions for nourishment, where by she finds inspiration, and to see a number of dishes she whipped up just for MensHealth.com — and Mat Fraser, of class.

Try to eat what you want — but only if you make it

Fraser publicized his nightly pint of ice cream pattern for lots of decades. He is given that cleaned up his diet — but he is even now not as meticulous as some of the other elite CrossFit athletes. He isn’t going to use a food-shipping and delivery support or keep track of his energy or macros, which Moniz states is a lot more of a challenge than it may possibly audio. “It’s genuinely a chore to try to eat as a great deal as he has to take in,” she famous.

EC Synkowski, a nutritionist and stage-4 CrossFit coach, informed MensHealth.com that an athlete at Mat’s stage has to try to eat in between 20 to 25 energy for each pound of overall body weight, which arrives out to about 4,750 energy a working day. If he were being an normal person who worked out the moment a working day, that selection would drop to about 3,000. If he were being sedentary, it’d be as minimal as 2,280.

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“You can find likely to be a specific baseline of good quality foods which is significant for athletes like Mat to hit due to the fact there are important restoration aspects of feeding on full, unprocessed foodstuff,” Synkowski explained. “And then, right after a specified stage, they genuinely do just have to have the energy to preserve their quantity up to coach.”

Moniz recommends that anybody making an attempt to pack on high quality calories must have fruit in the house. “I’ll slice up an apple and set it in entrance of Mat on a slicing board, and if he sits there extended more than enough, he’ll begin to snack, and then all of unexpected the total apple’s gone,” she stated.

Go to the market place, not the grocery retail outlet

Getty VisualsAlexander Spatari

To get that baseline of whole, unprocessed, and nutritious food, Moniz goes searching two or three times a week. She’ll invest in some staples in bulk (she and Fraser go through a five-pound bag of rice every other week), but, due to the fact most of what she buys will spoil promptly, she commonly will get only what she demands for the up coming 48 hours.

Buying that commonly also helps minimize foods squander, while Moniz has to be innovative with how she methods leftovers. When she’s cooking steak, for instance, she’ll constantly make two for Mat. “Based on the working day, he’ll have one more 50 % or a further total, or it results in being leftovers that we prepare dinner up into a steak hash in the early morning,” she stated.

For any one trying to take in much more unprocessed foodstuff without having uncomplicated accessibility to farmer’s marketplaces, Synkowski has a simple suggestion: the 800-Gram Problem. Every working day, eat 800 grams of fruit and/or greens — it will not subject if they’re cooked, canned, frozen, or fresh, as lengthy as they are not section of a processed food items, like potato chips.

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Learn alongside the way

No matter whether you want to abide by a culinary-themed Instagram account, browse a foods weblog, or browse a cookbook go over-to-deal with (Moniz’s suggestions for people are underneath), a minor examine and organizing will teach you to be successful and innovative in the kitchen.

“There’s understanding in the cooking,” Moniz said. “I have learned a whole lot about flavor combos and why specified substances pair well jointly just from the repetition of viewing them in several recipes.”

But, principle will only get you so much. The very best way to get improved is to apply, even if that suggests flopping.

One particular night time, Moniz determined to make sloppy joes. “I was so fired up,” she mentioned. “It reminded me of childhood — like, sloppy joes!” But, she cooked the meat down way too a great deal, and it was way too sweet to consume. Even even though Moniz realized specifically what went completely wrong, the meal didn’t fulfill her expectations (“Mat tested and Sammy accredited”), so she didn’t post it on the Instagram.

If you might be equipped to operate from property, Moniz suggests adding some food items-prep into your day. “On a convention get in touch with, I can stir a pot of stew on the stove. It definitely requires some multi-tasking, but I can continue on undertaking my task whilst also prepping for my loved ones.”

Moniz’ Favorite Foodie Assets

Cookbooks

50 % Baked Harvest Cookbook: Recipes from My Barn in the Mountains

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The Dinner Girls: 170+ recipes to prepare dinner now, consume later on

Weblogs

Fifty percent Baked Harvest

Oh Sweet Basil

Show Me the Yummy

The Foods

Apple Ricotta Pancakes

from Half Baked Harvest Cookbook: Recipes from My Barn in the Mountains

Guinness Beef Pie

from The Evening meal Women Cookbook

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