#neophyte cheffing

[valorxdrive]

❝ Sora. Sora. Sora, look at me when I'm speaking. You did NOT get tutored by THE renowned Chef Remy just to try and march right into a fast food restaurant! ❞ And with the most stuck-up nose of all she adds, ❝ If I were to even dignify such a place to call it a restaurant... I sense great darkness in this Burger King... ❞

Was she really being that haughty with this?!

Try as he might, Sora did hold enough awareness in seeing that he could provide better if his hands willed it. High quality cooking vs the brand that's easily accessible, made through logic alone compared to passion, there was a level of thought where he could see where his fellow Keybearer was coming from. Though, should the thoughts really scale that deep when it comes to this establishment that intends to bring burgers to all of the world? First things first, that impassioned temper of her's!

A modest, brief chuckle spills from him as those gloved hands waved upwards as a wish for calm. "Eheh, y'sure that's just not from the measure of frustrated workers brewing about in there? It's not like the patties or the recipe itself could..." There's a mild pause as he thinks it over. If he were to truly let his heart dive upon this matter, the mere idea causes him to cast a more--- Uncertain glance towards Burger King. How the 'maniacal' face of it's king remains posted on a billboard up high, just for his title to be repeated, again, as if anyone couldn't figure out how that was a king of burgers there!

"...Hm." It's only when those skylit eyes honed with focus, he truly could see what she meant.

Darkness.

How it permeated the entire parking lot, the building itself almost stuck in a maddened crystallization of the ruthless element. A familiar itch upon his palm was practically begging for him to answer that Heart enriched call. Biting down that impulse, he'd clench his hand down instead.

So, you two neophytes intend to roam and invade the TRUE realm of my domain?

Those lifeless eyes held nothing but challenge, an ancient, slothful manifestation finds itself barring it's presence down at the both of them. For an instant, reality seems to split at certain seams, revealing the true face of Burger King before their very eyes. It was enough to cause the Kingdom Key to finally flourish in a rush of rebellious life, being clasped within his grip as the hero's teeth bared themselves.

"Aqua, I can see it now. Those pies, those burgers, the people they're all in a lot more trouble then I first thought! We'll have to turn whatever is coming into a victory meal down the line."

It was time for Keyblade wielders to do what they do best!

@piousolus

[obbyuk]

Elevate Your Baking Chops with beauty courses

At Obby, we are passionate about all effects of incineration, and we are then to help you unleash your inner confection cook with our array of instigative baking classes london. Whether you are a complete neophyte or a seasoned chef looking to upgrade your chops, our classes feed to all situations of experience.

[milakitchenandbath]

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[cookingintheeye]

the-consortium

Grythan’s brief show of resentment towards his master is obviously not lost on Fabius. The Chief Apothecary allows himself an amused smile. He has never been an expert in dealing with people - for him they are either useful or obstacles - and even now it is only too visible that he senses Matthew’s anger but is in no way prepared to deal with it.

Presumably Grythan has also calculated exactly what detail to throw out to pique the Chief Apothecary’s curiosity, indicating a surprising empathy in the boy. And Fabius allows himself to take the bait.

He raises an eyebrow. Looks at Matthew with amused respect, “You don’t just cook them, you use them for food production? How did you come up with that? I have yet to meet anyone who actually processes xenos into something useful! Do they produce easily digestible protein or can their milk only be fed to creatures with enhanced metabolism like us?”

Fabius’ curiosity about practically everything to do with biology and medicine does indeed seem endless. But you don’t become the best doctor in the galaxy (though a lot of people would replace the word “doctor” with less flattering terms) unless you have an insatiable hunger for knowledge. And he seems to have realised that Grythan functions similarly to his students - with a lot of reverence but also a lot of defiance towards their teacher.

Which is why he now visibly addresses Grythan as well, turning slightly in his direction. “Not only are you definitely very interested in the curative and exploratory work of Matthew, you obviously have no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. You’ll go far in the science business. Or get killed very quickly. It’s hard to say. With the dwindling number of apothecaries in our legion, I’m glad for anyone whose interests aren’t exhausted by hedonism and duels.”

“Why yes, we humans have been using animals for more than just meat for thousands of years; it would be a waste to simply slaughter them all. Besides, where else could I get dairy products? It’s not like we can just pop into a market and purchase several loads, it would go bad as soon as we loaded it with how big this place is! No, making it in house was the most logical thing to do we have the technology after all to utilise Xenos I would have just thrown in the grinder after all!” The Chef seemed rather proud surrounding his logic, but he did have a point. Resources would have to be made in house or raided to be obtained by an Emperor’s Children Warband, not many would willingly trade with them after all.

“With a little bit of gene-work and some flesh grafts, they produce digestible milk even for the baselines. With a lovely fat content of 5% we can use it for many things, personally I enjoy making cheese from it but we’ve also figured out how to make powdered milk from it for long term storage. Makes the ration kits a bit more palatable too when they can simply rehydrate the powder for both a quick drink and to be used for cooking. I’d say the extra nutrient does our men well, and it’s not as much of a biohazard as Imperial corpse starch is.”

Matthew was about to speak again before he was interrupted by Fabius’s observations of his little student, frowning as the attention of the Chief Apothecary was split between the elder and the child. It worried Matthew, as the muddled anxiety of whether Fabius would poach the promising neophyte right from him rocked about in the bottomless pit that was Matthew’s stomach.

“I am going to go far!” Grythan boldly stated as he put down the scalpel, absolutely loving the attention under his confident exterior, “I’m not just trained by Matthew, but our Apothecary too. He says my brain and talents would have been wasted on that dirt ball of an Agri-world! I love learning from them both, it’s an honour to be trained by them both and now to be in your presence Chief Apothecary!”

“A-ah yes, we picked Grythan’s batch up from a raid on an Imperial world, it makes my bones shudder to think about all that waste potential that merely needs to be liberated into our care.” Matthew commented with a smile, clapping his hands together as he paced around the room.

Unfortunately Fabius I have been instructed by my superiors to invite you to our yearly feast that I host, war band politics and all that crap. You keep your damn tools to yourself and we won't have an issue now will we?

(@cookingintheeye )

Oleander listens to the message for the third time and each time the smile on his face has widened. He is just about to press the button on the dataslate for the fourth time when Fabius snaps from behind one of the operating tables further back in the lab, "Do you mind?" His student puts the dataslate aside and heads to the Chief Apothecary to continue assisting with surgery on one of the Gland Hounds that almost didn't survive a run-in with a swarm of the mutant flying monsters and is now sprawled in pieces on the metal surface. "It gets funnier every time I listen to it." - "An amusement for simple minds, perhaps." For a while they both work concentratedly in the cold light of the fluorescent lamps. Then Oleander picks up the thread of conversation again. "I don't remember him at all. Seems like someone without particularly strong manners." Fabius works a shrug into his precise movements. "Not a Terran. But one of my first … Conversions. I was doing experiments on the effectiveness of metabolism and nutrient absorption. He was, how shall I put it, more than successful." Oleander snorts softly. "That explains the invitation to dinner. Will you accept?" Fabius shortens a thread. Turns to the next wound. "Of course. I need to socialise more." - "You're not serious!" - "Oh, I most certainly am. And you will accompany me. I can't show up there accompanied by Astartes from outside the Legion. That would be rude." - "Yes. And who would ever say the Chief Apothecary was rude!" - "Your sarcasm won't save you from that. Write the guy a reply." Oleander works in silence for a while. When the subject is not taken up again, he mutters, "At least I'll have a front row seat to whatever you're really planning!"

A few hours later, a reply is indeed sent: "The Chief Apothecary will be present. Coordinates and more detailed information are expected."

[willthecuratorfood]

Ah! Another great pair of foods for dinner tonight! It took quite a few hours to prepare these, but the taste was totally worthwhile!

The two foods featured are a rainbow feta flatbread (above) and a lovely cinnamon-apple honey cake below!!! The flatbread was made with a wide assortment of vegetables, such as zucchini, red bell peppers, corn, and tomatoes set upon a bed of pesto, fresh herbs, spices, and generous feta cheese! The cake is technically an upside-down cake, as the apples are laid down after a sprinkling of cinnamon, followed by luscious brown sugar batter! After being baked, it's dressed with honey and confectioners sugar!

Links to the recipes used below!

[imperiallife]

Tastes of the Empire: The Peaks

Food by Alaric Faro

The Peaks restaurant, Castle Lands, Alderaan

I recently experienced the singular displeasure of dining at the famed Cortess owned Peaks restaurant, noted for its rather bold location and boasting of exquisite panoramic views of the ranges that frame the Castle Lands. While the trip up to the mountain peak upon which the restaurant was constructed may be enjoyed as some sort of carnival grade novelty, it must be noted that the view is nothing that can’t be enjoyed from the back of a thranta and any picnic lunch one might choose to bring along is certainly going to prove a more satisfying dining experience. However, to give credit where credit is due, the location is not abhorrent, even if that is the only positive commentary I have to offer.

Much like its mountaintop location, the food offered at The Peaks is all spectacle and no substance. If you wish to read no further, allow me to summarise my experience by simply urging you, dear readers, to save the small fortune of credits necessary to secure a table and spend them literally anywhere else.

In the same way that the typical trends of Alderaanian fashion are an attempt to disguise bland and unpleasant people in exciting and luxurious designs, so too are the meals served at The Peaks dressed up to make them appear something which they are not. There can be no doubt that the chefs have been well schooled in presentation, but when I wish to look at works of art, I visit an art gallery. When I visit a restaurant, the very least I expect is to have an enjoyable meal. The choice of appetisers appeared broad, but overly reliant on garlic and totamo fruit. I was grateful to have steered clear of these options once I learned later how heavy handed the chefs are with spices, however it limited my choice rather considerably. You can imagine my dismay when my Ryl crostini arrived smothered in grated shaak cheese. Shaak! They’d have done better just to use common highland nerf than assaulting my palate so early in the evening with shaak, and it’s not like there’s any shortage of nerf in supply, having just seen several hundred on my trip up to the blasted restaurant to begin with!

Course after course, I gave ample opportunity for the chefs to redeem themselves, only to find my opinion of the establishment sinking ever lower. The house salad was a poor marriage of leaf and garnish, with the addition of purple calfsfoot completely upsetting the delicate citra vinaigrette; an appalling waste of ingredients on all fronts. The ‘light’ seasoning of my steak was anything but, when a properly cooked taun ribeye should stand on its own merit and not depend on dressings to make it palatable. There aren’t enough decoratively carved vegetables in all the galaxy to make up for the crime of an overdone steak. Taun crackling is neophyte level cooking, and yet I can’t help but wonder if they thought they could hide the harsh yellow rind they served me beneath a slathering of papriik and ojomian rosettes, and assume I somehow wouldn’t notice that they had in fact handed me a five star travesty?

The delighted cooing I heard from tables all around me as other patrons’ meals were set down has led me to conclude that this in fact their modus operandi.

I cannot even begin to describe my heartbreak over the disgraceful treatment of my dessert. Tarisian mousse is supposed to melt in the mouth with every layer. There should be no major difference in texture between the crema or the cake or the brittlescotch lattice, and the delight comes from this very fact. The crystalline lattice should dissolve on the tongue, discernable by flavour alone; true Tarisian mousse is a delicacy, and the swill I was offered was not fit to treat a salky. The cake was dry. The crema was watery. And the brittlescotch was a garish, tooth cracking nightmare reminiscent of cheap All Hallow’s Eve candy. When I asked the waitstaff what variety of honey was used in its preparation, I was met only with blank stares.

In the same fashion as the meal they served me, they were pleasant to look at but with nothing of value on the inside. A rather perfect summary of what one can expect from a dining experience at The Peaks.

I shan’t be back.

Imperial Life’s top food critic, Alaric Faro is a name both respected and feared by culinary establishments throughout the Seat of the Empire. Astute and enigmatic, his tongue is as refined as it is sharp, honed to appreciate the most exquisite of dining experiences and to thoroughly dismantle anything that falls short. Originally a columnist for a variety of holozines but now writing exclusively for Imperial Life, he considers it his life’s mission to ‘educate the palate of all Imperial citizens’.

[cococassey]

Cdrama: You Are My Hero

First Impressions: (ep 1-7)

Squeee, unexpectedly this show has become my happy pill right now. YAMH tackles the dedicated lives to public service of an emergency dr and a SWAT police officer. A drama that everyone can't help but connect to kdrama Descendants of the Sun. Well, I never finished DOTS, and this was what I hoped DOTS should have been.

I rarely pick up cdramas because they're usually 40+ episodes. But this is such a breezy stress-free watch (no messy love triangles, no evil in laws), just what I need right now. This feels like a good romance novel adaptation (and it IS from a book), a drama that has both cute and substance.

I like Ma Si Chun in Love Me If You Dare, her crying scenes can still go overboard, but her charm shines through as ever dedicated neophyte dr Mi Ka, and her onscreen chemistry with Bai Jing Ting is just 'chef's kiss'. Bai Jing Ting, he's not the usual hunk we see on screen, but he has that distinct boyish baby face charm going for him.

Nevertheless, the gravitas he brings as the competent lead of his SWAT team, he brings it on tenfold. Whew, men in uniform and those aviator shades, it worked in DOTS, and trust me, it works every time guys. Juxtapose being a badass SWAT with how dorky and clueless Xing Ke Lei is with falling, liking and courting Mi Ka. Aww. Don't mind me as a puddle of goo over here.

What's great about a longer drama is the slow burn of it all (of course it can crash but keeping my fingers crossed). They started with a lot of fun clashing together in a training camp. After that we are shown a lot of their own struggles and victories in their own line of work, but the best part is them working and being heroic together. The rest of the cast (two other lovelines) are great and pretty, and why did I start an ongoing drama again lol. Oh the wait.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Noodle City

NCT Chef!Wong Yukhei (Lucas) & NoodleMaster!Lee Sooman Characters: NCT 2019 bro, Lee Sooman Summary:  Lucas was a scholar of the dying art of noodle making. And when I say scholar, I strictly mean in the sense that he is studying it, not in the sense that he is excelling. Master Sooman however sees great potential in him. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: CRACK LINDA CRAAAACK, fluff, more crack, typos?, etc.

A/N: Back when I hadn’t memorized NCT’s names, I thought it was quite impossible, and since lucas was one of the first people i knew, i imagined him naming his members... but as noodles beCAUSE THEY’RE ALL SO SKINNY FEED THEM SM

Through the busy streets of Seoul you may come across a famous restaurant, known for it's greatness in noodles. On one slow day, the owner and master maker had a class in the back of his shop. The master was teaching his only student how to get used to using his hands and not the machines he was so accustomed to.

After explaining he had to make twenty strands of noodles, he had left his apprentice of two weeks to make it on his individually, by hand, by himself in the kitchen with the freedom to use whatever he wished. He had not yet shown him the way to make noodles, maybe a few moves and techniques here and there, but the task was a step higher from what his student was used to, which was more than enough for the master he to make sure of him.

When he came back, he was instantly bombarded with a man who resembled a young boy on Christmas. His big eyes did match that of a child.

"Master, look at what I did!" Lucas smiled widely, raising a metal tray of thin strings of dough.

Lee Sooman, the last remaining practitioner of this dying, ancient art of noodle making, squinted at the strips before his eyes, "Mwo ya?"

"They're my noodles," Lucas smiled proudly.

The shorter, older man peered up at the face of his only student and adjusted his glasses.

It was not that the master could not teach many at once or could not find anyone else to teach, but it was because he did not see anything in the ones who say they are willing to learn.

He however thinks this culinary chef who had traveled far for him was a winning candidate.

The broad shouldered man sniffled and blew strands of his blonde dyed hair out of his face.

No, the eager souled being didn't really have an allergy to dust nor to flour. Lucas supposes the runny nose he had was due to the fact he accidentally kept snorting the flour up like cocaine and choked on it on many occasions. It wasn't his fault he was too tall and had to all the way bend down to see how his craftsmanship was holding up.

Though I suppose it was his fault that he kept falling out of balance, sucking in some powder on along the way to find his centre of gravity.

Actually, no. It was gravity's fault, not Lucas's.

The noodle neophyte wiped his philtrum with the back of his hand, unknowingly smearing the same substance that caused him to sniffle across his left cheek.

His master was about to tell him about it, but was silenced by the intensity of the voice that spoke.

"Look, look! I even named them, look!" Lucas chirped, bringing his pride and glory to the marble counter he had birthed them.

 Sooman spared an exhale of withheld breath and narrowed his eyes at his could be successor. He placed his hands behind his back and walked over to the young man.

"Here, look." Lucas turned over his shoulder and awaited for his senior to come to his side. Once he approched, Lucas continued, "This one's the first I made. His name is Taeil. He's Korean like the rest of them, exceot for those who are not. I ended up making him kinda small, but that's okay. Anyway, he has a big heart to make up for it," he pointed, "which is why this part of him is kinda bumped. It's his heart though, not a boob."

The man tried his best not to react in a way Lucas may seem negative, so instead he asked, "you named it?"

Lucas hummed.

"All of it?"

"Well, duh. This is my first time actually making noodles by myself so I have to. I even took pictures, wanna see?"

Sooman flattened his lips together.

Lucas mimicked the action to a degree, "I see. I'll take that as a no."

He offered a smile nevertheless.

"Okay, next one is Johnny." Lucas pointed, looking to the tray, to his master, and back again. "I tried to make up for what I didn't do to Taeil but then I ended up making him too long." He pursed his lips and nodded, "he's really funny, fun to be around, really good at English, and is a total meme."

Sooman's forehad wrinkled. Meme?

"Then next is Taeyong, who ended up kinda small, but that's fine. He's the type that seems like he's going to eat tou whole, which is ironic if you ask me, since he's a noodle, but he's actually a big pile of fluff once you hear him speak. He's really good dancer, great stage presense, and has good leadership skills, which is why I have decided to make him the leader of Noodle City, or NCT for short."

Lucas smiled once again afyer explaining, and pointed, "Yuta turned out to be just right size. He's Japanese, I reckon since I used some of that favorite flour of yours, the expensive one from Osaka, to fix him when I--" the look and Sooman's face made Lucas's words slower, "got him.... wet." The blonde haired boy cleared his throat, "He's good at football, and uh... he's got a great personality-- just like you," he chuckled nudging his mentor.

There was no reaction.

"You said I could use anything though."

Silence.

He cleared his throat again.

"Next is Kun. He's Chinese, like yours truly. He's great at cooking, better than me, I hate to admit, though not really because I was the one that made him that way.  He like to makes food for his noodle children like the nurturing parent figure he is." Lucas chuckled.

It was not so much out of character that Lucas would go out of his way to do something like this, but Sooman found it amusing that he made one of his characters better than him at something,when he proudly arms himself with the fact he is the top chef, The Iron Chef, from Hong Kong, who's leaving his mark all across Asia, making it his playground-- or rather is kitchen. Yes he did boost his ego along the way, but it was funny nonetheless.

 "Doyong over here is kind of tricky." Lucas continued, "He's very concerned, very smart, very much like a parent figure too, but he has a scary part to him. He has a bright personality and does want the best for his noodles, but deep down he's listing everyone's weaknesses and will attack swiftly all those that cross him!"

The man with greying hair knit his brows and found himself pulling his head back slowly.

"Moving on. This is Ten, or Chittaphon Leechiyapornkul. I went to Thailand once and so I decided he'd be Thai, but actually Chinese because well, I'm Chinese, and there is a lack of Chinese among them and, well, diversity. He's the squiggliest out of all of them." Lucas bit his tongue as he smiled.

He pinched the bottom of the noodle and moved him back and forth, "See? Look at how fluid he is."

The man with a cartoonish smile nodded at his work in approval, "He's a really good dancer. Plus, he sings really well too. I mean, they all sing and dance really good, but that's not the point.

"This next one I decided to give him a birthday on Feburary 14-- just because, even though it's the middle of summer. I named him Jaehyun, and he for some reason reminds me of bread. He looks very soft, which he is, but his noodlity is nice and firm."

"Did you just say noodlity?" the old man asked.

"Yes.

"---"

"Yes, I did."

"---"

"Jaehyun's noodlity doesn't need to be tested for it is firm."

Lucas turned to back to his work, still as pleased as ever, and counted on his fingers to keeo himself back on track. "Ah, next is Winwin because he never loses. Ayeeee."

There was no reaction but Lucas was still proud. He pat his chest with enough force that there was a puff of flour in the air. "Just like his dad. Aye!" Lucas dabbed, and Sooman merely looked at him. After settling down, he went on, "He's a real diamond in the rough. He's really talented, he's capable of so many things, but some people over look him for some," Lucas smacked the surface before him, "ga'damned reason."

He's getting upset over the fictionality he gave his noodles, Sooman thought. Odd.

Lucas heaved in and out heavily and went back to his senses. "Anyway, this is Jungwoo. Soft on the outside, soft on the inside, just a real big softie. You must protect him with all your life. He cries in passion. He's a real sweethert." the tall man gave a lopsided smile and clicked his tongue. "I love him so much-- I mean I love them all, but I love him."

 It was undenibale that the noodle master found the way his apprentice gave life to his lifeless work amusing to say the least. Though in the back of Sooman's head, he knew he should've stopped him the moment he introduced his first noodle. But it was far too late now, he had already spoke about half of them. It would be extremely unfair to the latter noodles if they were to be left unmentioned.

"This one's Mark. He's Canadian, not comdian, though personally, I know the cute little fellow would be really funny, or would find me really funny. But I mean, who doesn't I tell really great jokes." Lucas gave an airy ha, ha, ha, and pointed a finger gun at the man beside him.

"Next is Renjun. He's also Chinese, but is confident in Korean and Chinese. He has a bright personality and is a real goofball. Don't let that trick you into messing with him or his dongsaengs though. He'll rough you up.

"Then there's Na Jaemin, or Na-na! I personally think his nickname is the cutest thing in the world-- no bias. He's really sweet but will kill you if he gets a chance. He's not as good as speaking English as Johnny or Mark, but he's actually also really good at it too."

At this point, the older man adjusted the rims seated on his nose and spared an airy chuckle.

The younger man felt warmth in his chest at that.

He proceeded, "Jeno here, spends a lot of his time gawking at his sunbaes, thinking how great they are. He's really great too, but he believes he should still work hard, which is good. I taught him that. I'm proud of him, of both of us.

"And Haechan over on this side, rolls with the his hyungs most of the time, and so he has this air around him that makes him feel like he's all that, but he's not, really." Lucas proceeds to giggle, "he's still very much a dorky kid at heart and outside, honestlt, but in his head, he's really cool. I mean he is, but he's not, but don't tell him that.

"On to the last two. Here we have p Chenle, a big, big bowl of fruity sunshine who's confused in Chinese but just laughs it off in Korean. He is a ray of sunshine, and he's so sweet and pure and GAH," Lucas shouts, shielding the noodle, "don't touch him!"

Sooman didn't dare even flinch.

"And then baby Jisung. He's the youngest, but he wound up becoming quite long. I bet he'll get longer after he's been cooked. But he's quite thin though for my taste. I mean, honestly, they're all pretty thin to me. I dom't think it's healtht but that's how they turned out to be."

Lucas crossed his arms, "They should really eat more rice. I mean, if they were actual people, I'd call them over and feed them as much as they can eat."

"But they're not people, Yukhei. They're noodles." Sooman finally spoke after a while.

As much as he liked being called his Chinese name, he also felt tremendously nervous everytime that name of his was called instead of Lucas, especially since it was the name his teacher had decided on calling him.

"Kure," Lee Sooman huffed, "prepare me a--"

"Jangkaman," Lucas raised a hand, "those are just 17. I made three more separate ones."

The young man dashed off, leaving the older man to follow him with his eyes.

He ran back quickly holding another tray, much smaller than the first one.

Lucas smiled ear to ear, extra giddy, "I got bored after a while so I experimented on some Chinese flour, just to see what the difference would be. I mean, I don't see anything, but these ones came out really pretty. I mean they're all pretty, but- these one's are Chinese-Chinese. Not that the ones who are Chinese aren't but... ... I just realized this has nothing to do with being pretty. Sorry. I don't remember what my point was."

 Lucas showed the tray that held three pieces of noodles. He placed the smaller tray next to the larger one on the marble and took them one by one.

"Xaojun," he said, placing him on the tray with the rest of the noodles, "Yangyang," he adds, repeating the same action with a differnet noodle, "and Hendery."

Lucas looks at his work in satisfaction and looked to Sooman, "They're all Chinese; Hendery is from Maca--"

"Araso, araso," the professional noodle maker spoke, finally cutting the young one off. "You made a noodle city..."

Lucas pursed his lips, "Hmm, yeah."

"But with only males, so fundamentally just an overpopulated boy group."

"Hmmm, well, I actually made a separate batch of noodles, but I spilled some red food coloring on it. I was thinking of making a Red Velvet concept-thing, I already even had a Seulgi and Irene, but then I remembered you don't like adding unnatural additives to noodles, or anything you cook, so I scratched that."

"I digress," Noodle Master spoke. "Boil up your noodle city-" "you can just call it NCT, cause you know, N is for noodle and CT is--" "NCT and make me a dazzling bowl of noodles."

Lucas pursed his lips, noddedm and soluted. "Yes sir."

 Lee Sooman awaited the dish from outside the kitchen and sat soundfully. He could hear Lucas's professionality from outside and the smell wafting around was only  helping to support that.

When Lucas emerged, a delicious aroma followed, though the master expected no less.

The old man tasted the soup-- supurb, the beef-- well-cooked, and then the noodles.

He got his chopsticks and placed the boiled dough strings in his mouth. It all varied in texture and firmness. In his mouth, he could swear, he tasted the character of the noodls. He was torn between deciding whether or not it was a good or bad thing. The noodle master slurped up a strand and wondered which noodle it was along the way. Maybe it was that Johnny one because of it's irregular length, or was that Jaehyun? Jungkook? Jeonghan? He couldn't remember. Which one was the one that was really funny again?

Ah, how could Lucas think of 20 different characters and remember?

Lee Sooman really was getting old, huh?

Anyway, Sooman turned to his student who bore the same bright eyes he always had.

"Yukhei," he started, "did I ever tell you why you're my only student?"

The apprentice nodded slowly, brows knitting, "You said it was because you saw something in me."

"Ye. In all my days as a noodle craftsman..." he chuckled, "I have never encountered one who made twenty individual noodles that came with a biography."

The blonde stuck out his lower lip, "You didn't even hear about Yangyang, Hendery, and Xaojun."

The man chuckled, "Ye, ye, tell me about them later, but for now you must listen. The reason why I chose you, why I am teaching only you is because... well, let's put it this way-- I see you as my noodle. I have seen and placed an esteemed character in you that I have not others. Though you may be big headed and airy at times, I know you hold layers passion, it is flowing in your veins. And I know a lot of heart, and you put a lot of heart in what you do."

Lucas looked at his master, speechless. He had heard many compliments about him and his work, but he felt it, he felt this was most definitely the most genuine one out of them all.

"Of course your noodles... your noodles are horrible." Sooman chuckled, making Lucas do the same but in a much miniscule version, cheeks heating up as well.

"But they have character-- literally," the old man laughed again, "and so I've decided to tell you all the secrets, teach you all I know, and help you mold that character and carry on this sacred tradition."

Lucas licked his lips, and felt his eyes go glassy. "I WON'T LET YOU DOWN!"

The old man laughed, "I know."

[ask-the-nexus-fantrolls]

The Nexus Trolls !

Olivebloods: Selvan Tropic (Female, 9S.)

Archaeologist, adventurer, and host of the hit Alternian TV show "Bare Alternian Wild".

Closet freak and adept of state-mandated public nudity.

Your very own amazon warrior, if you have what it takes to follow her rhythm.

Sarjen Wylsun (Male, 9S)

ROCK OF AGES

Needs backup STAT to reach the Sunny-D on the upper shelf !!!

THE ONLY THING I’LL RESPECT FROM THE ARMY IS THEIR STYLE AND WEAPONS.

Blueblood: Troman Nwimse (Male, 10S.)

Hottest celebrity chef of Alternia, in all the right ways.

Real men wear lipstick.

Aprons are clothes. Everything else is superfluous.

Violetblood: Vinovv Eritas (Male, 9S.)

Tastes faintly of expensive wine.

Could kill you, but would rather share a meal with you instead.

DON'T TOUCH THE CROWN.

Yellowblood: ??? (MOLOTOV) (Male ? Age unknown.)

Probably the only yellowblood you could qualify as "hulking".

Flame-shaped Psionics, just to flex on other PSI users.

Military uniforms and gas masks are THE look for taking down the government this summer, sisters !

Dredde Nachts (Male, 10+ ? / Correct age unknown.)

Rumor has it he’s smaller on the inside.

AN ENEMY WITHOUT SHELTER, IS WITHOUT HOPE.

Follows his own imperium.

Rustbloods: Jhudge Sundon (Male, 10S)

Has a noose that fits you. No exceptions.

Horses are too weird, so he rides Raptors.

May or may not have a huge crush on Neophyte Redglare.

Schoon Miotla (Male, 9S)

Puts detergent on fists for +15 Poison DMG.

Fuschias ? YES PLEASE !

Alternian Super Mario Sunshine.

Bronzeblood: Cheyen Poenix (Female, 12S)

Big minotaur mama, deadly with a pitchfork.

The pie on the windowsill is filled with fruits, not sopor.

Not an herbivore, contrary to popular beliefs.

Kinguu Baergr (Male, 12S)

Size XXXXTerminator+

Always responds “YES” to the question “Are you hungry ?”

And a large soda, please.

Purplebloods: Akroba Circus (Female, 11S)

Star patterns all day, every day for funky clown gals !

Has a nice pair of huge, soft, bouncy... Balloons !

Flexible, because... you know ;)

Veniss Plagua (Male, 10S)

Favored weapon: Blunt trauma induced by hefty books

FUCK THE CHURCH ! (Keep their books tho)

A handsome-looking rat man, somehow.

Jadeblood: Mharln Monruu (Female, 10S)

A hourglass figure to die for. Literally.

Happy wriggling day, Miss Condescension.

An assassin under the spotlights. Yes, they exist.

Tealblood: Hartax Avaris (Male, 11S)

Normies pay more, stale memes are taxed double.

Your gold, hand it over. NOW.

Puts the “TOL” in “TOLL FEES”.

Ceruleanblood: Sidvic Anarki (Male, 9S)

Can slice things down with his mohawk.

Studded clothing is a look, and if you disagree, you’re a filthy capitalist !

Anarcho-anti-establishment-pro-freedom Fashion Punk... Trademarked.

Fuschiablood: Vapora Retron (Female, 10S)

Couldn’t fucking care less about the Condesce’s throne if she tried.

Video Cassettes and Walkmen are still in use, right ?

You call my style kitsch, I call it a mood, now scram, buoy.

[justcompanion]

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[kuroko26]

WHITE ROSE WEEK 2018-DAY 1

Once again, I’m participating in White rose week, almost late likle always but better late than never (because I’m still sore about missing Bumbleby and Freezerburn week)

---------------------------

DAY 1: PARTNERSHIP/TEAMWORK

“I can’t believe I’m being obligated to take this class at all!”

The white haired girl muttered angrily to herself as she took her place in cooking class. When she enrolled in Beacon High, she did because of their high standards in education would allow her to achieve her goals or more specifically, what she thought was expected of her.

Headmaster Ozpin saw fit to create this subject for the school as a way to provide his students with some skills for the life outside of home and a way to relieve some stress and encourage creativity. The idea had been successful so far as many students even discovered their vocation in gastronomy thanks to these classes.

But to the heiress, this wasn’t the case. Never in her life, she had held a knife or prepared a meal, given that they had chefs to prepare food for them; hell, she barely had stepped into the kitchen in her short life and was promptly shooed out of it.

“Why would I need to learn how to cook when I could basically order take out or just eat on a restaurant? I have the means after all…anyway, father expects of me that I excel in my studies, so I better make sure I get and A on this”

Weiss finished her mental rant and took the first place she saw available, only to find besides her was a younger girl whose most outstanding feature was a pair of silver eyes which the blue eyed girl found quite beautiful even if she would never admit it to anyone who asked.

Given that the teacher hadn’t arrived, the white haired student opted to remain silent and wait but her plans were suddenly interrupted.

“Pssst, I’m Ruby. What’s your name?”

Weiss really didn’t want to reply at all and ignore her apparently chatty neighbor but ended up conceding that piece of information.

“Weiss. Weiss Schnee”

“Weiss? That’s a pretty name, it suits you perfectly and I think I’ve heard it somewhere hmmm. Well, it doesn’t matter; tell me, do you like cooking?”

“Why does she keep talking to me!?” The heiress thought desperately but couldn’t herself to stay quiet.

“I don’t think so. I do have a certain fondness for haute cuisine though”

“But haven’t you been curious about the way your favorite dishes are made? The desire to try and replicate the food that brings you joy?”

The read haired girl insisted much to the white haired one’s annoyance.

“I must say I haven’t. All of my life, the food we eat at home has been prepared by the best cooks we can afford so I don’t see why should I care about things like that”

“But, what if you live on your own?”

“I have the means to procure food for myself now if we could finish this conversation at this point, I would appreciate it”

In that very moment, the teacher finally arrived and all the conversations stopped and every student went to their respective place.

“Good afternoon students, I’m professor Peach and I’ll be teaching this class for the year. Given that some of you may not have any experience cooking we will start with some basics”

Saying that, Peach handed some peeled potatoes along with knives to teach the students how to cut the food in different ways and as expected, Weiss was struggling to even hold the knife properly.

When the white haired girl was trying to cut one of the potatoes into little cubes, she cut one of her fingers but her partner acted swiftly to patch her very flustered partner up.

“You have to hold the food in a way you don’t expose your fingers to injury so easily and if you put your index finger on the blunt side of the knife along with a firm grip to control the knife better. Here let me show you”

And so, Ruby took the knife and showed her classmate how to cut the potatoes into pieces in an efficient and safe way. Weiss had to give credit where it’s due, especially when she was nothing but a neophyte on this subject.

“There, why don’t you try it once more?”

“I…”

The bell ringed signaling the end of the class, which the heiress used as her ticket out of her current conundrum, for the time being at least.

Xxxxxx

Unfortunately, Weiss still had one more class before finishing school for the day, which was math. The subject itself was never a problem for the haired girl; what was troubling her was the fact that the girl with the silver yes was also her classmate at math class.

She tried to be as subtle as possible when she couldn’t help but to stare at her seat neighbor who was staring at her with this big smile plastered on her face.

“A smile that I find very cute but I’d rather come to class in pajamas before admitting it out loud”

“Say” the crimsonette whispered “Would you be interested in a partnership?”

“A partnership? Why would I be interested in one with you?”

“Well…I’m not exactly good at math but you are and you’re not good at cooking class but I’m quite experienced at the kitchen so I could help you get better at it and even enjoy cooking! What do you say?”

“Sounds a tad naïve about me enjoying cooking but she does offer a sound argument about us teaming up”

“I find your proposal coherent, therefore, I agree. Now, please be quiet and let’s pay attention to class”

And so, both girls were quiet during the reminder of the lesson and the bell ringed once more finalizing the end of classes for the day.

Since they had homework for the next class, Ruby used it as an opportunity to invite Weiss to her home and put the partnership on the act. They did homework first, with Weiss having to explain certain parts multiple times but they managed to get the job done, then, it was time to help with dinner which Ruby used as an opportunity to encourage the white haired girl to do what she left unfinished by cutting some vegetables. Weiss did a bit better than at class and felt that satisfaction one person can get when they accomplish something.

“Maybe this will prove more interesting than I thought. Thank you Ruby and see you at school”

With those words, Weiss said good bye to Ruby who waved while the car started the trek back to the Schnee mansion and stayed there until the car disappeared from her view.

It eventually became part of their routine. Weiss would help Ruby prep for math assignments or other school related activities and Ruby would do the same for Weiss when it came to cooking and other school related activities. They really had become best friends.

“So, why do you want to be a cook Ruby?”

The blue eyed girl finally decided to ask knowing for a while that Ruby’s dream along with her sister’s was to become chefs and open a catering service. She just thought it was a very personal question but Ruby didn’t seem bothered by it.

“Our mom was a chef and quite skilled at that. She even won some cooking contest when she bothered to participate in them. She always took time to teach Yang and me everything she knew and could, use it as a bonding activity.

She always imparted on us her belief that food could bring people closer and made their day a little better if done with love and care. One of her dreams was to open either a restaurant or a catering service for special events but unfortunately, she died thanks to cancer…*sniffs* we were 10 and 8 when that happened…

*sobs* we just want to make her dream come true and make the world a better place in our own way. Though we chose catering business because we both love a challenge”

Weiss promptly hugs the girl in front of her tightly.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I think is very noble of you to try and achieve that dream.”

“Thank you Weiss for making me feel better”

“You’re welcome” was the only reply the white haired teenager managed to muster.

“Unlike me, you actually have a goal you can call your own...a defined purpose in life…”

Anymore thoughts were blocked by the need to console her partner, one she had come to cherish dearly and even love...

“Love!?” Weiss pondered surprised for saying that. “LOVE!? I…love Ruby!? But I can’t deny it, I really love her and would do the impossible to make her happy; now, if only I had the guts to confess my feelings...”

Getting out of the hug, albeit reluctantly, Ruby wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and smiled once more.

“Now, about our big project for cooking class: are we still on with the meat pie for it?” the silver eyed girl inquired getting a nod of approval from her blue eyed partner.

“Of course. I have made the list of ingredients already, found a supermarket where we can find all the ingredients in great quantity, quality and to an affordable price so we can buy enough for test and the day of the assignment”

“You really know how to organize your stuff Weiss! So, when do we go to buy them?”

“Is okay if we go tomorrow in the afternoon?

“Sure”

One again, saying their respective goodbyes for the day, Ruby embraced Weiss once more and thanked her for being there for her.

“You really mean a lot to me Weiss, never forget that” the red haired girl muttered before letting her bestie/love interest go back to her home.

Xxxxxxx

One weekend was spent buying the ingredients and making test so that they would replicate the recipe flawlessly to Professor Peach and when they least expected it, the day finally came.

“Let’s do this Ruby!”

“Yeah! You start with the potatoes and pre heating the oven. I’ll take care of the ground beef and pork for the time being!”

They swiftly put hand into work. Working in perfect synchrony, anticipating what would their partner need in a certain moment.

And the pie was a success! Getting quite the congratulations from Professor Peach and the highest grade from all the students of their group. It was worthy of celebration.

After finishing the packing of their instruments and the leftover food, Weiss requested Ruby to accompany her to her locker where she had something stored she needed to retrieve.

To the crimsonette’s surprise, it was a Crème Brule which the snow haired girl proceeds to hand over to her.

“Ruby…Meeting you was a life changing event; one I don’t regret at all because it opened my eyes to something new and most importantly, it lead me to find love in the most unlikely of places”

“Weiss?”

“What I’m trying to say Ruby is that I love you; I have had feelings for you for a long time and only recently, I’ve managed to think of a way to confess my feelings to you through the very thing that led us to meet each other: food.

I just want to say that my feelings for you are real and I put all my heart into making that dessert to help demonstrate that so…would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Staying silent for a few seconds, Weiss started to fear the worst when suddenly a pair of lips touched her own in a short but sweet kiss.

“Of course I would love to be your girlfriend Weiss”

Seeing those silver eyes shine made Weiss’s heart flutter uncontrollably but seeing that her feeling were reciprocated to the highest level, it made her feel bold enough to make one more request:

“Could we seal this evolution in our partnership with a longer kiss?”

“Of course!”

And both girls proceeded to do so.

Xxxxxxx

Time flew fast and the girls finally finished high school with great honor and achievements. Weiss announced that she would pursue a career in gastronomy along with Ruby but that was not the most surprising action of the moment. Jacques Schnee of all people gave Weiss his blessing to study her career choice saying that at least now she would do something she was truly passionate about.

Weiss and Ruby’s relationship grew up stronger by the day and when the time was right, they married with their wedding being one of the most spirited celebrations until the date according to friends and family of the couple.

But the time to reminisce was over. Today was an important day for all of them because the “Rose of Summer Catering Service” was hosting its first event.

[tao-tao-distante]

Top five dishes Guide  that Every Beginner cook

What is the best dish for a beginner chef? We ask the star chefs throughout the country for their recommendations. That's what they had to say.

Grilled cheese sandwich with fried egg

They learn temperature control, work with butter and do not burn them, which you can easily ruin if you do not control the temperature and cooking of eggs," says Hawaiian chef Robert McGee. "Do it with American cheese on white bread, not artisan, because you're a neophyte and you cannot waste good ingredients.

Pizza

"I would not be afraid to come in and get my hands dirty," says Townsman Chief Matt Jennings, who will be appearing in Boston soon. "Any mass, whether bread, noodles or gnocchi or dumplings, is probably the best way to get started - as a kid, I had pizza parties with my dad - it would turn the kitchen into a disaster, with the flour in my pockets This is part of the kitchen: you should be able to jump and enjoy, here's an easy way to make the perfect Margarita pizza.

Risotto

"I recommend the risotto," says Miami boss Michelle Bernstein. "If you follow the recipe for a traditional risotto, if you have hot broth in 20 minutes and do not cook, it should be good Risotto is easy to do, but you have to be careful and stay safe from his stupid mobile phone a step-by-step guide from F & W for a creamy risotto.

Fried chicken

"Perfect roast chicken with vegetables is an art," says legendary New Orleans chef Emerald Largess. "I have a vertical toaster made of cast iron, but I also used a steakhouse steak house with potatoes and root vegetables, if the tubers are big, cut or blanch them a bit to make them all cook evenly, depending on the size of the chicken, 50 minutes to an hour You really rub the spice in. Some herbs in the body are nice, like thyme or rosemary, then sea salt and pepper, sometimes I put on orange or lemon citrus fruits, sometimes I squeeze the citrus juice outside before rubbing the spices "

Spaghetti Carbonate

"Foods like these have proven their worth for a reason: such people," says Michael Tusk, chef and co-owner of Quince and Cognac in San Francisco. "Besides, there are not many ingredients, so you can focus on what kind of spaghetti is the best, what kind of fanciable, black pepper, eggs, parmigiano or Orinoco, it's a dish that I like to do because it's It takes a lot of steps It only takes between 10 and 12 minutes, but during those 10 minutes there is a lot to do, sometimes I will try my guides when they take a test.

Apple Cake

"It makes perfect sense to use your hands and use your thoughts while working with pot apples, removing seeds, controlling blocks during cooking to make them too soft or too hard," says Chef Little Joe Owl, Joey Campanology New York "There's a learning curve: get the crust, follow a recipe, understand that fruit and vegetables are 90% water, apple pie usually disintegrates when you make them.

[phthalology]

Destiny: Covenant Between the Idle Dead

Cayde and Zavala both have a nagging sense that when Andal introduced them wasn’t the first time they met. Yuletide fic for @gethporno. On AO3 here.

1. Scraps

Zavala was raised on a beach. Grains of sand flecking his hands and salt so thick in the air he might as well be drinking the water, and the little silver Ghost beside him, telling him to attend to the eternal war.

Ikora almost died beside him once. A rocket took the boulder next to her with a glancing blow, and then the follow-up turned into a firestorm. Zavala wrenched his Sparrow to the side and held the spot, expecting her to idle dead there until his own Light could bleed back enough into Ikora’s for her Ghost to raise her. The mingling told him that she was alive. Furious, dirt spattering her arms, she vaulted back onto her Sparrow and drew a sphere of Void energy in the air. The rocket did not fire again, and thereafter he remembered the burning cryogenic-cold of her Void Light.

The first time he met Cayde-6 he thought the strangeness in the Light came because Zavala was mourning Andal. Duty to the Tower, duty to the institution of the Vanguard, duty to the title Osiris had held before him — Commander Zavala kept these things in mind while he looked at the Exo and tried to figure out where they had met before. Had Andal brought him around before? It was hard to find a Hunter Vanguard, so having two with similar sensibilities was not only understandable but expected. Was Zavala tired, needing hot tea and warm quilts, searching for something to which the Light was answering you have met Cayde-6 before? The sense of recognition did not fade. Instead it became manageable. It waited like a word unremembered, forever on the tip of his tongue.

2. Code Strings

The simulation becomes clearer every time. It is not a memory: Cayde-6 is certain of this because it does not flow through the same channels, does not generate the same code. Recall feels linear: one after one after one, cause and effect (such as they are for Guardians, such as they are for the contested Earth). The Deep Stone Crypt feels disjointed, non-chronological, eternal. Zavala’s Light feels this way, also.

Cayde-6 does not know whether the tower is his own memory, or his ancestor’s memory, or someone else’s entirely. Maybe it is a memory of only his body, wired into his brain at the spine but not originating with him at all. It is a tower that is not the Tower. He kills neophytes and civilians there, the ramen chef with the flowers in her hair, the Frames in their neat lines. He never kills either of his fellow Vanguard, not after he takes the Dare and does the ritual. He does not know why.

He wants to rattle Zavala. Cayde-6 thinks he understands Ikora Rey, although he does not entirely: she indulges his jokes, smiles with full lips and bright eyes. Zavala just looks at him, and Cayde’s mind turns over and over trying to figure out why. It’s distracting, like an itch — an alert without pain. Cayde feels like he has experienced this before, that somewhere in his buried memories is the way to get Zavala to smile at him.

3. Official Records

DATE: REDACTED

KEYWORDS: Fallen; Eliksni; Vanguard; Commander Zavala; Ikora Rey; Cayde-6; Ace of Spades; Scene-Stealer

There are battles that feel older than others. Timeless, if dreams feel timeless. Medieval, in the sense of iron and blood. The Fallen had brought a tank up to the Wall, in one of the opportunistic pushes big enough for the Vanguard themselves to attend to the forever siege. Ikora had a sword dragging behind her, a sliver of folded titanium she called a Scene-Stealer.

“Give me room,” she said, and Cayde popped the Golden Gun and fired down into the swarming ranks.

One, two, three shots and then the tracers found him and he danced back. Rock crumbled. Cayde found himself falling, metal screaming against metal, the acute discomfort of chips ripped from his body through his fieldweave. He tumbled to the feet of the tank with the gun still ablaze. Fine opportunity — he fired upward.

Zavala landed next to him, fighting like an Exo in a dream — no weapons in hand at all, just a shield wall and then his hands dragging Elksni around behind it. Zavala used the wreckage of the Wall like a crucible, pressing squirming arms against its stones until the Eliksni cried out and Zavala went for the eyes, ignoring shots fired against his plating —

Cayde rolled to his feet, ducked behind the Titan wall while the last golden sparks dripped to his feet. Out of sight, Ikora’s Light sparked and crackled like a live wire to his left, held in reserve for now.

The tank stepped forward. Then the hands that had broken Fallen arms were dragging Cayde back, out of the mud beneath the tank’s creaking feet.

“Let’s go,” Cayde thought he heard Zavala say, his breathing loud in the comm.

Cayde wriggled to his feet, patted Zavala’s shoulder blade as the tank reared against the City Wall. They stood like that while Ikora saw her opening — felt her see it, felt her mind like the intricate gears and golden ribs of the Speaker’s astrolabe. Ikora flew on a whirlwind of Void Light and stabbed the tank in the back of the neck with her Scene-Stealer. She leaned back and dragged, kicking her feet for a moment against the downward momentum of her own stab, and pulled the sword across as smoke and fire began to bleed out of the head of the tank. It collapsed beneath her.

Afterward, the Guardians on the Wall took care of the Fallen’s main spearhead. The bugs scattered back from around the corpse of the tank. The soles of Ikora’s boots had melted into the cut across the neck, and she stumbled as she walked out of the tank, fixing the sword to her belt. Black goo trailed from her boots.

Zavala reached out to help her up.

“We did it,” Ikora murmured, quietly enough that Cayde moved closer to hear. Zavala waved him into arms’ length. Cayde bristled at first, realized a moment later that it was in expectation of a rejection that was not coming. Zavala was usually so untouchable, body and mind — but now they had struggled and won, and Cayde sank against Zavala in a shrugging embrace that Ikora took up on the other side. She tugged them into the wreckage and they sat there against the smoking skin of the walker, watching the smoke rise, hearing the civilians cheer.

Zavala, sure of the duty of the Vanguard and the eyes of the civilians on the Wall, stood first.

4. Unofficial Records

They both have a nagging sense that the day Andal introduced them isn’t the first time they met.

Or at least, Cayde-6 supposes they both have it. It might be normal Vanguard Light-muddling, a side effect they don’t write about in manuals.

Cayde-6 reads people. He has to, in order to know how to call bluffs and push buttons and escape parties too boring or dangerous to endure. But Commander Zavala smiles with silvery lips and long canines, and you cannot just ask a man of such principle and gravitas whether it’s significant that you know and do not know him, that you actually never saw him in that particular dream ever and isn’t that strange? Isn’t he someone you know? Or does this nagging mean something else, that the three Vanguard are all shadow-selves to one another, reflections? Were they reflections before Cayde took the Dare? Was he always partially here around this table with these people? The idea is disgustingly noble, disgustingly boringly fated. It makes him want to run. But that nagging is something that keeps him rooted. He feels like he knew Zavala when they were both first raised, how ever far down the muddled memories that was. He has to remind himself that he is not certain Zavala feels the same way.

The question dogs him, but he doesn’t feel right asking. That would be needy. Cayde is not above asking assistance from a friendly Guardian or passing ranger but the Vanguard have jobs and Cayde respects their time. There is always a fight, now Oryx and now Ghaul — and besides, asking would make him look uncertain. If a person needs kindness Cayde will provide it, but his own curiosity is no kindness. He will not burden Zavala with this — not quite yet.

--

His chance comes weeks later. In the hangar Zavala is examining a new weapon from Fenchurch’s wanderings, an automatic day-ruiner as big as one of those Cabal cannons. Zavala says something about the strange abilities of the thing, a sense of foresight that guarantees the bullets hate physics. Cayde isn’t paying much attention. The gun looks good in the hand, sure, but — “…like déjà vu. Insistent cryptomnesia, inflicted. Made useful.”

“What now?” Cayde is leaning on a crate in his usual hangar hang-out, one leg stretched out behind him. Zavala is standing a few meters away from him, so Cayde makes sure his turn looks lazy.

“Just examining this.” Zavala’s expression is calm, controlled. It’s weighty like the Wall. Cayde wishes he could see what it would look like for Zavala to emote. (Although there was enough of that after Mare Imbrium, wasn’t there, enough ragged looks like piles of rubble.) There are techs around, but right now their presence doesn’t matter. Cayde can’t see anything except Zavala and his need to ask this question, to receive this answer.

“Do you ever get the sense that you’ve met me before? Like, you know, as if we were both experiencing déjà vu at the same time but like all at the same time and just with you and I, specifically. Is that normal Vanguard behavior because if not I thought that it might be useful for you to know, you know, in case it was the sign of some crypto … mania.”

Zavala sets the gun down. It thunks.  “Cayde, I don’t expect that you knew this already, but some Awoken and some Guardians feel that all the time.”

“What?”

Zavala rolls his shoulders for a moment before walking toward Cayde, circling around toward the hangar techs as he speaks. “Not all Awoken do, and not with all other people. Some people think that it’s because we have the memory of our original remaking in us, the thing that changed the first Awoken from human into us.” He’s meeting Cayde’s eyes as he goes, and it isn’t condescending so much as very intense. Zavala could make Cayde into a crater if he stood here long enough, that stare says, but he chooses not to. He chooses to stand here and defend, like that Wall, and that’s as close to a Fireteam as Cayde has ever had.

“But it doesn’t happen with everyone,” Zavala continues. “Usually with people who have a shared destiny, or a deep bond.”

“So which are we?” Cayde is made bold and shy together by the directness of the answer.

“Probably both,” Zavala says. He just stands there with his hands on his hips and lives with that, with a bond from which he does not want to escape into the pine forest, and Cayde sighs.

“So is this normal?”

“Not normal. But I’m honored to have it,” Zavala says.

Cayde sighs again. Considers and discards saying “I Light-memory-bond you too, buddy,” or something, but it feels too small. The bond has been there after all, self-evident, pressing in on them. Cayde had looked into a kind of eternity, not like the Crypt, but a definition of non-memory, and was struck silent with the depth and strangeness of the respect idling in the Light. Cayde sighs and idles, and Zavala reaches out a hand in a glove of his own making, and Cayde shakes it.

[cookingintheeye]

Grythan hopped behind Freyja with a smile, he too had been looking forward to this ever since he saw the haunch. Matthew's roasts were to die for!

The Astartes Chef finally saw the two, he smiled at them and waved.

"Oh good! I was worried incase you got lost dear Freyja! We can all have a nice chat over dinner can't we?" Matthew chuckled, turning back into the kitchen.

The smell was stronger now, with the source in view on the astartes side dining table. Three plates already dished up with the rest of the hauch sitting in the center for seconds. Sautéed vegetables lay delicately under the revered seared meat, green beans with the creamiest mashed potatoes that Matthew could muster. A bottle of unopened red wine was also laid out with three wine glasses, obviously a decent pairing if Matthew had brought them out.

With a smirk Matthew walked over to the pair, scooping Grythan up into his arms.

"Let me assist you my little chef, you know I'll miss doing this once you are bigger!" Matthew spoke up, mothering Grythan and picking the young Neophyte up and placing him in his seat before taking his own, "Well I hope this was worth the wait! And what a fine piece of meat you brought me Freyja, let me guess! Some lazy noble your lot gutted in a raid?"

@bitchofsteel "You there, you know any recipes for human?" Freyja asked. She and her kind were infamous for their cannibalistic practices, but there was only so much she could tolerate unseasoned grilled man-flesh. Though familiar with a few methods of food preparation, the Bonelord thought it best to consult an expert on the matter.

Matthew turned around with a welcoming smile, having just finished putting some sort of roast into the oven.

"Well you've come to the right place! I'd say your first issue is that you need to season your meat before cooking it," Matthew replied before walking over to a set of jars, pulling out some dried herbs into a small cloth pouch. He seemed way to happy about this.

"These should help bring the flavour out! Oh! And don't forget to heavily salt the fat if your frying it off, or just rend it down untill crispy!"

[willthecuratorfood]

Halloween cooking!!! For this year's Hallow's Eve, I tried two recipes I had NO experience with! And somehow, despite my elderly dog nearly evacuating her entire digestive tract in our kitchen during the preparation and my whole "being a silly neophyte" it came out well!!!

The top left is a lovely, fluffy apple cake, and the bottom is a steamy and creamy apple crisp baked brie! Very good!!!!

@mind-static

[trevorbarre]

Hypertrophied Discographies: Part Two

You can reduce a discography, just like you can ‘reduce’ a sauce, but how far do you really need to boil it down, in order to make it right for consumption? One artistic chef’s saucepan of delights needs particular attention, in order to form a sense of ‘totality’ from its various constituents (enough for now of the culinary metaphors). He is JOHN ZORN, whose discography on Wiki is almost parodic in its size and scope: Wagnerian, Holbrookian, Proustian, Joycean? Whatever, Zorn’s musical genre sub-divisions (26 of ‘em in Wiki!!) make him the undoubted eminence grise of the modernist movement associated with the 80s New York scene, and well beyond. No-one else seems to come close, even Anthony Braxton, in terms of the amount of product that appears under his name, even if he does not himself often perform on many of his compositions. His name is enough to ensure that the product deserves attention, and his Tzadick label is usually a reliable indication of high-end quality, musically and even in terms of its ‘packaging’. Zorn demands value for money for his listeners.

Zorn’s is perhaps the reductio ad absurdum of discographies, to continue the ‘reducing’ metaphor.  It is one result of the ‘glut of ‘stuff’’, enabled by “the digital overground of ‘complete accessibility’ ” (my words). On t’other hand, you might counter this by remarking that Duke Ellington’s legacy involves over 5000 compositions!! So it’s all relative in the long run? Tzadik is a wonderful label,but Zorn’s fiftieth birthday bash(es) were month-long, and there were apparently 12 of them, so when does overkill set in? 

Zorn is a remarkably important figure in modern music, and I’m proposing to help out the Zorn neophyte by reducing ‘Mr. Barre’s Book of Avant Management’ down to 10 manageable single ingredients (or rather vinyl/compact disc items that can be purchased separately for those sufficiently interested in making some sense of his largesse). And these are (in no particular order, but clearly recorded mostly between 1984 and 2000, years of incredible creativity for the New Yorker):

Cobra. The original hatArt 2034 double album from 1987, that is. In many ways, this is the quintessential Zorn ‘cut-ups’ recording, of a composition that is always protean, and has been re-presented over the subsequent decades using various line-ups and combinations. It remains demanding and uneasy listening, the best of his ‘games’, even if it’s not on Parachute.

The Big Gundown. Originally on Nonesuch, this is the one that ‘broke’ Zorn into the mainstream, and remains wonderfully entertaining, and yes, even ‘playful’.

Spillane.  Zorn was ‘on a run’ at this point, and his ensembles were incredibly responsive to his demands as a ‘conduction-er’. A programmatic masterclass.

Masada One. The first of very many by this fantastic Ornette-influenced quartet, and still the initial one to go for, imho.

Naked City. Also on Nonesuch, this incredibly energetic quartet set new standards for eclecticism in rock/jazz crossover.

Filmworks Vol. One. Another exhausting ‘series’ to join Masada, this is another ‘first is the best’ item. There were 20 + to follow, just to exhaust you even further.

News For Lulu. Absolutely wonderful trio. The Yankees free improv trio was good, but the substitution of Bill Frisell for Derek Bailey, made Zorn and George Lewis really fly, playing interpretations of hard bop classics in a ‘modern manner’. Possibly my favorite Zorn of all.

Bar Kokhba. Yet another sample of ‘great Jewish music: from past to present’, these trio/septet performances of ‘radical Jewish culture’ remain unusually warm pieces for Zorn. Again, he uses only the best cooks.

The Dreamers. First album by yet another “dynamic band of masters from Zorn’s inner circle”, this was highly accessible stuff, and possibly a great introduction to Zorn for the newcomer. Just don’t mention Donald Trump.

Kristallnacht. It is impossible to do justice to this 1992 work in a format such as this. Another programmatic piece, a precursor to the Masada project of 1994 onward, but on which Zorn does not play. It’s subject matter is obviously emotive in the extreme, but Zorn’s approach is masterfully sensitive, troubling and empathetic, and the record demands attention from the start. The are some Zappa influences in there as well, and the two can bear some comparison, even down to their perceived ‘frigidity’ (and proof to the contrary!)

This ‘reduction’ notion only serves to remind me of the many recordings that I have had to miss out in this process. Zorn’s productivity is extreme, as is his creativity, and the above list can only serve as a taster to a discography that has few parallels in modern music. It even makes Frank Zappa look lazy