#szechuan chicken

[shilohfernandezdaily]

Recipe for Ten Minute Szechuan Chicken A straightforward, quick recipe using common ingredients for chicken in the Szechuan style. Typically, this is put on top of white rice.

[amstudiodearquitetura]

Recipe for Szechuan Chicken, Peppers, and Peas on Rice This weeknight-friendly Szechuan-inspired dish features stir-fried chicken with red bell pepper and sugar snap peas over rice.

[jonnygraham]

Szechuan Chicken, Peppers, and Peas on Rice Chicken is stir-fried with red bell pepper and sugar snap peas and served over rice in this Szechuan-inspired dish perfect for a weeknight.

[icleanedthisplate]

Szechuan Chicken Meal (to go). Orient Express. North Little Rock, Arkansas. 3.22.2023.

NOTE TO SELF: Standard Chinese.

Currently ranked 17th of 28 March meals.

[rabbitcruiser]

Hay River, NWT

Hay River (South Slavey: Xátł’odehchee), known as "the Hub of the North", is a town in the Northwest Territories, Canada. The town is located on the south shore of Great Slave Lake at the mouth of the Hay River. It is separated into two sections: A new town and an old town. The Hay River/Merlyn Carter Airport is located between the two sections. The town is situated in the South Slave Region. Along with Fort Smith, the town is home to one of the two regional offices of the Northwest Territories.

In 2022, the town suffered flooding caused by ice breakup on the Hay River, resulting in an evacuation order for the entire community. Ice jams built up in two channels, and combined with a wide-ranging storm system, and already waterlogged ground resulted in a larger than normal flood. Hay River also flooded in 1963, 2008, 2009, and 2020.

On 25 August 2023 the entire town population was ordered to evacuate by the government of the Northwest Territories due to the 2023 Canadian wildfires.

Source: Wikipedia

[eats-journey]

Szechuan Chicken

Szechuan Chicken. Fried chicken tossed in a sweet, savory sauce with spicy flavors and szechuan peppercorns for a mouth-tingling sensation. A Chinese main dish with bold flavors ready in 30 minutes! This serves best with rice

[take-a-dip-in-the-deadpool]

I'm gonna bury this in my deep freezer and sell it in ten years for millions!

[lichdolly]

the more I think about it the more I wonder how white people who think cultural food (primarily Aoutheast and East Asian) is “stinky” even function. like does racism destroy your olfactory senses as well as your brain cells or???

[fieriframes]

[...and... Szechuan Thousand Chilli Chicken. Szechuan Thousand... Proceeds to two thousand. ...I'm gonna find out if that's as dangerous as it sounds. Is there any chicken in there?]

[veronicalavery]

ONE PAN SZECHUAN CHICKEN FRIED RICE

[azel98]

@docgold13  I had Chicken McNuggets with homemade Szechuan Sauce

[fatty-food]

Szechuan Hot Chicken Sandwich (via Instagram)

[cherryredlove]

☆ chinese takeaway ☆

Modern!au Aemond Targaryen x Reader

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your bestie and flatmate Helaena proposes a banging evening plan: get her brothers over, get a chinese takeaway, and binge the Lord of the Rings. It also helps her second brother Aemond is pretty easy on the eyes and also loves Tolkien.

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: fluuuuuufff (veeery OOC lol but i need some sweetness rn), content warning of cigarettes and drinking

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Living with Helaena Targaryen is an adventure in itself. She's a wonderful flatmate and best friend. You bonded pretty quickly with her when you both signed up for Valyrian classes at your university, Blackwater Uni, in King's Landing. Her quirky charm is infectious, and the flat you both share is filled with small terrariums and ethereal string lights that make everything feel like a dream. Every night, the pair of you cook together and look after Helaena's array of babies, even if the spiders make you a bit squeamish. You love her, you love her family too.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning after a cheeky pub trip the night before when Helaena bursts into your room with a bright smile, her platinum blonde hair shining in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“I have an idea!” she announces, plopping down on the bed beside you and nearly knocking your jewellery box Nyra got you from Lys off your bedside table.

“You have lots of those, careful not to hurt yourself,” you tease, setting aside the book you were pretending to read for your latest university essay.

“I think we should have a get-together here tonight. A family night! You, me, and my brothers. We could do a Lord of the Rings marathon!” she pokes your arm, wiggling her eyebrows. She knows your weaknesses to a tee.

The thought of hosting a cosy evening (with some extracurriculars) sounds delightful. You’ve always had a soft spot for her brothers, especially Aemond. There's something about his intense gaze and quiet demeanour that draws you in, and your mutual love for all things Tolkien only deepens that sweet connection.

“That sounds perfect,” you agree. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just be your wonderful self!” Helaena grins. “I’ll take care of snacks, and Aegon said he’d handle the food.” You raise your eyebrows. Sounds like this night was happening regardless of your opinion. You grab a pillow and thwack Helaena, who screams lightly and crumples onto the floor, laughing her ass off.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As the day transitions into evening, the flat transforms into a snug haven. Soft fairy lights cast a warm glow, and the aroma of freshly popped popcorn fills the air. You and Helaena arrange an assortment of snacks on the coffee table, including gummy worms (Helaena’s favorite), chocolate-covered pretzels (your favourite) and a colourful array of fruits (only Daeron will touch them).

Aegon arrives first through the door, arms laden with bags of Chinese takeaway and closely followed by his blond brothers. His carefree grin is infectious as he sets the bags down and immediately begins sorting through the contents.

“Alright, listen up! I got everything. Chicken chow mein for me, sweet and sour pork for Daeron, Kung Pao chicken for Helaena, and Aemond, you get your usual, Szechuan beef.” He looks at you with a cheeky smile. “And for our lovely host, your favourite, vegetable dumplings and egg fried rice.”

You smile, touched by Aegon’s thoughtfulness. The last time you'd gotten Chinese was after Baela's birthday 3 months ago, and whilst you expected him to remember your chippy order, this was quite sweet. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he winks, settling onto the couch with his carton of noodles.

Daeron dives right into his sweet and sour pork, chatting animatedly about his latest adventures at university. He's like a sweet younger brother to you, and you ruffle his hair when he tries to nick some of your dumplings.

Aemond's presence is a bit quieter but no less significant. He offers you a small smile, one that you return warmly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Hiya Aemond," you say. He nods, passing you his fortune cookie. He's not the biggest fan, you remember, quite touched he gave it to you and not Helaena, who huffs comically at her loss.

With everyone settled, the movie marathon begins. You and Aemond exchange knowing glances as the opening scenes of 'The Fellowship of the Ring' play. Both of you gaze quite longingly at The Shire, and you feel your heart stutter a little when Aemond glances at you when Arwen declares her love for Aragorn. The moment is broken by Aegon cracking open a Strongbow cider and tossing you a pre-mixed vodka soda can. You sigh lightly and settle in for the movie.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As 'The Two Towers' progresses, Aegon sprawls across the couch, lazily consuming anyone's uneaten cold noodles, while Daeron animatedly discusses his favorite characters (Merry and Boromir) with Helaena, who favours Galadriel most of all.

"Imagine how useful the gift of prophecy would be," she dreams aloud. "I'd know all the answers on my entomology exams."

You find yourself nestled comfortably between Aemond and the armrest, stealing glances at him whenever Aragorn and Arwen share the screen. His focus is unwavering, and you find yourself asking him about his opinions of the plot, as if you both haven't watched a million times. It's worth it for the smile he gives you as he describes his love of Faramir. You argue Theoden's case with such passion that he laughs so loudly even Aegon is startled out of a snooze.

By the time 'The Return of the King' reaches its climactic battle hours later, Aegon is fast asleep, snoring lightly with an empty carton resting on his stomach. Daeron and Helaena aren’t far behind, having dozed off to the comfort of the couch, nestled under soft blankets.

That leaves just you and Aemond, the room silent save for the movie's soundtrack and the rhythmic breathing of the others.

You catch Aemond’s eye during the scene where Aragorn is crowned king, and Arwen finally steps forward. You like how Arwen and Aragorn's love is quiet almost, all words expressed through gazes. You feel your heart constrict a bit when Aemond holds your hand for the departure of Bilbo.

As the credits roll, Aemond stretches and stands, offering you a hand. “Care to step outside for some fresh air?” he suggests.

You nod, taking his hand as he leads you to the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, and the city lights twinkle like distant stars. King's Landing is a great city to live in. You love it dearly.

Aemond pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You accept, though you really only smoke for special occasions. You cringe remembering Jace's 18th at Dragonstone nightclub where you tried to chainsmoke. Thank Gods Aemond was there with water to help you.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence, the smoke curling up into the night sky.

“Thank you for tonight,” Aemond says softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

You smile, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I should be thanking you. I loved every minute.”

He turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “You know, Aragorn and Arwen’s story always resonated with me. The idea of finding someone who sees you for who you truly are...”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You feel your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you like the gentle glow of a hearth.

“I know what you mean,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “It's about finding someone who understands the depths of your soul.” Big words for a young girl at uni, and usually you'd cringe at such dramatic speeches that are reserved for club toilets with the girls after too many tequila shots, but with Aemond, poetics seem right.

Aemond steps closer, the distance between you shrinking until it's almost nonexistent. The world around you fades, leaving only the two of you bathed in moonlight.

His voice is barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve found that person.”

Your breath catches, the world standing still. The sincerity in his eyes is undeniable, a reflection of your own heart laid bare.

In that moment, words are unnecessary. The connection you share speaks louder than anything you could say.

With a gentle touch, Aemond cups your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin.

And then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s both tender and profound. It’s a promise and a realization, a moment that feels like the culmination of every shared glance and whispered conversation over years of your friendship. His lips are warm and soft, and you feel perfect.

When you finally part, the world around you slowly comes back into focus, the sounds of the city distant and gentle. Aemond smiles, a rare and genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“Let’s make this a tradition,” he suggests, his voice laced with hope. “Movie marathons, Chinese takeout, and us.”

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

As you stand together on the balcony, the night stretches on, filled with endless possibilities and the promise of new beginnings. It’s a moment that feels both timeless and fleeting, a memory you’ll hold close for years to come.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: im sorry i love writing modern aus, especially for characters that just never stop suffering lol. i just love adding in easter eggs and references to the series and imagining the targs as party animal cuties, not kinslaying weirdos. check out my masterlist for more stuff like this, plz send in any ideas or requests xx

[mostlygibberish]

The purple has Spokane:

"What is the charge? Eating a meal? A succulent chinese meal?"

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Poorly Timed Confession

@wolfstarmicrofic May 28, word count 764

I wasn't planning on a part two of Prompt 24 - Interrupted Declaration of Love but here it is. I hope you all enjoy xx

When Sirius had caught sight of Remus out of the corner of his eye last week, he’d jumped out of his skin. He’d yelped at him. An actual yelp, like a dog! The cringe he’d felt after Remus had fled the room to get away from him was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. 

He was such a mess. He’d been watching a video on how to tell your best friend that you are in love with them, when Remus had come in. Gods he hoped Remus hadn’t seen the screen. He let his head drop into his hands and let out a moan. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Remus didn’t reappear until it was time for dinner. 

“What do you fancy?” Sirius asked, not daring to look at him.

“W-w-what?” Remus stuttered. Sirius’s eyes snapped up at his friend's odd behaviour. Remus was bright red. 

“For dinner. What do you want to eat?” He clarified. 

“Oh. Erm, whatever you want. You know me, I’ll eat anything.” He flashed Sirius a quick grin. Sirius opened his phone and the video he’d been watching earlier began to play, the sound coming from his phone speaker now that his earphones were safely in their box. 

“If you’re nervous, sometimes it can be easier to pick a time to do it and that way you can prepare yourself,” Sirius fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it on the wooden floor. He managed to shut the video so it wouldn’t give him away. Although the video had a point. Maybe he should pick a time to tell Remus and then build himself up to do it. 

“Chinese? We can get a couple of mains to share and the mixed appetisers. Chicken satay and Beef Szechuan?”

“Sounds good,” Remus nodded. 

They sat on separate furniture while they ate. Remus in his armchair and Sirius on the sofa. Sirius could barely taste his food. He wanted so badly to tell Remus how he felt, but he was so afraid that he’d reject him and move out to live with Lily or one of his other friends. He didn’t even know what they were watching. 

“Are you done?” Remus asked.

“Huh?” Sirius had zoned out as he went over and over all the different ways Remus could reject him. “Oh, yeah, thanks.” He passed his half-eaten food over to Remus’s waiting hand. He heard Remus dump everything in the kitchen and call out goodnight before disappearing back into his room. Sirius repeatedly hit the back of his head into to soft sofa cushions behind him. “Why. Can’t. You. Just. Do. It?!” He said with each bash. Sighing resignedly, he went to bed, thoughts of Remus still dancing in his head. 

“Just do it, Sirius. Trust me, just do it.” James told him on FaceTime, while Sirius paced back and forth across his bedroom. He’d been forced to tidy the floor as he’d tripped over the same discarded t-shirt three times. Then he’d not been able to stop cleaning, so his bedroom was tidier than it had been in months. 

“But what if he says no and moves out?” He whined. 

“Then at least you’ll know,” James replied solemnly. 

Sirius walked hurriedly out of his room without even hanging up on James. It’s now or never, he told himself as he burst into Remus’s bedroom without knocking. He screwed his eyes shut and proclaimed. 

“Remus, I have feelings for you, I want to be with you. Will you please go out with me?!” Silence. 

“Er, sorry everyone, I’m gonna need a minute.” Sirius opened his eyes and saw Remus sitting at his computer desk while he conducted one of his online classes. Thirty students had just heard him confess his heart out to their Professor. Not good. 

Remus muted and turned his camera off before dragging Sirius from his room by his hand. 

“Remus, I’m so sorry, I—” Remus cut him off with a kiss. Sirius’s heart skipped a beat. “Remus, I-I-I,” He stuttered before Remus kissed him again, and again and again. 

He pulled away smiling. 

“Right I have to go and sort out those gossip mongers, thanks for that, by the way, but after we’re going to sit down and talk, okay?” Sirius slipped down the wall grinning like a goon. “Oh and the answer is yes, I will go out with you.” Remus’s grin was almost as bad as Sirius’s as he slipped back into his bedroom. 

“YES!!!” Sirius yelled and heard thirty people cheer over Remus’s computer and poor Professor Lupin trying in vain to quieten them all back down. 

[flamingtouya]

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢/𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

word count: 1262

cw: none other than dabi's foul language

summary: dabi encounters a cat. i continue to spoon-feed this man happiness. based on this prompt by the lovely @scarlettcryptid ♡

Before he knows it, a quiet ‘Pss-pss-pss’ leaves his lips.

He tries it all.

Clicking his tongue, saying - whispering - “Here, stupid fucking kitty”, because god forbid someone hears. Slowly putting his hand out, some more ‘Pss-pss’-ing - anything that had worked on the neighbours’ cats when Fuyumi did it.

Here he sits; Todoroki Touya, a man stripped of all dignity at the sight of a fat cat.

The concrete is cold underneath his palm. Dabi welcomes April’s spring breeze, a strand of jet black hair tickling his cheek as he pulls the strings of his hoodie tighter. The dewy scent of the morning air is overtaken by the intense smell of steaming hot Yakitori, fresh off the grill, bought - not stolen - bought with his own, hard-earned cash money. (That, admittedly, he had stolen.)

You’ve got to indulge, the vendor had shouted, in the little pleasures! Treat yourself to life's delectable delights! Two plus two, Weekday special! Don’t miss out on-

“Screw you,” he’d told her, shoving the money on the little silver tray next to the register, scowling when she still served him with a bright smile, one that reminded him of Fuyumi’s excited grin every time she’d successfully pulled off a trick on her beautifully painted Kendama. Fuyumi would be so upset, he thinks, if she knew where he gets his food from these days.

He pulls the first skewer from the paper box, diligently inspecting a grain of Szechuan pepper. Dabi hasn’t laid eyes upon a spice in months - especially not one this pricey.

No, ever since he’s made a temporary home in the outer area of the city, it’s been nothing but dumpster diving and collecting restaurant leftovers for him. Stale bread. Expired cookies. Plain rice, cooked in an old bean can. Salted butter. Some Chili powder on top of his potatoes, if the old man at the soup kitchen was feeling generous.

Compared to the barely digestible nutrients his body runs on, the sight mere inches from his face is a divine gift.

After turning it over once more he finally takes a small bite, careful to pull the piece of chicken off the skewer with his front teeth. He’s become even more sensitive to temperature lately, and his teeth are the most annoying aspect. Not the sizzling of his flesh when he overuses his quirk, not the burn behind his eyes as they go dry. Those he’s gotten used to rather quickly. But when most of the food you eat is either cold or poorly reheated, the sensation of something hot is bound to cause major discomfort.

It’s not as bad as he expects. Neither the temperature sensitivity nor the taste. He begins to chew more boldly, savouring the harmonious balance between onion and garlic, sea salt and pepper, topped with tare sauce and just a hint of lemon. Say about the outskirt markets what you will, but those street food vendors do know how to grill a chicken.

Dabi doesn’t notice how quiet it’s gotten until something chirps behind him.

A cat.

A rather well-fed cat.

A cat that technically isn’t overweight, but its thick fur coat still makes it look a little fat.

Black with a white tummy and some spots of orange near its paws, sitting two arms’ lengths away. Its eyes follow the skewer as he moves it to one side, then the other, then dangles it upside down. Some grease drips onto the grass of the porch he’s sitting on. He finishes the remaining pieces of chicken and pulls out the second skewer, eyes shifting between his precious meal and the overly attentive cat.

Finally, he decides to pinch off a small piece, chewing at the spiced crust until it’s gone. He tosses the plain chicken towards the cat but to his surprise, it flinches and retreats behind a large flower pot.

The little fucker.

Wasted half a bite of perfectly good food.

Dabi turns his attention back towards his steaming Yakitori. Some time passes. He doesn’t know if it’s seconds or minutes that he zones out looking at the flowering apricot tree in the distance, but he’s pulled back to reality by soft chewing noises. Careful not to make another sudden movement he shifts a bit, just enough to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the feline is greedily nibbling at the slice of meat. The two of them make brief eye contact before turning their attention back to their respective meals.

The sound behind him subsides shortly after and is replaced by a soft purring, one that he knows isn’t directed at him. He lets the cat have another piece from his third skewer nonetheless, this time giving it a gentle toss so it lands a few inches closer.

Still visibly tense, it takes a few steps forward and sniffs at the chicken before gulping it down in a few bites. Greedy shit, Dabi thinks, as he sacrifices yet another precious piece. He puts it down at his side, rubbing his fingers together. The cat’s attention is on the meat immediately, ears twitching as it courageously inches closer towards Dabi. He finishes the last of his Yakitori, never breaking eye contact with the cowardly little furball next to him.

Before he knows it, a quiet ‘Pss-pss-pss’ leaves his lips.

He tries it all.

Clicking his tongue, saying - whispering - “Here, stupid fucking kitty”, because god forbid someone hears. Slowly putting his hand out, some more ‘Pss-pss’-ing - anything that had worked on the neighbours’ cats when Fuyumi did it.

Here he sits; Todoroki Touya, a man stripped of all dignity at the sight of a fat cat.

After a thorough standoff, the cat’s curiosity gets the better of it. It keeps its stomach low as it sneaks across the ground, stretching its long neck to sniff at the finger that Dabi used to pull the Yakitori off the skewer earlier.

“If you bite me, I’m sending you to the coat factory.”

As if that theory was being tested, Dabi feels a sudden nip at his fingers. Cursing, he pulls back slightly, only to see the mischievous fucker’s pupils go wider. He wipes the bits of chicken grease off in the dewy grass and offers his palm again, checking both sides of the street to make sure nobody’s looking.

As if to taunt him, the little furball pounces and takes a swipe at Dabi’s hand before he can turn his attention back to the porch. It chatters in surprise when the man pulls away just in time.

Fucker, as Dabi decides to dub this newfound enemy of his, darts toward his other hand where he’s drawing lazy patterns on the concrete. With its claws half out and its tail puffed up, it races toward the wall, around the flower pot and jumps back onto the lawn to take another playful swing at Dabi’s limbs. Minutes later, he’s got the little menace chasing his fingers in circles, losing balance here and there and rolling over ever so often.

He’s focused, eagerly following the cat’s every move, trying to predict its attacks by the flick of its tail, an ear twitch, pupils that narrow ever so slightly before it leaps forward.

He’ll never admit it. That for once, there’s a sudden lack of grief in his heart.

Only when the first ray of sunshine hits the outer edge of the garden does he let himself fall backwards. The cat is but a purring weight on his thigh, stretching its paws across his lap with the softest ‘Meow’. Eyes closed and arms stretched out, he inhales slowly and holds his breath until he feels his pulse slow down. Dabi doesn’t care that his hair is getting a little wet, doesn’t care that the grass tickling his ears stings a little, doesn’t care that he’ll probably have red marks on his hands for a while.

If he shuts his eyes hard enough, he might still be able to convince himself that Touya is dead.