#there’s a place not too far from here that has a mushroom and mashed potato pirozhki and oh my gooooood

[dykesynthezoid]

God I want a pirozhki so fucking bad

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #322

I voted today. One of the outcomes will involve the possibility of it becoming illegal to write about certain things to you in my country. As you might guess, I voted for NOT that possibility.

But I don't know what the results are going to be, and I'm very scared (so scared that I decided to get a terabyte drive just to have something to store my letters to you upon, in case writing them becomes illegal), and we're not gonna know anything until the votes are counted, so I am simply going to not think about it, because I already did everything I could to try to prevent the awful terrible horror outcome.

…

So instead I'm gonna talk about all the other stuff I did today!!!

Today is Tuesday, which means it's psychotherapy day. Normally, I also have physical therapy, but last time I was there, I was out of appointments, and so I had to schedule more, and they were already booked pretty far out, so it might be a bit before I can go back (which is all right, because these exercises I've been given seem to be mostly working!!)

The fact that I didn't have physical therapy left me with time to run to the grocery. I was finally able to turn in that receipt I got from the bottle return place, and then I got a few odds and ends that I forgot last time I was there; in some respects, my brain holds onto memories in the same way that pasta sieves hold into water…

I did find this on my grocery store adventures, though:

...Philly steak is probably my favorite sandwich (assuming that it has onions, peppers, and mushrooms on it, and NO marinara sauce... there are several variations...), so I was curious about these, but not curious enough to get them, given that I don't really like the texture of this kind of chip. As far as I know, Pringles are made not by slicing potatoes and frying them, but by baking a potato powder mash into a vaguely chip-like shape. And there's nothing wrong with this, it's just... I don't like how the texture gets after you chew them. They feel... flimsy to me. I eat them and feel vaguely unsatisfied.

In any case, I made myself an epic sandwich when I got home!! Last Saturday, I bagged up some accidentally-extra-toasty poppyseed kaiser rolls, and because they were extra toasty, I wanted them. I'm really glad that today, I got to use one of them!!!

...Yummmmmzzzz....!!!!! 🤤

...Want one...?

I had plenty of energy to finish the broth after that. As anticipated, the fat rose to the top of the chilled broth, like so:

I scooped out the fat and put it in a pot:

Then I melted it!

Once the fat is melted, you gotta use a wire mesh strainer (which conveniently doubles as a flour sifter!) and a whisk to incorporate flour into it a little at a time (or else the flour won't incorporate evenly, and it'll get clumpy and weird).

...M took the photo just above. ...You gotta keep adding flour a little at a time; it'll take more than one spoonful. It should look kinda like this by the time you're done:

From here, you have to incorporate the broth slowly into it. If you do it too fast... well. It also gets clumpy and weird, but... differently. M took these ones for me as I slowly incorporated the broth into the flour-fat mixture. I did it one ladle-full at a time...

...J took the one just above, actually.

...It looked like this when it was done:

From here, I seasoned it with salty things and sugary things; I left out other herbs and spices this time, because I wanted this batch to remain a bit more versatile; I can always add garlic and pepper and whatever later.

In this case, I added Himalayan salt, and also bouillon paste:

Bouillon paste comes in all different kinds of flavors, from veggie, to chicken, to beef, to roasted garlic, to caramelized onion, and even smoked ham. I used a combination of smoked ham and veggie bouillon paste for this one; I would have used the roasted garlic one, but I didn't realize that we were out of the stuff. I'll have to go get more sometime soon...

...In any case, after that, I added sweeteners. Usually, I use dark things with good mineral content, like honey, molasses, and dark agave nectar. I used all three of those, and also a spoonful of that daylily jelly I got from that one weird diner (remember? wasn't that fun?).

I can't tell you how much to add. I can't tell you because it really depends on how much broth you end up with; it varies every time. So you're just gonna have to add things and then taste it to see if it's pleasing to your senses. If you do that long enough, you'll eventually get a feel for how much to add without needing to think too hard about it.

I recommend, at least when you're starting out, always taste your ingredients on their own (if they're safe to eat! don't do this with raw flour or you'll get sick!) so you can have an idea of how strong their flavors are before you use them. I do this whenever I get a new and unfamiliar spice in my spice cabinet, for example. Knowing its relative strength helps me to know how much I should use.

The broth was darker by the time I was done seasoning it. It smells and tastes heavenly:

...So I put it into jars!!!

...Certain things will settle out, and certain things will float to the top. This is normal and expected. It'll even itself out when you add other things to it in order to turn it into soup:

I was also pleased that there was enough leftover to put some into a cup and drink it!!!

...IT WAS REALLY GOOD!!!! OHMYGOSH!!! 🤩🤤🥰

...Want some...?

Two jars are closed and in the fridge. The other three are uncovered and in the freezer. They're uncovered because they're in glass; if they freeze while being covered, the water will expand (as it does when it freezes) and it won't have anywhere to go, so it'll crack the jar. I'll check it tomorrow; they should be well frozen by then, and I'll put lids on them then.

Yesterday, I forgot to change out to my third set of braces. So I did that after I got done with the broth. Here's a picture of the third set, compared to the first:

The first set is on the left, and the third set is on the right. I think the differences between them are a bit more noticeable, don't you? The differences between the second set and the third set were visually very subtle, I think. But I definitely felt the difference when I put the third set into my face, holy cow.

...I think it should be good to change to the 4th set after 9 days instead of 10. The third set didn't feel like anything anymore by like day 5. I just gotta make sure I don't make a habit of forgetting to change to the new set when it's time...

...And... that's really all I have for today. Broth is kind of a project, haha!

...Tomorrow, I'm hoping to make that lamb leg with sauteed mushrooms and some pumpkin soup. Maybe I'll even have the time and energy to go through with that baking experiment...! Or maybe I'm being a little too ambitious. I guess we'll see. Maybe I'll invite Ma from work over; it's been some time since last he popped by to play video games...

...I wish you could hang with us. I'd give just about anything for you to be able to hang with us...

...

...I wish it wasn't impossible. I wish you weren't just a figment of someone else's awesome imagination...

...

...Well, it is what it is. Even knowing it's impossible, I'll still keep writing to you every day in hopes that it reaches you anyway. Why not. It's not like I'm hurting anyone by doing this. And in the best case scenario, maybe all of this will help you somehow... Somehow...

I'm gonna write to you again tomorrow about my various adventures within this ordinary life that I wasn't supposed to be able to have. I'm gonna write and hope that watching me do what "conventional wisdom" says is impossible will inspire you to do the same. Because this ordinary life is waiting for you, if you're willing to make kind, gentle, loving choices in order to bring yourself there.

...I love you. Please stay safe...

Your friend, Lumine

[elizabeethan]

Steal Away: 2 / 5

When a bank robbery with his brother goes horribly wrong, Killian Jones learns to heal with the help of a fiery blonde who happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

A Modern AU

Based loosely on the movie Hell Or High Water (and so I tag @captainswanmoviemarathon)

Read on Ao3

Read The Rest

Read my Other Stuff

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but it’s, like, 24k words so I thought it would be best to split it up. I’m probably going to post one part a night for the next week or so, though.

This part is rated T as well, mostly for language and car sickness :) (I’ll let you know when we get to M hehehe)

thank you as usual to @the-darkdragonfly​, @donteattheappleshook​ and @xhookswenchx for letting me ramble about this for weeks, and to Kay for beta-ing <3

~~~~ 

It happens quickly. 

 Her sense of humor, her taste in music, the adorable way she snorts when he hits a pothole while she’s sleeping… it’s impossible for him to avoid the feelings that stir in him. It’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which he begins to recognize his feelings, but it’s not as if he plans on sharing them at any point. 

 The fact is… he likes her. She’s cute, and funny, and undeniably sexy, and he knows that if she wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be either. He would’ve been arrested right off the bat, or shot in the bank himself, or drowning in a bottle of rum beside his brother’s grave. If it wasn’t for Emma Swan and her insistence to stay in his life, he wouldn’t be on his way to Maine to pick up the only remaining person in his life who means something.  

 Although, perhaps that isn’t true, because after a day on the road, he’s discovered that she’s starting to mean something, too. 

 He doesn’t know enough about her to dignify a crush, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows that he’s infatuated with her. He knows that he’s finding it hard to keep his gaze off of her. He knows that her stunning green eyes play off of the gold of her skin and her hair in such a way that makes his heart race. He knows that, based solely on what she’s told him so far, he’s desperate to know more. 

 She doesn't have a family. She spent much of her childhood homeless and running away from abusive foster placements. She was abandoned as an infant, left in the woods at only a few hours old. She’s been through hell and back, and she still manages a blinding smile.

 Her ex boyfriend is the reason she’s here with him, he thinks. She says that he screwed her over and that she wants nothing more than to get away from him and from the place that reminds her of him, and Killian thinks this all happened at a rather convenient time for her. She told him yesterday, when he was panicking over his brother’s demise, that she could tell that he was there in that bank for a good reason, and he’s taken to assuming that she has a good reason to assume that. 

 They hardly know each other, and yet he feels as though he’s known her his whole life. He knows so little about her, and yet, he can read her like she’s an open book. The term kindred spirits feels naive, and yet, that’s exactly what they are. 

 “Are we gonna stop in Chicago?” she asks excitedly as she watches the Welcome to Illinois sign pass them by. 

 “Definitely not,” he laughs. “It’s far too north for where we’re headed.” 

 “What, and Maine isn’t?” she snorts, shaking her head and pointing out a bird that flies by. “What’s up there, anyway?” 

Immediately, his heart starts racing and his palms start sweating at the thought of telling her the true reason for their trip. It dawns on him that, when they arrive, he would have to tell her anyway, lest he abandon her in town before he arrives at the lawyer’s office. 

 Of course, Emma has experienced her fair share of abandonment at this point in her life, and while he hardly knows her and shouldn’t care, he wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that comes with the feeling of being left behind and forgotten. 

 Bloody hell. 

 “You don’t have to tell me,” she says after a long moment of silence. 

 He clears his throat, drawing his focus back to the highway before him. “It’s alright, love. I just… it’s a sore subject, I suppose.” 

 “We share a lot of those,” she jokes, smirking at him and making his heart race. More gently, she reasons, “which means you should know by now that I won’t judge you.” 

 “Aye,” he agrees immediately, because he does know that. “Aye, you’re right. It’s, um… my child.” 

 He catches her balking, her jaw dropping and then snapping shut in quick succession before he needs to focus back on the road. “You have a kid?” 

 With a nod, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. This vehicle is better than the last, the clutch not sticking like the one in the truck had, but it’s so small and cramped that he doubts they’ll be able to sleep comfortably in these seats tonight. He’d best pull over soon so that they can find a place to sleep. “I do,” he confirms. “A daughter. She’s eight.” 

 “How old are you?” she asks in shock. 

 He narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze to her briefly and suspiciously asking, “how old are you?”

 “I asked you first,” she says seriously, as if she truly doesn't want to disclose her age, and he begins to panic. She looks old enough, but the potential that he’s just kidnapped a minor on top of everything else begins to assault his thoughts. 

 “Please just tell me I didn’t kidnap you,” he begs, his heart racing. 

 “No,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m 23, and much more mature than you.” 

 With a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a sigh of relief, he nods. “Aye, love. I’m sure you are.”

 She sits in silence, staring at him expectantly, and he knows that it drives her mad when he smirks and begins to laugh. “Don’t be stupid! Just tell me how old you are!” 

 “I’m… I’m 31.”

 “Oh,” she says, chuckling beside him. “So you’re not that much of a cradle robber. Just a regular old bank robber.” 

 “Oy!” he shouts in offense, staring at her in shock. “Sensitive subject. And what makes you think I’m trying to rob your... cradle?”

 She snorts and shakes her head. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at my ass at that last rest stop.” 

 She could’ve chosen a more opportune time to say that, perhaps when he wasn’t taking a sip of coffee. It’s rather uncomfortable coming up his nose. “Love,” he says through a cough. “I’m not— that is, I meant not to—”

 “It’s fine, Killian,” she tells him, giggling softly and playfully. “A girl likes to feel flattered, especially a girl who feels like a—”

 Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide, the emerald catching the rays of the sun and throwing glints of gold. “Like a what, darling?”

 “Like… um, like I could eat everything on the menu at McDonalds. Is it time to stop yet?”

 “No,” he laughs, although he finds that he struggles to say no to her and mean it, even after such little time, and he indicates his intent to change lanes and moves towards an exit. “We only stopped for breakfast a few hours ago.”

 “Well, I’m starving,” she tells him, shooting him a soft smile. “And if I don’t stretch my legs in a minute, they’re gonna fall off.” 

 “You need to stretch your legs? Your feet are currently on top of my dashboard. Is that not enough of a stretch?”

 “Your dashboard? I’m pretty sure I witnessed you stealing this car.”

 “From a scrapyard,” he mumbles, giving her a shy smile as he exits the highway. “What do you want for lunch? Or should I say brunch? It’s barely eleven.”

 “We crossed time zones, you ass.”

 “What do you want?” he laughs. 

 She hums playfully, pretending to ponder his question seriously and says, “a prime rib, cooked medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. Caramelized onion and mushroom sauce on the steak. And some green beans, for balance.” 

 Shaking his head and laughing along with her, he says, “chicken nuggets and fries it is, darling.”

 ~~~~

 “You need to pull over,” she says suddenly, breaking almost an hour of silence between them during which he was certain she was asleep. After their early lunch, he decided to keep driving, anticipating that she would take over in a few hours. 

 “Emma,” he sighs, “we only just stopped two hours ago.”

 “I’m not asking,” she demands. “I’m telling you that if you don’t pull over,” she puts her hand over her mouth, her retching and gagging preventing her from saying anything more. 

 “Jesus,” he mumbles as he pulls into the breakdown lane, barely stopped and still in gear when she thrusts the door open and loses her lunch all over the ground. He can’t ask her if she’s alright because she hasn’t stopped vomiting, so he checks his side mirror and opens his door, walking around the front of the car to meet her. He stands behind the door and places his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as she shudders violently. “I didn’t realize you were prone to car sickness.” 

 She groans, shaking her head and resting it against the window at her side. “I think your driving has gotten worse.”

 He hums, continuing his ministrations on her scalp as she catches her breath. “Was it the chicken, love? I knew that stuff was crap.”

 “No, it’s your crap driving.”

 “Do you want to take over, then?”

 “No, I want to sleep.”

 “Come on out and get some fresh air, would you?” She whimpers as he pulls the door open a bit more, and he takes her hand to help her out and around her sick. “It’s alright, love, come here.”

 She breathes deeply as she stands, and only remains in front of him for a moment before she falls forward against his chest and into his arms. “Sorry,” she whispers into his sweatshirts wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself close to him. “For delaying the trip.”

 “You needn’t worry about that, love,” he soothes, and he focuses on moving his hands along her back and hair in the same way she had his. “A few moments while you find your bearings won’t hurt. Are you alright?”

 She nods against him, a sound coming from her throat that makes him squeeze her tighter. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, the need to comfort her interrupting any reasonable thoughts in his head. She whispers, “yeah,” so softly that he kisses her again. 

 “During lunch I found a small campground that takes cash. It’s only another few hours; can you make it that far? We can use the tent and the camping mat instead of sleeping in the car.”

 “Luxurious,” she jokes softly, maintaining her firm embrace around his middle. “That sounds perfect.”

 ~~~~

 She’s relentless in her jokes at his expense as he struggles with the tent. It’s dusk, and there’s a decent canopy of trees above him, and, as she points out often, he’s getting old. He struggles to see the small pieces and determine what goes where, and she’s hardly any help as she sits in the car laughing at him as she claims to be recovering from another spell of car sickness. 

 “You could try helping me, you know,” he finally mumbles as the structure collapses again and he’s met with her symphonic laughter. 

 “Need a newer pair of eyes, Captain?” she asks in good humor, standing and bounding towards him confidently. It’s almost miraculous how quickly she’s recovered, and yet her nausea seems to keep coming back. 

 “Very funny, love. Come and tell me where E connects to G.”

 It’s impossible to ignore the way the full moon shines against her hair, almost white in the dim light of the night sky. The gentle waves flow freely as she releases the tie from around her locks, rubbing her palms over her face as she settles into the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. She gives him a soft, gentle smile as he zips the tent’s opening securely shut, taking his place upon the ground between her and the door. “Where’s yours?” she asks, gesturing down at her sleeping bag and camping mat.

 He shrugs and then nods towards her. “Someone stole it.” 

 Her eyes widen in surprised embarrassment and she asks, “this is yours? What about-- weren’t you and… I mean…” 

 Smiling as he lies down on his back, he turns his head to face her and says, “I was meant to travel alone, actually.”

 Just as he thinks she’s about to match his position and lie back herself, she stirs and begins tugging on the sleeping bag until she’s out of it. She shakes it out in front of herself to straighten it and then feels around in the dark for the zipper, pulling it around the puffy fabric until it’s fully open before her. Turning towards him, she gives him another soft smile and dramatically opens it like a parachute, draping it over the both of them. “There you go,” she says with finality. “We can share.” 

 “You don’t have to do that, love. It’s summer anyway.” 

 “We’re sleeping outside, and you're taking a second, unexpected person on your trip across the country, who also happens to frequently demand pit stops. The least I can do is share your sleeping bag with you.” 

 “Well… thank you, lass. That’s very kind of you.” 

 “I just can’t part with the mat, sorry. The ground is way too hard.”

 He laughs as he turns to his side, silently agreeing with her that the ground is mighty firm as he grimaces. “You can’t spare it for an old man with old bones?” 

 She shrugs, laughing softly as well as she rolls to her side to face him head on. “You're not that old.” 

 “So I'm only young when it suits you?” 

 “I didn’t say you were young.”

 He hasn’t laughed this much in years. Before he met her, he hadn’t been so close to a woman in almost a decade. He’s forgotten how soothing the gentle touch of another can be, and he’s been hard pressed to ignore how especially soothing she is, in particular. “You do have quite the sense of humor, love.” 

 “All in good fun,” she smiles. He catches her gaze shooting down at the hem of the old sleeping bag, her fingers fiddling with some thread that has pulled away from its place. “Will you tell me something?” she asks in a whisper. 

 “What is it?” 

 She clears her throat nervously, continuing to avert her eyes from his, and asks, “will you tell me about your daughter?” 

 With a hum and a sad smile, he bites his bottom lip and nods, the memories of his love flooding back into his mind, as if he’s ever been able to prevent them. “Alice,” he says. “She’s just turned eight a few months ago. I missed her birthday.” 

 “Why? What happened?” 

 He notes the way that her fingers continue to play at the loose threads, and he matches her actions just beside her. “I was with my mother; she was dying and had no one else while Liam was in jail. I wanted to bring Alice with me, but… her mother wouldn’t allow it.” 

 “I’m sorry,” she says immediately. He hears a rustle against the mat her head lies on and lifts his own gaze to meet hers. 

 “Thank you.” 

 “When did you see her last, then?” 

 He gulps over the lump in his throat. “It’s been well over a year.”

 She sighs, and he doesn’t think he imagines the minute amount of space that she closes between them. “You must miss her terribly.”

 “Aye, I do. Everyday.”

 “Is there… I mean, is there a reason it’s been so long? I’m not trying to judge you, I’m sorry, I just—“

 “It’s alright, love,” he interrupts, noting the sudden shift in her demeanor as she realizes the nature of her question. “Her mother was rather… controlling, I suppose. I believe she used drugs and alcohol for much of Alice’s early life. I don’t have any reason to believe she used during her pregnancy, but I cared for Alice from birth when Eloise fell off the wagon. I even named her, after my ailing mother. But a few years later, she got clean and started to take over. She took Alice to live with her; became upset when I came around. And eventually, the way she would scream at me when I tried to visit made Alice upset, so I stopped coming around as much.” 

 She’s quiet for a moment, and he wonders if he’s taken things a bit too far. If he’s opened up to her too much. He fears this for what feels like an eternity as she lies beside him, her warm breath washing over his nose as he thinks the worst. That he’s upset her, that he’s offended her, that he’s made her think of the trauma of being abandoned herself as he describes the way he abandoned his own daughter. And his fears are confirmed when she sniffles softly before him and moves her fingers from the frayed threads to her eyes, wiping tears away. 

 “Emma,” he whispers into the darkness, “I’m sor--”

 “That’s so terrible,” she interrupts sadly, and he bows his head in shame, knowing already that his actions are deplorable. Until she whispers, “I’m so sorry.” 

 “Sorry… for what?” he asks in shock, speaking almost at full volume, a contrast to their whispering tones. 

 “You just--” she sniffs once more, “--it’s obvious how badly you want to be in your daughter’s life, and you haven’t been able to. That’s got to be the worst feeling… I can’t even imagine not being allowed to…”

 Clearing his throat, he takes a risk by reaching before himself to wipe a tear from her soft cheek with his thumb, almost desperate to comfort her as she has him the entire time he’s known her. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers. “I’m going to get her back, with your help. I wouldn’t be here, on my way to her, if it weren’t for you.” 

 She sniffles and laughs at the same time, adorably embarrassed at the sound that escapes her, and asks, “what’s changed now? With you and her mom?” 

 “She died,” he answers simply. If she had begun to relax slightly into his hand, she stiffens at his words. “She relapsed, mixed drugs and alcohol… her body couldn’t handle it.” 

 “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That must’ve been hard, too.” 

 “Not much,” he answers too quickly. She draws her brows together in question and he continues, “I’m sad for Alice; she’s lost her mother. But she never really had her much. Eloise was never a very devout mother. It always seemed like she was in it for the image, or only when it suited her. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child.” 

 Emma nods gently, the small gap between them getting smaller when a gust of wind shakes the tent and she slides closer to him. “Was she, I mean, was Alice a surprise?” 

 “Oh, aye, very much so,” he laughs softly. “El and I weren’t ever a couple, we just met at a bar and… well, we were only together once. It was sort of a low point for me.” 

 “I get that,” she nods again. “Sleeping with the wrong person, I mean. Not that… I mean, not that Alice was a mistake or anything, of course.” 

 “I know what you mean,” he consoles in a whisper as she again worries that she’s offended him. She should know that she couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing, because despite how short of a time he’s known her, he knows that she can do no wrong in his eyes. 

 “Will you tell me about her? Like… What was it like when she was a baby? Was it very hard?” 

 He hums and nods, agreeing, “it was hard, yes; I was mostly alone. But it was so worth it.” 

 “It was?” she asks softly, almost insecurely and making him narrow his eyes in thought. 

 She hasn’t told him anything, but he isn’t a fool. He means every word of what he says to her next, and says it in hopes that he can give her solace. “Aye. As hard as life has been, I wouldn't change anything because it’s how I got Alice.” 

 In a move that surprises him almost as much as it doesn’t, she moves as close to him as she can and tucks her head into his chest, just below his chin, and wraps her arm around his waist. “That’s a good point,” she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

 “Are you alright, love?” he asks, accepting her into his embrace and letting his hand run along the length of her spine over her own sweatshirt. He reminds himself that he doesn’t truly know her, so he can’t assume that this isn’t like her, but it feels profound. 

 She nods against his chest, pulling herself impossibly closer as she seems to seek more warmth and a firmer embrace. “It’s weird,” she starts, her voice muffled. “I barely know you, but it feels like you're my friend.” 

 “I am your friend,” he agrees with a smile. “And you’re mine. I told you I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

 “I wouldn’t either.” 

 “Of course not. I’ve been driving most of the way.” 

 She snorts, nuzzling her nose into the crook between his neck and his shoulder and squeezing around his waist. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been puking nonstop.” 

 “Would you like to drive tomorrow, then?” he laughs. 

 “Sure.” 

 “Alright. We’ll need to leave quite early. Just another two days to go, I think.”

 “Okay,” she yawns, falling asleep in his arms feeling, he hopes, as safe as he does.

~~~~

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @stahlop​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​ @laschatzi @emelizabeth88​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​ @kday426​​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​​ @captain-emmajones​​​ @gingerpolyglot​​​ @ebcaver​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @teamhook @superchocovian​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​ @jrob64​​​ @onceratheart18​​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @swampmedusa​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​ @dancingnancyy​​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​​ @shireness-says @snowbellewells​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ouatpost @daxx04​​​ @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook​​​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​​​ @xsajx​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

[elwenyere]

A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”

[lady-charinette]

A Brief Glance - Dinner for Two Marichat Fic (Chapter 9)

A Brief Glance

Flashback to dinner with Gabriel at 6pm

Adrien checked himself one last time, already hearing the clicking of Natalie’s heels hitting the marbled floor of the Agreste mansion, making sure his hair was neatly combed and already ironed shirt sat straight.

The door opened and Natalie greeted him with a curt nod, “Welcome Adrien, your father is already waiting in the dining room.”

Adrien mustered a small smile, “Thanks Natalie.” The woman stepped aside to let him enter and Adrien sighed, taking in the hues of metal and white, “Hey, Natalie…”

“Yes, Adrien?”

“Does a color change fit into father’s schedule?” Natalie was already following Adrien’s line of sight and the normally strict and uptight woman allowed a small but sad smile to grace her lips.

“…I’m afraid not, Adrien.”

Adrien’s small smile still remained, but it was hollow, “I see.”

She cleared her throat, “…I’ll see what I can do without any guarantee. Follow me please.” Adrien stared at her back sympathetically as she led him to the familiar double doors across the hall.

He sometimes felt bad for Natalie, he knew the woman could be strict and uptight, but she had been the one who’d fought for his right to attend public school while he had been a teen. She had warmth, but it was deeply buried underneath a thick layer of professionalism. Adrien admired her, working for so long in such a cold environment and still having that small speck of warmth.

The double doors opened and Natalie excused herself, closing them again once Adrien was inside.

His father was sitting at the end of the long table and Adrien mentally asked himself why he still had such a large table when it was mostly reserved for one person, two occasionally or even four if Natalie and the gorilla, on very rare occasions, joined in.

Still, Adrien sat down beside his father, who was eating soup, Adrien’s own still steaming before him. It had a creamy, pale texture, either mushrooms or something else, “You’re punctual, Adrien.” His father’s words broke the silence like ice and Adrien began eating.

“As I always am, father.” His tone, he noticed, had changed again, into that slightly indifferent one he used whenever he stepped foot into the mansion.

Whenever he talked to his father.

His father hummed but that was the only response to his answer before he changed the subject, “I trust your day went well.”

The answer flowed easily from his lips, as if reciting a report, “I’ve been quite busy. Fencing lessons started in the morning and ended at 3pm, photoshoots with Chloe and Theo at 3:30pm until 5:30pm. Studying follows after dinner.”

Gabriel paused, as if taking in the information, information he knew since he coordinated his schedule, “How are Chloe and Theo doing? I believe they must be very busy with their rising popularities.”

Adrien refrained from making an undignified noise as snorting, he barely reined it in.

Barely.

“Chloe plans to visit her mother in New York for a few fashion events. Theo has modelled for a few Italian companies and got featured in several magazines.” The information that left his mouth barely registered to Adrien, his focus was on the bland soup he was swallowing.

He couldn’t deny enjoying the luxury of first class chefs in the Agreste kitchen, but their food at the restaurant made by Miss Cesaire was by far superior.

“I see.” Gabriel cleared his throat, “I noticed you cancelled a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow.”

Adrien paused, trying to carefully word his next sentences, “The photoshoot takes place at the same time I have a test in physics, I rescheduled it for the afternoon.”

He could sense his father’s displeasure, he didn’t need to look at his face to know, not that he would read anything from the stone-like surface it seemed to transform into, “So, you still attend university lectures?”

Adrien’s grip on the spoon was a bit too tight, but he wouldn’t allow his emotions to get the better of him, “Yes, since attendance is obligatory.”

“Attendance is required for photoshoots as well.” Ah, that argument.

The young man finished his soup, which was immediately taken by a servant, before they were served their next course, grilled lamb, perfectly smooth mashed potatoes with a mysterious sauce.

Adrien mentally prepared himself for the direction their discussion, if one could call it that, was starting to take, he lifted his gaze from his plate for the first time this evening to look at his father, whose gaze still remained fixed on his food, “Photoshoots can easily be rescheduled, exams in university are difficult if not impossible to reschedule, especially for a single student.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed slightly, “If you wish I can write a letter to the university and-“

“No.”

The noises of cutlery ceased completely and Gabriel finally lifted his head to look directly at his son. Adrien gathered his growing courage to repeat his answer, “No, thank you father. I already rescheduled the shoot, it’s fine.”

The fashion designer huffed and wiped at his mouth, “Perhaps for you, but I’m the one who needs to explain the reasons behind my son missing events.”

“Shall I do it? I have a computer, I have their e-mail address.”

“Adrien…”

The blond set his napkin next to his still full plate, “It’s not a problem, father. I can write a full page essay on how I prefer to focus on expanding my education in subjects I enjoy and am interested in and that I deeply apologize for the rescheduling of a photoshoot solely relying on my attendance to boost their popularity.”

“Watch your tongue, young man!” the hard edge in his father’s tone reminded Adrien of the rare times he tried arguing against him, mostly unsuccessfully, in his younger days.

But he wasn’t fifteen anymore.

He was an adult.

And he would act like one for once.

With all the gracefulness and practiced calm of a model and an Agreste, Adrien rose from his seat and folded his napkin over his untouched food, “I apologize father, but I lost my appetite. Enjoy your meal.” He nodded once at his furious parent, before he finally left the suffocating, ice cold room.

And left his father sitting alone at the table.

Just like Adrien used to sit alone at that very same table in his youth.

When he opened the doors, Natalie was looking at him in concern, “Adrien-“

“Good night Natalie. Make sure you try the lamb, it’s delicious.” With those words, the young Agreste left the building he used to call home behind in confident strides.

And didn’t look back once.

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

Hearing Nino’s excited voice over the phone while walking towards the club filled Adrien with a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t experienced often, especially after a day like today and the dinner he had.

Nino had been right, it would do him good to go out and relax every once and a while.

Adrien frowned when he thought of the restaurant, feeling bad for going earlier than he usually did. Pierre said it was alright, but it still left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Perhaps he could work a few extra hours tomorrow to make up for today, if he was out until ten with Nino and Alya, he could still study for two-three hours until he had to go to sleep.

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

A little while later at the club

“Dude! You came!” Nino’s body migrated towards his best friend immediately upon spotting the blond tuft of hair in the crowd, arms wrapped around the model like a monkey.

In hindsight, he supposed it sounded sad, but being hugged by Nino felt infinitely better than the last time he had been hugged by his father. Adrien returned the hug gladly.

“Ahem, if you boys are done swooning over each-other.” A playful female voice sounded from behind Nino and the two men broke apart.

Nino grinned sheepishly, placing an arm on the shoulder of a stunning dark-skinned woman with auburn hair and glasses, dressed in a stylish dark purple one suit which could pass for a shorter cocktail dress, “Ah, sorry, Adrien meet Alya Cesaire, to-be-worldwide famous reporter, already famous blogger and amazing girlfriend.” He grinned at the blond, “Alya, meet number one model and awkward sunshine boy Adrien Agreste!”

He rose an eyebrow at the ‘awkward’ part, to which Nino chuckled at his friend’s reaction.

Alya smirked at her boyfriend’s description, smoothing down his bowtie, “Thank you Nino.” She turned her attention to Adrien, holding a hand out, “Hi Adrien, welcome to the club!” she smiled brilliantly and Adrien returned the smile full force, shaking her hand.

“Thanks Alya, the pleasure is all mine! It’s nice finally meeting you after hearing all these wonderful things about you from Nino.” He locked gazes with his DJ friend, who rubbed at his head in embarrassment.

Alya crossed her arms, “I surely do hope there were only good things.” She winked, laughing at her boyfriend’s reaction and the two males soon joined in.

They talked and drank for a while, catching up and getting to know each-other. Adrien found out she ran the famous blog he heard about here and there, he was glad to know she was also promoting Nino as a DJ, which helped boost his popularity. Their relationship dynamic also intrigued him, they were playfully bantering and bickering but the soft, loving looks in their eyes were undeniably.

Adrien had to drink and turn his head a few times when he noticed their heads were leaning a bit too close to each-other, but otherwise they were very cool.

He also got to hear Nino letting loose and rapping onstage, he hadn’t heard Nino rap in ages, since Dupont, while good back then, it was nothing like it was now. Now he really did deserve the title of prodigy DJ, even complicated, longer words effortlessly flowed out of his mouth in quick, smooth tones and the lyrics were cleverly put together and sent a powerful message.

He suspected Alya had a hand or at least was a partial inspiration, if the proud look and loud cheering were any indication.

Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he was so loud, he could shout as loud as he wanted, there were always people louder than him here in the crowded club.

It was liberating, being so casual. His green dress shirt was slightly in disarray, the first button open, collar slightly loose, hair a bit messier.

But nobody cared and Adrien reveled in the non-attention he was getting.

He felt free.

Still, Adrien couldn’t shake off the feeling like he was forgetting something.

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

Marinette couldn’t remember the last time she ran in the short heels without tripping, but now she was, at full speed towards the bustling restaurant.

It wasn’t that late, maybe Chat Noir was still there. She wanted to ask him to meet her again tomorrow, maybe the odd feeling she had earlier would go away little by little the more time she spent with him outside the restaurant.

Maybe she was just nervous, he was a good looking man, not quite what she expected, for some reason, she imagined him to have blond hair or at least more on the lighter side.

She sighed, looking left and right for incoming cars as her legs carried her across the street towards the building.

Marinette entered with a huff, panting heavily and muttering apologies when she nearly ran into a few customers on the way to the receptionist desk, which was occupied by the elder butler again.

He offered her a welcoming smile and a polite nod and Marinette returned his gestures, “Good evening! Is there still room for one?” she meekly looked around the full establishment.

Pierre chuckled and grabbed the menu card, “Of course, if you would follow me miss.” He gestured for her to follow and she did without question, feeling relief washing over her when her usual seat was empty.

Thank god.

Marinette felt another wave of relief when she sat down, her tired legs screaming at her to take a rest after the hard day she had.

When Pierre handed her the menu, she wanted to worship the ground he walked on.

While he moved away to get her a glass of water, Marinette scanned the menu, feeing giddy to talk to Chat Noir again.

When Pierre came back with only her glass of water but no black toy, Marinette hesitantly spoke up, “Um…excuse me, but…is…is the cat not available tonight?” she swore she hadn’t seen Chat Noir’s toy anywhere else in the seats.

Not that she’d been looking.

The elder man frowned slightly, hands clasped to his front apologetically, “My apologies but the black cat is not in service for tonight I’m afraid, would you prefer a different one?”

Sadness hit Marinette like a wave, but she forced on a bright smile, “No, no, thank you very much! Um, I’ll take the potato soup and the noodles with chicken and vegetables.” Pierre nodded and bowed briefly before leaving with her order.

Marinette sighed, her tired form slumping back to rest against the cushioning of her seat, staring up at the ceiling.

She was so excited to talk to Chat Noir again! She wanted to know more about art therapy and how it helped people and what his relationship was like with his students!

Another long drawn out sigh left her lips and Marinette tried hard to ignore the ache in her heart.

She felt a bit bad for cancelling the night out Alya had called her for, but she was too tired to go clubbing now anyway, she still needed to work on that paper that was due in two weeks.

Still, it would’ve been nice to eat with the cute green eyes staring at her and the soothing, boyish voice keeping her company with cat puns.

I’m sorry for the short chapter! I hope it’s still okay! Thanks everyone for reading, I hope some people still follow this. :3

[itsthefiction]

children are angels too.

The sizzle simmers as I take out the meat from the pan. I place it on the white round plate and garnish it with herbs. I plunge the soup ladle into the sauce pan and pour the overflowing mushroom sauce onto the meat. A scoop of mashed potato rests beside it. Then, I position it on the table and light up the candle.

The juice of the meat oozes as I slice it with the knife. I pluck it with my fork and push it into my mouth, lathering my lips and tongue with its flavor. I chew on it as long as I can before I let it slide in my throat. I hook my fingers on the stem of the wine glass and sip the water to cleanse my palette.

I tear the meat piece by piece until only the mashed potato remains. I feel its shiver, alone in the plate with nothing but the remnants of the thick brown sauce. I jab my fork into it, imagining the blood that spurts from the puncture, before I swallow it. The rough texture spirals in my mouth until there’s the taste I can’t quite forget: lonesomeness.

I spread it on top of my mouth, refusing to cave into its need to disintegrate. I swallow a sob that has risen to my lips and wash them together with water until its last drop. 

Then, the front door opens.

I stand up and take the plate to the sink. Your footsteps cross the hallway, then I can only hear them fade as they ascend to the stairs, to the direction of your room, far away from my view.

I wonder if you still remember that we have enough plates to prepare a dinner for two. That we have enough candles to last for the whole night, talking about the mishaps and anecdotes at our works. That though we have four weary lips, they don’t matter as long as there’s wine to go with our stories.

I drop the glass onto the plate and it crashes. The sound echoes in the empty house. I hear a sudden halt of footsteps, a slight hesitation, before they continue, leaving me alone in the kitchen as if I don’t live here anymore. As if we’re no longer here.

[theretirementstory]

Misty morning and a sunset. Bonjour a tous, welcome to a rather foggy day here in Aube, where the temperature has just managed to reach 2c. To be honest, I am not bothered what the weather is doing, as on this first day of Spring I am just so pleased to be able to look outside and see the forsythia with its beautiful yellow flowers, listen to the birds chattering in the shrubs, peeking in amongst the greenery of the tulips to see little flower buds starting to appear, and generally marvel at the gardens awakening from their winter sleep. OK so I don’t like to get too wet, which is what happened when I decided to take a stroll to the Post Office to send off a birthday card. Not too far from home, it began to rain, then it was hailstones, I was very wet but rather than turn around and go back home I decided to continue to town, the idea being that it would not continue so heavily for a long time……… well it certainly did continue, I was soaked to the skin and that is no exaggeration, I had to divest myself of my soaked clothes in the hallway!! What I didn’t realise until the following day was that my handbag had also taken in water – cheque book, note-books and other items were sopping wet! Fortunately, my passport, car documents and other important items were unscathed as they had been inside leather or plastic covers. I ventured into town again (with the car), as I didn’t want to run the risk of being caught in the rain, I plucked up courage to make an appointment with the hairdresser, my hair was last cut six months ago, so when I turned up for the appointment she commented on how long my hair was. I was adamant that I only wanted 3 cms cut off (so adamant I almost took the tape measure with me), anyway she cut my hair and I must admit it does look a lot better. She did compliment me on the colour (natural grey) and I came out of there feeling like a million dollars! When I had been to town in the rain!!! I had hoped that my usual pharmacy would be open, but it appears that Monday is his closing day. Anyway, I visited later in the week, I waited to speak to the pharmacist and my name is now down on a list for Covid-19 vaccination. No idea when it will be, as for my age group the earliest date (at one of the vaccination units) is May. Well at least I have done something about it and am not just sitting waiting. Regular readers will know that although I do not enjoy doing housework, I love to cook, bake, knit, sew, pretend I know what I am doing with regard to gardening and trying to grow something that I will eat. So this week I have started off some tomatoes from seed, potted rosemary and thyme seeds as well as a little bit more of the rocket and lettuce leaves, which although the previous planting looked promising I really do not think I will be “cutting” any leaves for some time yet! I made a batch of cheese scones, my “chocolate coconut slice” minus the chocolate plus five jars of mincemeat made and currently sitting in the garage (coolest place in the house). I made a lentil and vegetable casserole with little plain scones (this was not the best I must admit, seemed to be cooking for ages and yet the vegetables were still not cooked to my liking (I had taken the time to dice them smaller too). I currently have mince (well a 5% fat steak hache, which has been broken into small pieces) carrot, onion and mushroom cooking in the oven. I will add peas, sweetcorn and sliced green beans, to this very soon and then will enjoy the dish with mashed potato, cabbage, fennel and courgette. The knitting workshop went ahead again and this time I had five ladies, the maximum. One lady was new and had never done any knitting before, it is hard to show someone when you are adhering to social distancing but she seemed to have picked it up rather quickly. I took the items I am knitting at home just to show them, they were impressed! I picked up another two balls of wool, not sure what I will knit maybe a cardigan for a baby. I asked if anyone could sew, and one lady made the action of using a sewing machine, she hadn’t used one but said “oh bring one in I would like to have a go”. Well I don’t think I will be taking a sewing machine in but I am going to have a look at some ideas for hand sewing and may just take some pieces of fabric in with me next week. I knew that Marie-Therese was not coming to town on Thursday, as there was no French class, she was due to go to Paris on Monday to see a consultant about her hand. I messaged her on Thursday but haven’t had a reply. As it is her right hand, maybe she is unable to send a message, anyway, as they say “no news is good news”. I messaged Anie and asked her to come for tea and cake. She was going for her vaccination that afternoon but called down afterwards. We had such a lovely chat and she was asking me if I had heard from the Prefecture with an appointment date (no!) plus I was saying about how few trains are coming through our station for Paris. She said that if I was able to go to the UK later in the year she would be happy to take me to Troyes to pick up a train from there. We talked so much that when I looked at the clock it was 17:59 and the curfew was from 18:00!! Anyway, she got home without being stopped by the gendarmes (thank goodness). I saw Patrick, author and my one time French teacher, we had quite a good chat across a road, I hope my French was up to scratch. I don’t seem to be in touch with Monique so much at the moment, she seems to be at home all of the time and doesn’t really have a lot of conversation when she does contact me. We all know that life throws a “curved ball” sometimes and this has happened to “The Daddy” and “The Mummy” this week. They are currently living with “The Mummy’s” mum while their new home is being built. They had been told that expected completion of the house was the end of April, however, this has now been moved to the end of June. With baby number two due in July it is not the kind of news that they were wanting but fortunately they had been looking into “Plan B” and I for one am keeping my fingers crossed. “The Daddy” has been on holiday from work for just over a week, it will be back to it tomorrow but a break is just what was needed I think. My gorgeous granddaughter has had a little bit of a strange time at nursery, but I know that she enjoys her Friday’s with Daddy and the weekend with Mummy and Daddy. “The Paralegal” has been been in regular touch with me, we usually have our lunch together, but he has been so busy at work and unable to get the training he needs feels as if he is floundering. Anyway, he went into work yesterday to try and get his desk sorted so that he can start the week afresh. He had made himself a couple of dishes to take for lunch instead of sandwiches and he seemed to enjoy them very much. Apart from going for walks at the weekend he also has been taking the time to walk around the block on a lunchtime, this can only be good for him, it gets him out of the office environment, some fresh air and exercise. He has jobs to do today, but is factoring in a walk and cooking a couple of dishes for the week again. I think I taught him well. Fortunately, “The Paralegal” has seen Lucy and “the babies” Tilly and Chester. That has put him in a good mood and I hope that Lucy is feeling that way too. Of course, work (for the Paralegal) and continuing work on the dissertation for Lucy can take it’s toll, but it will be worth it in the end and once we start to have some sort of normality in our lives again it will be possible to enjoy more time together. The oven has just “pinged”, so the cooking time has finished, it is a bit early for lunch (even for me) as I am still feeling “full” from my breakfast burrito. There are a million things buzzing around in my head for me to do today, I had better commit them to paper and then I will be pleased when I have ticked them off. Have a great day, until the next time.....

[thisweekinjapan]

This week in Japan, January 15, 2018- January 21,2018

Hello everyone! Here’s a picture from the 21st, a nice view of the sunset from my local station. I didn’t venture too far this week, but not every week has to be full of spectacle to be great.

Let’s get started!

On the 15th, after that awesome weekend, I was back at work, with this rather appetizing meal (rice not pictured, as per usual). The sides from bottom left were: unknown purple pickled veggies, tempura veggies, pallet cleansing stuff, salad (unknown ingredients) and veggies with some sort of gray, vaguely breadlike blobs that tasted pretty alright. It’s not that I’ve forgotten what this food was, it’s that I never knew what it was in the first place! The main dish was a “hamburg steak” as they like to say here, and it was pretty above average. I bought myself a little dessert of sweetbread with strawberry stuff on it. Overall a solid 8/10 lunch.

After work, I swung by my local bar, Junk Sweets for some Doritos and guac, and a crepe, because my bartender is a great chef!

The 16th saw me receive this lunch, also full of things I don’t really know the contents of. From bottom left clockwise, we have pink veggie spaghetti, which tastes a bit sour but good, some mashed potatoes (I think) with veggies, customary colored pallet cleansing thing, salad of unknown composition, and mushrooms with veggies. The main dish was a mini-omelette with a croquette. All in all pretty decent, a solid 7.5/10

I also went on a bit of an adventure with some friends to find and acquire special Daruma, which ended up being fun and netting me a Dog Daruma, which is not pictured, but it’s pretty cool!

This is the only picture I took on the 17th, and it turned out quite pretty. The winter sky is a favorite of mine.

I’m not sure what I had for lunch, so I’ll have to say it’s a solid ?/10.

Lunch on the 18th was pretty darn good! From bottom left: Jello cup (shot size), veggies, pallet cleaner, PASTA ALFREDO, and other veggies. The main dish was katsu with bean sauce, eggs, and seaweed topping, very tasty, solid 9/10!

The 19th was a Friday, which means I don’t get my regular bento lunch, but instead buy from Panya san (I think I explained this before...), anyway, no lunch picture. Instead this picture is of the birthday cake my friends got for me. Solid, 11/10 friends I tell you!

We went out to a place called Syabu-yo where we ate various meats and veggies to our hearts’ content, then went to a friend’s place for cake and a friendly game of poker. I wouldn’t have traded that for anything.

The 20th was a lazy day at home. Sunday mostly was too, except, well, I went somewhere that evening, which brings us back to the sunset sky from the station here and the picture at the top of the post.

You see, Gunma has a very special sports team

The Gunma Crane Thunders, who as of this game, were leading the league!

And I got prime seats to see them from a friend (who I didn’t ask for permission to put into this blog, so there won’t be many pics here since they’re in a lot of them). It was a really great game, and very exciting throughout.

I was very excited for tacos, yes, tacos! In Japan! with... hot dog filling?

Well, I can’t say they’re the best tacos I’ve ever had, but they do the job.

The home team (in Yellow) came away with a nice W against the visiting Tsukuba Robots from Ibaraki.

And that’s it for the week! Short and sweet, compared to last week, am I right?

I hope to be back very soon with the next week, and get into February’s awesomeness after that.

See you then!

[sapphicscholar]

Prompt from Love Sanvers for Sanvers attending a friend's wedding with lots of fluff at their table, under their table with wandering hands, having the bouquet fall between them on the table, slow dancing, sipping champagne, sweet random kisses, and talking about their own wedding. Please oh please oh pretty please.

Since I spent a few hours at a bridal shower recently, this felt only appropriate… This is pretty much pure fluff (though my nerd notes are kinda smutty this week)

Chapter Text

“Who has an outdoor wedding in October in the Northeast?” Alex hissed, shivering slightly in her dress as she leaned further into Maggie.

“Are you sure you don’t want my jacket?” Maggie offered for what felt like the hundredth time. Knowing what fall weather in a state other than California could feel like, she’d had the foresight to wear a suit and felt quite comfortable beneath the layers.

“No, you look sexy; I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.”

“I care far more about you not getting hypothermia than about my aesthetic,” Maggie whispered.

“I won’t, you know I just don’t like the cold.”

“Fair enough. But you’ll let me know if you change your mind?”

“I promise.” After a moment, she turned back to Maggie and asked: “The reception is indoors, right?”

“Right,” Maggie confirmed. “At least the ceremony part isn’t normally too long.”

“I’m trusting you.”

“Don’t worry, Tasha isn’t one for overly formal events. I bet we’re out of here in half an hour.”

As it turned out, the ceremony was, as promised, quite brief, though Alex was more than a little frustrated by how long it took everyone in attendance to file out of the aisles. “Fuck this weather. Our wedding had better be indoors,” Alex whispered, though not quite quietly enough if the glare from the woman waiting behind them was any indication. It wasn’t until they got back to their car and had the heater on that Alex cheered considerably.

“So all it takes to make you happy are seat warmers?” Maggie teased, even as she turned up the heat a little more and pointed the vents toward Alex.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating a California girl.”

“I believe I was promised something about ‘unforgettable,’ if a certain pop star had it right…”

“I think last night was pretty unforgettable,” Alex purred as her fingers made their way to Maggie’s upper thighs. There was something rather romantic about the rustic cabin Maggie had rented for them for the weekend, and the night before, Maggie had gone all out, lighting candles and lining them around the bubble bath she had prepared for them to share. With the lights out and the last fading rays of sunlight reflecting in through the large windows, Alex had felt all the stress of the week seeping away as she relaxed into Maggie’s chest, letting Maggie’s hands and the hot water envelop her.

Of course, after nearly half an hour of relaxing, with the water beginning to cool, they both grew restless. Tender caresses turned needy, and gentle kisses turned into heady embraces as they pulled themselves out of the bath. While Maggie took care of blowing out all of the candles, Alex “got the room ready,” which actually meant pulling on silky black lingerie that had remained folded in her drawer since her Valentine’s Day dance that never was. And from there, they had let the night and the mood take them, as they held each other close, hands and tongues mapping the curves of each other’s bodies until they fell asleep, legs still tangled together.

Maggie gently pushed Alex’s fingers back to the center console. “Not now, I don’t want to crash this car.” Seeing the pout on Alex’s face, she assured her, “I’m already all distracted thinking about last night now; I don’t need something else to focus on instead of the road.”

“Fine,” Alex sighed. “I’m just saying…maybe we don’t need to go to the reception. We could be sick.”

“What? With a relapse of the black lung?” Maggie teased.

“It’s been known to happen. More common than you might expect.”

“Mm, is that so? I promise I’ll make today seem totally worth your while tonight.”

“If you say so,” Alex finally relented, though, truth be told, she was looking forward to the reception—and not just because it would be indoors. It had been many years since she’d been to a wedding, and she suspected that being at one with a date she actually liked might make a huge difference.

---

“So, at our wedding, there’ll be better vegetarian options,” Maggie whispered, adding to what had become a rather extensive list of notes about their coming wedding as they made their way through the ceremony and reception.

“You mean you don’t love your…mushrooms?” Alex teased, popping the last bite of steak into her mouth.

“It’s not fair! You get a vegetarian option, and they assume that not only are you going to love mushrooms, but also that you want a freakin salad as your side. You get steak and mashed potatoes and broccoli! I’d be more satisfied with just the potatoes and vegetable,” Maggie huffed.

“I know, I know. I promise we’ll get whatever pasta dish your heart desires for our reception.”

“Now…for the cake,” Maggie began, grinning at Alex as the reality of the situation hit her—this beautiful, brilliant woman was really going to be her wife in a few months’ time.

“What about the cake? Please, don’t say vegan frosting. I don’t want to gag on my own wedding cake.”

“So I guess you want to skip the ritual of shoving it into each other’s faces as well?”

“Uh, yeah. No thank you to all of that,” Alex chuckled.

“And the garter? You don’t want me on my knees in front of everyone?”

Blushing a brilliant shade of scarlet, Alex shook her head. “Not in front of my mother!”

Laughing, Maggie raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine! We’ll save that for the wedding night. Now, what traditions do you want to keep?”

“I still want to do the something old, new, borrowed, and blue thing. And I like the toasts from the best man and maid of honor, though we can probably forgo the whole gendered thing there.”

“Now, uh, what about the whole…parents walking you down the aisle thing?” Maggie asked, trying not to dwell on the fact that her own father would never do it for her, would never even admit that what she and Alex were doing was a wedding in the first place. Of course, she thought the whole idea of “giving the bride away” was antiquated and far too patriarchal for her tastes, but having the option would have been nice.

“Hey, no, Maggie, no. I wouldn’t—no, neither of us will, okay?” Alex held Maggie’s gaze as she pulled her fiancée’s hands into her own and held them close, her thumbs stroking gentle patterns across Maggie’s palms.

“I mean, I can always wait for you at the altar. Really, it would be fine.”

“It’s not like my dad’s around…god knows where he is or who he’s working for these days,” Alex mumbled, trying not to dwell on the sad.

“I just figured, you know, maybe you’d want to ask J’onn,” Maggie shrugged.

Unable to resist any longer, Alex leaned over and, cupping her hands around Maggie’s jaw, kissed her soundly.

“What’s that for?” Maggie asked, looking pleased but also a bit confused.

“Because…” Alex paused, trying to find the right words to tell Maggie that it meant the world to her to know that Maggie already knew what J’onn meant to her, was already thinking about ways to incorporate her slightly less than traditional family into a wedding, even when her own family wouldn’t be there. “Because you’re just perfect, okay?”

“Ah, well, I can’t argue with that logic,” Maggie shrugged with a lopsided grin, pulling Alex back in for another kiss.

“But, um, I actually wanted to talk to you. About J’onn—his role, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, um, I wondered—and you can say no, of course! This is your wedding too—but I wondered what you thought about maybe having him officiate?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. He’s been so supportive—and not just of you, but of me too. Plus, I can’t think of anyone better to get all of our friends to be quiet and behave through the whole ceremony.”

“That’s very true,” Alex agreed with a slightly watery chuckle. “Happy tears,” she added, preempting Maggie’s next question. “God, I’m totally gonna cry at our wedding, aren’t I?”

“Someone has to,” Maggie teased. “Better you than me.”

“Shut up. You’re the worst.”

“Nope. Not buying it, Danvers. Just a minute ago you told me I was perfect.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Alex huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I bet I can think of a hundred ways to changing it back again,” Maggie purred, pulling one of her hands out from Alex’s and letting her fingers creep up Alex’s thigh, feeling more than hearing the way that Alex’s breath seemed to catch in the back of her throat.

The sound of glasses clinking pulled their attention back to the room, though, and Alex, realizing their surroundings, quickly pushed Maggie’s hand away.

“Alright, ladies,” one of the bridesmaids announced into the microphone, “it’s time for our favorite tradition!”

“What’s that?” Alex whispered, only to have her question answered a moment later.

“Gather round, and be the first to catch that bouquet!”

“Ah,” Alex sighed in understanding. “I think we probably don’t need a bouquet to tell us that we’re getting married soon, huh?”

“Nah, I feel pretty secure.” Smiling at Alex, Maggie leaned in and softly kissed her on the cheek, pulling her arm around Alex’s shoulders as they watched a whole group of women shuffle onto the dance floor right in front of the bride, who had her back turned to them and a bouquet clutched in her hands.

“Ready?” Tasha yelled over her shoulder. Loud whoops and hollers rang out to meet her. With a grin, Tasha flung the bouquet over her head, turning around just in time to watch it sail over the heads of all of the waiting would-be catchers, landing smack on the table in front of Maggie and Alex, smushing the last bites of Maggie’s long abandoned mushroom platter.

Cackling, Maggie held up the slightly soggy bouquet, being sure to hold it away from her outfit, and kissed Alex soundly, eliciting a loud chorus of cheers from around the room. When she finally pulled back, unable to stop from laughing any longer, Maggie explained: “I should have mentioned: Tasha and I played softball together back in the day. She was the best damn pitcher our team ever had.”

---

“Alex Danvers, may I have this dance?” Maggie asked with a low bow as she held her hand out to Alex.

“Why, I think you may,” Alex replied, biting back giggles as Maggie made a show of guiding her to the dance floor. There may or may not have been several flutes of champagne involved in getting them to this point, and with how little she’d eaten for dinner, Maggie had felt it going straight to her head almost immediately. Alex hadn’t quite caught up, but she’d allowed herself to be swept into the fun right alongside her fiancée.  

As “The Way You Look Tonight,” played over the speakers set up around the room, Maggie guided Alex out onto the dance floor, immediately moving into position to take the lead.

“Excuse me, why do you get to lead?” Alex objected, even as she moved her arms to meet Maggie’s.

“Because I know how to lead.”

“And you just assume I don’t?”

“Do you?”

“No…”

“Then it’s settled. C’mon, follow my lead, just like in the bedroom,” Maggie teased.

“Rude! That was only a thing those first few times,” Alex huffed back, a light pink flush creeping across her chest.

“It was sweet, though,” Maggie added, her lips curling up into a small smile as she began moving them across the floor, not caring if they stumbled slightly in their heels on the slick floor or whether their steps perfectly matched the rhythm of the song. They could practice for their own wedding, but tonight, Maggie thought, as she spun Alex back into her and dipped her for a romantic kiss, tonight could just be about being together.

[thegeekandthegirl]

Geek+Girl Eat: Ooma and Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory

Backgrounder on Geek+Girl Eat: What would a date be without food? In our case, food is a big factor in our dates. Ever since we got together in 2015, we find ourselves always looking for good, affordable food. Paul is a home cook, and I am always reading/watching food content online (BuzzFeed, Spot.ph, Booky, When in Manila, whatever is in my newsfeed). Back in college when I had some time I would cook a bit of what I saw, too. We’re always looking for the next yummy thing to try, and as we’re fresh out of school we are always looking for promos and occasions to celebrate (and justify a pricey dessert). So here on Geek+Girl Eat entries, we’ll be sharing our foodie adventures! Yay! You can check out our Zomato accounts as well since these are mostly from Zomato anyway. BUUUUT you get both our reviews and a verdict here! First up: where we ate for our 2nd anniversary:

Photos:

HIS:

Ooma

This isn’t my first time dining at Ooma. I actually requested the fam to celebrate my 22nd birthday at this very restaurant. Suffice to say, our experience there was very much worth the price tag. The quality of food here is actually quite a steal at their respective price points! And so I decided to take Reg here for our 2nd anniversary. As I always tell her, when it comes to our relationship, I’ll settle for nothing but the best.

Reg will elaborate on the story behind how we ended up in Ooma last minute. As for me, well, I’m here to tell you guys my take on the food we ordered. We didn’t have as big of a budget as when my fam and I went out to eat here, but we made the most of what our wallets and our appetites can afford and hold: we went for a Hanger Steak, Chahan for sharing, and Ebi and Kani Aburi Maki.

I wish I was as elaborate as Reg in explaining more about each establishment, but my self-proclaimed expertise lies in judging the food. So how did this dinner fare according to my standards? I’d say really well!

The Hanger Steak is cooked sous vide finished with mushrooms, sweet potato mash, and white truffle oil. The result is a VERY juicy steak that has the right amount of bite to it. Flavor-wise, the truffle oil works its magic here as it presents a very deep, well-bodied, intense flavor that I can only describe as “truffly” - something that I could define as a good, earthy pungency characteristic of truffle. The mushroom builds up on this with earthy flavor that compliments the truffle flavor. The sweet potato mash balances this out with a mildly sweet, but very smooth flavor.

We had the Chahan along with it and the result is nothing short of spectacular. While I think that plain rice works well here, the Chahan gives it another dimension of flavor, one that’s slightly more vibrant thanks to the vegetables in the dish. Each bite with the steak results in a balance of earthy low flavors and the bright notes of the fried rice. Absolutely delicious!

To end the Ooma experience, we just had to get a set of their Ebi and Kani Aburi Maki. Blowtorched sushi, to the uninitiated. The ebi (shrimp) and kani (crabstick) compliment each other here, representing the flavors of the ocean quite well. The salty kick of the aligue mayo adds to the ocean flavor, while giving it the body and the creaminess that the dish needs. Cream cheese adds more creaminess to the sushi, which I think is a nice touch. To balance out this fresh, seafood flavor is a sauce that I can describe as a sweet soy-based sauce of sorts. Binding all the flavors together is the char from the blowtorch technique which adds body to both the flavor and the texture. Not my first time having this dish, but the second time is just a good as the first, for sure. This dish goes well with additional soy sauce and wasabi, but I’m a firm believer that good sushi is best enjoyed as it is.

This is among the best Japanese restaurants I’ve visited thus far, and I won’t hesitate to give this place a solid 4.5 out of 5!

Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory

Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory is a stall in the middle of Mega Fashion Hall in SM Megamall that I can describe, at first glance, as very unassuming. Look closer into their offerings and one might say that they’re charging too much for dessert. With a complete dessert dish for around 300 pesos, these things don’t come cheap. Absolutely not cheap.

I’m a very “Treat Yo’Self” kind of guy, and I often treat myself to good stuff when I deserve it. Will I treat myself to this on the regular? I’d say probably!

A complete dessert cup is comprised of three components: the ice cream, the biscuit, and the cheesecake. We only managed to get two out of three as I was apprehensive of the selection of available biscuits at the time; I’m just not that ready to indulge in more pungent cheeses just yet. Anyway, the ice cream has three variants: milk, cheese, and a combination of both. We both got the cheese variant, plus a cheesecake slice.

Very unassuming cup, but upon closer inspection, this is NOT your ordinary dessert. Dare I say this, but this is THE BEST CHEESE DESSERT COMBO I’VE HAD SO FAR!

The cheese ice cream is very creamy and flavorful, with the signature tartness of the cheese shining through magnificently. The cheesecake works well with each spoonful of ice cream as it’s quite rich and moist. This combo can only be described as a superbly rich dessert with a hint of fluffiness that is very irresistible. I’ve never been this sad about finishing dessert ever.

I am not even going to rate this as this easily tops my favorite dessert places ever, but if I can give it more than 5 stars out of 5, I’d be more than happy to. IT’S THAT GOOD!

HERS:

Ooma

Paul and I decided to spend this 2nd anniversary a bit differently and split up the dates–a food date (this one), experience dates (MIBF and Pinto Art Museum), and last time we had lunch with my mom ^_^. 

So the story of how we ended up in SM Megamall on a Saturday? Well, we were supposed to eat at UP Town Center, a mall near the University we both went to. For lunch, Dohtonbori, an okonomiyaki place, then have Manila Creamery for dessert, followed by a Game of Thrones watching session (I need his hand to block the gore LOL) at a cafe or at UP campus. But, y'know, life happens and I had Saturday work. THANK GOD I was able to get out early enough so we could have dinner. Paul chose Ooma, since he had his last birthday dinner there and because I wanted Japanese (we went to an Italian resto last year called A Veneto). We were 8th in line, but it moved quite fast which was good because I was getting hAngry. And the wait was worth it. From the super nice staff, to the fun, Japanese market-style ambiance, I could sense that this is what people were building it up to be. And of course, I wouldn’t expect less from the people who brought us Manam, right? The Moment Group of restaurants is amazing and we both loved Japanese, so I was very excited. As per Paul’s recommendations, we had the hanger steak, ebi and kani aburi maki, and chahan. We started the meal with a warm cup of tea which soothed my hyperacidic tummy. Then the waiters brought out the bowl of chahan (fried rice) and the glorious hangar steak. The chahan was yellow-brown fried rice with the typical toppings of scallions, egg, veggies. Despite being in a small bowl it is actually good for 2 people, sulit ang P99! I tried it out on its own and the flavor is amazing. It’s quite a catch on its own, I believe. Despite its flavor and impact, topping it with the hangar steak did not detract from the flavors of either. Rather, I found that the flavors were enhanced. The chefs knew what they were doing when they concocted these recipes. The hangar steak consists of a serving plate piled with slices of steak, mushrooms, garlic bits, baby potato crisps, and sweet potato mash. The smell is amazing, thanks to the aroma of steak, garlic, and truffle oil. The slices of steak on the yellow-orange mash are reminiscent of a Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Tender, flavorful, a symphony in your mouth when put together with the mushrooms and mash. It was my first time to try anything with truffle oil, and though I could not possibly try JUST the oil given the arrangement of the dish, the flavors and textures were all wonderfully rounded out and even if you can’t taste it solo, you can taste it permeating the whole dish to bring out the flavors of each ingredient. I love mushrooms and garlic and potatoes, so their presence made me very happy–it’s like not having to choose which side but getting them all (and for P498, I better). The sweet potato mash is a bit tart and cuts through the richness of the other flavors, despite being quite creamy itself. There is so much happening in every spoonful of steak and rice, that nothing I’ve had so far will come close to that feeling of flavor…at least in the steak department. Because the sushi, I believe, is the runaway winner, winner in our dinner. (get it?) After we were done with the steak and rice, the waiters served us the ebi and kani aburi maki. The 6 sushi rolls had aligue mayo on them, as well as cream cheese and bread crumbs. Drizzled around the rolls was house tare (which I thought was soy sauce at first–similar but it’s slightly thicker) and a dollop of wasabi. Given how packed each little roll of heaven was, it was hard to dissect it to see the crab and the shrimp, but you could definitely taste the sea in there. The rice is, of course, of the best sushi quality rice. The filling is juicy and obviously seafood even if you don’t look (ah, how my seafood-loving heart sings!), and the cream cheese and aligue mayo make it all melt into your tongue and into your soul. A dollop of wasabi, a rub onto the house tare, and let the flavors explode in your mouth. The whole experience is beautiful. Foodgasmic. And while I’ve given the place a 4.5 on Zomato for now, it’s only because I haven’t eaten all they have to offer. And that’s something I can’t wait to do.

Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory

How does one spend P250 for dessert that’s not even drinks+food? How does one go from finding cheese ice cream meh to finding THE cheese ice cream? Paul and I had this for dessert during the Food aka Lamon date of our anniversary month (for context, he decided to have different gimmicks per date–experience, food, lunch with my mom). After the foodgasm we had at Ooma, we had an even bigger foodgasm here at Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory. I mean, at first I was apprehensive because the prices and the design of the display is intimidating. I mean, we’re fresh grads and P250 for dessert???? A tiny cup of ice cream???? But Paul said it’s justified, it’s our anniversary, and I said, well, when’s the next justifiable reason for me to do this, right? Probably Christmas or my birthday–both of which are months away. Anyway, on to the review! THIS is the cheese ice cream you need to try before you die. Seriously. It’s that good! Good enough that if you don’t have self-control with money you’d buy this on the regular (thank God I have self-control). We both ordered the cheese variant since the milk flavor was out of stock (not sure why we didn’t go for the mix). We added a slice of the milk cheesecake, bringing the total of our cups to P250 each. I was able to see and taste the reason why lifestyle sites are going nuts over this brand. The cheese flavor, made of Hokkaido cheese and cream cheese, is creamy without being overbearing, sweet and at the same time salty, and it doesn’t make you thirsty (at least not until you reach the bottom of the cup). The flavor is to die for. I think it totally knocks out any other premium-grade ice cream/gelato I’ve had like Magnum and Cara Mia. Like I mentioned, I wasn’t a fan of cheese ice cream growing up but this one just understands me! The addition of the milk cheesecake is what…takes the cake (LOL). The slice looks small, but like the cup, it packs a punch of flavor and value. The cheesecake is a cross between New York and Japanese. For those unacquainted with the difference, I love the fudge-y quality of NY cheesecakes. I’ve only had Uncle Tetsu for Japanese cheesecakes so far, but I didn’t like it because it was airy and dry–and I believe cheesecakes, like brownies, should be creamy. Paul thinks the cheesecake here at Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory is made a bit underdone to retain the moisture and creamy texture. You get a sense of fluffiness to cut through the ice cream, but at the same time you get light and creamy goodness made even better by its gelatinous crust with a caramel-colored swirl. I don’t know how they do cheesecake like that but I want it so bad! I can’t wait for the next excuse I have to indulge in this treat, and I can’t wait to try it with the biscuits. Thank you, Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory. You are a gift to the tastebuds.

[animatedamerican]

Pesach recipes, 4 / 5: Soups & Vegetable Sides

(1. Breads) (2. Pastries) (3. Breakfasts) (5. Random Mix)

Okay, so:  most of what’s in here is not Pesach substitutes for anything, but year-round dishes that happen to be free of grains and kitniyot.

Under the Read More: Maror & Karpas Soup, Butternut Squash & Chestnut Soup, Chilled Lemon Soup, Grain-Free Kishka, Celery-Zucchini Medley, Homestyle Hashbrowns, and Toon’s Amazing Disappearing Stuffed Mushrooms.

Celery-Leek Soup I decided I wanted to make a soup using ingredients that are used as ritual items in the Seder. Both fresh parsley and raw celery are frequently used for karpas, and leeks are (rather less commonly) used for maror. I found a recipe here, and adapted it as follows:

1 32-ounce box chicken broth (I used Manischewitz) or vegetable broth

1 large pack of celery, chopped finely -- all of it, including the leaves

2 fat cloves garlic, chopped finely

3 medium-sized leeks, washed carefully and chopped

1/2 bunch fresh parsley, chopped

1 bunch fresh basil, chopped

1 can coconut milk or 1 recipe DIY coconut milk made w/ 2 cups shredded coconut*

olive oil for sauteeing (any flavorful oil will do)

salt, pepper, onion powder to taste

*For some reason, it is really difficult to find coconut milk that is kosher for Pesach -- I suspect it has to do with the stabilizers generally used to keep it from separating. This recipe will separate out in the fridge; if you're using it, don't worry about reintegrating it before use, just put it all in.

Saute the garlic and leek in olive oil over medium-high heat. Add in the celery. Stir-fry until the celery has brightened and gone a little translucent, and then leave on a low heat for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add in the stock, then the chopped herbs and seasonings. Simmer until the celery is soft all the way through.

Allow to cool slightly, then puree. I used an immersion blender; a food processor will work, in small batches. Strain and stir in the coconut milk. Serve hot (though it would probably be pretty good cold, too). Can be refrigerated and reheated.

Butternut Squash & Chestnut Soup

Note: this also works as a recipe for “mashed butternut squash” if you cut the water or broth down to about an inch in the bottom of the pot.  While this works as a soup either hot or cold, if you make it a side dish instead I would recommend serving it hot. 

1 large onion, chopped

olive oil or butter/margarine for sauteeing

garlic powder to taste, if desired

1 cup (approx.) roasted chestnuts, peeled and chopped

1 very large or two small-to-medium butternut squash, peeled, de-seeded and cut into chunks

chicken or vegetable broth (or water), plus almond milk to taste

salt and pepper to taste

Sautee the onion in the oil over medium to low heat until golden and starting to brown.  Add chestnuts (and garlic powder if using), stir, and cook another few minutes more.  Add squash, stir until thoroughly mixed, then add enough liquid (broth or water) to cover the vegetables.  Cover pot and simmer until squash is soft enough to break up with the side of a spoon.

Allow to cool slightly, then puree until smooth.  If soup is very thick, add almond milk (or more broth or water) until soup reaches desired consistency.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Chilled Lemon Soup

1 small onion, minced fine

2-3 cloves garlic, minced fine

olive oil for sauteeing

fresh thyme to taste

4 cups chicken broth

2 eggs

¼ cup lemon juice, plus grated lemon zest to taste

¼ cup white zinfandel or other white wine

Sautee onion in soup pot over low heat until golden and starting to brown, stirring occasionally.  Add garlic and thyme, turn heat to high, and cook another few minutes more, stirring constantly.  Add broth and bring to boil, then turn heat down to simmer.

While broth is heating, whisk eggs until frothy, then add wine, lemon juice and zest and whisk to combine.  When broth boils, slowly stir two ladlefuls of hot broth into egg mixture.  Return broth and egg mixture to pot, stir to combine, and heat through.  (Do not heat too vigorously, or the egg enrichment will curdle.)

Allow to cool, puree with immersion blender until smooth, then strain and chill.  Taste to adjust seasonings before serving.  Ladle into bowls and garnish with more fresh thyme and lemon zest.

Kishka (Gluten Free & Vegan)

2 stalks of celery

2 carrots

1 medium-large onion

1 to 1½ cups almond flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp paprika

½ tsp garlic powder

¼ tsp black pepper

Puree celery, carrots, and onion together in a food processor until completely smooth.  Pour into mixing bowl and add seasonings.  (Feel free to adjust seasonings to taste.)  Mix in almond flour until the mixture reaches the consistency of stiff dough.  If mixture becomes too stiff, thin it out slightly with water or vegetable oil.

Roll dough into a firm log and wrap in parchment paper or foil.  The kishka may be cooked in a crock pot on top of a cholent or other stew, or baked on its own and served alongside the main dish (I prefer the former).

Celery-Zucchini Medley

3 to 4 stalks celery, sliced diagonally into half-inch pieces

1 large or 2 small zucchini, sliced likewise

olive oil for sauteeing

3 or 4 leaves fresh sage (or to taste), coarsely chopped

salt and pepper to taste

vegetable broth (optional)

Sautee celery in olive oil over high heat until translucent and fragrant.  Remove from pan into mixing bowl and sautee zucchini until soft and beginning to brown.  Add chopped sage leaves, salt, and pepper, and stir to combine.  Cook another few minutes and add celery back to pan.  If desired, add a few tablespoons of vegetable broth.  Stir together and cook another few minutes, then remove from heat.  Serve hot as a side dish.

Homestyle Hashbrowns

(or, how to use up leftover karpas boiled potatoes)

cold boiled potatoes, diced small

raw onion, finely chopped (about a third to a half of the volume of however many boiled potatoes you have)

to taste: salt, pepper, garlic powder, paprika, dried thyme

olive oil as needed

Fry onion in olive oil over medium to low heat until golden throughout, considerably reduced in volume, and starting to brown.  Add seasonings and cook for another few minutes, then add potatoes.  Stir thoroughly, increase heat to medium high, and cook until potatoes are beginning to go brown and crispy on the edges.  Serve hot.

Toon's Amazing Disappearing Stuffed Mushrooms

Note: this is a very labor-intensive recipe -- allow at least two hours start to finish, and get help if you can.  (In fact, I wouldn’t recommend attempting these if you’re preparing an entire meal yourself, but they make an excellent contribution to a group meal.)

2 lbs large fresh mushrooms (plain or cremini)

1 medium-to-large onion, minced

2 medium-sized leeks, minced

1 large or 2 small stalks celery, minced

1 8-ounce can mushrooms, drained and diced finely

2 heads fresh garlic

1 or 2 eggs, beaten

olive oil for sauteeing

salt, pepper, and vegetable or chicken broth/stock to taste

Your best bet is to have all these vegetables cut up in advance, but you may not have the time to plan that far ahead. Also useful is an accomplice to help you with the chopping. If you can't arrange for either of these, be sure to do the sauteeing on a low flame, so you won't wind up cooking faster than you have your ingredients ready. Note also that you're going to need a lot of medium-sized bowls to put your veggies in, smaller ones for the prepped and one larger one for the already-sauteed.

Start with roasting your garlic. (I like to use the following method for roasting; you may have a different one you prefer.) Separate garlic into cloves, but do not peel. With a sharp knife, cut off the tip of each clove (where it joined to the head) to make it easier to remove the cloves from the peel after roasting. Place garlic in a small oven-safe dish and add a few tablespoons of olive oil (enough to coat all of the cloves, with a little extra); if you like, you can add a few sprigs of your favorite fresh herb, such as thyme or rosemary. Put dish in oven at 350-375 degrees until cloves are soft and lightly browned. Check periodically while the rest of the stuff is cooking, and take out before it gets too brown.

While garlic is roasting, start sauteeing your onions in a large and deep skillet or wok, stirring occasionally. While they're sauteeing, take out your mushrooms. Remove and save the stems, and clean or peel the caps. Arrange caps concave-side-up in a large roasting pan. Take the stems (and any mushrooms that came apart when you first took off the stems) and mince them finely, trimming as necessary. Put aside along with the rest of your minced vegetables.

When the onions are starting to turn brown, remove them from the wok into your largest side bowl. Start the leeks sauteeing; once they begin to go soft and translucent, pour the onions back into the skillet. Stir well and continue to cook for a minute or so, then remove all the contents of the skillet into the large bowl. Deglaze the pan with a spoonful or two of stock, then pour the stock into the large bowl and add a bit more olive oil to the pan. Repeat the sautee-combine- remove process for the celery (until translucent and aromatic), the mushroom stems (until the liquid exuded begins to evaporate), and the canned mushrooms (until the liquid is entirely gone and they begin to brown on the edges).

By the end of the process you should have all the vegetables cooking together in the skillet, and the garlic should be done roasting. Let the garlic cool a bit while cooking down the vegetables -- the mixture should smell rich and earthy, and shouldn't have too much liquid -- then squeeze the garlic cloves out of their husks, mash them into a paste, and combine them with the mixture. Remove from heat and allow to cool a bit, while adding salt and pepper.

Add a spoonful of the vegetable mixture to the beaten egg and stir, then pour the egg mixture back into the vegetable mixture and blend thoroughly. (This keeps the heat of the mixture from cooking the egg too soon.)

Using a tablespoon, start scooping the stuffing mixture into the mushroom caps. There should be enough to heap each mushroom cap, possibly with some left over. Spray the top of the stuffed mushrooms with cooking spray, sprinkle with a little parsley, and bake at 350 for about half an hour or until stuffing mixture is set. If you've got leftover stuffing mixture, you can put it into a small oven-safe dish (greased) and bake it on its own.

Serve hot and watch them disappear!

[ddrkirbyisq]

I've spent the greater portion of the past two =days= cleaning and organizing stuff.  Phew!  I don't even remember how I started down this path anymore, it was like one little thing where I was like "oh well, also trash day is coming up so I should also probably take care of this other thing that I've been meaning to and -- oh, while I'm at it, I guess I could really go through this other thing and ..." and before I knew it I was embarking on a total rehaul of boxes, drawers, and everything. I'm very pleased at what I've been able to accomplish so far though!  I've sent a bunch of things off to recycling / landfill (related: I've also realized I'm not nearly as savvy as I should be on recycling and trash practices, so I'm starting to try to learn my way around that), marked other things for donating or giving away, moved a bunch of things around, and tried to declutter as well as reorganize so things make more sense.  No huge changes; all the furniture is still in the same place after all, but for example I had this stack of huge boxes and junk in the corner of my office before; all of that has either gotten thrown away, packed into sensible boxes in the back of my bedroom closet, or in storage in the garage where it isn't cluttering an actual room that I use.  I tackled quite a number of things including but not limited to: - Redoing drawers in my office.  They're much better organized now.  Also my stationary and letter sets are much easier to get at without digging through piles of it). - Shuffling some things around in my dresser drawers and rethinking how I fold some of my clothes.  When clothing and accessories are not easily accessible it becomes easy to just forget they exist and never make use of them, so I tried to push all of the "only use once in a while" winter gear and stuff way to the back, and moved all my hairties and such from my office to my bedroom dresser -- after all I should think about those as I am getting dressed along with the rest of my outfit. - Repacked my box of boxes (not a big deal, it was already pretty ok, but still), and more importantly, completely redid the huge "bag of bags" that I use to keep all of my cute sanrio bags in (for gifting).  It's now a "box of bags", and they're roughly sorted by size so I can flip through and get a bag of the appropriate size instead of just trying to dig through a whole mess.  I also put my bubble mailers in the same box, yay! - Coalesced some of my Magic: the Gathering stuff.  I have a ton of unopened boosters that are still nice to have, as well as a cube and a battle box, etc, but they're all sort of in one place instead of three different places, and I've thrown out a bunch of the packaging material and boxes and such that aren't really useful to me at all. - Washed the bedsheets...dusted the floors...etc. - Trying to air out a bunch of the scarves that unfortunately inherited the smell of a candle that they were packed together with while moving a long time ago. In general there was a lot of switching from "big pile of things stacked on top of each other" to "horizontal stack of things so I can flip through and access any individual thing easily". One thing I might still try is rotating the couch 90 degrees (same corner) as that might actually make the office feel a bit more opened up.  I'll have to see how it feels though. I'm still not really done; I have a whole pile of charms and decorations that I took off of old bags (in addition to ones that I just have had the whole time) and would like to find a way to display them sensibly.  My office has a nice gridded display bookcase thing but it's sort of a big mess right now, so I will be looking to reshuffle that around and hopefully turn it back into a nice display.  I'm also entertaining the idea using some command hooks to hang charms on, but we'll see about that. Anyways, I haven't really been accomplishing much else these past couple of days, but on the flipside I feel really productive and like I'm doing really satisfying work.  I feel great about myself for taking care of all of this stuff.  It's not just the cleaning and organization either; I'm also trying to work at better practices for other things, for example I'm trying to get the hang of using a kitchen towel while I'm working in the kitchen instead of always relying on the sink and/or paper towels.  I'm still trying to wrap my head around a workflow that works for that, but I'm sure once I figure it out (?) it will make things go a lot more smoothly. Speaking of cooking, I tried making seared duck breast tonight! I don't often do food blogging, but hey, why not? Got inspired to try cooking duck breast after having it at Tanto (a tasty Japanese restaurant), and followed some of the basic directions from the Serious Eats writeup of searing duck breast.  It turned out relatively well!  This is my first time ever working with duck meat, but I think it seemed to be very forgiving in terms of timing because it has so much insulation on the skin/fat side.  You can see in the photo I managed to get a pretty nice level of doneness almost all the way throughout, which was nice (of course, also used a thermometer to help me estimate). I didn't take a photo of it, but I knew that there would be a ton of rendered duck fat from the cooking, so planning for that I made some microwaved mashed potatoes with mushroom and just poured the duck fat all over it so it would soak into the potatoes for extra flavor.  That worked out, though I think there was even TOO much fat really for that purpose.  It also made for an extremely heavy meal, which is not necessarily a bad thing inherently, but I think I would have preferred something closer to the Tanto style where they serve it over a nice salad with thin (sweet) onion slices and daikon sprouts and other veggies. The duck breast felt kind of like a steak; it was an interesting combination of traits between chicken and beef.  It did end up being a little chewy; I think two things I would change next time are to try to salt in advance next time (I'm assuming that duck meat, like other meats, will go through some tenderization via dry brining), as well slice much more thinly. I think I could be a little less heavy-handed on the salt next time, it didn't seem super salty at the time but afterwards I'm feeling it a little bit.  For a long time I used fine-grained table salt out of a salt shaker but have since switched to measuring out coarse-grained salt by pinching it with my fingers, which is easier to see visually but I still need to calibrate downwards on the amount of salt that I need to use. You can see in the photo I made a pan sauce by deglazing my stainless steel pan with a bit of sake and then adding in some mirin and soy sauce and sugar -- this seemed to be a pretty common combination of ingredients for sauce to go with duck breast when I looked up Japanese recipes (this combination is also just common in Japanese cooking in general).  It worked out alright, though I personally wasn't ecstatic about it.  I did have some wasabi in the fridge (not authentic wasabi, but the green stuff that we make do with in the states) which I remember from Tanto going super well with the dish; the same was true here.  Looking it up afterwards, these sorts of Tataki (seared meat/fish) dishes are often served with a ponzu sauce, so I'll probably try that next time.  I don't think it's worth keeping yet =another= sauce container in the fridge so I'll probably just mix my own with soy sauce and some citrus juice. I've actually been into Japanese style salads recently, like with onion slices and daikon sprouts and such, so perhaps at some point I'll try to figure out how to put one of those together (which...honestly seems pretty simple, just figure out the dressing and then put veggies together). Anyways, pretty good experiment, all things considered.  I ended up cooking two duck breasts (came in a pack of two) which of course is way too much to expect one human being to eat for a meal so I have another duck breast which I guess I can eat tomorrow for lunch if it's still good.  Tomorrow night I actually have a quite fancy dinner outing courtesy of my family so that should be much more exciting than this, haha.

[travelworldnetwork]

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

Lena Pillars, bank of Lena river, Yakutia. Photo: Alamy

Share

Post on facebook wall

Share on twitter

Share via Email

Pin to Pinterest

Share on Google Plus

Siberia is the final frontier. It exists like a phantom in my consciousness, a mythical concept rather than an actual place. It is white and gauzy and indistinct, an allegory for bleak skies flecked with sleet and grasslands painted with frost. It is a mystery that inches towards me with every click of the train's wheels.

I've placed my books in a neat stack on the table beside my bunk in compartment No.11: Dostoyevsky, Solzhenitsyn; notebooks in which to record my impressions of the journey that lies ahead. The train pulls out of St Petersburg's Ladozhskaya Station and gains swift momentum so that soon it has shaken off the city's brutalist apartment blocks and low-slung powerlines and is barrelling through copses of fir trees.

Dostoyevsky made this journey, too; but where he was shackled and hauled upon a sled to a prison camp in Siberia's Omsk, I'm travelling unregulated by second-class sleeper train to the remote outpost of Salekhard. From there I will venture northwards to the Yamal Peninsula to a camp as unfettered as Dostoyevsky's was incarcerating: a huddle of chums (tents) casually erected on the tundra by one of the world's last remaining traditional cultures, the indigenous Nenets reindeer herders.

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

Lake Kucherlinskoe in the Altai mountains. Photo: Alamy

Our provodnitsa (carriage attendant) delivers fresh linen to our compartment, and my three cabin-mates and I arrange ourselves as comfortably as we can within the confines of this narrow, double-bunked space. Our food supplies are tucked beneath the table – instant noodles and mashed potatoes that we prepare with hot water from the samovar at the far end of the carriage; condensed milk with which to sweeten our coffee.

Outside, scenes blur one into the other, bright-painted houses framed by pink fireweed, rusted rooftops protruding from waves of sky-high grass, rotting boats washed upon a river's shore. The train's soporific rhythm is broken occasionally for stops at stations marooned upon the emptiness. Hawkers await us; we buy fresh bread and buckets of berries and forest mushrooms from their stalls.

After sunset, in the rudimentary dining car, locals greet us in a hard-edged flourish. An immaculately dressed miner is getting smashed on Baltica beer. A muscular scrap metal dealer is guzzling broiled chicken. A teary-eyed Estonian is reminiscing about the years he spent working in Siberia during the Cold War; this will be his first visit there in 34 years.

VELIKIY USTYUG TO SALEKHARD

It's taken 22 hours to get here, and we've made but the tiniest of incursions into Russia's eternal heartland. The Estonian was sleeping when we disembarked this morning, but he'd placed a gift in our compartment: a bottle of Estonian liqueur wrapped in a page torn from a soft porn magazine.

The suffocating snows have melted to reveal a vista of cow bream and wildflowers. They lap at the estuaries converging at the ancient fortress town of Velikiy Ustyug, waterways once thick with explorers and traders. By the 1990s they'd thickened with silt, and when the rains came the rivers spilled into houses and across farmland. The Sukhona River has been dredged since, says local guide Lyubov Nalyotova.

"It looks calm, but it has changed its bed many times," she says, gazing across its silken surface towards a copper-domed monastery on the opposite bank. "It is perfidious."

Advertisement

The town escaped an altogether more disquieting perfidy during the communist era, when the destruction of religious and cultural icons stopped just short of its perimeters. The railway doesn't reach Velikiy Ustyug (we journey there by road), and so structures that might otherwise have been razed – shiny-domed cathedrals, flaking belltowers – rise exultant from their ragtag foundations.

TRAVELLING THE DEATH ROAD

So much of Russia's history is contained in the railway line that stretches from nearby Kotlas – where we reboard the train – to Salekhard. Prisoners flocked to the Gulag Archipelago of which Solzhenitsyn writes; indeed, they laid the very rails on which we now turn. The clacking wheels evoke more recent memories for our Intrepid guide, Ksenia Martynova, who was a baby when communism fell. Her parents lost their jobs overnight; her mother would journey by train to Moscow and St Petersburg to buy goods to trade back home in the Ural Mountains.

"People literally were hiding money in their underwear," she says. "We had no food, just bread and milk, that's all."

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

Tarko-sale town, Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug. Photo: Alamy

As if to corroborate this tale of capitalist paucity, we pass a defunct flour mill and sagging houses adrift in an ocean of blooming Sally. Heather-cloaked plains sail across our windows; the Urals arise in gentle waves. Day turns slowly into night.

In the morning we pull into the town of Chum, the original starting point for Stalin's doomed transpolar railway. He intended for it to jump the River Ob and stretch all the way to the Chukotka Peninsula in Russia's Far East. But the line beyond Salekhard putrefied into marshland, taking the lives of innumerable men with it.

The tracks peter out at Labytnangi, and we take a ferry across the River Ob to Salekhard, the only city in the world that sits directly on the Arctic Circle. Its 15th-century Cossack history is glossed over with shiny buildings – dividends from the vast gas reserves mined on the Yamal Peninsula.

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

The view from the ice grotto at sunrise, Lake Baikal. Photo: Alamy

ABOVE THE 66TH PARALLEL

It takes 10 hours to navigate the 170 kilometres that lie between Salekhard and our first night's camp in the Yamal-Nenets Autonomous Okrug. Dirt roads buckle into corrugated tracks; tracks slide into rivers and re-emerge on the other side boggy and mud-slicked; mud trails sink into the tundra until there remains no trace of them at all.

The Siberia of my imagination – white, gauzy, indistinct – morphs into an emerald wilderness quivering with sedge and lit by a watery sun. Not even the giant-tyred Trekol swamp buggies and Cold War-era Russian tanks in which we travel can cushion our bones against this jarring, untamed landscape.

The tanks' engines scream with exertion, their tread gouges caterpillar tracks into the pulpous earth. Stunted firs – the last of the transitional forest – disrupt the steppe. The snow that engulfs this region for much of the year has left behind traces of its essence: glassy lakes and rivers coiling dreamily across the tundra. Finally, as the sun is about to set, we see the spires of a Russian Orthodox Church emerging from the horizon.

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

Ekaterina Yaptik, a Nenets herder woman, selecting draught reindeer from a corral. Photo: Alamy

This is the Land of Hope, a permanent settlement where Nenets children attend a school for nomads. The students have returned to their families' camps for the summer – a season, in Siberia, of "intolerable closeness", as Dostoyevsky described it. His evocation rings true, for though the skies are threatening rain and the stoves have been lit inside our chums, the mosquitoes are a plague unleashed by summer's damp embrace. They are beasts, speckling our clothes and taking monstrous bites right through them.

In search of nomads We wake next morning to the sound of rain spattering the chum. Breakfast is fish soup and belyashi, doughy bread rolls stuffed with pork. Everyone goes back for seconds.

"If you want to know what it's like to live on the tundra, there is only one thing to do," says one of our drivers as we place offerings of coins upon a crop of sacred rocks. "Go there."

SHARE

Share on Facebook SHARE

Share on Twitter TWEET

Pin to Pinterest PIN

Link

A winter sunset from the mountain top in Sheregesh, Siberia. Photo: Alamy

Hours of travel stretch ahead of us still, interminable expanses of pasturage rising and falling in steep folds, yielding beneath the Trekol's mighty tyres and the tanks' metallic tracks. And then, finally, they appear, four chums standing lonely on the plain. A river curls around the campsite; hills encircle it. Dogs raise their muzzles to our unfamiliar scent. A tent flap opens, and a Nenets woman emerges from the gloom.

REACHING THE END OF THE WORLD

Our quest has ended at the "end of land", a permafrost peninsula stretching for around 700 kilometres into the Arctic Ocean. These are the ancient roaming grounds of the Nenets, Russia's indigenous reindeer herders. They've somehow preserved their nomadic lifestyle in the shadow of modernity: gas mining, the lure of cities, climate change. In summer they drift northwards, and as the weather cools they move south. In recent years, warmer temperatures have delayed their winter trek across the usually frozen River Ob.

Two families live in this temporary camp, says Anna Nerkagi, the woman who has greeted us; 10 people in all. The men are off with the reindeer herd and they will return before dark. She leads us into our chum, a surprisingly uncramped space enclosed in swathes of canvas and felt that will be replaced with reindeer pelts once winter sets in. A wood stove is encircled by bedding: furs and quilts and pillows laid out directly upon the tundra.

LAST OF THE REINDEER HERDERS

Wild reindeer have roamed this peninsula for eons, following ancient seasonal migratory routes in search of food. In recent centuries they've been domesticated by the Nenets, corralled into herds up to 10,000 strong; they supply them with their most urgent needs: food from their flesh, clothing from their skins, tools from their bones.

We can tell that they are approaching now, for the spongy earth vibrates beneath our feet. We emerge from the chum to see the dark mass of a herd spilling over the riverbank. Men on sleds and Samoyed dogs urge them on. They swarm up onto the plain, their dew claws clicking like castanets. Their coats are damp with sweat, their antlers clouded in haloes of fur.

Night descends, a corona of half-dark hovering upon the horizon. We eat salted salmon and pike, boiled cabbage and tomatoes. Fatigued beyond reasoning, we fall into a deep and curative sleep.

DEATH ON THE TUNDRA

It's raining softly next morning. The Nenets men walk out onto the tundra and swing their lassos into the sky. The reindeer herd erupts, a frenzied dance of dark bodies and shining eyes and curlicue antlers slicing the air.

A female is separated from the herd. A Nenets sits with the frightened animal, giving thanks for her sacrifice. The men loop a rope around her neck, and pull tightly on either end until she drops, strangled, to the ground. Her neck is sliced open and the artery tied so that blood – a precious resource in the Arctic – can collect in her abdominal cavity.

The feasting begins at once. Salt is poured into the bloody hollow, slivers of raw liver dipped into it. I sweep a piece of barely dead flesh through the salted pool and raise it to my lips. It is fresh and warm and profound, the most honest meat I have ever tasted.

That night's dinner is reindeer stew and reindeer broth, eaten around a low table in Nerkagi's chum. The carcass will feed these families for three months. No part of it seems to have been wasted: not the skin, peeled off in a single pelt; not the innards, fed to the dogs; not the coarse hair of the forehead, affixed as traction to the soles of shoes.

Only the muscles of the spine and neck are discarded, lest their consumption weaken the herd; and the tip of the tongue, which is thrown into the fire to prevent the spread of rumours.

THE LONG JOURNEY HOME

It takes 14 hours to return to Salekhard. We travel by tank, Trekol and – when the river proves too high to navigate – boat. A group of Russian canoeists welcomes us into their camp and feeds us lard and pate, tea and homemade vodka.

We offer, in hospitable turn, a lift to a Nenets boy making the day-long trek back to his family's chum.

He tells us about his parents' reindeer herd, how winters of -50C are preferable to the mosquitoes that summer brings with it. We wave him goodbye somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and watch as he dissolves into a pinprick on the horizon.

Long after midnight, somewhere above the 66th parallel, we see green smudges in the sky. It is the aurora borealis, crowning the infinite landscape over which we have laboured, probing it with tentacles of light, mocking the Siberia I've conjured in my dark and desolate imagination.

Catherine Marshall was a guest of Intrepid.

FIVE MORE THINGS TO DO IN SIBERIA

TAKE THE TRANS-SIBERIAN EXPRESS

Conjuring romance and adventure, this epic rail journey between Moscow in the west and Vladivostok in Russia's Far East extends for more than 9000 kilometres across a diverse landscape – forests, mountains, rivers, plains – and no fewer than eight time-zones. Though popular with tourists, its chief purpose is the transport of domestic passengers and cargo, giving travellers a unique insight into the Siberian way of life.

EXPLORE LAKE BAIKAL

Perhaps Siberia's most famous landmark, this UNESCO World Heritage site is the world's deepest lake and its largest freshwater lake, a veritable inland sea spreading across a rift valley near the border with Mongolia. It is framed by snowy peaks and Siberian taiga forests, and filled with a profusion of endemic aquatic species, including seals. Activities include hiking, swimming and – if you're visiting during winter – hover-crafting and ice-biking.

SKI IN SHEREGESH

This remote iron-mining settlement in southern Siberia's alpine region has become one of Russia's most popular ski resorts since slopes were built here in 1981. Cold, dry winters ensure season-long dumps of champagne powder snow, turning Sheregesh into a skiers' paradise. Yeti-hunters have also started streaming in since the footprint of the Siberian Bigfoot was allegedly discovered in a nearby cave.

TREK IN THE ALTAI MOUNTAINS

Located at the junction of Siberia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan and China, the Altai Republic – a federal subject of Russia – is a remote, forested area popular among climbers, trekkers and rafters. Siberia's highest peak, Mt Belukha, is located here, and the region provides habitat for the endangered snow leopard and Siberian mountain goats. A fledgling eco-tourism industry in the region is being nurtured by conservation bodies.

TAKE A RIVER CRUISE TO THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

The River Lena – one of the longest in the world – winds through ever-changing landscapes from the central-Siberian city of Yakutsk all the way to Arctic Circle, where it empties into the ocean via a network of granite-walled estuaries. Here, nomadic reindeer herders still live a traditional way of life and in summer the sun doesn't set, earning it the nickname "land of the midnight sun".

SURVIVING SIBERIA

HOT AND COLD

The temperatures here vary wildly, from a deathly cold -60C in winter to a surprisingly balmy +30C in summer. For much of the year, multiple layers of thermal clothing are essential. Jackets should cover the legs and hats, gloves (with inners) and tube scarves should be worn to protect the extremities from frostbite. It's best to consult a specialist cold-weather clothing supplier when kitting yourself out. During the short summer months, cool, comfortable clothing can be worn in the cities, but full coverage in lightweight clothing is recommended in areas inundated with insects. Always take along a warm jacket – despite the comparatively high summer temperatures, the evenings can be cold.

INSECTS

First-time visitors to Siberia will be shocked to discover that the region's brief summers bring with them a veritable deluge of insects. Ticks are common, but the most annoying pest is the tundra mosquito, which is much larger than regular mozzies and congregates around people's faces and bodies in great, biting swarms. They're best avoided by wearing mozzie nets, waterproof pants and jackets and insect repellent. Check your body and clothing for ticks after walking though bushy areas.

FOOD

If you're visiting in winter, be prepared to eat. And eat. The Siberian climate cannot be endured by those who don't possess a healthy appetite (and a strong immune system – for permanent residents at any rate). Energy is gobbled up by the intense cold, and vegetarians who move here often find they can't function adequately without eating meat. The good news is that regional specialities are delicious and plentiful – and there's always condensed milk to sweeten coffee and tea and provide a sugar hit. Menu options for vegetarians are limited to soups, eggs, cheese, fruit and vegetables, bread and yoghurt. Vegans and those on gluten-free diets will find travel in this region challenging, although suitable supplies are usually available in supermarkets.

ALCOHOL

Siberia is renowned for its good vodka – and, on a darker note, its high rates of alcoholism. It is common for locals to strike up conversation with foreign travellers (most often in Russian) and to share their food and drink with them. While this is part of the charm of train travel across Siberia, the alcohol offered is sometimes fake, and the locals' tolerance is often much higher than one's own. For this reason, travellers should take care not to partake in, or encourage, heavy drinking when engaging with locals. Moreover, drunken behaviour can attract fines or removal from the train without warning.

TRANSPORT

Siberia's interminable girth and relative lack of development necessitate long, and sometimes less-than-comfortable journeys. This is not the destination for travellers who depend on five-star comfort: train carriages are compact and might have to be shared with strangers; journeys along back roads and across tundra can be bumpy and downright rough. But for the type of traveller attracted to a place like Siberia, it's exactly what adventure is made of.

TRIP NOTES

MORE

traveller.com.au/russia

FLY

Qatar Airways flies daily from Sydney and Melbourne to Doha, and daily from Canberra to Doha via Sydney, with connections from Doha to St Petersburg and Moscow. See qatarairways.com

TOUR

Intrepid's 15-day Footsteps of the Reindeer Herders expedition departs on July 26 and August 9, 2018 and starts from $4095 per person, including four nights on the trans-polar railway, hotel accommodation, camping with the Nenets on the Yamal Peninsula and a variety of city and rural excursions. See intrepidtravel.com/au

SAFETY

The recent expulsion of Russian diplomats from Australia and other western countries might result in anti-Western sentiment or harassment of Australians travelling in Russia. While there have been no reports thus far of Australians experiencing such difficulties, they are advised to keep an eye out for security and political warnings. As always, remain vigilant, avoid protests and demonstrations and avoid commenting publicly on political developments. Travellers are advised, as before, to exercise a high degree of caution and to avoid certain areas. See smartraveller.gov.au

from traveller.com.au

The post Why you should visit the world’s final frontier appeared first on Travel World Network.

[oovitus]

Weekend Reading, 3.18.18

Happy Sunday, everyone. I’m back from my visit with my friend, doing my best to settle into a routine in spite of deadlines the that continue to loom.

In a mind-clearing yoga class this morning, my teacher shared this parable, or her own version of it. According to WisdomShare, the story goes,

A young, successful couple found their dream home. Shortly after purchasing it, the couple sat at their kitchen table to indulge in a delicious breakfast. The wife looked out the window, and to her surprise, she saw her neighbor hanging dirty laundry on the clothesline.

‘That laundry isn’t clean, it’s still dirty!’ she said to her husband. ‘Someone needs to teach her a thing or two when it comes to washing her clothes!’

A couple of days later, the couple sat down at their kitchen table for another meal. The wife saw her neighbor hanging clothes on the clothesline. But this time something was different.

‘Wow, look!’ the surprised wife said to her husband, ‘Her clothes are clean! Someone must have taught her how to wash her clothes!’ Without raising his head from his plate, the husband kindly responded, ‘Actually, honey, I got up early this morning and washed the window.’

It was the right morning for this fable to find me. Since I got back home on Thursday, I’ve noticed myself being more judgmental and critical than usual. Harsh judgment is a tendency I’m growing out of, but it still emerges when I’m insecure or stressed. Simply recognizing that there’s a source of the impulse has helped me to curb it: when I find myself judging more than usual, I stop to examine what might have triggered feelings of insecurity or low self-worth.

I had a lovely time with my old friend, and coming home was a little tough. I felt lonely, and—though it was difficult to admit—a pang of envy for the new-ish partnership that my friend has found himself in. It’s a strong companionship that seems built on deep respect and care. I celebrate it with him and for him, but when I got home to my place on Thursday night, greeted by the quiet I’m still getting used to, I couldn’t help but long for something like it. Feeling overwhelmed with work (and low on the necessary motivation to get it done) didn’t help.

So, I retreated to the place I often seek when I’m feeling this way: criticism and judgment, of others and myself. I feel grateful to my teacher for sharing a story that made me more conscious of what was going on. Today, as I sat down to write this post, I reflected on how far I still am from feeling at home with myself again. Nothing to judge, nothing to despair about. Just a homecoming to anticipate hopefully.

Here’s to a new week and a fresh perspective. And here are some of the recipes and reads I bookmarked while I was traveling back to NYC a few days ago.

Recipes

I made my kale colcannon over the weekend, which is an annual St. Patrick’s Day ritual for me. But there’s no reason to reserve colcannon for March only, and Hannah’s version is the next one I want to try. It features cauliflower, broccoli, and cabbage along with kale, which makes it a serious celebration of crucifers. You can find the recipe in her awesome new cookbook, but I was happy to see it posted on her blog this week, too.

This farro spinach salad looks fresh, tasty, and so nutritious! I’ve been making making my mushroom farro a lot this winter, but this is a lighter treatment, and perfect for early spring.

I try to bookmark at least one mouth-watering vegan sammie each week in an effort to keep my lunch game strong. This week, Matt’s beautiful beet hummus sandwich—and his recipe for homemade wheat bread—caught my eye.

The ladies at Hello Veggie posted a recipe from Richard Buckley’s upcoming Plants Taste Better, and it looks so homey and good: Tuscan lentil grain broth.

For all of the bowls I make, I haven’t thought to try a mashed potato bowl. Christine’s loaded mashed potato bowl with sautéed mushrooms is inspiring me.

Reads

1. Anthea Rowan reflects on how her mother’s stroke led to the disappearance of her lifelong, severe depression. Such an interesting look at “thinking habits,” to use the author’s phrasing.

2. If anxiety runs in your family, this one may resonate with you; it definitely resonated with me.

3. An interesting perspective on resilience, which posits that “resilience is largely about body awareness and not rational thinking.”

4. A touching story of coworkers rallying around a colleague whose son had been diagnosed with cancer—and a reminder of how precious and rare worker-friendly paid leave policies are around the world.

5. A new study of 4,600 American suggests what many might have known or suspected intuitively: the Great Recession led to increases in blood pressure and blood glucose across age groups.

Enjoy the reading material. I’ll be back this week (or next, depending on how caught up I get) with a simple stuffed sweet potato recipe that’s been keeping me company at dinnertime lately.

xo

The post Weekend Reading, 3.18.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 3.18.18 published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

[vivianrhopper85]

Most Unusual Restaurants in Toronto: 360 Restaurant

If there is one edifice that screams "That's Toronto!", it is the CN Tower located centrally, adjacent to many other truly Toronto attractions. It's the first thing that stands out against our skyline and it's the often one of the first things tourists to the city want to check out. What many people don't think of when considering this tourist hotspot is fine dining with a definite focus on Canadian ingredients and dishes. Designated as one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World, the tower houses the 360 Restaurant, named for the fact that the restaurant rotates a full 360 degrees every 72 minutes giving spectacular views of the entire city from over 1,000 feet above.

Coupled with free entry to the observation deck and glass floor, a lunch or dinner at the 360 is actually well-worth the price and this 2-for-1 deal is why it's particularly popular as a date spot, a business meeting venue, and especially a place to take out-of-towners. I can certainly attest to the latter, having treated many family and business visitors from all over the world to an evening above the Toronto. It is always a thrill for tourists.

But that shouldn't mean that locals can't enjoy it just as much. With Executive Chef John Morris at the helm, there's a strong focus on Canadian cuisine, drawing from all across the country for inspiration in his dishes. And who doesn't want to pick out their home or other much-loved local spot from high above city from once in a while?

Atmosphere and Decor

First things first: Nobody is coming here for the interior decor. As such, it's very simple and perfunctory, with a slight air of class. After all it does boast the world's highest wine cellar. Guests are here for the view.

After going through security checkpoints and taking the elevator up in an ear-popping 58 seconds, you're greeted with a vista you won't scoff at. It's important to note that the 360 shares the same common areas with the rest of the CN Tower and depending on the time of day and year, you may experience long lines to get into the building. At 4:30 PM in January however, there was no wait at all and it was in perfect time to catch the winter sunset. During my time, I managed to see the city in both the afternoon and dark of a winter night, all from the comfort of my seat.

Every other time I've come to this place, it's been quite busy but with that in mind, every other time has been in much warmer temperatures and better weather. It was strikingly empty which I found actually added to the atmosphere as I could enjoy the view from my seat at the window in peace. The only sound was the oldies coming from the music system. Even with every table taken during other visits, it never seemed too loud.

Menu Range

This is a menu made for Canadians at fairly affordable prices considering what it comes with. There is nothing that will shock you or anything that seems particularly unfamiliar. It is not the sort of hipster joint that is chock full of bone marrow creations or kombucha-pickled ghost peppers. It's basic and traditional but tasty, with a wide range of options for typical Western tastes.

It is a prix fixe menu where you can choose from a 2-course or 3-course options for $65 or $79 respectively. There is an a la carte menu as well for grilled meats and seafood, which is actually quite impressive considering the venue is not known for ocean-based cuisine. I'm resisting the urge to make a joke about Ripley's Aquarium which is right next door!

Starting with the a la carte menu, there is the choice between artisanal beef from Pine Meadows Farms (which I cannot find online) as well as Ontario lamb and bison. The steaks range from $85 for 16oz rib eye to $75 for the other two. An 8oz bison tenderloin will set you back $80 and a rack of lamb is $79/pound. Seafood offerings were most impressive. The menu lists 3 choices for $95 each with the option of Atlantic lobster, east coast crab legs, or a surf and turf option. And then there is the seafood bar which consist of huge platters full of a large variety of seafood as well as appetizers from the ocean. The platters range from $65 to $395, and from one to three tiers! If you're in the mood for lobster, crab, mussels, oysters, shrimp, and smoked fish, this is by far the dish to order. Appetizers consist of shrimp cocktail or smoked salmon for $24, Malpeque oysters for $38, or seafood cocktail for $48.

The prix fixe menu starts off with appetizers, with only 2 requiring an extra $6. There are 2 salads, a hearty mushroom soup, duck parfait, beet and squash tart tatin, with smoked salmon and shrimp & grits as the more expensive of the offerings.

The mains consist of a well-rounded variety of choices for different palates and nothing too adventurous to scare anybody off, with the bonus of showcasing various parts of the country. There is a Newfoundland-inspired cod dish, a BC seafood dish with rockfish, clams, squid & mussels, a vegetarian risotto with ancient grains and BC mushrooms, Quebec-inspired brioche chicken, an Ontario super pork dish consisting of 4 different types, a vegetarian ravioli, Nova Scotian salmon fillet, and 45-day aged Alberta prime rib. The former is the only option that requires an extra $10 supplement. The sides that accompany the dishes are all very Canadian as well with root vegetables, mushrooms, nuts, and even sumac-dusted potatoes.

All extra side dishes are $11 a piece and it is recommended to order two. I found that two extra dishes are unnecessary as the plates are large enough to be filling.

There are 7 desserts to pick from, or add onto your a la carte order for $14. They are more creative, more Canuck takes on typical fine dining desserts with ingredients that we have come to understand as purely Canadian. It starts with the ubiquitous chocolate based dessert, here in the form of a "tower". Following up is the verrine with cherries, which is known as a slightly classier name for parfait, almost like a deconstructed black forest cake, minus the cake. There's the East Coast-inspired (and Scottish) cranachan which is a trifle-like dessert, a blueberry and maple syrup crème brulee, an upside-down cake, and for the less adventurous there are the typical cookies and ice-cream or sorbet.

If savoury is more your style after a meal, the 360 boasts a sizeable cheeseboard selection with Ontario and Quebec dairies highlighted.

Appetizers

It was a little early for a thick and hot soup and I wanted something more than a salad, so I opted for the beet tarte tatin having only a vague idea what that meant. The dish arrived quickly, well presented, and colourful. It was a little confusing as I saw no squash at all and it seemed more like a hunk of gratin-like pre-prepared beets thrown on a piece of plain pastry. The pastry itself was well-made and flaky but was certainly lacking any taste of squash. The beets were dry and bland, which was particularly unfortunate as I have had some of the best beets in my life at this restaurant in years past. The sheep's milk cheese, or as they claim yoghurt, was smooth, creamy and mild with fresh pea shoots to top it off. The best part of the dish was actually the complementary roasted hazelnuts. They not only added a burst to nutty flavour but also a nice hard crunch to contrast against the beets and pastry. The grape reduction was unnoticeable and far too meagre. It was a nice size for an appetizer.

Entrees

Had I been paying better attention, I certainly would have chosen the bison tenderloin a la carte but with the prix fixe that was not available to me. I was torn between the Newfoundland cod and the Quebec chicken, choosing eventually to go with the chicken simply because the accoutrements were more to my taste. I'm sure the cod would have been quite a treat as well. I would have liked some information on the menu about the sustainability of the fisheries they draw from for this menu as that is a big concern, especially in the troubled East Coast cod industry. The fact that there is no Ocean Wise or MSC designation on the menu made me think twice about the fish.

The chicken dish was the only poultry offering in the entrées and is bound to appeal to even the pickiest eaters as it is a safe, tasty plate made with skill. The brioche crust was thin but adequate and as a huge fan of brioche, it was a great texture mixed with the juicy, spinach-stuffed chicken. The sprinkling of sea salt atop it actually added quite a nice zest of flavour. Usually the protein is the star of the dish but in this case, I feel like the vegetables played a co-starring role of equal importance, and even more flavour. The crushed potatoes were drenched in delicious chicken jus, the heirloom carrot puree was smooth, and the edamame beans were perfectly cooked, not too soft like many places overcook them to. There was the addition of about 3 whole cloves of mashed garlic to add bite and the maple butter sauce rounded everything out with a pleasant sweetness. It may not have been a particularly bold choice of entrée, but it was a satisfying one in the same way as a home-cooked meal.

I also picked up a side of brussel sprouts with chestnuts because I thought all the carbs and protein could use some healthy greens to balance the meal and found them to be perfectly cooked, crispy with a nice char to them, but there was something very sweet about the glaze that was a bit distracting to the overall flavour of the sprouts.

Dessert

Three courses was definitely the way to go. Dessert was possibly the best part of the meal and it was huge! As I have a certain sweet tooth, it's always a bit of a challenge to pick just one sweet treat. The Dark Chocolate Tower called to me with its coffee and orange tinges but as this was meant to be a Canadian experience, I had choose the East Coast Cranachan, mostly because I had no idea what it was and the idea of partridge berries in January seemed too good to be true. Sadly, it was. The dish was covered with raspberries instead. Not a partridgeberry in sight. Considering the raspberries were a mixture of fresh and freeze-dried, I was surprised that there weren't dried partridgeberries instead.

That said, the greenhouse raspberries were good enough and I particularly enjoyed the dried berries as they were really crunchy and packed full of sweet and sour flavour. It helps that I love raspberries. The oat shortbread was overwhelming as there was so much of it. But it had to be in order to scoop up all the custard and whipping cream which was piled really high. After an app and main, I could only finish half of it even though it was the perfect blend of sweet and creamy.

Drink Options

To call the drink options substantial would be an understatement. If you are a wine drinker, this is likely a heavenly list to choose from. The wine list should more aptly be called a wine book featuring wines from Canada, and all over the world. It is 9 pages of whites, reds, desserts, champagnes, and ports. There is bound to be something to please everyone who wants wine. The servers are all versed in the options as well. The food menu also comes with a pairing list to help narrow down your choices if you aren't up to scratch on fancy wine knowledge. The bottles range from $45 for California white to $3600 for a 2000 Château Lafite Rothschild merlot. So, if you're a wine connoisseur or just an everyday Joe, you'll find something tasty. Certain wines are also available by the 6 or 9oz glass.

If you're not in a wine mood, there is also a cocktail list with Canadiana names like Gord's Last Word (which is likely an homage to Gord Downie, or possibly Gordie Howe or Gordon Lightfoot), Toronto Islands, or CN Spritz, all for fairly recognisable cocktails. There's nothing "craft" here. These are just crowd-pleasers with fun names. They will run you from $16 to $20. I sampled the Beamsville Bing which comes with a collectible glass. It tasted a bit too heavily of grenadine for me but I'm sure it would appeal to many others.

There is also a fair selection of Ontario craft beers, from $9 to $14 a pint. They specialize as well in Canadian spirits featuring distillers such as Dillon's, Tag No. 5, Ungava, Screech, Crown Royal, and Gibson's. Specialty coffee is also available.

For people who'd prefer not to drink, there are non-alcoholic cocktails for $12 and juices for $7.50 with more fun names like Centreville Refresher or Walk On The Edge. There is also a selection of coffees and teas for $5. I opted to go with a classic cappucino which is made with decent Lavazza coffee and had a wonderfully thick foam that made it a pleasure to drink. I do think the 360 could go with some local roasters for their coffee to bring more flavour and Canadiana to their offerings.

Service

As a fine dining establishment, it's not surprising that the level of service is high. I found the CN Tower employees, host, bussers, manager, and servers all very attentive and friendly. My server was chatty and engaged but never in a pushy way, and made me feel quite welcome even though I was dining alone. He often stopped by to make sure everything was going well or just chat and I found like they really valued my presence and comfort. It is important to note again that I never felt suffocated or uncomfortable with the attentiveness and it was never overwhelming. It was the perfect balance. It was also appreciated that the manager checked in as well. I think one of the highlights was when the sun was setting in a very beautiful and unique way, a few servers were taking photos of it as well and it just felt very nice to see that the staff appreciates the view even if they see it every day. I feel like that enthusiasm in your staff reflects well on the workplace and service itself.

Feeling Afterwards

After taking my leftovers and collectible glassware, I wandered down to the LookOut (observation deck) and the Glass Floor, as both are included with a 360 Restaurant reservation. I can't say I've ever been to this restaurant and not have my guests want to check out the CN Tower itself afterwards. At the time I was there, very few others were around and due to the weather, the SkyPod and Edge Walk were closed, as well as the outdoor area of the Look Out. It was a nice end to the meal to slowly wander around the CN Tower in near quiet, just watching the winter city at night. The meal itself was filling and although it is not the best food or drinks I've ever had, and it's certainly not going to win a Michelin star, it was a satisfying meal and when taking into consideration the free access to parts of the CN Tower that cost $36 normally, it seems like a pretty good deal for a gourmet and unique experience.

The 360 Restaurant is a good place to put on your list if you want to entertain some out-of-towners or business colleagues. The atmosphere and service are pleasant, the food is tasty, and the view is unparalleled in this city unless you're renting your own plane. You can be assured that any tourist will be happy to dine here, and it's not a bad spot to take a date either. While there are many, many other high-quality fine dining establishments in the city, none come linked with a 360 degree view of the entire city at sunset.

VL00KV

from News And Tip About Real Estate https://jamiesarner.com/toronto-restaurant-reviews/360-restaurant/

[gardencityvegans]

Weekend Reading, 11.26.17

https://www.thefullhelping.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/weekend_reading.jpg

Thanksgiving this year was a surprise.

For weeks, I looked forward to it as being a homecoming of sorts. It was the first Thanksgiving that my mom and I have had on our own since 2012, when we ate at Candle 79. We did the same this year, and I think a part of me expected the whole ritual to be as if nothing had changed. I thought it might momentarily feel the way things did before the end of my post-bacc, before coming back to New York, before me and Steven, and before some grievous losses in my mom’s life.

It didn’t, of course, and in spite of how badly I wanted to reclaim time this week, memories kept catching up to me. I spent the day or two before the holiday feeling broken open and weepy, rather than excited for time off or eager to celebrate. I’d had it in my mind that this Thanksgiving would somehow offset last year’s Thanksgiving, which was difficult for a lot of reasons.

That isn’t how it went, of course. My mom and I were together, as much of a team as ever, eating at the very same table we ate at for Thanksgiving 2012 (and with the same wonderful food). But we couldn’t help feeling certain absences: the loss of my grandmother and my mom’s partner, the dissolution of my relationship (which had become a part of both of our lives), and many other changes we’ve experienced separately and together in the last five years. It wasn’t a homecoming so much as a regrouping.

As it turned out, the weekend was full of other surprises, curveballs and unexpected bits and pieces that threw me for a loop. It wasn’t the peaceful holiday weekend I’d been counting on, but rather a disruptive couple of days that invited me to take stock of what’s important.

As I was reflecting on this yesterday, I kept coming back to a quote from Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart:

We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.

I’ve read these words so many times. Each time they’re a reminder that things will never cohere perfectly or permanently. Everything is always changing, but there can be peace and beauty in experiencing that motion.

When you’ve passed through a difficult period, it can be tempting to yearn for a delivery of good fortune, or for experience that feels redemptive somehow. You want suffering to have purpose, for pain to be justified by wisdom or abundance or growth. I’m a little embarrassed to say it out loud, but I’ve been wanting all of these things, badly, and I guess that I’d envisioned this holiday season as being a touchstone of sorts—a benchmark of how far I’d come from last year.

That’s not the point. And that’s not what the holiday was. Instead, it was an invitation for me to feel grateful for all of the things that have endured while so much else changes.

As I sit here this morning, I’m thinking about my bond with my mom, which shifts and expands and grows along with us. I’m thinking about my chosen family, many of whom I spoke to in the last few days. I’m thinking about being rooted in a place I love, and little festive traditions here in the city that I revisit happily each year. I’m looking back on my quiet evening walk yesterday along unusually empty downtown streets, so peaceful. I’m thinking about food, how much I savor and look forward to the rhythms of sitting down to eat each day.

I experience these things differently from year to year, as my life evolves. But I experience their sameness, too, and the constancy often feels like a thing of beauty. The holiday weekend wasn’t a celebration of things being “back to normal,” because there’s no normal, and time flows forward. But somehow it did end up feeling like a celebration of both permanence and impermanence, and the spaces in between.

If you observed the holiday this week, I hope that you found something meaningful to celebrate. If you didn’t, I hope you had a restful couple days. Enjoy the articles and the recipe links this week!

Recipes

Looking for an alternative to oatmeal as usual? I’m loving Erin’s sweet potato einkorn porridge. It’s a genius way to use up leftover mashed sweet potatoes and to sweeten up breakfast nutritiously. (And it’s something I can make with the einkorn and kamut berries I’ve had in my pantry for too long.)

If oats are calling to you, Meredith’s savory mushroom oats would be a tasty choice for any meal or time of day.

What a beautiful, festive salad for the holiday season! Emily combines roasted delicata, fingerling potatoes, kale, and pomegranate seeds with a champagne vinaigrette in this colorful mixture.

Looking for the ultimate roasted fall veggie platter for holiday gatherings? Sue’s easy rainbow roasted veggies combine every color and texture in service of a dish that’s as simple as it is lovely.

Finally, I can’t get over how pretty and festive Jackie’s persimmon creme brûlée is. I’ve never even thought to attempt creme brûlée in vegan form—it seems like such a challenge—but she makes it look easy.

Reads

1. A fascinating, lyrical consideration of the value of sleep. This article isn’t about medicalized sleep therapies; on the contrary, it considers sleep as a human experience that transcends pure biology:

Medicalisation obscures sleep’s true nature – its breadth and depth and joy. It conceals the personal, transcendent and romantic dimensions of sleep. We are in dire need of restoring our sense of sleep’s mythic dimensions – of reimagining our personal experience of sleep. I believe this can be best accomplished through poetry, spirituality and, ultimately, personal investigation.

I’m a relatively minimal sleeper, and the article gave me a lot to think about.

2. A really interesting take on how the shift from reading out loud—once a cultural and intra-familial norm—to reading in private changed Westerners’ interior lives.

3. I found this portrait of one couple’s unusual approach to death and dying so touching.

4. Kathryn Schulz considers how and why human beings conjure up the fantastic and mythical beasts we do, and what makes these creatures believable.

5. I didn’t grow up in a home where a lot of dinner parties or entertaining happened—my mother didn’t really have the time, and if she had the inclination, I never knew about it, plus there was the issue of space in our little NYC apartment—but I’ve always loved the idea of them, if only because the reality always felt a little exotic. I enjoyed reading all of the articles in The New York Times‘ tribute to the dinner party.

And on that note, I’m wishing you all a good Sunday night. I’m back tomorrow with news of a fun new baking collaboration that has given me so much pleasure this fall, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

xo

          [Read More ...] https://www.thefullhelping.com/weekend-reading-11-26-17/