#there's a new shake shack and i am a shake shack fiend

[chubbychiquita]

what is the appropriate serving size for cheeseburgers?

[jeichanhaka]

If Any Would Avenge: 22

Chapters 01-10|| Chapters 11-20|| Chapter 21|| Chapter 22|| Chapter 23

|| Chapter 24|| Chapter 25||

Chapter 22: The Viand Flits

Centuries Back:

“...you...what did…? Argh…uh….” He muttered, struggling to keep his eyes opened and his mind focused. The bottle of ale fell from his hands, its tainted brew spilling over the worn wooden floor of the shack. He followed next, and as he fell his gaze lingered on the crafted jewelry chest laid on the nightstand at the foot of the bed.

“Wealth...that’s all you care about.” Isobelle muttered, watching as Brennan collapsed, lulled into the grasp of a sleeping curse. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed into a thin line of contempt, she towered above the man. “Seven years and you still….” There was a pause, her body tensing and fists clenching in thought. She glanced out the window towards a cluster of similar huts and shacks, and houses made in the stone ruins of a once prosperous castle. “These people need help. I won’t abandon them. I….” Another pause. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand why.” She muttered and left, picking up the jewelry chest on her way out.

x

Standing outside of George’s house, keeping watch on the entrance and walkway, Brennan scowled. Despite being dimmed with age, his memory of Isobelle and the day she placed him under a sleeping curse was scorched into his brain. There were many things that he’d forgotten about that day and the years he spent caring for her after saving her from Fortunato.

“Why am I thinking of her now?” Brennan grumbled, itching to leave but rooted where he stood by the hooded woman’s magics. Even before the last word left his lips he knew the answer - it was the hooded woman. Her face and eyes, and even her attitude and posture were reminiscent of Isobelle. Not identical but enough to suggest that whoever the woman was, she was descended from Isobelle. His eyes narrowed. They widened when he heard a twig snapping behind him, and then felt someone grab him, the next moment feeling the chill of a hook pressed against his neck. “...Killian.”

“Shut up.” Scowling, his hook pressed against the other man's throat threateningly, Killian growled. After Captain Kidd had been captured and the truth of the accident five nights ago was revealed, Maleficent and Regina decided to release Killian. And though he'd first thought of going home to be with his wife and child, the pirate had opted instead to hunt down the thing that had taken his deceased father's form. “I have no idea what kind of fiend you are, but you'll regret taking my father's form and helping Nemesis set me up.”

“Son, I....”

0000000000000000000

The Realm of Nemesis: Before the Curse

The last of the assassins dropped to the ashen ground and crumbled to dust, its heart crushed by Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One watched coldly as the last assassin’s ashes joined its brethren, the sight satisfying but not enough to overcome his annoyance.

“Hard to believe, that not a single one of these fools knew who hired them.” Rumplestiltskin muttered, shifting his attention from the dust towards the rest of the realm. A forest, filled with dried out trees with needle thin leaves, sere and crisp. The ground itself just ash and dust provided little sustenance to the dismal foliage, same with the shadow laden skies.

Wordlessly taking stock of the now lifeless realm Rumplestiltskin scowled, growing curious at how the realm sustained its forest. It took him less than a minute to pick up the faintest trace of magic emanating from the center of the land, near a cliff overlooking the whole forest. His senses keen, he teleported to the cliff summit. There, placed quite a few feet from the cliff edge, he found a giant canvas, framed in silver. His eyes narrowed, sensing magic from it – a peculiar magic that was foreign to anything he'd ever encountered or that any Dark One ever encountered.

More than ancient, it chilled him, but at the same time drew him closer, tempted by a mix of curiosity and desire for power. Rumplestiltskin approached the canvas, eyeing its blank surface before reaching out towards its magic irradiated surface. Barely had he reached for it when he unconsciously bristled and backed away, repelled by it both magically and from fear of its origins. “Impossible....” He muttered, eyeing the canvas from a few feet away. “...it'll explain the dreary, withered scenery here, but this is...extraordinary. Is this really that realm? The Unwritten...?”

Suddenly there was a rumbling sound as the whole realm shook and the canvas shifted, moving physically closer to him. Its magic irradiating out further, reaching towards him and his dagger, hungry for his magic. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, holding tightly to the Dark One dagger. “Sorry, no. This is mine. And....” He paused a moment as the shaking grew stronger, and the magic irradiating from the canvas became more hostile. “...I'll take that as my cue to leave.”

x

Present: Storybrooke

Watching the Dark One’s face as the man pulled out his heart, Fortunato laughed and his sneer grew wider - as wide as a Cheshire smile. His scarlet eyes glowed vividly as he watched Gold glower and squeezed the heart in his hand. The organ crumbled apart in the Dark One’s palm with barely any effort - so little effort that Gold’s eyebrows rose in bewilderment.

“That’s….” Gold growled through clenched teeth, his dark and livid eyes glowering at Fortunato, who remained standing despite his heart having crumbled to dust. He bristled and snarled. “How are you still standing?”

“How?” Fortunato echoed, his mouth pulled wide in a Cheshire grin. He chortled and laughed exuberantly, relishing the other man’s anger. “Simple. You can’t kill someone who’s not alive.”

Clenching the Dark One dagger tightly, Gold eyed the jester-clothed assassin closely, absorbing Fortunato’s words. His mouth twitched. From the moment he’d accosted the assassin he sensed something off about the man, but once he realized the blood staining Fortunato’s tanto was Belle’s, he'd dismissed both caution and curiosity in favor of slaughtering the fool. “...You’re telling me you’re already dead?”

“Undead.” Fortunato corrected. “I died many years ago, buried and sealed alive behind a wall in a crypt. I sustained myself for a while by feasting on the rats infesting the place, at least one of which was infected by plague. A particularly fatal plague. The Red Death, as the people in my realm called it. Hundred percent fatal.” Fortunato paused, considering the contradiction. “Somehow it killed my body, but not my consciousness.”

Hatred and anger lining his face and lighting his eyes, Gold grabbed Fortunato by the throat. Fist wrapped firmly around the assassin’s throat, Gold quietly considered the man’s words. Having been doubly angered by Fortunato - first by the man trying to steal the Dark One dagger and then upon realization that this fool was the same one who attacked Belle - Gold hadn’t registered the foreign magic emanating from the assassin. Nowhere near enough to be a threat to him, but stronger than every other Nemesis assassin he’d encountered.

“Interesting….” Gold muttered, his eyes twitching upon noticing Fortunato’s over-pointed, sharpened incisors. Between that and the type of magic he sensed from the assassin, it was clear to him what Fortunato was. Less clear was how it was possible. ‘Vampirism was eradicated from the Enchanted Forest and all other transversible realms long ago. Erased from being, same with all other conscious-undead variants.’

“What’s interesting?” Fortunato hissed and wrapped his hand around Gold’s wrist. Crimson eyes gleamed when he saw how the Dark One flinched at the coldness of his grip. Deathly cold and dry. And rank.

“You. Your existence.” Gold replied, his brain replete with all he knew about magic and all he understood about the sort of magic behind Fortunato’s condition. “Conjuring and reanimating the dead as will- and mindless puppets has always been possible using dark magic, but what you are is impossible.”

“...a necromancer I met once said the same thing.” Fortunato smirked, his crimson eyes growing a darker shade of red. “Told me I couldn’t be real - I quickly relieved him of that assumption by tearing out his throat.” He sneered, his sharp incisors peeking out from under his lips. Bemused, he leered at Gold and at the Dark One dagger held in the other’s hand. “You, though, won’t need such convincing. You’ve been to the realm of Nemesis.”

“Just you try doing that to me, dearie.” Gold snarled, bringing the sharp edge of his dagger to Fortunato’s neck. “I’ll tear you apart and scatter your limbs across the realms. You can spend eternity in pieces.” He paused, gazing into the undead man’s eyes keen for any trace of fear or apprehension from the hereto smug assassin. When no hint of such revealed itself, Gold’s scowl deepened and his eyes darkened. “You may think you’re impervious to harm, but I wouldn’t bet on it, vampire. As the Dark One I’m well-versed in all manner of dark magic, including that which it’d take to kill someone with your particular affliction.”

Fortunato merely chuckled, his lips stretched out in a cold and bemused smile. Despite the Dark One dagger being pressed against his throat, he stared into Gold’s eyes and laughed. “I doubt that.”

“You’re quite the arrogant fool. I’m going to enjoy destroying you, dearie.” Gold hissed, raising his dagger above them in order to stab Fortunato, its ebony blade radiating dark magic. “This is for Belle and our unborn child.” He growled and swung down the dagger, aiming for the vampire’s chest.

“Why thank you then.” A voice interrupted, and a gloved hand grabbed hold of Gold’s arm, stopping his attack. The brief pause allowed Fortunato to back away and disappear into the shadows, leaving only a few ashes behind. Furious the Dark One glared at the interloper, readying his magic to expel or kill whoever this new fool was. His eyes widened when he felt his body freeze in place, refusing to budge.

“What the hell?” Gold growled, recognizing the effects of squid ink and growing even more furious, as well as a tad concerned. His anger darkened eyes glanced at his dagger still clasped firmly in his hand, before returning to glower at the fool who stopped him killing Fortunato.

With a youthful face, filled with cold beauty that could cause Adonis envy, the interloper stared back at Gold. Not an hint of worry in his eyes, his perfect face void of even the smallest trace of humanity. It took only seconds for Gold to place the young man.

“You...you’re the one from Nemesis’ realm.” Gold seethed. “The strange young man who vanished without a trace.”

The youth simply nodded his head, a mirthless, smug smile on his face. His eyes, a dark chestnut speckled with a lighter brown, gleamed as though relishing the Dark One’s anger rather than fearing it. It was a look that riled Gold, but also chilled him. Moments later the youth grabbed the Dark One dagger, wrenching it from Gold’s fist.

“You’ll leave that alone if you know what’s good for you, dearie.” Gold snarled, anger and fear spreading through him at sight of his dagger in the youth’s hand. That gleam in the young man’s face - unless he’d misread it, it was highly likely that this stranger was going to kill him. He swallowed as the youth neared closer, near enough to stab him with the dagger. As the squid ink wore off - mere seconds after the youth let go of Gold’s wrist, it having been on the youth's gloved hand - the Dark One bristled. Eyes darkened with anger and alert with apprehension, Gold watched his dagger in the young man's hand.

“Oh?” The youth muttered, his voice filled with feigned offense and shock, his tone grating the Dark One, whose face twisted from anger at the youth. “But I thought you said this was for your unborn child.” The young man held up the dagger, gazing at its ebony blade, his words laced with fake surprise. “Oh, you meant your unborn dead child, not your erased one….” He muttered, shrugging pronouncedly in a ‘oops’ gesture before continuing on in the same mocking tone. “Oh, of course, you meant destroying Fortunato was for your child, not that this...Oh, well.” The youth smirked, turning towards a table covered with papers both blank and covered with scribbles. He lingered on the pages, waiting with bated breath for Gold to absorb his words and glean their true purpose. His expectant expression darkened when the older man simply growled, his wit blinded by anger.

“You’ll regret your mirth once I get my dagger back and rip out your heart, you son of a….”

“No. Shut it.” The youth ordered, brandishing the Dark One dagger. Gold immediately fell silent. The youth shook his head, frowning, though the twitch at the corner of his lips suggested that he was still relishing the Dark One’s frustration. “That’s just unfair to her. Seriously.” He thought a moment. “Though if you wanted to call me a son of a bastard, that’d fit better. Be fairer, even, considering….” His bemusement shifted to cold anger when Gold continued to glare at him, not even bothering to really listen to his words. “...would stabbing you still be considered patricide even though I’ve been erased from the story?”

“Patricide...what?” Gold’s eyes widened, the power of the dagger compelling him to answer despite his confusion. “You’re not….” He sucked in a breath, the rest of the youth’s question breaking through his anger. “What do you mean by erased?”

“Unwritten. You know, like the Author’s book.”

Before the youth even finished his response, Gold already backed away in shock, his expression an unfathomable mix of horror, hope, and disbelief. “You....”

[proseandsongs]

I Can’t Be Without You

Wishing the happiest of birthdays to the lovely, kind, talented @emberglows! I am so privileged to be your friend, and as a sign of thanks/celebration of your birthday, I’ve written a Fiddlestan fic! I really hope you enjoy it. Happy birthday, love!! <3

“This is stupid.” Stan plucked at the bright red bowtie around his neck and grimaced at his reflection.

His niece swooped in and slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch it! You’ll ruin it.”

Stanley sighed and tugged at his suit jacket to banish the wrinkles. The suit was brand new and snug in the shoulders, but Mabel had refused to let him wear his Mystery Shack suit because it smelled like mothballs and formaldehyde. Stan had suspicions that Fiddleford was immune to the scent due to his work with Stanford, but he didn’t argue. He only put his foot down when Mabel suggested glitter hairspray to keep his hair in place. His hair was hard as a helmet with all the gel; it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Pumpkin, I don’t know about this. This seems a bit too…fancy. I’m just going out with Fiddleford.”

“Yeah, for your anniversary!” Mabel brushed back a stray hair from her Grunkle’s forehead and beamed at him in the mirror. After a few summers of growth spurts, Mabel now stood at her Grunkle’s shoulder, which meant she could now pick at him whenever she wanted. However, the careful adjustments – straightening a crooked tie, swiping at a smudge on his glasses with her sleeve, flattening a cowlick – were appreciated.

Mabel giggled in excitement and added, “I can’t believe you’ve been dating for a whole year!”

Stan swallowed hard as he grimaced at his reflection. “Me either.”

The whole thing was a bit strange. He had never predicted – never could have predicted – how the summer after their journey on the Stan o’ War would go.

After spending nearly a year alone in his mansion, with weekly visits from his son, Tate, Fiddleford had grown lonely. Despite his regular correspondence with Stanford as he travelled the world, Fiddleford sought company. Which is why, when Stanley and Stanford returned to Gravity Falls for summer vacation, Fiddleford proposed that they move into his mansion. There was far more space than at the Mystery Shack where Soos and now Melody lived, and Fiddleford practically shoved his Southern hospitality down their throats. They couldn’t say no.  

It was Fiddleford’s odd colloquialisms and erratic behaviour that made Stan fret about staying in the mansion. Once they moved in, he was surprised to see Stanford was just as happy working with Fiddleford in his lab as they had been on the ocean. Even more surprising: Stanley was enjoying himself, too. It wasn’t because of the Olympic swimming pool in the backyard (although that didn’t hurt) or the silverware he had pawned shortly after moving in: it was because Fiddleford was so kind. The man who had suffered homelessness, abandonment, and poverty for thirty years couldn’t stop giving. He donated to the children’s program at the library, the senior’s residence, and drew up blueprints for a year-round homeless shelter that was now under construction.

In addition to Fiddleford’s generosity and success as an engineer, Stanley had been startled by his great sense of humour. The first time he heard Fiddleford sass Stanford, he laughed himself into stitches. That had been the first time Fiddleford’s grin had brought heat into his face, although he was quick to blame this on the laughter.

Stanley got to know Fiddleford, to the point where they could have long conversations without the intervention of Stanford. He was sleeping more now, and would often doze while Stanley and Fiddleford spoke; no doubt catching up on thirty years of sleep deprivation. The more Stanley spoke to Fiddleford, the more smitten he became, to the point that even Dipper and Mabel could tell there was something suspicious going on. Stanley dodged the questions, but he couldn’t avoid the unfamiliar pull Fiddleford had on him.

Soon the evening soaks in the pool with just the two of them – Stanford claimed it was unsanitary – turned into long conversations that stretched until the moon was at its highest. Those chats turned into heart-pounding flirting sessions, where Stanley didn’t know up from down and couldn’t determine whether Fiddleford was reciprocating, or merely being polite.

He got the hint one evening near the end of the summer when, in response to a blatant come-on, Fiddleford shot him with an exasperated look and blurted, “Stanley Pines, if you don’t steel your gut and kiss me silly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!”

He obliged, of course, and proceeded to kiss Fiddleford silly – that is until Stanford burst onto the scene with a ceptopod latched onto his ear.

Stanley had been mortified, but all Stanford said was, “It’s about time,” before he started gushing about his newest finding.

How far they had come from that uncertain night, both embarrassing and sweet; now he stood in front of a mirror, dressed to the nines by his niece and set to take his partner for a great dinner for their anniversary. Anniversary. He had never expected anyone to stick around that long.

Stan smiled at his reflection and admired Mabel’s styling. “Nice work, kid.”

He ruffled her hair and grinned at her little squawk of surprise. With a laugh, Stan pulled open his dresser drawer and scooped up a small black box. It fit in his suit coat pocket without leaving a suspicious lump. Good; it was better if he didn’t see it coming.

“I’ve gotta get going. You know how Fidds gets about being late.”

“The only people excused from punctuality are the dead, Stanley,” Mabel recited in an on-point imitation of Fiddleford.

“Yeah yeah, you little gremlin,” Stan said as he ruffled her hair again.

Much like his niece, nephew, and brother, Fiddleford was strange.

Stanley had always had a soft spot for strange.

If the waiter didn’t interrupt him soon to take their order, Stan was positive he was going to drown himself with all the water he was drinking. The truth was he was so nervous he could hardly form a sentence, and sweating buckets to boot.

Fiddleford must have noticed, because he paused in the middle of his story about the director’s meeting he had earlier that day to ask, “Are you alright, Stanley?”

His brow was furrowed behind his spectacles, and the genuine concern made Stanley’s mouth go dry. He guzzled the last of his glass of water and set it down with gusto.

“Yeah, of course!”

He hoped that Fiddleford hadn’t heard the crack in his voice. He adjusted his suit coat to hide the steadily growing sweat stains with a bit of embarrassment.

When Stanley looked up at Fiddleford, he was torn between admiration and a deep feeling of inadequacy. Fiddleford was fresh and crisp in a simple grey suit and purple tie. The small white rose that decorated the lapel of his jacket matched his newly trimmed beard, fluffy and bright.

Next to his handsome partner, Stan felt like an absolute mess.

Stan must have stared too long, because Fiddleford frowned at him again and looked like he was about to question him again. Eager for a distraction, Stanley craned his neck and said gruffly, “Where’s that waiter? I’m getting ready to eat my hand.”

At Stan’s complaint, a few disapproving looks turned their way. However, Fiddleford was mild when he replied, “I’m sure he’ll be by soon. In the meantime…”

When Fiddleford unexpectedly reached across the table to hold Stanley’s hand, he jumped a bit. Stan met his partner’s eyes and was relieved to see they were soft, like his smile. It was enough to make him relax under Fiddleford’s touch.

“Stanley, tonight is very important to me, and I’m so glad I get to spend it together,” Fiddleford began. “And I – I just wanted to say thank you.”

Stan was surprised. “Eh? What for?”

Fiddleford gave Stanley’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I want to thank you for being so understanding these last few months. I know I’ve been off negotiating with a bunch of stiff coats almost every day this month about patenting and selling my inventions, but you’ve been so good about our time apart. It’s been difficult navigating all the corporate mazes, but being able to talk to you at the end of the day makes it all worthwhile.”

Stanley sniffled and blinked a couple times to rid his eyes of the sting. He chuckled to hide the fact that his throat was tight with emotion and caressed the inside of Fiddleford’s thumb with his own. “You’re one of the best parts of my day, too. I…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Fiddleford insisted with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The words struck Stanley to the core, and he felt a surge of courage. His hand fell to the box in his pocket.  

“I’m glad you said that,” Stanley said, his voice stilted as he pulled his hand away. On shaking legs, Stanley stood and took a step around the table, much to Fiddleford’s bemusement. As he dipped his hand into his pocket, Stanley added, “It’ll make it a whole lot easier to do this.”

While Stan lowered himself slowly to one knee, he pulled the box out of his pocket and was met with a gasp. Fiddleford had clapped a hand over his mouth and was staring at him, wide-eyed with shock. The adrenaline of the moment pushed Stanley to speak in a rush.

“Will you marry me?”

He popped open the box to reveal the simple gold band filigreed with patterns that resembled the circuit boards that Fiddleford often worked on when he needed to get over a mental block.

Fiddleford blinked once, twice, and then whispered, “Stanley–”

“Look, I know it’s a bit sudden, after only a year,” Stan blurted; he was flushing like a fiend. “But a couple of old farts like us don’t have time to waste. I want to make an honest man of you, and it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t do it properly. You never know how much time you have with someone; I wish I had learned that sooner, but it’s not too late for us. If I didn’t ask you this, I don’t know how I could live with myself.”

Stan blinked back a few tears and cleared his throat. “I can’t imagine being without you, and I don’t want to be, ever. I’m here with you until the end, if you’ll have me.”

He held his breath as he waited for Fiddleford’s response. Teary eyed, his partner let out a breathless “Yes, Stanley,” and proceeded to shower kisses all over his forehead and cheeks. With a grin, Stan slid the ring onto Fiddleford’s finger and caught him with a quick kiss on the lips. Applause rose from the other restaurant goers and wait staff as they broke apart, and Stanley whipped around with a half-hearted scowl.

“Nosy jerks. How’s a guy supposed to propose with a bunch of snoops?” he muttered with a glare at the rowdy bunch of college-age students pounding the table and chanting “Kiss! Kiss!”

“Stanley,” Fiddleford brought him back with a soft word and a dopey smile, “this is a lovely moment, please don’t ruin it.”

“All I’m saying is that they could at least pretend not to look–”

“Stanley.”

He sighed. “Alright, alright. It doesn’t matter, anyway. All that matters is you said yes.”

Fiddleford smiled again. “That I did.”

When their lips met again to a chorus of cheers, Stanley didn’t care about the noise. He only had eyes for his fiancé and hope for the life they would build together.

[quiltdeer52-blog]

Coffee Hacks and Croissant Secrets With SNL’s Heidi Gardner

Over the last two seasons of SNL, Heidi Gardner has brought several hilarious characters to Weekend Update, including teen movie critic Bailey Gismert, and Angel, the girlfriend in every boxing movie. Last month, Gardner also memorably played a nervous Goop employee named Baskin Johns opposite surprise guest star Gwyneth Paltrow, who played another equally bewildered staffer of the lifestyle brand. Since she clearly has a knack for lampooning the world of influencers and Instagram stars, we thought Gardner would be the perfect candidate for The Famous Original Eater Questionnaire. During a break from work on this weekend’s Emma Stone-hosted episode of SNL, Gardner hopped on the phone to discuss her favorite food and drinks, as well as what it was like to work with Gwyneth on their hilarious Weekend Update segment.

Welcome to The Famous Original Eater Questionnaire. What was the last thing you ate? Heidi Gardner: I just made a bowl of mixed nuts. So I had some walnuts, cashews, and sunflower seeds.

What was the last thing you drank? I made a coffee, and I’ve been blending a teaspoon of almond butter and a date into my coffee in the morning. My friend was doing it as her, like, new way to have a latte in the morning, so I’m copying her.

You put a whole date in there? The dates I bought are kind of gigantic, so I do half of one. And then it’s weird; the almond butter gives it this foamy creaminess.

When and where was the last time you had a hot dog? Oh my gosh, a hot dog. I think that I had a bite of a Dodger Dog, and I think it was good, but I’m more of a kielbasa or sausage person.

What do you want to eat right this second, aside from the mixed nuts that you made? I really like a good scone. There’s a coffee shop down the street from me that has really good scones. It’s called Ninth Street Espresso, but I think they get their scones from some bakery.

What was your relationship to Goop like before you played Baskin Johns on SNL? Did you follow the blog? Did you read Gwyneth Paltrow’s cookbook? And what was the inspiration behind that character? Yeah, I follow them on Instagram, and I’m always kind of fascinated by how clean and healthy and glowing everyone involved in Goop is and looks. And I just had a sketch that I had tried other places that never really worked about a girl who just couldn’t remember her product knowledge. And then there was a week that was Goop’s tenth anniversary where I was like, “Oh, maybe if she forgot all her Goop, that could work.”

What was it like playing Baskin Johns alongside Gwyneth Paltrow? When I found out it was going to happen I screamed into my hands, because I’ve been such a fan forever. And she’s one of those… she’s a movie star. I just couldn’t believe it, and it was amazing. She was so much fun and just down for whatever — she just immediately jumped on board. She read the script once, got it, and was just a true delight.

She totally seems to get the humor of that character in that sketch. Yeah, it was really cool.

What’s the inspiration behind Instagram star Brie Bacardi and her boyfriend? I think that’s [inspired by] years of either being in a relationship or watching friends in a relationship. I would love to say I’ve never been that girl, but that’s a lie. [It’s about] those moments that we have of insecurity, and when we choose to show it to people, and sometimes what monsters we can all be. But yeah, it’s the most heightened version of lots of things I’ve seen — or been, I’ll admit it.

Are there any foods or restaurants you’ve never tried that are on your list? You know, anything that you see on the show Chef’s Table that involves gastronomy — like, magic food. I feel like I’ve never tried those... balloons or pillows of air that also taste good. I would like to try that.

What’s your favorite drink? I always had a hard time with this, because I was always like, “I don’t have a drink.” I really like a margarita, but I feel like you don’t always want something that extra. But lately it’s been Lambrusco. I feel like, “Oh, I really like this.” I’ve been having a lot of luck.

What’s your universal dinner party soundtrack? Usually it’s the “chill” station on Apple, but also, I feel like also the band Tame Impala suits that really well. It’s ambient, and you’re like, “Oh this is good. I can ignore it at moments, but it’s also filling the room.”

What’s your favorite chain restaurants? I really like Chili’s. I always have, since I was little. And I like Shake Shack. I think the burger there is phenomenal.

At Shake Shack, do you get the standard cheeseburger, or do you get like the SmokeShack or some other more elaborate creation? I do the standard cheeseburger, but this summer they were doing a spicy chicken thing, and even that was phenomenal.

I’ve heard that the week before filming SNL is pretty intense. Do you have a food regimen? Do you bring stuff with you or try to eat healthy? Or do you just eat whatever’s good and available? I feel like I’m still figuring that out, embarrassingly so. Last year it was a lot of candy, because there were so many late nights and you’re just grabbing for something and just want a little bit of energy, and so it was a lot of gummies and Skittles. But then, you know, you don’t feel so great after. So this year, I’m trying to be a little better about packing snacks for energy — like, actual good energy. And I am also kind of a coffee and matcha fiend.

What is your “Proust’s madeleine”? It would be... well we called it in my family Top Ray-men, which now I know is Top Ramen. But my Bampo — that’s my grandpa — he would cook me Top Ramen on a daily basis. That and orange popsicles.

Is there any food secret that you think more people should know about? This is going to be controversial, but I think that the croissants in America are better than the croissants in France. And I’m saying this because there are particular places, especially in LA, where I think it’s like they tried the croissants in France and were like, “These are the best ever.” And then they worked so hard at mastering it and bringing it to the states that now Paris needs to up their game — like, I think Paris got lazy. In particular, Proof Bakery and the Village Bakery, which are both in Atwater Village, have the best croissants in the world.

• All editions of the Famous Original Eater Questionnaire [E]

Eat, Drink, Watch.

Food entertainment news and streaming recommendations every Friday

By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy and European users agree to the data transfer policy.

Source: https://www.eater.com/2019/4/12/18306166/heidi-gardner-gwyneth-paltrow-favorite-foods