#cornstarch box

[bioleaderpack]

Sustainable Summer Vibes: Why Compostable Tableware Is the Real Main Character This Season

🌞 Aesthetic Picnics, Food Trucks, and Zero-Waste Goals

It’s not just the outfits that are getting an upgrade this summer — it’s the way we eat, party, and takeout. Across the U.S., from artsy pop-up markets in Portland to rooftop BBQs in Brooklyn, there’s a quiet revolution underway: single-use plastics are out, and biodegradable tableware is in.

Welcome to the season where compostable packaging like the cornstarch box isn’t just an eco-choice — it’s part of the vibe.

✨ Why Summer 2025 Is All About the Switch

We’ve hit a cultural moment where sustainability and aesthetics are finally in sync. No one wants a dreamy picnic reel interrupted by a crinkly plastic fork. Instead, we’re seeing:

Minimalist cornstarch food containers replacing plastic trays

Soft-toned compostable cups nestled next to wildflower bouquets

Picnic blankets layered with farm-to-table bites — all waste-free

People aren’t just eating clean. They’re living clean.

🍴 What’s the Deal with Cornstarch Packaging?

Cornstarch clamshells and containers are made from — you guessed it — corn starch. They’re strong enough to hold your hot vegan tacos, your sesame soba salad, or that gooey brownie with no leaks. And unlike plastic, they actually break down.

They look good, feel good, and let you walk away from your lunch without climate guilt. That’s the real power move of 2025.

🎉 From Rooftops to Festivals: Where It’s Trending

🌇 Urban Picnics

Everyone’s bringing their own basket — and in it? Locally made bites packed in cornstarch boxes. It’s the perfect match for your recycled denim and iced matcha aesthetic.

🎶 Music Festivals

Coachella might have the music, but the food scene? It’s ruled by vendors using cornstarch food containers and plant-based cutlery. When your snack is photogenic and biodegradable, you know you’re winning.

🏡 Backyard BBQs

It’s still burgers and lemonade — just with less trash. Compostable plates. Reusable drink jars. Friends who know where the compost bin is. Love to see it.

📦 Takeout That Matches Your Values

You shouldn’t have to choose between convenience and conscience. And this summer, you don’t have to. More local cafés and global food chains are switching to cornstarch clamshells and earth-friendly wraps. It’s takeout without the plastic hangover.

Imagine this: ✨ Avocado toast in a corn-based tray ✨ Cold soba in a fiber lid bowl ✨ Sticker says: “I’m compostable, just like your ex’s promises”

Satisfying and sarcastic. Tumblr-worthy? Definitely.

🌱 How It’s Helping the Planet (But Make It Fashion)

Let’s be honest — we all love looking good while doing good. And when you ditch plastic for cornstarch food containers, you’re not just making a cute lunchbox choice. You’re:

Reducing microplastics

Supporting renewable resources

Saying no to fossil fuel–based materials

Turning your brunch into an eco statement

And yes — it looks better in your feed, too.

📈 Why This Isn’t Just a Trend

Sure, it’s having a moment. But biodegradable packaging is also becoming the default. More cities are banning plastics. More festivals are going zero waste. And more people (hi, that’s us) care about what happens after the food is gone.

Cornstarch boxes are the new neutral. They go with every outfit, every dish, and every lifestyle choice that leans green.

🔁 What You Can Do

Next time you order out, ask if they have compostable options

Hosting a summer hangout? Stock up on cornstarch clamshells and eco forks

Share your aesthetic zero-waste setup — tag #GreenSummer

Support brands like Bioleader that offer compostable tableware in bulk for events or everyday use

🌻 Final Thought: Romanticize Your Summer, Sustainably

The picnic blanket. The thrifted dress. The iced oat latte. The biodegradable fork. This isn’t just an aesthetic — it’s a mindset. The kind that makes your summer not only look good, but do good.

So go ahead: unbox your vegan wrap in a cornstarch box, snap the pic, and toss it in the compost. Because this summer, sustainability isn’t a side dish — it’s the main course. 💚

[morethansalad]

Bento Bowl with Sesame Tofu (Vegan & Gluten-Free)

[china-supplier-introduction]

Biodegradable Cornstarch Lunch Box-1800ml-1 Compartment

L*W*H:23*21*6cm

Volume:1800ml

Weight:55g

Carton Size&Packing:43*41*24.5cm

50pcs in one plastic pack   4 packs in one carton

[chromoluminary]

*has a breakdown about the small thing because having a breakdown about the bigger thing will get me institutionalized*

[apiptosis]

Sorry for being so late with these but life a bitch. So here's part 4

The fourth one to meet our resident ghost is our fan favorite butler.

Alfred loved his weekly grocery runs. It started about a month or so after master Bruce brought young master Jason into their abode and about a month or so of Alfred feeling the indignanty of one of his charges disliking his food that Alfred realised the problem.

Young master Jason was used to certain types of food and with that came the peculiar taste that you just cannot get with the prime ingredients delivered to the mansion. He needed to buy the cheap cuts and products to make something the young master enjoyed.

With the indignanty of the first time Alfred simply had to wash the shame of using these subpar ingredients away with some quality tea that he did not have to make himself.

Nowadays it's became a soothing habit of his to visit the tea shop afterwards and since the young master Jason has decided to attend the weekly dinners for the last year or so at the behest of his paramour.

'Yes' Alfred thought with some degree of smug satisfaction as he entered the quaint little no name grocery shop. 'I know about the young lady your courting master Jason. Hiding things in this family of ours is akin to launching a flare for all to see, especially when you are that serious about her.'

Armed with a small list and an empty shopping cart Alfred started his search for item number one: a packet of no name instant soup to use as sauce for pasta.

After finding most of his list Alfred felt a blow on his shoulder. Swerving around and already halfway into a fighting stance against whomever had snuck up on him Alfred had to stop for what he thought was a fist was instead the pointer finger of a behemoth of a man.

"Sorry to bother you sir but could you help me with these?" the behemoth's voice rumbled, not even noticing his readiness to fight just holding three sacks out now that he had his attention.

"You see I want to bake a cake for my girlfriend's birthday while I'm a decent cook my knowledge on baking is pretty subpar. Which of flour do I use? Self-raising, whole wheat or cornstarch?" The giant didn't seem hostile so Alfred allowed himself a quick glance at what he was holding.

Indeed he was holding Self-raising, whole wheat and, much to Alfred own consternation, a sack of cornstarch.

After a deep sigh and a moment to get the image of using conrstach as flour out of his head bade the Man to return the sacks and walked him to the boxes of cake mixes. As soon as he started explaining the steps the man had a small notebook out, scribbling out the instructions along side his own advice such as adding an extra egg and substituting water with milk.

All too soon both of them found themselves exiting the store discussing pasta recipies and advice for baking. Only to look up and see his rolls royce flying through the air and crashing through a few other cars as a black figure practically dances out of the way. Her assailant, whom Alfred swiftly identifies as Bane, yells out in fury over orphan's continued survival.

Immediately the young man was in front of Alfred, intercepting the blow coming for them and returning a powerful blow to Bane's jaw then one to his kidney.

For second the two 8 foot tall titans stared at each other before bane fell over unconscious. Alfred barely even registered that just muttering. "No, not the Silver wraith..."

Call him old fashioned but he loved that car. Sure they had the newest models but it was not a 1948 silver wraith.

So distrought was Alfred that he completely missed orphan giving the young man a kiss and tie up the unconscious wrestler. The young man drew him out of his daze by putting a meaty paw on his shoulder.

"Hey umm sir... Ah was that your car?" the young man asked concerned. With a mournful glance at his now ruined favorite car, "Indeed, I shall have to ask one of the young masters to come and fetch me."

"And where would those 'young masters' be at this time of the night because I really don't want to leave you here alone. There's always a few idiots here in Gotham who would try a drive by shooting." The young man's greenish blue eyes radiated genuine concern for him.

"The young masters should be at the Wayne manor." Alfred found himself answering.

"Allright tell you what, I'll drop you off there since it's not that far past my place and you can tell me about that chocolate chip cookie recipe we were discussing earlier." The young man said as he picked up his groceries and herded Alfred over to the mammoth tank with wheels he really should have noticed before.

***

The next day master Bruce had the totalled car brought in for Alfred to try and restore. Young master Jason was the only one as distrought as he was about it but atleast young miss Cain gave him one of the cookies she usually hoards for his mental anguish.

For some reason the cookie tasted extremely familiar.

[flavorcraftrecipes]

Crispy Hash Brown Patties 🥔🍽️

Ingredients 4 medium russet potatoes, peeled and grated 1 small onion, finely chopped (optional) 1/4 cup all-purpose flour (or cornstarch for gluten-free) 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (optional for extra flavor) 1 tsp garlic powder 1 tsp onion powder 1/2 tsp paprika Salt and pepper to taste 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped (optional) 2 tbsp olive oil (or vegetable oil for frying) Instructions Prepare the Potatoes:

Grate the potatoes using a box grater or food processor. Place the grated potatoes in a clean kitchen towel or cheesecloth and squeeze out any excess moisture. This step helps achieve crispy patties. Mix the Ingredients:

In a large mixing bowl, combine the grated potatoes, chopped onion (if using), flour, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, Parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Mix until everything is well combined. If the mixture feels too wet, add a little extra flour or cornstarch to help bind it. Form the Patties:

Using your hands, form the mixture into small patties, about 3 inches in diameter. Press them lightly to flatten. Fry the Patties:

Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Once the oil is hot, carefully place the patties in the pan. Fry the patties for about 3-4 minutes on each side, until golden brown and crispy. If needed, add more oil to the pan as you cook the remaining patties. Drain and Serve:

Once cooked, transfer the patties to a paper towel-lined plate to drain excess oil. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately with your favorite dipping sauce or as a side dish to eggs, avocado, or a hearty breakfast.

[tinydefector]

Hey man just wanted to let you know that I LOVE the idea you made up for the rust section in this post (https://www.tumblr.com/tinydefector/755501675977097216/every-single-day-i-think-about-your-post-about) is there any chance you could expand on the idea more? I’m just so curious about it

Ps just did my 3 month ask box clear out. Only got a few ask left in there now. Read rules before submitting.

Oh I definitely can. There is actually quite a few different things humans consume or use cosmetically that the bots would have a lot of questions over.

Here's a list of a few human made things that Cybertronians seem to very much enjoy for cosmetic, medical or as luxurious products.

1. Coconut oil

They happen to really enjoy it for their upholstery. Especially when they weren't able to get their hands on proper car products. (Cough cough TFP bots) I can definitely see Jack using it because he's a broke teenager and just adds a nice essential oil in with it and he's got himself a large jar of leather conditioner. It's only after Miko and Ralph see him using it on his shoes at one point they are like o0o. And begin stealing it to do bulkheads and bumblebee's seats.

Another one that would work similar is the same mix I actually use for horse saddles, which is rendered down. Beef or Lambs fat with Kerosene, so it doesn't go off. It's an amazing leather conditioner, and I tend to make a lot of it and store it in old powerade powder jars. Would recommend adding scented oil into it tho.

And I can totally see Malto's doing this. After Dot has one of her cows or sheep butchered, she renders down the fat to use for all sorts of different things, hand creams, soap, and leather conditioner. I can very much see her standing there with her hands on her hips, telling her bot kids it's time to do their leather, very similar to telling her kids it's hair day.

2. Corn starch

corn starch is a cleaning genius that is effective for many different purposes. Clean your car windows with a mixture of 120g cornstarch and 1L water and then dry with newspaper. Corn starch can deodorise smells too when sprinkled and left to work its magic for about half an hour, I have used this so much after getting water in my car to get ride of the wet car smell. Bots love it almost like a facial mask and floor cleaner.

Corn starch is also good for removing excess car polish and wax. The last thing you need after giving your car a good polish is residue that will attract dirt more than it did before. This is definitely one of Knockouts' favourite things after he learns about it. And with a buff it can also help remove swirl marks on black cars.

3. Toothpaste

toothpaste can be applied to make our headlights shine brighter. When headlights start to get foggy, or get the yellow stain to them, it helps remove all the excess dirt and grime with warm soapy water and a cloth, then apply any cheap toothpaste and rub.

Don't get it on your cars paintwork!!, Apply tape or plastic around it or toy can make your paint bubble, chip or fade off.

4. Most Soda/Soft drink, Energy drinks and a few other drinks.

It's no secret humans have a large collection of flavoured drinks that many of us love. And it happens that many of them are actually very good at removing rust. Nearly every type of soda and Energy drink can be used for this purpose but so can Black tea.

Brew a Strong Cup of Black Tea: Soak a tea bag or loose tea leaves in water to create a brew, than soak what you want in it for a while then scrub it with some steal wool. So many of these things honestly scare the bots. How can a fleshy human body withstand drinking a rust removing agent.

_________________

"Jack, can I borrow some money?" Miko asked while hanging upside down on the couch as she watched him work. "No Miko I'm low on funds as it is, just brought some stuff" he calls back to her as he works over the small burner stove.

She lets out a groan before rolling off the couch to walk over to watch him. "What are you doing?, science experiment, cooking, drugs?" She shot off a collection of questions. "No I'm making some leather conditioner. Mom got given a whole lot of old bees wax and I'm using it with coconut oil and some scented oil" he hums back, not paying to much attention to her.

"Oh like that stuff you uses for your shoes and your mom uses in her car." Ralph asked peaking up from his computer. "Yea, I running low and well they had coconut oil on special so I'm making alot of it so I can store it" Jack calls back giving Ralph a smile.

"Oh that's so cool, wait do you think the bots would use it, oh. Do you think they have anyway of getting thinks like seat polish or stuff like that?" She asked before her mouth hangs open at the thought, she hadn't ever seen any of the bots do maintenance like that. Yes they had decontamination sprays and small work from Ratchet when things weren't working but they had never seen the bots really take care of themselves.

"Jack, do you think [Name] would be able to get some things for us, I have an idea, we have never seen the bots every actually look after themselves, we could do them a little spar day" she exclaims excitedly.

"Miko, maybe the bots haven't because they don't need it," Jack hisses under his breath. Before sighing. "OK, yes, they do, Arcee want admit it, but I do leave her a jar of the mix." He mumbles.

Miko punches the air in excitement. "Oh this is awesome just you wait!" She runs out of the small room to the rails as her eyes search for the person she was looking for. "[Name!] Your a mechanic Right?" She yells to get their attention.

They look up from their own car they had been doing maintenance on. "Ah I would say that but I know some stuff why?" They call back.

"Got an idea for when the bots get back but need your help." She smiles at them while skipping down the stairs.

The drive back out of Jasper towards the base is one filled with loud music and chatter from the young girl as she looks through the different items in the bags. "Wait what's all the energy drinks for?" She asked while looking up at them. "Well I remember hearing Ratchet complain able getting low on his rust removing agent and these bad boys work just as well, plus I drink them" they explain.

"OK... and the other stuff?" She questions. "It's all stuff I use normally for car maintenance, that way I don't have to spend a fortune on expensive stuff. You wanna get the bots a bit of a spa day, these are the things you need" they hum as they egt closer to base.

By the time they make it back inside the bots are chatting about and mingling with each other again, only looking over to see who had driven in. "Autobot may I please have your Attention" they call out. All of them pause their conversation as they turn to look and wait.

"Yes what can we do for you?" Optimus asked a slight rumble echoing from him. They hold up the bags of stuff. "I know you guys are undercover and technically don't exist, and I doubt Fowler gets you stuff for maintenance, so I've got some stuff to help out," they explain.

"SPA DAY!!!" Miko shouts, it catches Jack and Ralph's attention as they look over the guard rails. It earns looks form the collection of bots.

"Turst me" they hum while grabbing out a can of energy drink and cracking it. They take a large mouth fuel. "You guys haven't had a chance to really relax and have something outside of medical from Ratchet and I know you guys are now carting us around and your interior isnt as clean as you want it. So I have supplies." They state while pulling out the different things and explaining what they do.

When they get to the last two bags filled with cheap soda and energy drinks, a wicked smile crosses their face. "And these are for Ratchet and myself." They hum. "And why is that?" Arcee tilts her head slightly while her optics narrow, trying to figure out their purpose.

"They are for me because they have caffeine and Taurine in them and it keeps me awake and working for when Ratchet needs an extra hand for welding your wounds. They are for Ratchet becuase they are great rust removing agent" the moment they finish that sentence all the bots go quiet. Jack and Miko are trying not to laugh and Ralph just looks on in awe.

"Spit it out right now!" Ratchet nearly shouts as he moves to scoop them up, panic written across his face as the other autobots move out of his way. "Are you draft! Why woudl you drink Rust remover!" He nearly shouts panic over taking him.

"Easy Ratch! I ain't dying!" They shout, laughing over the panic in all their optics. "Ratchet, will they be OK?" Optimus asked, worried. Arcee shoots a glare at the kids who are now laughing so hard over the situation. Bulkhead is pacing back and forth. "This isn't good, what do we tell Fowler if they off-line!"

"Do you have any idea what that will do to your internal organs" Ratchet hisses and he begins fussing over them. "Uh yea, removes the rust" they state, trying their hardest not to laugh. They got to make the joke and they couldn't be prouder of themself.

"You don't have Fragging rust your an Organic!" He nearly snarls. "Ratchet fuck, settle down, it hasn't killed me yet and I've been drinking it longer than I've known you guys exist. Alot of our drinks can remove rust it's just something they do" they try to settle him down.

"No, absolutely no, you will not be drinking this in my presence ever. Do I make myself clear!" It has nearly the whole base stiff from how worked up he is. "Guess this would be a bad time to tell you about how everything we consume has the potential to kill us?"

_____________________

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[shattered-matrix]

In which I defend myself with a curtain rod: Pt.1

Mafia au | Yunho x afab!Reader

Themes: arranged marriage, emotional intimacy, forced proximity, genre typical violence with consequences, found family chaos, protective!Yunho

Note: this fic is rated 'E' on Ao3. Reader discretion is advised.

Cleaning the apartment might be the hardest part of the week. Nana’s funeral was bad enough. Closed casket—because the car accident hadn’t been kind. You couldn’t even say the usual lie, she looks like she’s sleeping. Just a blank slab of mahogany, staring back.

Now, you have to face the space where she was. The photos of her and Pawpaw. Of you and your siblings and cousins. Of your mom and uncle. The ceramic frogs that sit in every decoration display like squat little guardians. The dishes still in the dishwasher.

You feel like a sponge, wrung out from too much crying. To be honest, you can’t even remember much of what was said at the funeral. It felt too unreal. Because your Nana couldn’t be in that casket. She was Nana — a permanent fixture who played oldies and helped you braid your hair before school in the sixth grade and swore every flu or cold could be fixed with chicken soup and a shot of whiskey.

You volunteered for this. You’re the only one close enough to handle it easily. Everyone else is scattered—back to their lives, grieving in their own ways. You don’t mind. This might bring some closure.

The kitchen seems like the best place to start. It was her sanctum, the place she held court. A vault of cherished memories unlocked only by those who shared in them. It still smells like rosemary and old books. You half expect to hear the radio playing her favorite jazz station.

You set a slightly dented cardboard box on the tiny kitchen table and set about packing. Only the important things—you tell yourself. The other things… well, hopefully they’ll make someone else happy when they’re purchased from the thrift store.

The task is monotonous in a soothing way—comforting because it feels like her. The smooth curve of her ceramic mugs is more familiar to you than your own credit card number. The way you have to pause and debate on throwing away the Little Debbie stash from the bottom cupboard. The closet full of cookbooks still smells like sugar—like she was just here, digging out her butterscotch pie recipe, even though she could’ve recited it by heart.

On a whim, you pull one down from the shelf, tugging it out from where it’s crammed between the others. No one uses cookbooks anymore, not with the internet available. Keeping any of these would be purely sentimental. You don’t know that the thrift store would even take them.

You thumb open to a page marked with a faded pink sticky note, "Lemon Bars" written in Nana’s looping script. Your mom’s favorite—grief, layered in sugar and lemon.

You smile at first. You’ve made these with her before—standing at the counter while she hummed something old and jazzy, swatting your hands away from the powdered sugar. Laughing as she told you stories about being young, when men fell at her feet and she danced like no one could touch her. Just reading the recipe tastes like home.

You know it by heart, but seeing it still helps.

1 c. flour 1/2 c. powdered sugar 1/4 tsp. salt 34° 03' 22" N 118° 14' 40" W

Your brain hiccups. You blink. Read it again, squinting slightly. Not lemon zest.

For a moment, you sit perfectly still, thumb hovering just above the page. It has to be a one-off. A misprint, maybe. Nana was old-fashioned—maybe she reused paper, or copied it down weird.

But your fingers are already moving.

You flip to another dog-eared page—Cobbler, Peach, Emergency—and sure enough, it starts off normal.

3 tbsp cornstarch 2 c. sliced peaches CALL LINA – SAFEHOUSE 3

Your stomach twists.

What the fuck.

Another page. And another.

Swedish Tea Cookies.

Light, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth. The kind of thing you used to snack on with Pawpaw while Looney Tunes played in the background. Happy. Innocent.

But halfway down the page, tucked between sugar and vanilla extract: — meet contact at Stortorget. Bring backup. Ask for "Isak."

Your hands still.

You dig your phone out with trembling fingers and type Stortorget into the search bar. The map loads. Your pulse is hammering now.

Stockholm.

You’ve never even been out of the country.

Nana never talked about leaving the state, let alone crossing oceans.

Pawpaw? Sure. He went to ‘Nam.

But Nana?

You stare at the Google results. Then back at the cookbook.

This is not normal.

You barely get the thought out before the shatter comes.

The window in the front door explodes—glass slicing through the quiet like a scream.

You lurch back toward the kitchen doorway just in time to see a man’s arm snake through the broken pane, fumbling for the deadbolt.

You don’t think.

The cookbook drops from your hands.

You run.

Down the hall—Nana once said she kept a pistol in her nightstand.

"Even old ladies like me have to be careful. It’s a dangerous world. People like to take advantage of the ones they think are weak."

But there’s no time to search.

Boots hit the tile floor. Heavy. Intentional.

Your hands are shaking too hard to aim, anyway. You grab your phone—dial emergency.

An automated voice tells you call volume is high. You’re being placed on hold.

Elevator music.

You freeze. Then spot it: The curtain rod. Heavy. Metal. Waiting in the corner for new drapes.

You grab it.

And run.

The living room feels smaller now.

The man’s halfway in, turning to face you.

His eyes widen.

You don’t hesitate.

You swing.

Hard.

The rod connects with a sickening crack. You feel it in your bones.

He stumbles.

You swing again.

And again.

And again.

Until he’s on the floor, breathing shallow, blood seeping through the edge of his collar.

Elevator music still hums from your pocket.

You stand over him—curtain rod slick in your hands, chest heaving—wondering if this is what grief tastes like, or if it’s just adrenaline.

Minutes slip by. You just stand there, panting—staring at him while elevator music whispers from your pocket like someone loaded the wrong soundtrack into a horror movie.

Then footsteps outside, scuffing on the porch.

A man steps into the doorway—broad-shouldered, dark-haired. His suit is sharp, tailored to kill, with a red tie the only spot of color.

He isn’t alone. Two others follow, observant and watchful.

Your grip tightens on the curtain rod, heart racing in your chest as you all but bolt back to the kitchen door.

The elevator music keeps playing.

[sunnie-angel]

Strawberry Pie

jason todd x gn!reader

summary: you spend a lazy morning finishing baking the pie that Jason started

tags: kissing, fluff, domestic jason todd

rated teen | wc: 1.1k

a/n: a loosely inspired song fic. can be read as a future scene from A Soft Touch or as a standalone. just wanted something light and fluffy and was possessed with the urge for pie so here it is.

It’s warm this morning, but there’s a cool cross-breeze coming in through the open window. It’s not late enough in the spring to start turning on the AC yet, the breeze currently lifting the sheer curtains enough to keep the apartment fresh. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, let your hand bunch up into a fist before pushing yourself upright and out of bed. Jason had told you, between parting kisses, that he’d be late coming home, the planned stakeout likely to go on until noon. You’d expected this, unworried by his absence but still secretly hoping he’d have returned safe to you.

You make yourself a cup of tea and drink it leaning against the countertop, the Formica countertop digging into the small of your back, the thin cotton of your tank top barely blunting the edge. Feeling hungry, you go looking for breakfast ingredients in the fridge. There’s a note from Jason, stuck to the top of the strawberries you’d bought at the farmer’s market yesterday. For pie, do not eat! signed off with a little heart and smiley face. A few shelves down is the pie dough, covered in plastic wrap and exactly where Jason had left it, in a hurry to follow up on the lead his lieutenant had called in.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, time stretching out in front of you. You pull out the dough and berries, set them onto the counter. Go rummaging through Jason’s box of recipe cards, one of his last keepsakes from his mother and added to by Alfred, until you can find the one for strawberry pie. The recipe is easy enough, Jason having done all the hard work of making the dough.

You start by turning on the radio, an old analogue thing that Jason had been determined to fix by himself, and setting the oven to preheat. The strawberries go into a colander, washed and ready for slicing. You pop one into your mouth and it just about bursts on your tongue, bright and sweet like sunshine. They’re smaller than the kind you can buy at the grocery store, seeds more prominent and scent stronger. It’s a shame that these wild strawberries are only available a few months of the year but it makes them that much sweeter. Humming, you slice through the quart of berries, juice staining your fingertips. Put them in a bowl with cornstarch and sugar, a dash of lemon juice to finish.

Turning to the dough, you start rolling half out onto the floured countertop. It fits into the pie dish Jason had brought back from one of his missions almost perfectly, only a few hanging edges in need of trimming. Feeling adventurous, you decide to braid some of the lattice work for the top. It comes out a little lopsided, but it’s a good first attempt. Fingers pinching, the fluted edge of the pie takes shape. A light hand with the egg wash and a sprinkle of Demerara sugar later and it’s done. You step back to admire your work. It makes a pretty picture, the pie on the marbled countertop, white tulips in a vase from your one foray into pottery, mid-morning sun bright and white through the kitchen windows.

The pie goes into the oven, and you start cleaning up the evidence of your morning’s activities. The dishes go into the washer, the countertop wiped clean, leftover berries into your stomach. So engrossed in your tasks, you don’t hear the door open or the duffel bag hit the floor of the entryway. Arms circle around you, pick you up and spin you in a circle. Jason sets you down, buries his face in your neck.

“Something smells good,” he murmurs into your hair. And it does, the air filled with the scent of golden pastry and roasting strawberries.

“It should. I’ve been working away on that pie all morning.”

“Thought that was my job.” He tries to pout, but you swat at his hip with the dish towel. The timer on the oven goes off, interrupting the moment.

“Well that,” and you gesture at the oven, “can be your job now.”

He accepts his new job with minimal pouting, scooping up the bee-patterned oven mitts and taking out the pie. It’s perfect, golden with rich red juice bubbling through the lattice work. Steam rises off the top in a way that’s got both of your mouths watering. Jason reaches out to pinch off a piece of crust with his bare hand, but you swat his hands away before he can burn his fingers.

“Not yet! It’s got to cool first Jay.” Looking him over, you finally catch on that he’s still got his jacket on and fully zipped up, despite the warm day. He only ever does that when his shirt’s got bloodstains on it. “Go on, take a shower. By the time you’re done the pie’ll be ready and you can have some for breakfast.”

Jokingly holding his hands up in surrender, he starts heading for the bathroom. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”

“Oh and don’t forget to throw anything bloody into the washer, not the laundry basket! I want to run the next load before the stain really sets in this time,” you call over your shoulder. Last time Jason had left it too long, had ended up having to throw away a previous favourite shirt when neither of your combined efforts had gotten the dried blood spatter out.

He makes a noise of assent and you get busy unloading the dishwasher as you can hear the spray of the shower turn on, leaving out two small plates beside the pie. Some forks, a large knife, and an ice cream scoop join them on the counter. You’re just getting the ice cream out of the freezer, the expensive kind with real vanilla beans that Jason splurges on, when he walks back into the kitchen. He hasn’t dried his hair properly, a habit you haven’t gotten him to break in all the time you’ve known each other and grown to just accept.

You hand the knife over to him with a careful kiss, let him carve up slices for the both of you, hands sure and steady. You’re struggling with the ice cream, frozen solid and unwilling to be scooped. Jason notices, gently nudges you out of the way with his hip and takes over, depositing two perfect spheres of ice cream on top of each slice of pie.

Picking up a fork, you feed him the first bite, hand cupped below it to catch any droplets of ice cream. He closes his eyes, goes silent for a moment. You start to get worried that somehow you’ve messed it up, maybe mixed up the salt with the sugar but you were sure it had tasted just fine when you’d licked the filling syrup off of your wrist.

“So? What do you think?”

He smiles before opening his eyes. “I think it tastes like home.”

[bioleaderpack]

Cornstarch Clamshell Boxes: The Eco-Friendly Revolution in Takeout Packaging

Plastic takeout containers might soon become a thing of the past—and it’s not just because of environmental guilt. It’s because smarter, greener, and better-designed options are taking over. One such standout? The Cornstarch Clamshell Box.

In a world where eco-conscious decisions define modern foodservice, clamshell containers made from renewable corn-based materials are turning heads and transforming takeout culture.

What Are Cornstarch Clamshell Boxes?

Let’s break it down. Cornstarch clamshell boxes are biodegradable food containers crafted from PLA or CPLA, bioplastics derived from fermented corn starch. Unlike plastic foam or PET trays, these boxes don’t linger in landfills for centuries. They’re designed to decompose under commercial composting conditions within 90–180 days.

They’re shaped just like traditional hinged takeout boxes—but with none of the toxic side effects.

And when sourced from trusted suppliers like Cornstarch Clamshell Box manufacturers, you get consistent performance and certification-compliant safety.

Why Restaurants and Cafés Are Switching in 2025

The reasons for the shift are more than just environmental. Here’s why businesses are replacing polystyrene and polypropylene containers with biodegradable corn starch packaging:

🌿 1. Plastic Bans Are Real—and Spreading Fast

The EU, India, and multiple U.S. states have outlawed single-use plastic food packaging.

Businesses that ignore these changes risk heavy fines or license revocation.

Compostable clamshells meet EN13432 and ASTM D6400 standards, qualifying as legal alternatives in regulated markets.

🧪 2. They’re PFAS-Free and Food-Safe

Unlike many paper-based containers that require chemical coatings, cornstarch clamshells are naturally grease-resistant. No “forever chemicals” required. That’s a major win for health-conscious consumers.

🔥 3. Heat-Resistant and Leakproof

These containers are built to handle real food—from hot rice bowls to saucy pastas. They maintain structural integrity, don’t collapse under steam, and won’t seep liquids after 15 minutes in the bag.

📦 4. They Look and Feel Premium

Smooth texture, matte finish, clean corners. These aren’t your average “eco” boxes. In 2025, packaging is as much about branding as it is about function. Cornstarch packaging upgrades the visual appeal of every meal.

Product Spotlight: 800ml Biodegradable Cornstarch Clamshell Food Box

If you're serving medium-sized portions or combo meals, the 800ml Biodegradable Cornstarch Clamshell Food Box is a perfect fit.

Ideal for salads, rice dishes, or meal kits

Leakproof, stackable, and microwave-safe

Fully compostable in industrial facilities

Neutral color tones to match minimalist branding

This box is a favorite among cloud kitchens, vegan cafés, and premium takeaway brands looking to reduce their carbon footprint without sacrificing style or function.

Composting, Explained

Many ask: Will this decompose in my backyard? Not always.

Cornstarch packaging typically needs industrial composting conditions—higher temperatures, humidity, and microbial activity—to break down efficiently. That’s why it’s important for cities and foodservice hubs to build out composting infrastructure alongside regulation.

Still, even if landfilled, cornstarch decomposes significantly faster than traditional plastics. And that’s a win in our book.

A Comparative Look: Cornstarch vs. Other Packaging Materials

Feature Cornstarch Clamshell Paper Containers PET Plastic Foam

Compostable✅ Yes (Industrial)✅ Some Types❌ No❌ No

Oil Resistance✅ Excellent⚠️ Needs coating✅✅

Heat Resistance✅ 100°C+ safe⚠️ Moderate✅⚠️ Can melt

PFAS-Free✅ Available❌ Often coated✅❌

Time to Biodegrade~3–6 months~2–5 months400+ years500+ years

Appearance (Brand Appeal)✅ Sleek/Modern✅ Varies✅ Glossy❌ Outdated

Cornstarch strikes the ideal balance of eco, performance, and presentation.

Ideal Use Cases for Cornstarch Takeout Containers

These aren’t just for health cafés. Here’s where cornstarch clamshells are winning in 2025:

Meal Prep Businesses – Durable, stackable, and portion-sized

Cloud Kitchens – PFAS-free containers for app-based deliveries

Salad Chains – Leakproof containers that work well with dressing

Eco Catering Services – Compostable presentation for events

College & Workplace Cafeterias – Large-scale switch to biodegradable lunch packaging

The versatility is unmatched. Whether hot or cold, dry or wet, cornstarch clamshells rise to the occasion.

Final Thoughts: It's Not Just Packaging. It's a Statement.

Packaging tells a story. In 2025, consumers are reading labels—and materials. They’re choosing brands that care.

By upgrading to Cornstarch Clamshell Box solutions, you're doing more than meeting policy requirements. You're:

Reducing landfill burden

Aligning with sustainability goals

Elevating your brand experience

Staying future-ready in a regulated world

Because when food leaves your kitchen, the container it’s in carries more than just your product—it carries your values.

[naffeclipse]

A Tease

Reader x Grease

Commission Info

I am rattling @o-cinnamonstickz for commissioning one of my monster boyfriend OCs and letting me go absolutely feral with this guy! Grease is such a menace and the poor reader must sweetly suffer him. After stealing a break while on a late shift, the reader will run into Grease behind the diner, and one tease will lead to another.

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

The customer smiles as he hands you back the black check presenter, his mouth spread a little too wide to show off his molars. You feel the money tucked within, but with an inward groan, you fear there is no tip. You wish him and the few others eating with him a good night. Maybe you’ll get lucky and one of his friends will pity you and dump a few quarters on the dirty table.

As they all throw down their napkins and scurry away, out into the night of Hebron, you step back to the cash register. Feeling the inside of your apron pocket, you brush against the worn and half-crumpled box of cornstarch hidden within before snagging your pen to tuck behind your ear.

With a few taps and clanks, and a little slam to get it to open properly, you deposit the cash for the meal. Stealing a glance over to the table, you find the dishes piled high, the clear cups half filled with watered-down soda, and not even a dime in sight.

Great. Just lovely. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and huff through your nostrils. Where did the virtue of tipping go? Is it just tourists or is it simply everyone that steps through the diner doors who forgoes the practice?

Such questions will only leave you with a headache pounding away at your temples. Biting back a few choice words due to their rowdiness and the not-at-all-subtleness in looking you up and down, you slip the bill into the towering pile that has collected throughout the day.

It’s close to the end of your shift, right? You keep yourself from staring at the clock in the diner too frequently lest the hands get stuck in one place, endlessly ticking without spinning. Everything seems stuck in time here. 

The Hebron Diner, aptly named after the town Hebron, in which you and this poor restaurant reside, is a vintage theme with black and white photos of old cars driving between the trees and sepia pictures of scenery from the nearby national park. You’re growing to hate the lilac coloring of the tables, stools, and booths, and your own stupid waitress attire is drenched in the same hue. Your apron is white—a poor choice, considering how well it shows the stains of burger grease and ketchup. 

You return to the table and begin gathering plates. One hardly touched his fries and you think the other merely played with his country-fried steak. Only an hour to go and then you’re free to rush home and scrub off the smell of fast food from your skin and hair. As the darkness holds over Hebron and its neon-dusted but quaint main street, your hope for the end of a long shift grows. 

You bring the dishes back into the kitchen. Darren, the cook, seems content to clean the grill while the diner remains open but inhabited by hungry customers. 

“Hey, would you mind taking out the trash?” he calls over his shoulder, never even looking up from the faint steam that sizzles over the grill top. “I’ll keep an eye out, let you take a break for a minute if you do.”

“Deal,” you answer without hesitation. You still need to wipe down the table, but you’ll do that after your break. You’ve earned one. 

Dropping off the dishes, you look to Darren for directions on which garage. He jerks his head in the direction of the trash bag sitting in a gleaming silver can, and you quickly tie it up and lift it from its container. Without another word, you breeze outside towards the dumpster. 

Darren scratches your back, you scratch his. You don’t talk to him much, but your habitation as coworkers is seamless as butter on fresh hotcakes. 

The coolness of the night washes over you, chasing away the heat and stress of the diner. A faint street light shines into the employee parking lot filled with cracked pavement and the remnant odor of grease traps. 

The dumpster is located on the other end of the small lot, unfortunately. The light doesn’t quite reach there and deep potholes collect water and whatever may fall into their depths. Your heart skips a beat, your fingers white-knuckling the tied-off garbage at your side.

There are monsters out there. You never thought of such things since you were a child, but the world became a lot bigger and unknowable, and this town became a lot smaller and strange since you discovered the truth. There are things in the dark that hide with mouths full of teeth. They like to watch you. They hope to follow you home and catch you where no one will hear you scream.

Is your paranoia striking because you’re alone now? The darkness is thick and inky, wrapping around the edges of the weak streetlight.

No. Stop being a child. Heaving the trash bag up with a soft clatter, you grind your teeth. The night isn’t what scares you. You push yourself forward, one foot after the other, until you catch sight of one of the potholes. It brims with dark liquid shining iridescently. It stands between you and the dumpster, and you catch an unmistakable ripple across its surface. There is no breeze tonight.

Your breath catches in your throat before you roll your eyes. A name is on the tip of your tongue, ready to call out, but you stop yourself.

A wicked grin crosses your lips. A juvenile idea infiltrates your brain and you run with it. You set one hand on your hip before arching a brow, staring down at the oil puddle. Does he really think you don’t know he’s here?

Dropping the trash bag into the puddle, you promptly sit on top of the black material—not allowing logical thoughts such as the fear of something sharp poking you or the general distasteful smell reeking from it stop you—and throw the puddle outwards in a thick, black splash.

You recline back on it, hands on your knees, as you shift your hips slightly to sink into what feels squishy and crumples slightly, perhaps old food and cardboard boxes. Gross. You ignore it and keep sitting pretty. Underneath you, the puddle begins to bubble and froth. The iridescent sheen of purples and blues and yellows flash in a way you haven’t quite seen before. 

Then the thought lingers a little too long before it manifests into something searing with embarrassment. You might as well have plopped yourself into a demon’s lap.

No. You hold firm. This is payback. He’s stalked you, hunted you down, and grabbed you. The least you can do is embarrass him with the rotten cherry being a trash bag on top of him. You lounge as if it were a throne.

Then a growl emerges from below you. Goosebumps roll over your arms until every tiny hair pricks. Your heart begins to thump hard and fast like a rabbit fleeing from a fox.

You spring off of the garbage bag as if burned. Breath caught in your throat, you whirl back to face the sleek ripples of the oil puddle. 

The black liquid rises, funneling into the figure of a man, lithe with muscles and powerfully sleek not unlike a tiger. The trash bag is ripped upwards in a grip of indignation. Your gut clenches as claws, iridescently gleaming and dark, sink into the thin black material.

A creature of living oil. A demon. Grease.

Two dark tendrils drip down from the top of his head, the tips resting at his shoulders. A long, sleek, and wicked tail snaps behind him. His face is flat with a sharp jawline, lacking a nose but his mouth bears bone-white teeth. Two pale blue eyes, centered with black pupils, pierce you in the darkness of the parking lot as if he might devour you whole. You’re reminded so vividly of a tiger before it strikes.

“How disrespectful,” Grease snarls, his silky and dark timbre carrying a slight threat underneath it. “I’ve come to see you and you put trash on me. Must I remind you who I am?”

You shift on the gritty pavement from one foot to the other. The candle flame of mirth inside of you is not yet extinguished. A small voice warns you in the back of your mind that you’re pushing your luck, but you are nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

“I know who you are, oil boy,” you say, much braver than you are. “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

His grin widens.

“Oh?” He steps forward, his shoulders lowering like a cat about to bounce. The sway of his tail is excited, thrilled for a chase. “Neither are you, little nymph.”

A brief burn infiltrates you at the nickname he’s unfortunately bestowed upon you. Your brow furrows as you take a step back. A powerful concoction of adrenaline and confusion floods your veins, interrupting the flow of your thoughts as a primitive instinct to survive takes hold.

“What…?” Your tongue is too heavy.

He tilts his head, revealing a terrible mouth filled with shark-like teeth. Fear spears your heart.

“If you want to sit in my lap, you merely need to ask.” He cackles a heinous sound of black glee.

Red heat fills your face, coloring you in both rage and embarrassment. No, no, this is backfiring. You should have known he would have twisted it in his favor. He’s so seductive and intimidating. You forget which part of him is more dangerous: his teeth or his words.

“Ah, just how I like you, all pretty and pink,” he purrs deep in his throat. His black tongue, oily and black as midnight, swipes over his teeth as if he just found dessert.

Forget this. You twist on the balls of your feet, pushing off the cracked pavement in a dead run for the back door of the diner.

It’s over before it’s truly begun. Long, slick claws snatch you by the arms. Grease rips a gasp from you as he whirls you around and pins your back to the wall. You glare up at him, a breath rattling into your lungs. 

“Let me return your little favor.” His voice coils within you. Your heart beats against your ribs, wild under his devouring gaze. “A little tease for another.”

The sleek tip of his tail finds your ankle and begins winding up your leg. You bite back a yelp at the squeezing, staining pressure from the tendril. A chain to ensure you can’t run.

“I wasn’t teasing you,” you protest, but it’s a lie. A filthy lie that is only met with a sinister chuckle from Grease. 

“Don’t be so coy. It’s not a good look for you.” 

Fighting words long to fly off your tongue but his own emerges from his jaws. Dripping black saliva coats it like thick honey. Your eyes widen. He leans in closer with a monstrous grin. The tendrils upon either side of his head twist up gently and press into your cheeks, securing you into place as you suck in a sharp breath. Your palms press flat against the wall at your sides. He bends low to find access to your neck.

The cool, slick caress of his tongue on the curve of your throat draws out a shiver. It fills your chest and rolls down your spine. Tenderly exploring your skin, the tip of his tongue licks slowly upwards before disappearing from underneath your chin with a cool trace. You gulp.

The fiend. You would curse him if you weren’t half-paralyzed underneath his mouth. Your fingers inch toward your apron pocket.

“On second thought, why stop with a tease?” Grease slips back just enough to capture your gaze and watch you squirm. A threat of blush is bearing down upon your defenses. “You deserve more. A proper… tantalizing…”

He finishes his thought with a too-wide smile and his tongue flicking out of his mouth, closing the precious little distance between your lips. The gallope of your heart roars in your ears. You can’t name the roiling in your middle. It is too hungry, too excited for an oil demon’s touch. 

Still, you lean forward in the slightest, just to catch him the slightest bit off guard. His tail loosens from your leg. His eyes widen, but he presses in—

You snatch the box of cornstarch out of your apron and whip it in front of you, spilling out fine white powder onto the oil demon. He screeches in fury. Backing away from you as the cornstarch latches onto his chest, he writhes and hisses, claws raking at the substance gluing up his sleek form.

“You—! You—!” He howls but all you can do is steal one breathless sound before sliding out from underneath him and grabbing the door handle. Twisting it, you fling yourself into the kitchen.

You twist back to slam the door closed but catch a sharp, pale blue glare, frothing with a promise so vile, it ignites your core into a hot bubbling mess.

Grease will make you pay. But not tonight.

You lock the door and fall back against it. Deep gulps of air heaves through your chest. You slowly push your hair away from your sweaty face.

You got away. For now.

[morethansalad]

Vegan Bento with Lotus Root Mini-Cakes

[scary-lasagna]

Can I request a scenario where it's the middle of the night and jeff is asleep but he wakes up to the sound of his pregnant S/O crying in the kitchen so he grabs a knife thinking she's hurt but she's having really bad cravings and they don't have the food she's craving? Sorry just super fluffy idea

Jeff

He's always been the guy to keep a bed knife tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

For emergencies, of course.

Your partner found you absolutely sobbing on the kitchen floor, heaving your shoulders with heavy gasps and wails, complete with a tear-stained, puffy red face that looked like you'd been crying for quite a while before he found you.

"Hey, hey!" Jeff took a quick scan to see if anything was out of place, or if any blood leaked out of places they shouldn't.

Everything seemed fine, excluding the mess of cooking ingredients around you. Crumbles of cornstarch showed no mercy to your tears, strewn about the kitchen after what seemed like a tantrum of throwing it on the floor.

"What happened, my sweet?" Jeff asked softly, kneeling down in front of you and cupping your pathetic little face between his palms.

You were blubbering and crying so hard, Jeff could barely piece together the words to help you.

"I JOUSt AWANTed [hic] I wAOUNTED to MaUOKE- I WANt eD to MAKOE MI FaOrVuTIe [hic] CHciEKAn saUOUCEEEeEeeeee"

"Ohhh, you wanted your favorite sauce to eat? Were you trying to make it?"

" yeah :("

"Ohh, my poor little [Y/N]..." He cooed and pulled you in closer, and you cried harder, knowing how safe you could feel with him.

And you two stayed there on the kitchen floor, covered in cornstarch as he rocked you to calmness.

And it turned quiet and peaceful, and your hiccups and sobs have long since died down as Jeff rubbed your back.

This only made you realize how good of a partner he is, and triggered the waterfalls again.

He couldn't help with laugh a little, "Why are you crying again?"

"I JuOSUt LOuvE YOuuUUUuu." <:(

[teainacoffeemug]

Have you seen that newsworthy protest art of CEO Wanted posters and thought "boy I would love a hi-res copy of that"?

These I mean:

Presenting, for entirely legitimate purposes such as archiving, alt captions, and education, a source of print-capable copies of the posters!

[link moved to reply because Tumblr got whiny]

(It's unknown if this is the original artist)

Here's instructions on wheatpaste, the best cheap stuff to stick up posters, also for archival and historical education purposes of course To make wheatpaste, mix two parts white or whole-grain wheat flour with three parts water, stir out any lumps, and heat the mixture to a boil, stirring continuously so as not to burn it. When it thickens, add more water; continue cooking it on low heat for at least half an hour, stirring continuously. Some people add a little sugar or cornstarch for extra stickiness; don’t be afraid to experiment. Wheatpaste, once made, will last for a while if kept in sealed containers, though eventually it will dry up or become rotten—and sealed containers of it have been known to burst, to unfortunate effect. Keep them in a refrigerator if you can. You can also obtain wallpaper adhesive at any home improvement store; this comes in pre-mixed buckets or boxes of powder. Wallpaper adhesive is much quicker and easier to mix than wheatpaste, and not much more expensive even if you are paying for it. Don’t get the brands advertised as “easy to remove,” obviously—get the most heavy-duty adhesive available. (-Crimethinc, linked below)

Because I'm sure none of you out there would ever combine these images with that recipe.

(Reposted comment as stand-alone for greater visibility.)

[dolljunk]

One of my last doll mods in Australia was this Kala Mer'ri. I quickly modded onto a set of DC Super Hero Girl legs since I really wanted her to be more of a Fashion Doll than just a cool sea monster figure. She's sat in my parts box until now, where I finally carved and sanded her joints and colour-matched them to her skin tone.

I really tried to preserve as much of the DCSHG torso as I could, thinking I could have just stuck Kala's bust onto the torso joint, but DCSHG has such a thick torso I just opted to hack across both torsos and rejoin them, filling in gaps using cornstarch and superglue.

I did muse about using a G1 Big Sister legs, but the hips were kind of scrawny looking, and DcSHG had a similar hip-width to Kala, so I wanted to preserve Kala's more curvy figure rather than remain G1 only for this custom.

[hetalia-club]

And Tada!

England’s Strawberry Short-Cheesecake

It's done! A shortcake, for a short king ❤️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

I knew right away I wanted to do something strawberry for England because my gmaw gave me fresh strawberries from her garden that I’ve had in my freezer for a hot minute. Then I saw these mythical frosted animal cookies at the store that had nessy, unicorns, dragons and mermaids and I was like, that’s pretty England vibes. So his cake turned out pretty colorful and not something I think he would necessarily like but fuck him! He gets what he gets and isn’t allowed to throw a fit

So what is it?

It’s a strawberry swirl cheesecake, with homemade strawberry jam, a golden Oreo/animal cookie crust, with a layer of homemade white cake topped with cheese cake whipped cream, more strawberry jam, animal cookies and sprinkles.

Other Character Cakes: Romano's Vanilla Bean Almond Cheesecake America's Peach Cobbler Cheesecake Italy's Pistachio Latte Cheesecake England's Strawberry Short-Cheesecake

England's Strawberry Short-Cheesecake recipe>>

Going to start off by saying this recipe is going to be pretty short. I wasn't happy with the white cake recipe I used so I won't tell you all to make it. If you want my honest opinion, use a box cake for the cake part a lot less work and you know the taste will be good. Yet if you still want to try baking your own cake this is the one I used so don't use it it's too dense and just all around mid. Used this one It has so many good reviews idk what they are all talking about I think it was terrible so thick, and way too much sugar. But to each their own.

Strawberry Jam 2 cups frozen strawberries(Don't use unfrozen they turn to mush too quickly and teh sugar mix needs to cook down. So you could buy fresh just freeze them first) 2 tbs lemon juice 1/2 cup sugar. 3TBS corn starch

in s skillet cook the strawberries with teh sugar, and lemon juice stir so they don't burn and mush the strawberries as they begin to thaw. Your going to want to taste it as it cooks down if your strawberries are not completely ripe they will need more sugar added to bring out the flavor but if your strawberries are really ripe and sweet you could even use less sugar. Cook until the strawberries are cooked down and then take off the heat. Add in your cornstarch mixed on with some cold water so it doesn't clump together. Stir and let it sit off to the side to cool.

Oreo/Animal cookie crust 1 1/2 sleeve of golden Oreos 1/4 bag of frosted animal cookies 1/4 stick butter

crunch up cookies together and add in butter. bake teh crust at 350 for 10-15 minutes or until it's turned slightly golden.

Stabilized Whipped Cream 1 packet cheesecake pudding mix 1 cup heavy cream 1 tbs vanilla

Mix all on high until it comes together and makes stiff peaks. I f it's too thick add some milk to bring it down.