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easyfoodnetwork · 5 years ago

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To Find Hope in American Cooking, James Beard Looked to the West Coast

James Beard in 1972 | Photo by Arthur Schatz/Life Magazine/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images

In an excerpt from The Man Who Ate Too Much, the culinary icon returns to his hometown and begins to articulate his vision for American cuisine

James Beard looms large in the American culinary canon. The name is now synonymous with the awards, known as the highest honors in American food, and the foundation behind them. But before his death in 1985, well before the existence of the foundation and the awards, Beard was a culinary icon. In The Man Who Ate Too Much: The Life of James Beard, John Birdsall tells Beard’s life story, highlighting how Beard’s queerness contributed to the concept of American cuisine he introduced to a generation of cooks.

Beard’s ascent to food-world fame wasn’t immediate. He came to food after an attempt at a life as a performer, and following a stint in catering and a gig hosting his own cooking show, Beard’s early cookbooks weren’t smash hits, his point of view not yet fully evolved. In this excerpt from The Man Who Ate Too Much, Beard embarks on a cookbook-planning trip through the American West, including his hometown of Portland, Oregon, with new friend and collaborator Helen Evans Brown and her husband, Philip. It’s there, after a whirlwind 25 days of eating (which read as especially envy inducing now), that Beard begins to define American cuisine for himself and, eventually, the country. — Monica Burton

The Man Who Ate Too Much is out on October 6; buy it at Amazon or Bookshop.

American cooks in the early 1950s were in the grip of frenzy. Shiny new grills and rotisserie gadgets, advertised like cars, loaded with the latest features, were everywhere. Outdoor equipment and appliance manufacturers rushed to market with portable backyard barbecues and plug-in kitchen roasters, meant to give Americans everywhere — even dwellers in tight city apartments — an approximate taste of grilled patio meat.

Postwar technology and American manufacturing prowess propelled infrared broilers such as the Cal Dek and the Broil-Quik. An Air Force officer, Brigadier General Harold A. Bartron, retired to Southern California in 1948 and spent his time in tactical study of a proprietary rotisserie with a self-balancing spit. He named it the Bartron Grill.

There was the Smokadero stove and Big Boy barbecue. There were enclosed vertical grills with radiant heat, hibachis from post-occupation Japan, and the Skotch Grill, a portable barbecue with a red tartan design that looked like an ice bucket.

In New York City, the high-end adventure outfitter Abercrombie and Fitch and the kitchen emporiums of big department stores did a bustling business in these new symbols of postwar meat consumption. There was even an Upper East Side shop solely dedicated to them, Smoke Cookery, Inc. on East Fiftieth Street. The only trouble was that many buyers of these shiny new grown-up toys had no clue how to cook in them.

For weeks in the spring of 1953, Helen tested electric broiler recipes, an assignment from Hildegarde Popper, food editor of House & Garden magazine, for a story called “Everyday Broils.” A few broiler and rotisserie manufacturers sent their new models to Armada Drive for Helen to try.

“The subject turns out to be a huge one,” Helen wrote Popper; she had enough material to break the story into two parts. “Jim Beard, of cook book fame, was here when my rotisserie arrived,” she told Popper, “and he was a great help to me.”

Word got around the New York editor pool. Suddenly, Helen and James seemed the ideal collaborators, storywise, to cover the new subject of grill and rotisserie cooking: West Coast and East, female and male, California suburban patio cook and Manhattan bachelor gourmet.

Meanwhile, cookbook publishing was surging. Doubleday became the first house to hire a fulltime editor, Clara Claasen, to fill its stable with cookery authors.

Schaffner took Claasen to lunch to discuss how he might be able to help. “She is very much interested in the idea of an outdoors cookbook,” he wrote to Helen afterward. “This would combine barbecue, picnic, sandwich, campfire and every other aspect of outdoor eating.” Schaffner and Claasen lunched again. James and Helen’s “cooks’ controversy” idea had run out of gas (Schaffner hated the idea anyway, especially after reading first drafts of a few Beard–Brown “letters”), so Schaffner managed to steer Claasen toward a different kind of collaboration for his two clients.

In November 1953, Helen flew to New York. She and Schaffner met with Claasen at the Doubleday offices. On a handshake, in the absence of James (who only the day before had returned from France on the Queen Elizabeth), they decided on a collaboration: an outdoor cookery book to be authored by Helen Evans Brown and James A. Beard.

Everyone was happy: Schaffner for nailing a deal for two clients at once; Claasen for bringing new talent to Doubleday. Helen was getting what she needed: a book with a major publisher. James was getting what he wanted: a reason to get even closer to Helen. Perhaps this was only the first in a long future of collaborations; they might one day even open a kitchen shop together and sell a line of their own jams and condiments. The possibilities were endless.

Claasen was eager to draw up a formal contract. All she needed from Helen and James was an outline.

Under the glowing cabin lights of a westbound red-eye flight on April 3, 1954, James found himself eerily alone. TWA’s Super Constellation was an enormous propliner with seats for nearly a hundred passengers; that night, James was one of only four. He planned to rendezvous with the Browns in San Francisco later that week, but only after he took five days on his own in the city he’d loved as a boy. From there, the three of them would embark on a weeks-long research trip in the Browns’ Coronet convertible, stopping at wineries and cheese factories throughout Northern California, Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. Helen needed to do research for a magazine article she’d long wanted to write. She and Philip had asked James to join them five months earlier, in December 1953.

Nearly a decade after the end of the war, San Francisco was a place of resuscitated glamour, with much of the shimmer and confidence James had known in the city of his youth, when he and Elizabeth would ride the trains of the Shasta Route south.

His plane landed in drizzling rain. For his first luncheon of the trip, James chose a place of old comfort: the dim, wood-paneled Fly Trap on Sutter Street. He wore a suit of windowpane-check tweed (the jacket button straining above his stomach, his thin bow tie slightly askew), eating cold, cracked Dungeness and sautéed sand dabs. The stationery in his room at the Palace had an engraving across the top, an illustration of pioneers trudging next to oxen pulling a Conestoga wagon. Above them floated an apparition: the hotel’s neoclassical façade rising from the fog. “At the end of the trail,” it read, “stands the Palace Hotel.” James imagined himself the son of the pioneer he’d fancied his father to be. Was he now at the end of something or the beginning?

Courtesy W.W. Norton

Helen Evans Brown

He spent his days and nights eating: A luncheon of poulet sauté with Dr. A. L. Van Meter of the San Francisco branch of the Wine and Food Society (they had met on the French wine junket in 1949); dinner at the Pacific Heights home of Frank Timberlake, vice president of Guittard Chocolate; a trip to San Jose to tour the Almaden Winery and meet its owner, Louis Benoist, over a marvelous lunch of pâté, asparagus mousseline, and an omelet. James dined at the Mark Hopkins with Bess Whitcomb, his abiding mentor from the old Portland Civic Theatre days — she lived in Berkeley now and taught drama at a small college. She wore her silver hair in a short crop; her gaze was warm and deep as ever.

Helen and Philip arrived on Sunday, and on Monday the tour began with a day trip. Philip drove the Coronet across the Golden Gate Bridge north to the Napa Valley, with Helen riding shotgun and James colonizing the bench seat in back. The afternoon temperature crested in the mid-seventies and the hills were still green from winter rain. Masses of yellow wild-mustard flowers filled the vineyards. They tasted at the big four — Inglenook, Beaulieu, Charles Krug, and Louis Martini — and lunched with a winery publicist on ravioli, chicken with mushrooms, and small, sweet spring peas. James kept a detailed record of their meals in his datebook. Elena Zelayeta, the San Francisco cookbook author and radio personality, cooked them enchiladas suizas and chiffon cake.

Next day they crossed the bridge again but swung west from Highway 101 to visit the farm town of Tomales, not much more than a main street of stores and a filling station. Among the rise of green hills dotted with cows, at the farm and creamery of Louis Bononci, James had his first taste of Teleme, a washed-rind cheese with a subtly elastic texture and milky tang. Within its thin crust dusted with rice flour, James recognized the richness and polish of an old French cheese, crafted in an American setting of rusted pickups and ranchers perched on stools at diner counters. It stirred his senses and revived his love for green meadows with the cool, damp feel of Pacific fog lurking somewhere off the coast.

Philip drove west to the shore of fingerlike Tomales Bay, where they lunched on abalone and a smorgasbord that included the local Jack cheese and even more Teleme.

The car had become a mad ark of food.

The road stretched north along the coast: to Langlois, Oregon, with its green, tree-flocked hills converging in a shallow valley, where they stopped at Hans Hansen’s experimental Star Ranch. Born in Denmark, Hansen spent decades making Cheddar. In 1939, with scientists at Iowa State University and Oregon State College, Hansen had begun experimenting with what would be known as Langlois Blue Vein Cheese, a homogenized cows’-milk blue inoculated with Roquefort mold spores. (Production would eventually move to Iowa, where the cheese would be known as Maytag Blue.)

They hit Reedsport, Coquille, Coos Bay, Newport, Cloverdale, Bandon, and Tillamook. They stopped at cheese factories, candy shops, butchers’ counters, produce stands, and markets. Already stuffed with suitcases, the Coronet’s trunk became jammed with wine bottles and jars of honey and preserves; packets of sausage, dried fruit, nuts, and candy. The backseat around James filled up with bottles that rolled and clinked together on turns, with apples, tangerines, filberts, pears, and butcher-paper packets of sliced cured meat, smoked oysters, and hunks of Cheddar. The car had become a mad ark of food. James hauled anything regional and precious on board, as if later it would all prove to have been a myth if he didn’t carry some away as proof that it existed.

In Tualatin, south of Portland, they dropped in on James’s old friends from theater days, Mabelle and Ralph Jeffcott. To a crowd that included Mary Hamblet and her ailing mother, Grammie, Mabelle served baked shad and jellied salad, apple crisp, and the homemade graham bread — molasses-sweet and impossibly light — that was famous among her friends.

They lunched on fried razor clams and coleslaw at the Crab Broiler in Astoria and had martinis, kippered tuna, salmon cheeks, and Indian pudding at the Seaside cottage of James’s beloved friend Harvey Welch.

In Gearhart, James trudged out to Strawberry Knoll, walked across the dunes and onto the beach. He regarded Tillamook Head, just as he did as a boy at the start of summers. He felt a weird convergence of past and present: the sting of sand whipping his face and the smell of charred driftwood lingering in the rock-circled dugout pits of ancient cookouts.

For James, the Northwest displayed a delightfully slouchy elegance he’d almost forgotten about in New York. It had taste without snobbery. At the Pancake House in Portland, they brunched on Swedish pancakes with glasses of buttermilk and French 75 cocktails — the sort of high–low mix he had aimed for at Lucky Pierre. Why did Easterners have so much trouble grasping the idea?

Before a meal of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, they sipped a simple pheasant broth that, dolled up with half a dozen gaudy garnishes and called Consommé Louis-Philippe, would have been the jewel of Jack and Charlie’s “21” in New York. Food here had honesty. It declared what it was. Like James, it was anti-“gourmet.” Its purity was the ultimate elegance.

Thus far, James had fumbled at articulating a true American cooking. He’d taken rustic French dishes, called them by English names, and substituted American ingredients. There was something crude about such an approach. This trip had showed him American food made on French models — Gamay grapes and Roquefort spores and cheeses modeled on Camembert and Emmenthaler that tasted wonderful and were reaching for unique expressions, not just impersonating European originals. It had given James a clearer vision of American food taking root in the places it grew.

As a boy, he had glimpsed this with Chinese cooking, how a relative of the Kan family, a rural missionary, adapted her cooking to the ingredients at hand in the Oregon countryside. How her Chinese dishes took root there, blossomed into something new; how they became American.

They trekked to Seattle, where the Browns went to a hotel and James stayed with John Conway, his theater-director friend from the Carnegie Institute days. John’s wife, Dorothy, was a photographer. She shot formal portraits of James and Helen in the Conways’ kitchen — maybe Doubleday would use one as the author photo for the outdoor cookbook. They took an aerial tour of oyster beds and wandered Pike’s Place Market.

Philip then steered the Coronet eastward across Washington, through the town of Cashmere in the foothills of the Cascades, where they stopped at a diner for cube steak, cottage cheese, and pie that James noted as “wonderful” in his datebook. In Idaho, at a place called Templin’s Grill near Coeur d’Alene, they found excellent steak and hash browns. There was a Basque place along the way that made jellied beef sausage, and a diner in Idaho Falls with “fabulous” fried chicken and, as James scribbled in his daybook, “biscuits light as a feather.” The fried hearts and giblets were so delicious they bought a five-pound sack to stuff in the hotel fridge and eat in the car next day for lunch.

“Drinks, Steaks, Drinks!”

The squat, industrial-looking Star Valley Swiss Cheese Factory in Thayne, Wyoming, with a backdrop of snow on the Wellsville Mountains, produced what James thought was the best Emmenthaler-style cheese he’d tasted outside of France, but this was American cheese. They had delicious planked steak and rhubarb tart in Salt Lake City, but bad fried chicken and awful pie in Winnemucca, Nevada, was the beginning of a sad coda to their journey.

Soon they were in Virginia City, home of Lucius Beebe — brilliant, bitchy, rich, alcoholic Lucius Beebe, dear friend to Jeanne Owen and the Browns and dismissive of James from the minute they met in New York City fifteen years back.

Lucius enjoyed the life of a magnifico in the nabob splendor of the Comstock Lode, among the graceful wooden neo-Renaissance mansions, peeling in the searing Nevada sun, built by nineteenth-century silver barons. His husband in all respects, save the marriage license and church wedding, was Chuck Clegg. Chuck was quarterback-handsome and courtly, in contrast to bloated, prickly Lucius. Helen and Philip were fond of them. They wanted to linger for a few days, which turned into four days of heavy drinking and blasting wit, much of it at James’s expense.

“Drinks, Steaks, Drinks!” James wrote in his daybook. He disliked Virginia City, with its steep hills one couldn’t climb without wheezing. One day, they all had a picnic on the scrubby flank of a hill, under a brutal sun. Chuck and Lucius brought a Victorian hamper filled with fine china plates, Austrian crystal, silver, and antique damask napkins. They ate cold boned leg of lamb and beans cooked with port. They lingered so long, over so many bottles of Champagne, that James’s head became badly sunburned. Back at the motel, Philip, drunk, tried splashing James’s head with gin, hoping it would bring cooling relief. Everyone cackled at his plight.

Finally, twenty-five days after they set out from San Francisco, Philip steered the Coronet home to Pasadena.

“The trip is one of the most happy and valuable memories of my life,” he wrote to Schaffner from Pasadena. “I garnered a great deal of material, had a most nostalgic time in parts of the west most familiar to me and saw much I had never seen before. It was splendid, gastronomically speaking, to be able to see that there is hope in American cooking.”

The best and most interesting food in America was inseparable from the landscapes that produced it. It was all right there, in country diners and small-town grocers’ shops; in roadside dinner houses and bakeries. All you needed to do was look.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3jsBSno https://ift.tt/34lwOuu

James Beard in 1972 | Photo by Arthur Schatz/Life Magazine/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images

In an excerpt from The Man Who Ate Too Much, the culinary icon returns to his hometown and begins to articulate his vision for American cuisine

The Man Who Ate Too Much is out on October 6; buy it at Amazon or Bookshop.

Meanwhile, cookbook publishing was surging. Doubleday became the first house to hire a fulltime editor, Clara Claasen, to fill its stable with cookery authors.

Claasen was eager to draw up a formal contract. All she needed from Helen and James was an outline.

Courtesy W.W. Norton

Helen Evans Brown

Philip drove west to the shore of fingerlike Tomales Bay, where they lunched on abalone and a smorgasbord that included the local Jack cheese and even more Teleme.

The car had become a mad ark of food.

“Drinks, Steaks, Drinks!”

Finally, twenty-five days after they set out from San Francisco, Philip steered the Coronet home to Pasadena.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3jsBSno via Blogger https://ift.tt/3jobHy8

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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malecsecretsanta · 8 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @nerdyfangirl57!

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to you sweetheart, from your Secret Santa! So excited to see what you think of your gift and I really hope that, at the very least, it makes you smile over the holidays! Love & Hugs! XXXXXX

Read on AO3

*****

Santa's Little Helper

Turning the collars up on his purple military coat, Magnus was glad of the full-length barrier it would provide against the crisp night air outside, only wishing he’d brought his gloves too as he prepared to leave the warmth of the cinema foyer with his two small companions. Squatting down to tie Madzie’s scarf and adjust Max’s bobble hat, Magnus couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on their dimpled cheeks as he asked if they’d enjoyed the film.

Madzie nodded vigorously. ‘I want to eat marmalade sandwiches like just Paddington. Can we, Magnus? Please?’’

Max tugged on his arm in agreement, his eagerness pitching his young voice even higher than usual. ‘Yes! Yes! Me too, Papa!’

With a token huff, he nodded, ‘OK!’ Four surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around his legs in gratitude and Magnus hugged them back before grabbing their hands with a cheery, ‘Let’s go!’

Stepping out with a collective gasp into the early evening chill, the happy trio entertained themselves with festive songs as they made their way to the nearby Christmas fair, arms swinging in time to each tune. They were going to visit Madzie’s adopted mum, Catarina, who was manning the fundraising stall for the hospital where she worked, before heading home to the loft for an evening of cartoons and chaos.

Deciding to soothe their vocal chords with some hot chocolate as they went, Magnus stopped at the coffee shop on the corner, grabbing an extra one for his hard working friend before steering the children towards the busy plaza where throngs of busy shoppers were congregating in the hope of finding the perfect gifts. Magnus couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of excitement at the festive scene before him as they paused for a moment to appreciate it.

The lamp-lit square had been transformed into something akin to a Christmas card picture with only the snow missing from it. At the far end, a bandstand housed members of the local music college whose brass instruments were playing hymns and carols, as well as some crowd-pleasers for the hardy souls huddled together on the temporary seats that were dotted around, with vocal harmonies provided by schoolchildren who were being led by an enthusiastic teacher. On the remaining three sides of the large cobbled space stood rows of wooden cabins, each assigned to a local charitable cause, their gabled roofs adorned with holly and poinsettia, multicoloured lights framing the stable-door shutters thrown open in welcome so that potential buyers could see the wide variety of wares on offer. The scent of pine permeated the joyful atmosphere and mixed with the delicious smells of sweet and savoury treats, beckoning them to follow their noses to where all things cinnamon and spice were waiting. Taking pride of place at the centre of all this was a popular Santa’s Grotto that made the children squeal with delight as they bounced on their toes, begging to join the queue.

‘Papa, pleeeeeeeease!’ Max implored, big blue eyes the size of saucers melting Magnus’ heart like they always did, while Madzie’s impossibly wide smile had the same effect on his knees. How could any Papa or godfather resist?

‘Fine,’ he caved, as their combined shrieks split the air, ‘but first we have to deliver this fortifying brew to your poor mother before her joints seize up from being exposed to this wintry weather for the last few hours.’ Their disappointment was quickly replaced by grudging nods as they continued in haste.

With an excitable yelp, Madzie pointed to the middle stall directly opposite the band, and conveniently facing the grotto would you believe, sporting the hospital’s banner and began tugging him closer by his coat.

‘Patience, Sweetpea,’ he cautioned affectionately, knowing it would fall on deaf ears, instead concentrating on ensuring the hot beverage reached its intended recipient in one piece. Approaching the cozy looking shelter, well stocked with all manner of knitted goods, from Christmas stockings and scarves to tree decorations and cushion covers, Magnus chuckled to himself at how Cat’s hobby had certainly been put to good use. ‘For you, my dearest Catarina,’ he greeted her gallantly, receiving a blissful look of thanks before stepping back, allowing the youngsters to say hello and give her a detailed recount of the film they’d just seen.

Drinking his own chocolate as he swept a cursory gaze over the stalls on either side, Magnus paused mid-sip as his eyes landed on the incredibly hot vendor to the right of Cat, who was sitting down, engrossed in a heavy-duty cookery book, giving him the opportunity to take him all in. His grin was feral as he swallowed.

Wrapped up against the cool breeze in a black high-collared peacoat and fingerless gloves, his head was covered by a green and red striped hat any elf would be proud, the bell at its end actually jingling when he turned the pages and the words ‘Santa’s Little Helper’ emblazoned in red flashing lights across it. Oh, I do hope that’s not literal, Magnus thought, as he bit down on a giggle. Glancing briefly at his companions to check they were still oblivious to his diverted attention, he proceeded with his appraisal. The stranger’s eye colour couldn’t be determined beneath the long thick lashes that fanned his adorably rosy cheeks but he couldn’t wait to find out. They would be amazing, Magnus just knew it. The short, no-doubt-silky strands of black hair that could be seen poking out from under the funny headgear framed his features perfectly and his hands…. oh, those hands with the long, lean, capable fingers could probably consign him to a pleasurable death or deliver him unto heaven, he wouldn’t mind which. Could he get any better? Magnus wondered.

Then Santa’s Little Helper looked up.

And WOW! He’d been so right.

Luminous hazel eyes were unblinking as they slowly subjected Magnus to an equally intense eye-balling. Unconsciously squaring his shoulders, he returned the stare, confident he was worth looking at. A lopsided smile that fairly robbed him of breath was his reward.

Then Santa’s Little Helper spoke.

‘Can I tempt you with anything?’ came the deep sultry voice, leaving Magnus with an overwhelming urge to vault over the display of cookies and doughnuts and let his body answer in the affirmative.

But he didn’t, of course. Instead, he blurted, ‘That rather depends on what ‘anything’ is…’

Shit. Smooth, Bane. Real smooth.

With a rueful roll of his eyes, Magnus held up his hand in apology as he stepped nearer to make sure the children didn’t overhear. And maybe to get a closer look.

Trying, and failing, to ignore the blush that further coloured ‘Pretty Boy’s’ kissable cheeks, Magnus grinned, ‘Please excuse me, that was rude.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said the beautiful lips that had somehow pulled his focus, ‘You didn’t say no, right?’ And he winked!

Magnus couldn’t conceal his surprise. Well, well. This was clearly no angel he was talking to. Glossy lips puckered of their own accord. ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying no to you….?’

‘Alec,’ The Mouth replied, his toothy grin no less devastating than his lips.

‘I’m Magnus,’ he declared, extending a bejewelled hand which Alec took readily, and for much longer than was strictly necessary but he wasn’t complaining. Quite the contrary. He never wanted to let go. How odd.

Lost in a bubble (or should that be bauble?) of mutual admiration, they didn’t notice the impatient five year old who was desperate for their attention at first, only ‘coming to’ when Max stamped on Magnus’ foot, hard.

‘Ow!’ Reluctantly breaking contact, the only real pain Magnus felt was out of concern for the damage done to his Italian leather boots. ‘What was that for, blueberry?’ he demanded without a trace of heat, as he leant down to lift his unrepentant son onto his hip.

‘We want to know when we’re going home, Papa,’ Max asked, small palms playfully squishing his father’s cheeks, which only added to the embarrassment of having been caught in a ‘moment’ with a complete stranger. He gently lowered the hands.

‘Soon, Max. I was just wondering what we could be tempted to buy from Santa’s....’ Both Bane men turned in unison as Alec stood up off the stool, his hat nearly touching the roof. ‘...Not-So-Little Helper,’ Magnus finished breathily.

He did NOT gulp when Alec chuckled.

‘Maybe you could help Papa decide, Max?’ The Mouth wondered, eyes darting quickly to Magnus, as if aware how hearing him saying those names had triggered an almost primal reaction in his gut, which was ludicrous, but nonetheless true.

Max nodded solemnly, his restless hands, now fiddling with the epaulettes on Magnus’ coat, the only indication that he was a little nervous.

Alec folded his arms and leaned down on the counter to make himself appear less intimidating. ‘I made all these goodies to sell for my son’s school,’ there was that eye dart again, ‘and I kinda need your advice on what looks good enough to eat.’

Hell, Magnus thought as he wet his suddenly dry lips, this man wasn’t just less-than-angelic, he was the devil incarnate, teasing him like this. He let his heavy lidded eyes communicate his thoughts to Satan.

‘OK!’ his son agreed, eyes roving over the mouth-watering display of cakes and confectionaries that were decorated in sprinkles and icing of every description. It was lucky for him that he couldn’t see the way Papa’s eyes were devouring the man in front of him.

Or how Magnus was being mentally undressed by said man.

‘What goes with marmalade sandwiches?’ his innocent boy asked, chewing on his chubby lip in much the same way his father was, though for very different reasons.

Understanding dawned in those glorious hazel eyes. ‘Ah, someone’s seen Paddington, right?’ Max beamed his beautiful smile. ‘My boy, Rafe, isn’t much older than you and he loved that film too. We both did.’

‘It was funny!’ Max giggled, at ease now he’d found a fellow friend of his favourite bear.

‘It sure was,’ Alec agreed, as he tapped a finger to his chin in contemplation while pretending to think what choice would be the best to compliment the unusual sandwich. ‘How about the Gingerbread Man?’

‘Too crunchy.’

‘The Christmas Tree cupcakes?’

‘Too sweet.’

Alec glanced up through his lashes at Magnus, mirroring his amused grin. ‘Is your Papa as fussy as you, Max?’

Papa forgot to breathe, dreading what his son would say.

‘No, he just loves pretty things.’ Magnus exhaled. ‘Like you.’ Too soon.

Frozen in mortification, Magnus wished for the cobbles beneath his feet to swallow him whole…...but not before a last quick look at the handsome man who was….wait, was he laughing?

The colour of cranberry he may be, but the guy was definitely laughing, gaze averted as he bagged the silver stars made out of marzipan that Max had apparently finally settled on. Quickly depositing his mischievous kid on terra firma, Magnus handed over the money, struggling, and ultimately failing, to keep a straight face..

‘Is that true?’ Alec queried, amusement still evident in the smile he flashed his way.

Magnus composed himself long enough to return his gaze. ‘Yes, on both counts,’ he confirmed, for some reason unwilling to waste time with being coy.

Alec paused in the act of handing over Magnus’ change, his wide bashful smile crinkling those magnificent eyes, as Magnus gestured for him to keep the money.

Three separate coughs as subtle as sledgehammers broke the spell. A guilty glance toward the far too observant audience on his left, prompted Magnus to begin taking his leave. Well that, and the shit-eating grin on Cat’s face that told him he was in for a roasting later!

‘It was lovely to meet you, Alexander,’ he began, voice unusually raspy for some reason. ‘I wish you all the best with your fundraising efforts for Rafe’ school.’ He took a step back. ‘I’m sure he’s very proud of you.’

Although Alec gave a dubious shake of his head, his gratitude for the compliment shone through his smile, which Magnus couldn’t help but return.

Resolutely turning to take the hands of Max and Madzie, he gave Cat a pointed look that warned her not to say a word and with a saccharine sweet, ‘See you later, my dear,’ Magnus exited the festive square, not at all grappling with the idea of flinging himself at Alec’s feet, demanding he ask him out.

Walking briskly in the direction of the taxi rank, Magnus was busy trying to commit Alec’s gorgeous face to memory when Madzie reminded him that they’d forgotten to visit Santa’s Grotto. A quick look at his non-existent watch disguised an impish grin as he spun around, pulse skipping.

‘You know what, my darlings?’ he fairly sang, barely resisting the urge to break into a run as they began retracing their steps back to the Fair, ‘Christmas is but once a year and we ALL deserve the chance to get what we wish for! Am I right?’

The delighted squeals, he took for agreement.

#nerdyfangirl57 #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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mythopoeticreality · 7 years ago

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Writing 2018

Tagged by @grundyscribbling!^^ Danke! :D

Definite plans: Writing, period. Around, say, late-summer of last year I created this blog to help me get back into fandom and back into writing more frequently, and I’ve been struggling to pull myself out of a writing slump. I’ve been doing pretty good so far this year, managing to post two fics in the first week as well as starting on revisions for some original work. I’m hoping I can keep up and just keep plugging away at writing something every day.

Speaking in more specific terms: I’m already signed up for the Chocolate Box exchange, so I’m going to be writing my assigned fic, plus a few treats (I’m looking at four or five prompts that I’m really excited about doing). I have a story about Narsil that I’ve been working on since last year that I’m determined to get finished by years end, as well as plans for two Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell Fics. In one I’m exploring the relationship between the Raven King and Catherine of Winchester more through the idea of her being offered immortality as Thomas Dundale and William of Lanchaster seem to have been, but her rejecting the offer. In the other fic Francis Pevensey and Catherine’s Magically-Summoned Spirit go into Faerie and rescue Martin Pale after he got mixed up in some Fairy Mishchief and got in over his head. finally, I’ve already started a Series of Silmarillion/Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell Crossover stories that should be really fun. Getting John Uskglass and Fëanor in a room together is my ultimate goal for 2018

And Original Ficton wise? I have my nano from last year that I’m working on still, involving Renaissance era magicians, Guessing games with Fairy Princes, and a really badass swash-bucking sort of heroine in the vein of Zorro or Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood. I’m also starting a series of short stories that take place in a world with all of these different fairy-tale canons crossing over and interacting, so that should be fun.

Tentative plans: Getting involved with more fic exchanges and other fandom events. Also due to some recent posts by @verecunda I have been seriously tempted to try my hand at a Magician!Lascalles AU

Other plans: Read More books. Draw more things. Invest in the spices and do more Historical Cookery. Reach out to my inner-Noldo and do some jewelry making. I miiight also be considering diving into Tumblr RP again.

I tag: @regshoe, @verecunda,@nasturtian, @lifeisyetfair, annnd any other writers who want to do this, as usual do this only if you want to and feel free to ignore me if you don’t :)

#writing #in which i do a meme

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iffeelscouldkill · 8 years ago

Text

Fic: a Film by Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming

Pairing: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker (Spideychelle)

Summary: “Hi everyone. I’m Peter Parker, and this is my documentary presentation. The title is 'Perseverance'.

“I mostly think that the film speaks for itself, so I’m just gonna hit play, and uh, I’m happy to answer any questions afterwards about the footage, the editing, the choice of shot or well, anything, really.”

“And uh, even though they’re not here, I’d like to thank my close friends and family for putting up with me while I shoved a camera in their faces for three months.”

Peter is given an assignment to make a documentary film about the people closest to him. In the process, he learns some things about priorities, the people he cares about, and life beyond Spider-Man. Set two years after Spider-Man: Homecoming.

Author’s Note: This fic took me four months to finish and I was really unsure about how good it was. However, I got some lovely comments on AO3 (where you can also read it) and so felt confident enough to cross-post it over here :D

“All right, class, listen up – I’m going to give you your main assignment for the semester.” Gloria Steinberg, the teacher leading Midtown Tech’s film-making elective, clapped her hands for attention. The small class of ten senior students paused their discussions and refocused their attention on Ms. Steinberg.

“Thank you. Okay, so, here’s what I want you to do.” Ms. Steinberg uncapped her marker and wrote ‘DOCUMENTARY FILM PROJECT’ on the whiteboard. “This is going to be an ongoing, individual project that I want each of you to carry out. I want you to make a documentary film about the people closest to you in your lives.

“This can be family, friends, or anyone important to you. I want you to tell a story with this film; it’s up to you what that story will be. The key challenge that I’m going to set you is to capture a more natural, unguarded side of your subjects – a side that they don’t normally show to the camera.

“Think about the techniques we’ve been learning about in this class; think about the way that the filmmakers we’ve been studying weave a narrative with their documentaries. I also want you to bear in mind the technical side of things – shot framing, editing, lighting, everything we’ve covered. Now is your chance to put theory into practice!

“At the end of the semester, you’ll screen your films in front of the class, and give a short presentation about the process of making your documentary, the challenges you encountered, and the thinking behind the piece that you have made.

“Any questions?”

“Oh. Uh, are you filming now?”

The camera comes into focus on Ned Leeds’ face, leaning a little too close to the lens. Peter Parker’s voice is heard from behind the camera.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m filming.”

Ned pulls back slightly and grins, waves at the camera. “Hey! I’m Ned, Ned Leeds. I’m Peter’s best friend. Uh… What else should I say?”

“You don’t need to say anything, Ned. My assignment is to try and capture a natural side of people. So just pretend like the camera isn’t there.”

“Oh! Right.”

Ned moves away, into the middle of Peter’s bedroom, but carries on shooting glances back at the camera.

“You know, it’s kind of hard to act natural when you’re pointing it at me.”

“Right, right… Maybe I’ll set it up on a tripod.”

The camera jostles as it is set up in a corner, looking out over the room. A big space has been cleared in the centre of the room to make way for what will be a massive model: the Ultimate Collector’s Millennium Falcon, totalling 5,195 pieces. The box sits off to one side, and Ned reaches for it now, reverently admiring the design on the front.

“This is it… One of the most challenging Lego sets of all time.”

Peter crawls into shot, and motions towards the box.

“Shall we?”

“After you, my friend.”

Peter opens the box and starts laying out Lego pieces on the floor. Ned watches with his chin propped on one hand.

“Do you think we’ll ever get too old for building Lego models?”

Peter looks back at him in consternation.

“Why would we?”

“I dunno… like, we’re high school seniors now; we’re submitting college applications, thinking about our futures, all that serious stuff. But we still build Legos like we did in middle school. Do you think we’re supposed to stop at some point, to qualify as adults?”

“If that’s qualifying as an adult, then I don’t want to be one. Anyway, when we were in freshman year, one of the biggest things I learned about being Spider-Man was that I still needed to take the time to do normal kid things. Our whole lives shouldn’t be about serious, world-ending stuff – we need to balance that out.

“And besides, this is fun!”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Ned grins, and the two of them exchange their secret handshake. Then Peter looks over at the camera in the corner.

“Oops… I should probably edit out that part about being Spider-Man.”

“Probably.”

“Hey, Aunt May, do you mind if I film this?”

May looks up in surprise from where she’s laying out vegetables on the chopping-board.

“For your project?”

“Yeah, plus I think it’s really cool, you doing cookery classes and all.”

May smiles and goes to the sink to wash her hands.

“Well, we’ll see how they go. I have to do something with my time, what with you off to college in a few months!”

“I don’t have to leave. I can stay here in New York with you.”

May frowns, pausing with the knife poised above the carrots she is about to chop. The light catches the fine lines around her eyes, and highlights the grey hairs that are beginning to appear.

“Don’t be silly, Peter, of course you’re going to college. It’s your future! You’re going to go off and have an adventure, and come back even more clever and talented than you already are. Besides, all your friends are going to college.”

“Yeah, but… you’ll be on your own. And what about… you know… my extra-curriculars? It could be a bad idea to leave the city.”

May fixes the camera with a stern gaze. “New York got along perfectly fine before you started your ‘extra-curriculars’, and it’ll continue to be fine with you gone – and so will I. You’ve done amazing things and helped a lot of people, but you should be allowed to live your own life. You can’t be beholden to this city forever.

“Now, am I going to demonstrate my baton-chopping technique for the camera, or not?”

“Demonstrate away.”

The camera zooms in on the chopping-board, bringing the colourful assortment of vegetables into sharp focus: carrots, onions, red peppers, lettuce and celery. May begins to chop the carrots into neat batons of equal length, narrating as she does so.

“Now, the instructor said that the key to this is not to raise the knife too high when chopping – it’s all about efficient, controlled movements…”

“Is there a reason that you’re currently pointing a camera in my face?”

Michelle Jones, seated at a laptop and typing rapidly, doesn’t spare a glance to the side as she speaks. The camera falters slightly.

“I’m working on a project. For film class.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah – we’ve got to make a documentary about the most important people in our lives.”

MJ raises one eyebrow, still typing without missing a beat.

“I’m honoured to be included in that category.”

“Of course you’re included!”

The pout in Peter’s voice is audible even from behind the camera. MJ’s lips twitch into a barely-noticeable smile.

The camera zooms in slightly on the laptop screen as it fills up with lines of text. Fidgeting sounds can be heard from behind the camera.

MJ sighs.

“You know, I’m pretty sure that cinematographers are supposed to be more patient when filming their subjects.”

“What are you writing?”

“My application piece for the journalism scholarship at Boston University.”

The camera moves around to focus on the laptop screen; Peter reads the title aloud.

“‘The Fight to Preserve New York’s Public Libraries in the Digital Age’.”

“It’s a long-form feature. I’ve been carrying out interviews with librarians all around the area.”

“MJ… This is brilliant. It’s so detailed!”

“It’s just an outline.” MJ’s cheeks look a little pinker than usual.

“It’s a really good outline.”

The camera pulls back again to take in MJ, focused intently on the screen as she types, and for a while, nothing is heard except the sound of tapping keys.

“Don’t you have college applications to work on?”

“Yeah… I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m still trying to figure out if this whole college thing is for me.”

MJ’s typing halts abruptly. She turns and levels the camera with a look of alarm that borders on threatening.

“What do you mean? I thought you were applying to MIT with Ned?”

“Yeah, maybe…”

“Is it a funding thing? Does your aunt have enough money to put you through college?”

“Yeah, a lot of my, um, uncle’s legacy has gone towards my college fund. And Tony says he’ll chip in too. We have enough.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“I just don’t know if I can leave Aunt May. Or New York.”

“Oh. You’re worried because you won’t be around to Spidey it up any more?”

“Y-yeah, pretty much.”

MJ turns back to her laptop and resumes typing, a little more slowly than before.

“Just because you have superpowers doesn’t mean you can’t live your life. New York will deal. Presumably it managed somehow before you became Spider-Man.”

“Aunt May said the same thing.”

“Well, if you won’t listen to her, god knows why you’d listen to me.” MJ hits a couple of keys with extra force. “Whatever, it’s your choice. Do you have enough footage, or do you need to spend some more time breathing down the back of my neck while I work?”

“Uh, I think I have enough.”

“Hey, kid. You making another one of your video diaries?”

“Yeah, uh, this one’s for school. So it’d be cool if you could not make any pervy comments this time.”

“Well, is your aunt going to watch it? I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m a married man, now, see? I’m putting all my immoral ways behind me.”

Tony Stark raises one of his hands, which are currently the central focus of the shot, to show off a gleaming metal band around his ring finger. It has a twisting, geometric design in the centre that vaguely resembles the shape of Iron Man’s faceplate.

“I know – I was there. I still can’t believe you had your wedding rings made from vibranium.”

“Hey, I don’t wed with just any old ring. This is one of the strongest, most resilient metals in the galaxy, perfectly crafted to withstand any-”

A shower of sparks flies up from where Tony is tinkering with a near-unidentifiable mass of circuitry and wiring. A rectangular plate of sapphire glass lying off to one side suggests it might have started out life as a StarkPhone.

“-lab accidents.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Tony nudges apart the two bare wires that had accidentally connected, and then picks up a solder wick and soldering iron, touching both to a component on the circuit board and de-soldering it. He uses a pair of pliers to flip it away and onto the lab bench.

“You know, this is a classified design you’re filming.”

“Really? It doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Harsh, kid. Very harsh. This right here is genius in the making.”

Tony quickly loses himself in his work, paying no heed to the camera as it moves around him, capturing different angles: the side of his face as he frowns in concentration; a long-distance shot of Tony amidst his cluttered workshop surroundings; close-ups of the tools on the bench, being picked up and set down.

After a long while, Peter’s voice ventures from behind the camera.

“Mr… er, Tony?”

“Mmmm?”

“You went to MIT, right?”

“When I was fifteen, yeah. Great place. You should go there.”

“But like… what if you’d been Iron Man back then, would you still have gone to college?”

Tony straightens up at that, reaching for a rag on the workbench and wiping his hands on it.

“Kid, if I’d been Iron Man at fifteen, my whole life would have been pretty different, so it’s kind of hard to say yes or no on that one. But if I hadn’t gone to MIT, I wouldn’t have met Rhodey, wouldn’t have learned… a lot of shit that turned out to be pretty important – and I’m talking about life stuff, not what they teach you in class – and I wouldn’t have had an outlet for a lot of things, either.

“Would superheroing have given me that instead? Maybe, some of it. But it would have taken me down a pretty different path, and… Okay, just to be clear, we’re talking about you being Spidey instead of going to college, right? That’s what this is about?”

“I mean, just hypothetically speaking…”

“Yeah, sure, asking for a friend, blah blah blah. Look, the superhero gig isn’t everything – I thought we established that one a while ago. You decided to keep it low-key for a couple more years, be ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man’, have a balance in your life. Right? It was a good decision; I supported that decision.”

“Yeah… But four years is a long time.”

“It is a long time. Look, I didn’t really prep for a far-reaching emotional discussion today, but the bottom line is that either way, there’s gonna be stuff you wish you’d done.”

“I guess that’s true. Uh, thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. But if you want decent life advice, Pepper is a better bet. Even for stuff that you’d think I should know about. She’s still better.”

The Millennium Falcon is taking shape, with the base and most of the forward mandibles completed. The camera captures Peter and Ned piecing it together slowly, sprawled on the floor of Peter’s bedroom, in breaks between assignments and Decathlon quizzing and stress.

Sometimes, they just mess around, picking up the little Lego figurines of Luke Skywalker, Obi Wan Kenobi, Princess Leia and Han Solo and acting out scenes from Star Wars, pitching their voices in an imitation of the characters’ dialogue.

It’s peaceful. Normal.

MJ again, seated in her favourite spot by the library window with the sunlight haloing her head. She is bent over a book, golden sun rays intertwining with the curly brown strands that hang down over her face.

Slowly, she turns the page, appearing deep in concentration and completely unaware that she’s being filmed, her expression relaxed and at ease.

Then, deliberately, she raises one hand with her middle finger clearly displayed. Peter’s snorts of laughter can be heard from behind the camera.

“Wow, this looks so good!”

May Parker half-glances back towards the camera, busy adjusting the heat on the stove.

“I hope so. It’s a bit more ambitious than the stuff I’ve tried so far, but I thought – we both love Thai food, and this is a Thai-inspired stir-fry…”

“It looks awesome.”

May drops ingredients into the saucepan, which smokes slightly. “It’s okay, that’s supposed to happen.”

She turns away from the pan, intently studying the recipe book open on the counter, and reaching for a jar of Thai green curry paste. In the corner of the frame, something bright and yellow flares to life.

“May! The spoon!”

The wooden stirring spoon, which May left propped up against the gas ring, has caught fire.

“Oh! OH! Oh god, oh god-”

“May, it’s fine, just drop it in the sink-”

“Peter, could you switch that thing off, please, and come help-”

The camera tilts wildly, a crackling sound is heard, and the recording abruptly shuts off.

A blurry Peter and MJ are talking together some distance away from the camera. They slowly come into clearer focus, the camera held less steadily than usual, as if by an inexpert hand. Ned Leeds’ voice narrates in hushed tones from behind the camera.

“And here we see a wild Peter and MJ in their natural habitat, performing another complex mating ritual.”

MJ is sitting by the window again, reclining in one of her favourite library loungers with her laptop balanced on her knees. She looks up at Peter with an expression that’s torn between amusement and annoyance. Peter is on his feet, all restless energy, fiddling with a pen in one hand and obviously talking a mile a minute.

“Let’s take a closer look.”

The camera moves slowly towards the couple before eventually coming to a stop behind what appears to be a bookcase; the wooden edge of it obscures part of the shot. Peter and MJ blur in and out as the camera tries to decide what to focus on, until Ned zooms unsteadily past the bookcase and the two fill the whole frame. The microphone picks up their speech alongside Ned’s slightly heavy breathing.

“-Right.”

“Plus, y’know, I could really do with more footage for my documentary film project, and I thought it would be amazing to capture you out doing your reporter thing – plus, you could even edit and submit the video with your piece, y’know, to show some TV reporting experience-”

“The application rules specify text submissions only.”

“Oh… okay, I guess that wouldn’t be helpful, then.”

MJ sighs audibly.

“Fine, you can come with me to my interview this weekend.”

“Really?” Even from a distance, Peter looks about to vibrate out of his skin with excitement.

“Sure, but only if Meredith is okay with you filming her. Some people are weird about being on camera, and if she’s at all uncomfortable with it, you’re out.”

“Of course, MJ, no problem, thank you so much!”

MJ shakes her head in exasperation, but the expression is tempered with fondness.

“Don’t you have other people to follow around with your camera? I don’t know why you need to spend so much time on me.”

“I do follow other people around! I mean- not follow them- I do film other people. I filmed Aunt May making dinner the other night.”

“Really? How did that go?”

“Um… There was a small fire, and the stir-fry got burnt while we were putting it out. We wound up going out to eat.”

MJ laughs, and the adoring expression on Peter’s face is plain as he smiles with her.

“No, I just- I like filming you because you do interesting stuff. And, uh, I love to see you getting passionate over things that are important to you.”

There is a soft, open expression on MJ’s face which would surprise anyone who noticed it – anyone except Ned, who sees this expression quite often, and always directed towards Peter.

“Fascinating.”

It’s immediately obvious that Ned chose the wrong moment to continue his documentary-style voiceover, as Peter’s head whips around, honing in on the source of the noise.

“NED!”

“Damn spider senses!” The camera bounces up and down as Ned sprints for his life, Peter’s thundering footsteps close behind him.

“Ned! Don’t shout that in the library! And be careful with that camera – it’s not mine!”

The middle of a busy street in New York. The camera captures the back of MJ’s head as she weaves through the crowd.

“Keep up, loser.”

The camera jostles slightly as Peter quickens his footsteps to catch up to MJ. He pans to the left and the right, taking in the buildings looming either side of them.

“We’re broadcasting live from the middle of New York with intrepid reporter Michelle Jones, who is hot on the heels of her latest story-”

“Peter!”

“What?”

The camera abruptly swivels around to find MJ, standing in the doorway of a dilapidated two-storey building and beckoning impatiently.

“If you’re done being an even bigger dork than usual, we’re here.”

“I thought it wasn’t possible for me to be a bigger dork than I already am?”

“So did I, but you continue to surprise me.”

MJ leads the way across a dingy, but tidy white tiled foyer towards a reception desk with a petite young Latina woman sitting behind it.

“Hey, Ella. I’m here to talk to Meredith – she should be expecting me.”

The camera zooms in slightly on Ella, who nods at MJ but looks at the camera warily.

“Yeah, she said you’d be by. Who’s this?”

MJ directs a look of irritation at the camera.

“Hey, would you turn that thing off for two seconds?”

“Sorry, sorry!”

In the next shot, Michelle is sat across from an older, dark-skinned woman with braids swept up into a bun on top of her head. They are seated inside a cramped, dimly-lit back office lined with filing cabinets; a few faded posters are visible on the walls, advertising reading competitions from five or ten years ago.

Meredith shoots a glance at the camera. “Okay? Are we good to go?”

“Yep! We are rolling!”

MJ gives Peter a withering look as she pulls out a notepad and pen from the backpack by her feet. She sets a small, old-fashioned dictaphone on one of the filing cabinets next to them.

“Okay. Could you just give your name for the recording?”

“My name is Meredith Felix-Lynch.”

“Thanks, Meredith. And how long have you been head librarian at Dunlop Library?”

Ned’s bedroom this time, which he shares with his ten-year-old brother; Star Wars figurines and miniature Lego models jostle for space with Pokémon plushies and Choose Your Own Adventure novels on the shelves.

Ned sits in the middle of the floor, using a screwdriver to tighten an access panel on the underside of a small, round droid, which looks like BB-8 with wheels. He flips it right-side up and sets it on the ground, next to where Peter is sprawled, eye-level with the little robot. Peter has had a haircut since the last time the two were on camera, and Ned is sporting stubble across his upper lip that has aspirations of being a moustache.

“You know, you could have taken part in this contest with me, if you were still in Robotics Lab.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought about it, but I’m still not ready to take back on everything I was doing before I became Spider-Man. Between patrolling, my assignments and MJ riding my ass at Decathlon practice, I’ve got about as much as I can handle.”

“Wouldn’t it help with your college application, though?”

Peter clears his throat.

“Why don’t you show me what this thing can do?”

Ned picks up a boxy black remote controller from the floor. It resembles a gaming controller, to the point where it might have started out life as one and then gained a lot of extra buttons and dials.

“For the contest, we need to be able to demonstrate three types of independent movement, so…”

Ned pushes down on one of the analogue sticks. Lights on the little droid flare into life, and it begins to trundle forward with a whirring noise.

“Coooool.”

“And the head can move, like this-”

The droid swivels its head from side to side, as if looking for the source of a noise.

“It doesn’t have any arms, because you remember what happened in middle school with the Robotics Showdown-”

“They snapped off, yeah.”

“Right, so the third type of independent movement is…”

Frowning now in concentration, Ned pushes down hard on a large blue button on the controller, while manipulating the analogue stick at the same time. A noise like a laptop fan running at hyper-speed can be heard, and Peter recoils slightly as his hair is ruffled by a sudden breeze. Slowly, the droid lifts off from the ground until it is hovering a fraction above the floor.

“Oh my god, Ned, you made it fly!”

The boys are shouting now to be heard above the noise of the boosters.

“Pretty cool, right? But you have to be careful, because it overheats really quickly and when that happens-”

The noise suddenly cuts out and the levitating droid drops back down to the ground with a sharp thud. Ned winces and Peter recoils and tenses, looking seconds away from leaping towards the ceiling.

“Sorry – I’m still working on actually sustaining that. If I can keep the heat shut-off from engaging, it should be able to get to about a foot above the ground.”

Peter settles back down, crossing his legs and peering at the robot.

“What’s your cooling system?”

“Water-based. I want to fit an extra fan in there, but I’m having serious space issues – I’ll show you…”

Ned lifts up the droid and reveals a round, dark scorch mark where the boosters have scorched the floor. Both boys freeze, staring at it.

“Dude, your mom is going to kill you.”

MJ sitting at a little wooden desk in her study at home, an anglepoise lamp shining on her work, her fingers flying over the keys. Wall-to-wall books fill the background of the shot. MJ is muttering something to herself, dictating the words as she writes.

“Hey, MJ, how long is your piece now?”

MJ continues typing, either ignoring Peter or somehow not hearing what he is saying.

“MJ? You said I could film when I came over… Is this not okay?”

Silence. The clatter of keys.

“MJ?”

“…”

“Wow, you must be really into your writing, huh.”

The camera comes on, and the three people sitting on the picnic blanket immediately groan, throwing their hands over their faces – or in MJ’s case, her book.

“C’mon, Pete, not the camera again!”

“Sweetheart, I love you, but do you think we could give the filming a rest just for one day?”

“Turn it off, Parker.”

“C’mon, guys, please? I really want to get a good grade for this class.”

“Why, so you can pursue your dream of becoming a superpowered Steven Spielberg?”

The camera moves to a low angle as Peter sets it down on the ground a little way away. MJ towers in the foreground, looking disapproving over the top of her book; Ned is amused, leaning back on his hands, while May hides her smile as she unpacks items from the picnic cooler.

“Yeah, maybe! Or, like an indie film creator. Haven’t you always wanted to go to the Sundance film festival?”

“I wouldn’t go there with you, loser.”

Ned snorts with laughter, and May hands out sandwiches and cartons of juice. Peter moves into shot, sprawling backwards until just a pair of gangly legs are visible. May strikes up a conversation with MJ about her piece for the journalism scholarship at Boston, which she has just submitted; MJ holds up her half of the conversation while still appearing to be absorbed in her book, turning pages every now and again.

Peter and Ned tussle over the last mini package of doughnuts, and wind up playing rock paper scissors for it, with May as adjudicator. They draw, and May awards the package of doughnuts to a smirking MJ, over Peter and Ned’s protests.

“You’ll have to put your book down to eat those, MJ, there’s no way you can read at the same time.”

“Watch me, loser.”

A high-pitched, urgent beeping cuts through the conversation. Ned and May start, and MJ peers over the top of her book as Peter extracts his StarkPhone from his bag, looking tense. A red light is flashing insistently on top of the phone.

“It’s Tony, it’s- he’s calling a code red.”

“You’d better go, then, sweetheart.” May speaks with an air of forced calm, her face set in lines of worry.

“But it’s my day off – I can’t go. I didn’t even bring my suit.”

“It’s in the compartment under the cooler.” MJ speaks without looking up from her book.

“It’s- What? What compartment?”

“There’s a catch on the side.”

“What? That can’t-”

MJ sighs and lunges across the picnic blanket to reach the cooler. A clicking sound is heard and in the next moment, she pulls Peter’s Spider-Man suit from an opening in the bottom of the cooler. She hands it to Peter, who frantically tries to hide it with his jacket, glancing around him.

“You can thank me later for actually being prepared. Now go save some civilians or whatever.”

“May? Are you sure you’re okay with-”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sweetheart. MJ’s right; you go save the day.”

Peter stands up and rises out of shot. Ned’s eyes meet Peter’s, off-camera, and he gestures covertly to his phone, then looks slightly crestfallen at Peter’s response. The camera picks up the sound of footsteps running across the grass; a few moments later, MJ reaches over and turns off the camera.

“Okay, we’re rolling! C’mon, open it.”

MJ shoots the camera a look of annoyance from her desk chair. She, Ned and Peter are crowded into her study, MJ seated at the desk with an envelope in her hands. The camera is set at MJ-eye-level, and only the lower half of Ned is visible as he stands next to her.

“Do we have to film this? It’s probably gonna be a rejection letter.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve read your piece – it’s awesome.”

MJ smiles slightly and runs a finger under the flap of the envelope, tearing it open, then unfolds the letter. As she begins to read, the smile drops off her face.

Peter’s voice comes from behind the camera: “MJ? What’s wrong?”

“MJ…” Ned, reading over her shoulder.

MJ takes in a shuddering breath, the hands holding the letter beginning to shake.

“Oh, Jesus, MJ-” The camera shuts off abruptly.

The next shot shows Peter and MJ from much further away, the camera filming them from through the half-open door. MJ is sobbing into her hands, the letter discarded on the desk, as Peter hovers uncertainly, finally settling one hand on her shoulder.

MJ’s voice is muffled and thick with tears, but just barely audible.

“It’s such a load of crap. The whole scholarship system.”

“I don’t get it, MJ – how could they reject you? You’re an amazing writer, you write with passion, you picked a fascinating topic and did all this original research-”

“Peter. Stop.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to say all that stuff just to make me feel better.”

Peter sits down on the edge of the desk, which creaks slightly under his weight, and stares at MJ in bewilderment.

“But I’m not, MJ, I’m being honest. Look, I know I… run my mouth faster than my brain, and half the stuff that comes out of it doesn’t make sense, but this is true, okay? I was there when you interviewed Meredith; I saw how much she trusted you and you got her to open up. You’re so good at this, MJ, and it sucks ass that they can’t see it.”

“Yeah, well, fat load of good it’s done me. Whatever I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“But you… At least you tried, okay – you worked your ass off, you knew what you wanted and you went for it. You have something to show for what you did. Better than being too afraid to try.”

MJ wipes the tears away with the heels of her hands and looks up at Peter, assessing.

“I think you’re so amazing, MJ – what you do is gonna change the world. Way more than anything I do.”

MJ snorts, disbelieving. “Being a journalist is hardly gonna save lives-”

“No, it is!” Peter has stood up again and is gesturing for emphasis, all energy and motion. “You’re gonna – help people tell their stories, expose injustices and blow corruption cases wide open. Being a superhero is like – flashy stuff, swooping in to save the day but never really dealing with the real issues. That part… That’s the really hard work. That’s what you do.”

Peter and MJ look at each other for a long moment.

From behind the camera, barely audible, Ned can be heard breathing, “Come on…”

“You inspire me so much, MJ, and I never know how to – to show you how I feel, except-”

Peter sways forward, and MJ leans up, and their lips meet in the middle.

The camera swings away, and bounces as Ned jogs down the corridor until he is out of earshot.

“YES! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…”

The almost-completed Millennium Falcon sits in the middle of Peter’s bedroom floor, with Peter and Ned either side of it. Ned is holding a Lego brick in one hand and looking across at his best friend, who is lying half out of shot, with only his legs and half of his torso visible. A loud snoring sound emanates from off-camera.

Ned extends one foot and nudges Peter’s leg.

“Hey. Peter, wake up.”

He nudges a little harder.

“Pete!”

Peter jerks away suddenly, and his legs disappear out of shot; a second later, he crawls back into frame, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m kind of tired at the moment.”

“No kidding, you almost dozed off in Biology earlier. Were you out late patrolling last night?”

Peter scratches the back of his head and looks away.

“Nah, I was actually up late finishing my application essay for MIT.”

“You what? What time did you submit it?”

“Uh, I think it was around 4am.”

“What? But the application window closed at midnight! Did Mr. Stark pull some strings to let you-”

“No! Tony doesn’t know about it. But I called ahead, and they said they’d consider it. It’s… my own fault if I don’t get in, so I don’t want anyone calling in favours. Besides, if I don’t get into MIT, I have some other ideas. I might go to Columbia to study film. Or maybe photography.”

“Wow… Really? Photography?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. The whole documentary thing has been a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”

Ned glances at the camera and away again, his expression uncertain.

“Well, y’know, I’m happy for you whatever you decide to choose. But I thought we were gonna be MIT buddies. That was our plan.”

“We are! I mean, we still could be. But you knew I was having second thoughts about applying to college, and…”

“You said you were going to apply anyway! Or did you just say that to make me back off, like your aunt?”

“No! No, Ned, c’mon, it’s not like that.”

Peter runs his hands through his hair, which is flattened on one side from his nap on the floor.

“I just… I wanted to do it properly, if I was gonna do it, but my heart wasn’t in anything that I was writing. I went through like a billion drafts, until last night… I guess you could say I got inspired.”

Ned looks at his best friend, and raises his eyebrows in an Ohhh kind of way. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with…”

Peter’s ears turn bright red. He looks at the floor and picks up a Han Solo minifigure. “Yeah, maybe.”

Ned laughs, and he reaches out to give Peter’s shoulder a soft punch. “Well, glad you finally got your shit together. In multiple senses.”

Peter laughs awkwardly and runs his hand over his hair again, flattening it back down. Ned picks up a single Lego brick from his side of the model and hands it across to Peter.

“Well, while you were napping, I all but finished building the Falcon. The last piece is yours, my friend.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and he tries to hand the brick back to Ned. “No, I can’t! You should have the last piece.”

“Nah, I insist.”

Peter hesitates.

“C’mon, Parker, pull your weight. I’ve been doing all the building and my arms are tired.” Ned stretches his arms above his head in an exaggerated fashion. Peter laughs.

“Okay, okay. Are you ready?”

Ned improvises a drumroll on the floor as Peter places the last brick on the Falcon with a flourish and gently presses it down.

“There.”

Ned and Peter nod solemnly at each other across the model. Peter picks up the Han Solo minifig, and tweaks one of its little arms to extend outwards. Grinning, Ned does the same with the Luke Skywalker figurine, and the two minifigures come together to “fistbump” in midair.

The camera gazes lengthways down the dinner table at the Parker house, which is laid with nice silverware and delicate china crockery, the kind reserved only for special guests. A pair of hands – recognisably Peter’s – comes into shot and gently sets down a large bowl full of noodles in the foreground. Further down the table, May Parker, visible from the shoulders down, is laying out bowls of stir-fried vegetables and curry.

A woman wearing a long, elegant wine-red dress, visible only from the waist down, walks into shot and pulls out a chair.

“This looks delicious, Mrs. Parker.”

“Oh, it’s May, please. I’m really still learning… I’m sure this is nothing compared to the kinds of world-class cuisine that you and Tony must have cooked for you on a regular basis.”

“Aunt May’s being modest. Her cooking is really great – especially Asian-inspired food.”

“Thai is our household favourite. There’s soy sauce and chilli sauce here in case you want to add any. I should really have put out chopsticks instead of knives and forks, to be more authentic.”

Tony Stark sits down heavily in the chair next to Pepper. “I’m never authentic. Can’t use chopsticks to save my life. Pepper can – she’s good with them. Me, I always ask for a fork.”

Pepper shakes her head, long hair brushing over her shoulders. “Even when he was dining with the Prime Minister of Japan.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t ask for a cheeseburger.”

Laughter. Peter’s fingers briefly blur into view and he adjusts the camera downwards so that only the guests’ torsos and hands are visible.

The group begins to eat dinner; they make small talk and lean over each other to pass various dishes. Compliments flow freely about the quality of the food.

“So, Peter… How are college applications going? Tony said you were having some concerns about balancing college with your superhero duties.”

Pepper’s tone is careful and tactful, her cutlery pausing delicately above her plate as she asks the question. The light glints off the vibranium ring on her finger, the twin to Tony’s, but with smooth, curved lines instead of blocky, angular ones.

Peter sets his cutlery down with an overly loud clank as he hastens to answer Pepper’s question.

“I was, but uh, I think I’ve made up my mind now. I wanna make sure I have a good future that isn’t just about Spider-Man.”

“Is that right? That’s very mature of you, Peter.”

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you, Pete?” Tony jokes. “No, seriously, it’s a good decision, but what prompted it? I know it can’t have been my words of wisdom.”

Peter laughs a little nervously, toying with his cutlery.

“No, I- I mean, your advice was good! Really! But uh, I was also inspired by a friend of mine, who’s… got a lot of dreams for the future. It made me want to do the same.”

“Oh really? You’re looking a little red in the face there – is this a friend, or a friend?”

“Tony! Leave him alone. I think that’s wonderful, Peter, and the best of luck to you with your applications.”

“Wasn’t MJ supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago?”

Ned looks up from the Decathlon quiz cards he is currently shuffling. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe she got held up.”

“I’ve never known her to be late for one of our practice sessions; she’s normally here like an hour before us.”

“It’s probably a test, to see if we keep drilling in her absence. She could be watching us right now to see if we continue.”

Ned nods towards the camera, resting on one end of the library table at which both of them are seated. “Maybe she’s put a bug in that.”

“How could she have? I keep it in my room when I’m not using it.”

“Ah, but MJ’s been in your room a lot lately. Maybe she distracts you with sexy makeout sessions, and then bugs it.”

Peter goes bright red and looks down at the cards in his hands. “So, geology-”

The sound of a door rebounding off a wall is heard somewhere nearby, and both boys look up. MJ enters in a whirl of coat, scarf and messenger bag, and triumphantly slams an open newspaper down onto the table between them.

Both Peter and Ned peer at the paper.

“Wait… is this-?” Peter stares at MJ.

“‘The Fight to Save New York’s Public Libraries’ – by Michelle Jones. Oh my god, they printed your article!”

“Yup. My first print byline. The first of many.”

MJ is smiling broadly, unable to hide how pleased she is.

“MJ, this is incredible!!”

Peter jumps up and grabs his girlfriend’s hands, spinning her round in a circle. She laughs and goes with it, poking his face after they finish.

“Dork.”

Ned is still leaning over the paper on the table.

“Wow. Did you really pitch this to the Editor?”

“Not the Editor-Editor, to the Features Editor. She was really nice, though, and after they accepted my piece she said I should apply for an internship over the summer. A proper work experience internship, not the making coffee kind.”

“Of course it’d be a proper internship! They’d be morons to waste your talents on making coffee.”

Ned clears his throat to interrupt Peter and MJ making eyes at each other.

“Hey, so, we should celebrate! Let’s go to the Waffle House!”

“Ugh, please, we go there all the time. This calls for something better. I want cheesecake pancakes.”

“Aww, but-”

“It’s MJ’s celebration, Ned, she should get to pick. C’mon, they have waffles at IHOP.”

The three move towards the door, and as Peter picks up the camera, Ned can be heard asking,

“So, are you going to frame it?”

“No way. This is going to be the first piece in my portfolio.”

“Well, thank you, Flash; that was a very… evocative piece,” said Ms. Steinberg. She nodded at Flash, standing next to the projector; he looked pleased but uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure whether she might be making fun of him. “I can tell you put a lot of passion into it.”

Flash cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“You can sit down now, thank you. Okay, I think we have time for just one more presentation, so… Who will it be? Peter! Your friend Michelle tells me you’ve barely had a camera out of your hand since we began the assignment.”

Gloria Steinberg smiled widely at Peter, who buried his face in his folded arms. “No, no, it’s a good thing. I can’t wait to see what you’ve produced for your documentary.”

Peter nodded and pushed back his chair with a scraping noise, making his way awkwardly to the front of the room. He clutched a dog-eared sheaf of paper in one hand.

After a prolonged period of setting up the projector and a heart-stopping moment where the video seemed like it might not play after all, thanks, Peter had his film cued up and ready to go. Clearing his throat nervously, he addressed the class.

“So… Hi everyone. I’m Peter Parker, and this is my documentary presentation. The title is Perseverance.

Peter went to hit ‘Play’ on the laptop next to him, then paused.

“And uh, even though they’re not here, I’d like to thank my close friends and family for putting up with me while I shoved a camera in their faces for three months.”

That got a quiet chuckle, including from Ms. Steinberg. Peter smiled and pressed Play.

The film began.

The film opens with a shot of Peter and Ned, sitting on Peter’s bedroom floor, with the beginnings of what will be their greatest Lego project of all time scattered around them. The audio is silent. The two boys exchange their secret handshake, before beginning to assemble the base of the structure.

Cut to Aunt May’s hands, arranging vegetables on the chopping board, then slowly and methodically beginning to chop them up. Her voice can be heard narrating,

“The instructor said that the key to this is not to raise the knife too high when chopping. It’s all about efficient, controlled movements… see how I’m keeping it even? I haven’t been going to cookery classes for very long, but you’d be surprised at how much technique goes into something like chopping vegetables – at least for professional chefs. For us amateurs, it’s not such a big deal… But still, I’m trying to make sure I have the basics mastered before I try anything more ambitious.”

Cut to Michelle, seated at her laptop and typing furiously. The camera zooms in on her screen. Peter’s voice reads, “‘The Fight to Preserve New York’s Public Libraries in the Digital Age’.”

“It’s just an outline,” Michelle says, sounding slightly embarrassed.

Cut to a pair of hands – Tony’s – de-soldering a component from the circuitboard of a Starkphone, wicking away the excess solder. “This right here is genius in the making.”

“It doesn’t look like much,” Peter’s voice replies, teasing.

In the next shot, Ned and Peter kneel on the floor of his bedroom with a sea of grid paper between them, on which are sketched the designs that will eventually become Ned’s entry into the National Under 18s Robotics Competition. Ned reaches forward and fans out a few of the sheets.

“This is my project for Robotics Lab – we have to build an independently mobile robot. Also, entries for the National Robotics Competition are open ‘til December, so if I get my shit together, I can enter.”

“Oh my god, you should!”

The film cuts to a time-lapse shot of Peter and Ned in the middle of Peter’s bedroom, gradually piecing together the Millennium Falcon.

Then May, sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a cookbook with a pencil in one hand, making notations in between the instructions. A series of print-outs sits by her elbow, with names of cooking techniques and clip-art diagrams.

The next shot is of MJ on a busy New York street, looking impatiently back at the camera before she disappears instead a shabby building. Cut to MJ and Meredith, sitting across from one another in Meredith’s cluttered office. The audio is just too soft to make out what they’re saying, but Meredith is holding forth with passion, gesturing, while MJ nods intently. She makes notes on her pad in shorthand without looking down, never breaking eye contact with Meredith.

Cut to Ned in the school Robotics lab after hours, goggles clamped over his eyes, oblivious to the camera and the empty lab growing darker around him. A single lamp illuminates his workspace as he peers into the half-constructed shell of his BB-8 droid, the distinctive rounded appearance already taking shape.

Back to MJ, on her laptop, typing up research in a fury of tapping keys and muttering under her breath.

Another time-lapse shot of Peter and Ned constructing the Millennium Falcon, weaving through the film’s narrative like a thread.

Then it’s back to Aunt May in the kitchen, trying out her Thai-inspired stir-fry for the first time. She drops the ingredients into the pan and shakes it a little as the oil starts to hiss and smoke. Unknowingly, she leaves the wooden spoon perilously close to the gas ring, and as she turns away to study the recipe, it immediately catches fire.

Peter shouts a warning, and May rushes to extinguish the flames; Peter scrambles to turn the camera off as he goes to help her.

Another close-up of Tony’s hands in the lab, as he holds a strange, glowing (possibly extraterrestrial) power source in a pair of tongs and lowers it down into the open chassis of a StarkPhone. For two seconds, nothing happens; then there is a loud sizzling sound, and what looks like bright blue lightning surges along the wires and circuits of the phone. With an abrupt crack and a curl of smoke, every single circuit shorts out.

Peter starts coughing behind the camera, as Tony waves his hand to dispel the smoke. “Mother-” The rest of the long string of expletives that follows is bleeped out.

Cut to Peter and Ned, sprawling on the floor of Ned’s bedroom as Ned demonstrates the controls for his droid. It trundles back and forth, swivels its head, and then with a noise like a jet engine powering up, slowly lifts off from the ground. Peter and Ned cheer in triumph, just a few moments before the droid’s engines abruptly cut out, and it goes crashing back to the floor with an ominous-sounding crack.

Then it’s Peter and MJ, shot from a distance through the frame of MJ’s bedroom doorway, as MJ sobs into her hands, the rejection letter discarded on her desk. Peter hovers, one hand extended uncertainly, before he rests it on her shoulder, a silent gesture of support.

The film lingers on this shot for a time, slowly fading to black.

In the next shot, Peter and May are cooking coconut laksa together in the kitchen, laughing as Peter whizzes around gathering ingredients and May tosses vegetables in the pan.

Cut to May, Peter, Pepper and Tony sitting down to an array of home-cooked dishes, all expertly prepared by May Parker. Everyone starts to serve themselves, and compliments to the chef fly freely, which May deflects, flustered but delighted.

Next, Peter and Ned sit on the floor of Ned’s bedroom as Ned demonstrates his completed, improved robot. The droid does a lap of the floor, turning its head from side to side as if watching a tennis match, before returning to the middle of the floor. This time when Ned presses down on the blue button, the droid lifts off with a slightly quieter whirring, and hovers a full foot above the ground before its creator guides it gently back down.

Peter whoops and reaches out to give Ned a high-five, pounding him on the back.

Close-up on the bench in Tony’s workshop, where a pair of hands (Tony’s, as usual) are pressing closed the case of a brand new StarkPhone.

“All right, now let’s see if this thing will turn on… Say your name.”

“My name? Uh, Peter Parker.”

The phone lights up, a blue light shining out from the screen as a Karen-like voice intones: ‘Welcome, Peter.’

“Oh my god!” Peter exclaims from behind the camera. “It worked!”

“Yup. It’s all yours, kid. Try not to break this one.”

Cut to Peter and Ned, reviewing their Decathlon cards together in the library as MJ whirls into view, slamming the newspaper with her byline down on the table in front of them. Peter and Ned lean forward together to peer at the text.

“Wait, is this-?”

“The Fight to Save New York’s Public Libraries – by Michelle Jones. Oh my god, they printed your article!”

“Yup. The first of many.”

Peter jumps up from his chair and spins MJ around in a circle, both of them laughing.

The film fades to a shot of Ned and Peter sitting either side of the Millennium Falcon, which is one brick away from being completed. Ned solemnly hands the last brick over to Peter, and does a drumroll on the floor as Peter presses the brick into place.

Peter picks up the Han Solo minifigure, and Ned picks up Luke Skywalker, and the two minifigs “fistbump” each other in midair above the completed Millennium Falcon.

Fade into Peter, Ned and MJ sitting at a table at IHOP, celebrating MJ’s first print byline. MJ is ribbing Peter mercilessly about the enormous plate of pancakes in front of him while Ned laughs.

Then Peter gets to his feet, raising his coffee, and proposes a toast: “To Michelle Jones – New York’s newest and greatest hotshot investigative reporter!”

“To MJ!” Ned cries and thrusts his hot chocolate into the air.

MJ shakes her head, but she’s laughing, and she raises her own cup to join them. “Watch out, world,” she says.

The three of them clink cups, and the film fades to black.

#fanfic #fic #Spideychelle #Spider-Man: Homecoming #Peter/MJ #Peter Parker #Michelle Jones #Ned Leeds #May Parker #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #documentary film-making #Ned ships Spideychelle as much as we all do #Please excuse any research inaccuracies as I handwaved a lot of the details about college applications and robots #also I wanted to leave it open as to which college Peter winds up going to #but in my head he gets into a great film course at Columbia #while still doing tons of awesome science stuff with Tony and Bruce of course #and he and MJ go to Sundance together when the hard-hitting exposé they collaborated on is screened there

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cookeryassignments · 18 days ago

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freewhispersmaker · 8 years ago

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SITHCCC018 Assessment Task 2: Sheet Cover Sheet

SITHCCC018 Assessment Task 2: Sheet Cover Sheet Faculty: Tourism, Hospitality and Service Industries Section: Commercial Cookery College: Ultimo Qualification Name: Commercial Cookery Certificate III TAFE Course no: SIT30816 Unit of Competency Number & Name: SITHCCC018 Prepare food to meet special dietary requirements Assessment Task: 2 Assessment Due Date: Assessment instructions: • Write your name and student number in the appropriate fields • Attempt ALL questions in the assessment. • All work is to be completed on this assessment paper. • All answers to be in Black or Blue ink or printed. • Do not use Pencil unless otherwise specified by the assessor Assessment Criteria: • List the applicable performance and knowledge evidence being assessed by this assessment task. STUDENT ORIGINALITY DECLARATION: Please tick to indicate that you understand the following statements: I declare that: ? The attached assessment is my own work, except where I have cited the original source (check with your teacher as appropriate citation is different for different courses). For the purposes of assessment, I give the assessor of this assessment permission to: ? Reproduce my work and provide a copy to another member of staff, and ? Validate the assessment for its authenticity which may include communicating a copy of my work to a checking service (which may keep a copy of my work on its database for future plagiarism checking). Student Name: Student Number: Group: Student signature: Date: Assessment Outcome: ? Satisfactory (S) ? Not Satisfactory (NS) ? Resit (RS) Assessor Signature: Date: Part A 1) Particular foods may be harmful for some people and cause allergic reactions. List 5 symptoms of an allergic reaction: _________________________________ __________________________________ _________________________________ __________________________________ _________________________________ 2) What dietary laws are followed by the following cultures? Christians:_____________________________________________________________ Jews:_________________________________________________________________ Muslims:_______________________________________________________________ Hindus:________________________________________________________________ Buddhists: _____________________________________________________________ 3) List 4 types of food, other than meat that are a source of protein: ______________________________ _____________________________________ ______________________________ _____________________________________ 4) List 4 food items that result in common food allergies: ______________________________ _____________________________________ ______________________________ _____________________________________ 5) List 4 things you can do to help lower the fat intake in food preparation: _______________________________ _____________________________________ _______________________________ _____________________________________ 6) List the 5 main food nutrient groups and their food sources: ______________________________ ______________________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________________ ______________________________ 7) If a customer specifies they are coeliac, what does that mean? ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 8) List 2 foods that contain gluten _______________________________ _____________________________________ 9) Describe 5 cooking procedures to help maximise the nutritional content of food: ________________________________ __________________________________ ________________________________ __________________________________ ________________________________ 10) List 4 medical conditions that require special diets: _______________________________ ___________________________________ _______________________________ ___________________________________ 11) When a customer informs you they have an allergic reaction to a particular food item, what would you do? List 5 examples ________________________________ _____________________________________ ________________________________ _____________________________________ ________________________________ 12) What are the health and legal consequences of not following a customer’s dietary request? ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 13) List 3 types of vegetarian diets and describe their dietary requirements: Type of Diet Dietary requirement 1) 2) 3) 14) List 4 types of food additives and their functions Type of Food Additive Function 1) 2) 3) 4) 15) List 4 items listed in the nutritional panel of a packaged food item ______________________________ ____________________________________ ______________________________ ____________________________________ 16) Compare the two labels for snacks below. Choose the healthiest snack and give two reasons why you chose that snack. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 17) List 5 of the Australian Dietary Guidelines ______________________________ ___________________________ ______________________________ ___________________________ ______________________________ Part A SITHCCC018 Assessment Task 2: Feedback Sheet Student Name: Student ID: Student signature: Group: Qualification: Certificate III in Commercial Cookery TAFE Course SIT30816 Unit of Competency: SITHCCC018 Prepare Foods to Meet Dietary Requirements Assessment Task 2 Theory Workbook Week 3 Assessment Date Assessment Instructions: • Fill in this feedback sheet and attach to the back of your completed theory workbook • A correct answer must be submitted for each question. • If you fail to answer a question correctly, you may be provided with the opportunity to re-submit. ASSESSMENT FEEDBACK Assessor’s comment regarding student performance Assessor’s recommendation on how to improve the performance (if there is any gap) Student Name: Student ID Class : Assessment Outcome: ? Satisfactory (AC) ? Not Satisfactory (NC) ? Resit (RS) Student Feedback on Outcome(s): ? The results of my performance have been discussed and explained to me. • If you would like to request a review of your results or if you have any concerns about your results, contact your teacher or head teacher. Student’s signature: Date: Assessor Name Assessors Signature Date: Annexure 2 SITHCCC018 Assessment Task 2: Sheet Cover Sheet Faculty: Tourism, Hospitality and Service Industries Section: Commercial Cookery College: Ultimo Qualification Name: Commercial Cookery Certificate III TAFE Course no: SIT30816 Unit of Competency Number & Name: SITHCCC018 Prepare food to meet special dietary requirements Assessment Task: 2 Assessment Due Date: Assessment instructions: • Write your name and student number in the appropriate fields • Attempt ALL questions in the assessment. • All work is to be completed on this assessment paper. • All answers to be in Black or Blue ink or printed. • Do not use Pencil unless otherwise specified by the assessor Assessment Criteria: • List the applicable performance and knowledge evidence being assessed by this assessment task. STUDENT ORIGINALITY DECLARATION: Please tick to indicate that you understand the following statements: I declare that: ? The attached assessment is my own work, except where I have cited the original source (check with your teacher as appropriate citation is different for different courses). For the purposes of assessment, I give the assessor of this assessment permission to: ? Reproduce my work and provide a copy to another member of staff, and ? Validate the assessment for its authenticity which may include communicating a copy of my work to a checking service (which may keep a copy of my work on its database for future plagiarism checking). Student Name: Student Number: Group: Student signature: Date Due: Assessment Outcome ? Satisfactory (S) ? Not Satisfactory (NS) ? Resit (RS) Assessor Name Assessors Signature Date PART B Research one dietary area from the list below Present a 1-2 page summary report of your findings. This can be: • Written (printed) or typed in short sentences and the use of sub headings It must be neat and legible. Criteria: • Title • Describe why a person would have this diet • Describe the appropriate dietary guidelines, • List suitable and non-suitable foods • Select from the following the type of diet required and describe how you would modify dishes to meet these dietary needs. Choose 1 Dietary topic for research from below: Low Cholesterol Diabetes Ovo-Lacto Vegetarian Diets Lactose Intolerant High Fibre Gluten Free Modified Sodium High Fibre Low Protein Cardio Vascular Cultural Diets PART B – SITHCCC018 Assessment Task 2: Feedback Sheet Student Name: Student ID: Student signature: Group: Qualification: Certificate III in Commercial Cookery TAFE Course SIT30816 Unit of Competency: Part B – SITHCCC018 Prepare Foods to Meet Special Dietary Requirements Assessment Task 2 Part B Week 3 Assessment Date Assessment Instructions: • Fill in this feedback sheet and attach to the back of your completed assignment. • All criteria must be covered. • If you fail to answer all criteria, you may be provided with the opportunity to re-submit. ASSESSMENT FEEDBACK Assessor’s comment regarding student performance Assessor’s recommendation on how to improve the performance (if there is any gap) Student Name Student ID Class Assessment Outcome ? Satisfactory (AC) ? Not Satisfactory (NC) ? Resit (RS) Student Feedback on Outcome(s): ? The results of my performance have been discussed and explained to me. • If you would like to request a review of your results or if you have any concerns about your results, contact your teacher or head teacher. Student’s signature: Date: Assessor Name Assessors

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