#// squeezing from a dry lemon for lemonade

[ducklingsdisaster]

Found the blog @powered-by-imagination today, great resource for writing prompts!! I wrote a little something (799 words) by mixing together three different prompts. This was a really fun exercice, I missed doing this! I don't think it's one of my best works, but I enjoyed writing it AND considering I haven't written regularly in years, any word is a good word. :') Here is what I wrote:

I did not realize how much it would change me, dating Kohjirö.

I wasn't scared of him getting bored and leaving. I didn't fear his annoyance. I hadn't felt so safe in a relationship in what felt like forever. He did not lie: he showed me I could be easy to love. I was easy to love. And yet.

As my boyfriend was spreading sunscreen on my back, unease crawled along my spine while the sweet scent filled up my nose. My skin was gooey and gross, the soft wind failing at drying it, but that was not my issue. A conversation we had earlier kept circling through my mind.

That annoying fly of a thought could be summarized in a single sentence: “I wanna go back to my family.”

My head fell back as I closed my eyes.

“Ah, careful! Your hair's gonna be full of sunscreen.” Kohjirö stopped his motions, to gently move my hair away from my back and on the front side of my shoulders instead. I shook my head weakly.

“Don't care.”

My eyes were still closed.

“Love… Is there something wrong?” Slight worry was audible in his voice. He caressed my arms, his long nails leaving pink trails after them.

Under the parasol, by the sea and with that breeze, the weather was ideal. The moment couldn't have been better. And yet.

Guess it was time to have a difficult conversation. At least, there weren't too many people around. I knew myself, and I could do without causing a scene.

I put my head back up, and took a difficult sip of lemonade. Bubbles fizzled on my tongue, the sour taste of lemon giving me courage. Once the bottle was back in the cooler, I finally spoke:

“Are you… are you really gonna go back to Kalinka?”

“Oh, so that's what's been bothering you.” He marked a pause. I was glad he couldn't see my face. “Well… I thought about it a lot, and yes.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, and my fists grabbed a handful of sand along with the beach towel we were sitting on.

“Please don't go.”

“Huh?” Clearly taken aback, the silence told me he was choosing his words carefully. “Love… I'm sorry, but my decision is already taken. I want to go.”

“Kohjirö…” I put on my sunglasses, their mirror lenses hiding my dangerously watering eyes. Then I turned around, finally facing him. “I just… I don't know how I'll live without you. Everything has been so much better since we started dating… I'm terrified of going back to how things were before.”

A gentle smile grew on his face. He softly stroked my cheek with the knuckle of his index finger.

“You won't. You really changed, you know? You learned how to say no to people. You learned to ask for more than the bare minimum. I think that now, it’s time you learn how to live on your own. You're more than your partners.”

“But—”

“I know you can do it.”

“But I don't want to! I… I wanted to spend more time with you!”

He laughed quietly, his teeth as sharp as ever.

“Don't be greedy now. We've known each other for almost ten years. You'll live.”

I pouted. He continued:

“I really miss my parents. You simply can't imagine how it feels, to be separated from them for decades, and to know that if you try to come back you might, no, you will get killed. Please, love. I need to spend time with them.”

I nodded. Insisting would be selfish.

“Will you…” I looked down at the towel. “Will you miss me?”

He smiled, before taking my glasses off. I tried to turn my head away, but he stopped me, long hands grabbing my face and forcing me to face him. Then, softly, slowly, he dropped three kisses on my face.

One on my forehead.

One on my nose.

One on my lips.

Once he was done, he planted his eyes in mine.

“Of course I will miss you. You're one of my closest friends, now partner, and one of the kindest, most gentle men I know. Of course I will miss you.”

I closed my eyes once more, holding back tears. My throat was tight. Was I as strong as he said I was? Would I actually survive without him?

“When will you come back?” I eventually asked.

“I don't know. Maybe in a few months, maybe in a few years. But you'll see me again. There are too many people I love here.”

I dropped my face against his chest. Over the sound of chatting people and crashing waves, I couldn't hear his heartbeats. We remained wordless for a moment, until I broke the heavy silence.

“I will miss you too.”

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

After reading about the Science Kids demolishing the Akuma Class at dodgeball… What other sports can they dominate in?

PAINTBALL!

Marinette: Okay, everyone, I know they destroyed us at dodgeball, but this should be easy. We go to the paintball arena on Saturdays, we practice. We’ve got this in the bag.

Ivan: Uh, I don’t know. The other team seems… Intense.

Marc: What do winners do when life gives them lemons?! *hands Ismael two halves of a lemon*

Adrien: Uh... make lemonade?

Marc: No! Shut up! You’re not a part of this!

Zoé: They squeeze them right back into life's fucking eyes!

Marc: RIGHT! So, do it!

Kim: What?

Juleka: He is not-

*Without hesitation, Ismael squeezes the lemon halves, squirting lemon juice into Marc eyes*

Marc: AAAAHHH! Hahahaha! YEAH!

Akuma Class: …

Alya: I am legitimately terrified. Even Simon is getting really into this! *Points to Simon praying*

Simon: Dear, Lord… Give the the strength to smite these little punks and make them bleed the forest green paint I shall shoot them with. Amen.

Marinette: Remember, don’t be intimidated, and-

Cosette: Hey! *Slides their finger across their neck and points at Nino*

Nino: That demon is gonna be gunning for me!

Chloé: *Slaps him across the face* Don’t show fear, Lahiffe! They all can smell it on you!

*Later in the forest, the Akuma Class and Science Kids stand in position, clad in armor and equipped with paintball guns*

Aurore: Okay, people! First one to capture the flag wins. You get hit, you're out! You’re out, you walk home in shame and tell your parents you’re a loser! *Looks at the Akuma class*

Adrien: Why are you looking at us?!

Marinette: Look, if we win, then… You guys have to play team sports like normal people!

Akuma Class: Yeah!

Nathaniel: I didn’t mind the dodgeball game.

Kim: Because they went easy on you!

Jean: Oh, sure. We’ll do that… if you win... *Applies black face paint on his cheeks*

—

*Kim and Max are walking precariously through the forest until they hear paintball gunshots, quickly followed by Nino screaming. They take cover behind a tree. Kim aims down his paintball gun's sights, and sees Nino lying against a tree. He is breathing heavily through his mask*

Max: *Rushes over and inspects the paint* Magenta. This is Cosette’s work. Nino?

Nino: Please... take off the mask... *Max removes the mask and he gasps for air* Oh... thank you. Smelled like other people's faces.

Kim: What happened?

Nino: I didn't even see her... *A lavender paintball hits him square in the chest; he gasps and then pass out*

Kim: FUCK! *He pulls Max to the ground as a barrage of lavender and magenta paintballs come at them from all different directions* They’ve got us cornered! What do we do?!

Max: … We die like men, Kim. *Takes off his mask and sticks a cherry lollipop in his mouth*

Kim: Max, don’t talk like that- *Gets shot in the back by a magenta paintball and passes out*

Max: … Do it.

—

*Denise’s laughter echoes around the forest, but Ivan and Myléne cannot see them. Mint green paintballs start peppering their area. They scream as they streak past them, and run away. Ivan smashes into a tree and falls to the ground, and as Myléne helps him up, Alix and Adrien fall from the tree as well. As soon as Adrien hits the ground, he starts shooting blindly with his eyes closed*

Adrien: *Screams* Please leave us alone! I can't take it anymore! *He continues shooting, but does not hit Ivan or Myléne, who are standing directly in front of him; his paintball gun dry fires*

Alix: Chill out, it's only Ivan and Myléne.

Adrien: *Opens his eyes and sighs* ...I'm scared.

*Blue and hot pink paintballs rain down on the the four of them, and they run screaming, then dive behind a fallen log; the paintballs continue to fall*

Adrien: They’re all evil!

Ivan: Look, if we stick together we can beat them. All we need is a little time to come up with a pl-

*A grenade lands in front of them*

Alix: PAINTBOMB!

*They dive away as the grenade explodes, forest green paint getting everywhere. Simon cackles, cooking grenades and flinging them at the group, and eventually, they get caught in a blast*

Simon: *Takes off their mask and walks over to the bodies* … Hm. *Noticing Alix reaching for her gun, he kicks it away and points his at her*

Alix: … Do it.

*Without so much as hesitating, Simon hits her with a green paintball and leaves*

Simon: Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral… Too-ra-loo-ra-li~

—

*Marinette, Alya, Sabrina, and Chloé scream as they narrowly dodge sky blue paintballs and finally seek cover behind a tree. Everything suddenly calms down*

Alya: I think… They’re out of ammo. *No one responds* Guys?

*Alya notices Sabrina looking at the ground, and sees her foot on a rope, connected to a splinter. They look up and see a large navy blue balloon, which would explode if she steps off the rope*

Sabrina: … Go on without me.

Chloé: Sabrina… If you go down… So do I.

Marinette: Same here.

Alya: I’m with you, too.

Nathaniel: Guys?

*They turn to see Nathaniel standing across from them*

Marinette: Nath, we’ve made up our minds. You're the only one who can save us all from insanity. I saw the flag... it's just over that hill.

Nathaniel: No... no, don’t say that!

Alya: Just go! Just go... Go on! Get!

Nathaniel: *Hesitates, then runs away*

Sabrina: … Ready, guys?

Chloé: Do it.

Sabrina: Okay… One. Two- *Marinette, Alya, and Chloé get shot down by yellow paintballs* What the-

Zoé: Oh, Sabrina… *Cocks her gun* You didn’t think that trap did anything, did you?

Sabrina: … *She steps off of the trap and finds that it does nothing* No… NOOOO!

—

*Nathaniel sees the flag on a hill*

Nathaniel: Thank you, Marinette. *He rushes to the flag, but then hears a twig snap in the bushes and starts shouting at it* AHH!

Nino: Hey! *Comes out of the bush with his hands up* I'm out of the game! I was on my way to get a sandwich! *Walks off angrily*

Nathaniel: Sorry! Okay, let's end this. *Hearing footsteps, he prepares to shoot, but sets his gun down when he sees Juleka and Rose*

Rose: Nath! You’re okay!

Nathaniel: I hid the whole time!

Juleka: No shame in that. They were really- *Gets shot down by a red paintball and passes out*

Rose: JULEKA! *A red paintball hits her in the back, and she collapses on top of Juleka*

*A gun cocks behind Nathaniel, and a whistle is heard. Nathaniel looks behind him to see Marc*

Marc: Looks like you led me right to it. Now set the gun down and put your hands up, sweetie.

Nathaniel: No! Enough! I won! The game is over!

Marc: Not until you've grabbed that flag. Or better yet. Forfeit the game. You’re out, and your team loses.

Nathaniel: Nope! I’m not doing that! *Points his gun* You can’t use your boyfriend mind tricks on me! So, just drop your gun because I am literally five feet away from the flag!

Marc: … *Tosses his gun aside* Fine, but… Could I at least kiss the winner of the game before he shoots me down? *Bats his eyelashes*

Nathaniel: … Alright, fine. *Pulls Marc in for a kiss and is about to go for the flag, only to hear snickering behind him* What the-? *He turns and finds the Science Kids laughing* What’s happening?!

Cosette: Dude! That lipstick paint idea was genius!

Lacey: I did not expect him to fall for it!

Simon: Hey, if it’s Marc asking for a kiss, he’ll do whatever.

Nathaniel: What?!

Ismael: Nice lipstick, red!

Nathaniel: … *Feels his lips and looks at his fingers to see that instead of leaving lipstick behind when they kissed, Marc left red paint* … You didn’t.

Marc: I didn’t smear some of my own paint on my lips in the event I run into you? No, I’m sure I did that. Anyway! *Grabs the flag* Another victory for the best class at DuPont!

*The Science Kids cheer and fire their paintballs in the air*

[boosqoowoo]

beenzino - lemon (english lyrics translation)

In this song, Beenzino talks about his loneliness. He wants to leave the country and feels like he has no one. He alludes himself to a lemon, and life to a lemonade where it is both sweet and sour. He mentioned that he feel his lemon peels molding, and wants God to make lemonade by squeezing him tight. Using the metaphor, he feels like he is currently at a standstill and wants God to give him life.

The lyrics mentions feeling like lemonade in a glass cup, with fingerprints like mazes on the outside. Beenzino feels trapped, unable to escape (just like the lemonade in the glass and being stuck in a maze of fingerprints), with everyone's eyes on him (represented by the fingerprints on the cup). On top of this, he feels that his lemonade (his life) is unappetising and can't be shared. This is especially so in winter, where his depression is extra hard on him simultaneously getting sick from the cold. As the icicle grows, so does his victim mentality. And yet, he still tells the mirror in front of him, that he's ok.

뭐 있어? 여기 차 말고

what's there? besides the cars here

하늘은 하나도 안 맑어

the sky isn't clear at all

떠나버릴까 봐 나 다른 나라로

i guess i'll leave for another country

근데 다른 나란 뭐 다를까 다 까봐야 알아

but i have to be in that country to know what's different there

말도 안 걸어 이제 나한테

they don't even talk to me anymore these days

친구들에겐 난 바쁜 연예인

to my friends, i'm a busy celebrity

사람들에겐 그저 신기한 오브제

to people, i'm just an interesting object

폰에 박제되고 나면 나 끝인데

if my phone is full, i'm done for

*probably insinuating if there ever is a day his phone blows up, it would be probably because many people are contacting him due to a scandal that came up, and his career would be jeopardised

어느새 내 껍질은 썩어 곰팡이가 피네

the next thing i know, my skin is rotting with mold growing

우주인 줄 알았던 내 ego는

my ego, which i thought was the universe

그저 과일, 음악은 내 신음

it's just fruit, music is my moaning

신의 손에 난 레몬

i'm a lemon in God's hands

눈이 튀어나오게 날 꽉 쥐어

hold me tight till my eyes pop out*

*asking God to squeeze him like a lemon

내 인생은 레모네이드 sweet and sour

my life is like lemonade, sweet and sour

얼음 넣어 마셔

add ice and drink

what do you see through the glass?

유리컵엔 노랑 회색

the yellowish-gray tint of the glass cup

대각선 관통한 빨대들은 플라스틱

the diagonally pierced straws are plastic

they suck it up

구석구석 흔들어대며

waving from corner to corner*

*the movement of the straw sucking up from one side of a cup to the other

마지막 방울 위해 잔을 기울여

tilt the glass for the last drop

*insinuating people trying to suck his soul dry for the juice

이런 왜 이런 게 공감 돼

why can i relate to this?

저 주스처럼 낮은 자존감 높낮이

my self-esteem is as low as that juice

be cool be cool

get cold as ice

cold as ice

*chorus*

얼음 든 내 컵

my cup of ice

레몬 물에 성에 껴

frosted stuck in lemon water

잔엔 fingerprint

the fingerprint on the cup

지문같이 완전 미로

the fingerprint is like a maze

i feel so lost

헤 mazing

(uh-mazing) *sounds like amazing

What the I'm ok

난 레몬

im lemon

I'm ok

앞에는 거울

the mirror in front of me

*chorus repeats*

얼음 든 내 컵

레몬 물에 성에 껴

잔엔 finger print

지문같이 완전 미로

I feel so lost

헤 mazing

What the I'm ok

난 레몬

I'm ok

앞에는 거울

내 손에 따듯한 티

a warm tea in my hand

눈물을 그란데로 마셔보니

after drinking my tears from a Grande*

*a size of drink offered in coffee shops

**he is a lemon, so his tears is referring to lemonade

맛없어 못 팔아

it's unappetising, i can't sell it

fucking salty 결국 못 나눴지

it's fucking salty, i couldn't share it in the end

혼자 염전에서 목마른 채 걷지

i stagger alone on the salt field, feeling parched

술도 못 마셔 샷 잔 위 레몬 옆

i cant even drink the alcohol in the shot glass, next to the lemon

소금에 넋 놓고 공감대 형성

let go of the salt and build consensus

*this is a pun on the word salt, where salt can refer to the literal salt or the feeling of being salty, jealous of someone/something. he wants to stop being salty and build consensus with the person. by feeling salty he is alone, and he wants to stop it (as mentioned in the previous lyric about staggering alone on the salt field)

어림도 없이 눈만 높았었던

without a doubt, only my eyes were high

내 현실은 부엌에 스툴만한 lemon tree

my reality is a lemon tree the size of a stool in the kitchen

*at the end of the day, his life (lemon tree) is as insignificant as a stool in a kitchen is

"isolation is not good for you"

but isolation is 흙 (soil) for me*

*he is a lemon tree, and isolation is soil for him, which means he needs isolation to grow and prosper

난 묻혔지 우울증이 이불인 듯

im buried in depression like a blanket

이 컵이 아니라 정원이었으면 해

i don't want this cup, i want a garden

*he wants to grow in a garden, not being restricted in this cup

비를 맞은 피해의식이 열매처럼

victim mentality hit by rain is like a fruit*

*the victim mentality sprouting like a fruit, growing with rain

주렁주렁 주렁주렁

growing growing

겨울엔 더 특히

especially more in winter

온몸이 콜록

my whole body is coughing

온몸이 cold

my whole body is cold

눈물이 go low

my tears go low

고드름 go low

icicle go low

온몸이 콜록

my whole body is coughing

고드름 grow low

icicle grow low

Be cool but I'm so

콜록

cough

*chorus repeats*

얼음 든 내 컵

레몬 물에 성에 껴

잔엔 finger print

지문같이 완전 미로

I feel so lost

헤 mazing

What the I'm ok

난 레몬

I'm ok

앞에는 거울

[atplblog]

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[storea2zuser]

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[holethoa2010]

Harvesting passion fruit out in the field | Make a summer beverage

1. Preparation:** - **Timing:** Passion fruit typically ripens in late summer to early fall. Look for fruit that has turned a deep purple or yellow, depending on the variety. - **Tools:** Have a pair of garden gloves, pruning shears, and a basket or container for collecting the fruit. **

2. Identifying Ripeness:** - **Color:** Mature passion fruit should have a vibrant color. Purple varieties turn deep purple, while yellow varieties become bright yellow. - **Texture:** The skin should be slightly wrinkled. A smooth, shiny skin often indicates that the fruit is not yet ripe. **

3. Harvesting:** - **Method:** Gently twist the fruit off the vine or cut the stem with pruning shears. Be careful not to damage the vine or surrounding fruit. - **Handling:** Place the fruit gently in your basket to avoid bruising. Passion fruit is delicate and can be easily damaged. **

4. Post-Harvest Care:** - **Storage:** Store unripe passion fruit in a cool, dry place. Once ripe, it should be refrigerated to extend freshness. Ripe fruit can last up to two weeks in the refrigerator.

 #### **Making a Summer Beverage** **

1. Passion Fruit Juice** - **Ingredients:** - 4-6 ripe passion fruits - 

2 cups cold water - Sweetener (optional, like honey or sugar) - Ice cubes (for serving) - Mint leaves (for garnish, optional) - **Instructions:** 1. **Prepare the Passion Fruit:** - Cut each fruit in half and scoop out the pulp and seeds into a bowl. 

2. **Extract Juice:** - Using a strainer or cheesecloth, press the pulp to extract the juice. You should get about 1 cup of juice from 4-6 passion fruits. 

3. **Mix:** - In a pitcher, combine the passion fruit juice with 2 cups of cold water. Add sweetener if desired, adjusting to taste. 

4. **Chill:** - Stir well and chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. 

5. **Serve:** - Pour over ice cubes and garnish with mint leaves if desired. Serve chilled. **2. Passion Fruit Lemonade** - 

**Ingredients:** - 1 cup passion fruit juice (from above) - 1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice - 1 cup sugar - 4 cups cold water - Ice cubes (for serving) - Lemon slices (for garnish, optional) - **Instructions:** 

1. **Prepare the Lemonade Base:** - In a pitcher, dissolve the sugar in the lemon juice by stirring well. 

2. **Combine Juices:** - Add the passion fruit juice and cold water to the pitcher. Stir until well combined. 

3. **Chill:** - Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow the flavors to meld. 

4. **Serve:** - Pour over ice cubes and garnish with lemon slices if desired. Serve chilled. **3. Passion Fruit Mojito** - 

**Ingredients:** - 1/2 cup passion fruit juice - 1/4 cup fresh lime juice - 10 fresh mint leaves - 2 tablespoons sugar - 2 oz white rum (optional) - Soda water - Ice cubes - **Instructions:** 

1. **Muddle Mint:** - In a glass, muddle the mint leaves with sugar and lime juice to release the mint’s flavor. 

2. **Add Juice and Rum:** - Pour in the passion fruit juice and rum if using. Stir well. 

3. **Add Ice and Soda Water:** - Fill the glass with ice cubes and top off with soda water. 

4. **Garnish:** - Garnish with additional mint leaves and a lime wedge. Serve chilled. Enjoy your refreshing summer beverages made with freshly harvested passion fruit!

[insomniacson1]

If I could roll up my money

And smoke it, I would

Always travel light

Catch your eye

Don't blink twice

If I could make lemonade

From your lemons, I would

Squeeze 'em hard and sour

Shut your eyes

Don't make nice

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Forever

I'd take the tag off your sister

And keep her for good

Keep her fat and sick

Steal her eyes

Pawn her diamonds

If I could pay off my doctor

And get better, I would

Really bleed him dry

Steal his eyes

Take advice

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Forever

If I could curse out your sister

Speaking in tongues

Get her good and paid

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Oh no, oh no

Will you love me forever?

Forever

[sabertoothwalrus]

sure! it was mostly pulled from this recipe, with some variations

Lavender Mint Lemonade

chop up some fresh mint leaves (I think I used about 8-10? use your own discretion for how minty you want it but I found more mint was better) and add to a bowl with 4 tablespoons of dried culinary lavender. add 2 cups of sugar to the bowl and (with clean, dry hands) rub the mint and lavender into the sugar.

Add 4 cups of water to a saucepan on the stove. Before it boils, add the sugar/lavender/mint mixture. Stir until it dissolves. Continue heating until the water boils. Let it boil for a couple minutes but probably not too long cause idk it might scorch the leaves and make it bitter ?

Remove the minty lavender tea from heat. Cover it, and let it steep for a minimum of 30 minutes but longer is better. This is a really good time to make a pasta salad or take a nap or play some video games.

Strain the tea (if you don’t have a strainer or cheesecloth, you can pour through a clean dish towel) into your pitcher. Stir in 1.5-2 cups of lemon juice. Freshly squeezed is probably good but I’m lazy and cheap so I used an entire 15 oz bottle of kroger brand lemon juice. Add 4 cups of cold water (or to desired dillution).

Let it chill until it’s completely cooled. Serve with ice if you want. I don’t, because the ice from my ice maker tastes yucky when it melts, and adding ice dilutes it more.

Serve! Tastes good with malibu lmao

Whats your favorite summer snack/drink?

lavender mint lemonade!! I made some recently for a pool party and it was a hit 🪻🌱🍋

[m0e-ru]

if atIus gives iznmi an ounce of personality I'll start biting people's limbs off

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 24: Butler Juice (Yellow)

HEY EVERY  !! Been a while, hasn't it? I’m back with another Butler Juice that’s as sunny and flavorful as summer itself: the yellow variety! While Butler Juice is said to change color and flavor with temperature, this sunshine-colored-punch tastes best when kept refrigerated, especially during warmer weather.

I experimented a bit with the amounts of pineapple and mango for this drink to achieve a delicious result, so that the pineapple doesn’t overpower the flavor. Because mango is used, it may have a slightly slimy texture, but with a cheesecloth, I managed to reduce its sliminess a bit. If you’re hypersensitive to food textures, you can just remove the mango to get yourself a pineapple lemonade. Still yellow, still delicious.

You’ll also need fresh lemons, about 3 or 4, to get one whole cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice. I only needed two and a half because I had bought some huge lemons, but average-size lemons may call for at least four , but if you’re using even smaller lemons, such as Meyer lemons, you may need 8! One thing to keep in mind: the heavier the lemon, the more juice it has, so be sure to get yourself some lemons with a good weight to them!

Just like in my recipe for the blue Butler Juice, you’ll need simple syrup - about 3/4 cup of it to dilute the tartness of the lemon and pineapple juice! I’ll repeat the recipe for that here, just so you don’t have to go looking for it (or if you don’t want to tap the link). I suggest making the simple syrup first, before juicing your lemons.

For the pineapple, you only need 1 cup. You can use fresh or canned, I opted for buying fresh, pre-sliced pineapple because whole ones can be very tricky to cut up, what with their tough skin and everything. If you’re skipping the mangoes entirely, you can add more pineapple to taste to make up for it.

Speaking of mangoes, you’ll need two. I try to get as much of the fruit in there as possible. For mango cutting, (this guide explains it better than I can), you cut the wide ends off, slice the fruit, but try not to cut the peel. Turn the peel inside out, and scrape the fruit off of it and into your blender or food processor. Repeat this three more times. Now, you’ll still have some fruit around the large, flat seed in the middle. Those parts are harder to cut off. I try to peel what’s left, then slice as much fruit off near the big stone as I can. Often, I’m squeezing the remaining fruit around the stone over the blender to get as much juice out of it, because the fruit there is stringy and hard to cut off. Since mangoes are a slimy fruit, it may be better not to try this as it may make your drink slimier, but I like to get as much of that tasty mango juice in there as possible!

Water is also needed, mainly to dilute the lemon juice. The water is added to the pineapple and mango and blended all together (the lemon juice and simple syrup go into a big bowl or pitcher first and are mixed together). Use a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth, whichever you have that’s finer, to separate as much juice from the pulp as possible. Strain and squeeze over your bowl as you’ll have more room and are less likely to miss.

Stir up your juice and then ladle it into a pitcher, then store it in your refrigerator.

BUTLER JUICE (YELLOW):

3/4 cup granulated sugar

4 cups water, divided

2 mangoes, peeled and cubed

1 cup pineapple, cut into bite-sized slices

1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 3-4 average-sized lemons)

Combine sugar and 1 cup of water in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Once syrup is boiling, reduce heat to low and let simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and let cool.

Wash and dry lemons and mangoes, slice lemons in half and squeeze out the juice with a hand citrus juicer, until you fill up 1 cup. Add lemon juice to a large mixing bowl with 3/4 cup cooled syrup and stir.

Slice off the wide sides of the mangoes and slice fruit into cubes without cutting the peel, then turn inside out (OR you can just peel and cube your mango halves). Scrape cubed mango off the peel into the blender. Peel and cut off remaining mango around the core and add into the blender as well.

Slice up fresh pineapple chunks or canned pineapple and fill 1 cup - don’t chop TOO finely however, or that will be way more pineapple than you need (unless you’re omitting the mango). Just cut up big chunks into bite-sized pieces. Add to blender.

Add the remaining 3 cups of water into the blender, put the lid on, and set to Liquefy or Puree. Blend until a smooth, lumpy juice forms.

With a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth, squeeze out or strain the pineapple-mango mixture to separate as much juice from the fruit pulp as possible. You may need to do this a little at a time if you’re using a cheesecloth.

Stir together your yellow Butler Juice, and ladle into a pitcher. Place in the refrigerator to chill and to keep it fresh.

Pour juice into a glass and enjoy!

[ratsoh-writes]

When life gives you lemons…

Sans: you give life ketchup. It’s called bartering.

Papyrus: you make lemonade to share with your friends!! Then ask life for more lemons cause that stuff was nice!

Star: you use the lemons as target practice for your gun, then regret your life decisions when you realize your little bro could’ve made lemon bars.

Honey: dunno? Make lemon bars? Is this a trick question?

Red: you throw them at the neighbors dogs who won’t stop barking at 3am

Edge: you make lemonade and refuse to share with anyone. Especially not dirty *ss brothers who can’t clean up their own dishes

Mal: you dry them out to make a nice cleaner for your kitchen counter

Cash: you peel it like an orange and offer “orange slices” to your friends

Oak: you leave it on your desk and forget about it for two weeks

Willow: you sprinkle a little sugar on top and have it with your morning crepe! Delicious!

Charm: you eat that sucker raw because of a dare.

Sugar: you leave them in the fruit bowl on the kitchen, then go on a shopping spree for more fruits cause the lemons looked lonely

Lord: you debate squeezing one right on your nosy *ss friends pristine white shirt, then remember you actually like said friend

Mutt: you feed a slice to your baby raccoon, tape it, and get her famous on the undernet

Wine: you dry out some slices and put them in decorative candles.

Coffee: you give them to your brother. Who needs lemons these days?

Pop: you feed them to the eels in the creek behind the power plant .

Rhythm: you make a lovely strawberry lemonade for your students! They practiced hard and deserve the treat!

Pluto: you cross breed them with a magical plant to see if you can create a new crop staple, then you get bored and move on to a new interest

Jupiter: you give them to star cause he ran out of lemons for target practice

G: you reject the lemons and demand oranges instead

Green: you politely accept and immediately begin making a thank you letter for life’s generosity. You and life are now pen pals

Peaches: you plant the seeds and grow a lemon empire! Mwahahahahah

Rancher: you throw them at the gosh dang crows who won’t stay out of your field

Snipe: you shoot life. How did you get into my house???

Bruiser: you squeeze the juice into your enemies eyes.

Ace: you leave a lemon on life’s doorstep every morning, then their car, then their desk, then their bedroom pillow. Life spirals into insanity. Just as they’re being carted to the inane asylum, you leave one last lemon in their cell

Slim: you make a poorly timed wattpad “lemon” joke

Butch: you squeeze the juice into your enemies open wounds

Boss: you put the lemon slices on the fish you’re grilling (and flick the juice into your enemies eyes)

Lilac: you are older and wiser, so you leave one lemon aside before using the rest as target practice. But it was all for naught. Your brother needed two lemons to make the lemon bars

Basil: you make lemon bars, but you don’t question why. Life is too short for questions

Rust: you resist the urge to feed the lemons to your kids

Noir: you feed the lemons to rusts kids and laugh at their little scrunched faces

Lush: you resell the lemons as organic for twice the price even though they’re literally just normal lemons

Pepper: you make a lovely face mask to bleach your bones with

Sparks: you squeeze a little lemon juice in your water then act like you’re a fancy actor all day

Salt: you hide your lemons from your psychotic friends

Gears: you enchant the lemons into lemon mettaton. It goes up in flames in two minutes. Dammit

Compass: you sleep with the lemon next to your pillow cause it smells nice :)

[kthynes]

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (4/7)

part four: tom collins

previous part

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader; fem!reader x andy barber

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

word count: ~5.9k

warnings: 18+ nsfw. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — This part contains: course language, smut-ish thots, mutual pining, yearning, bit of slow burn. Character epiphanies.

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

“What do you think about Tom Collins?”

You were perused like a sullen deer on headlights the moment you set your purse down, winded by Steve’s ever lending cogency that follows. There’s no hi, hello or a ‘how are you?’ Just a tall order of perfidy that bubbles in a polished Collins glass. And so with that, you take what’s given with reciprocation.

“Like the drink? Cheers.” You lift your brows and hasten a quick sip.

“And the goading gentleman to your right.” Steve adds. A mouse-like sound escapes from your lips and part way into the drink that you were ambitiously trying to double down.

“Don’t look yet…” He confides a little too quickly, pardoning your cadence that overtures by the second. You were the least bit curious, studying the moiety bartender who never backed down from a charismatic dare. Ever.

“I can’t believe you.” You shake your head with disbelief, mouthful and embittering the aftertaste of club soda while swatting away a questionable water stain that blotches the front of your silk tie blouse.

Great. You mumble your tyrannies, eyes flitting to the godly super soldier who pillory pins you with a similar look.

“What?” He innocently garbles while drying glassware on rotation. The long braided end of the muddling spoon hangs between his teeth and lips, holding onto dear life as he coyly turns to unload the dishwasher.

Today was like no other. You were in a continuous row of meetings when his late-afternoon text read: ‘Come by tonight. I need to see you, it’s dire.’

Unimaginable on any front, Steve's dinky little Nokia finally gave way and that’s how you were settled back at the bar, diaphragm painfully pressed up against the ledge and barely squeezing by in a full house. It’s some fucking night and you can’t tell if it’s a harbinger open mic or your inferred commisseration that’s on for show.

“This isn’t a matter of life or death, Steve. I’m not supposed to be here. Also what’s in this? Tastes a little out of the ordinary.” You point to your partially spilt drink, trying to remember the acquired taste of lemonade. “Straight up battery acid and laundry detergent.”

“You’d know?” He pops the spoon out and tosses it back in the wash basin. No one lampoons his craft, not even the woman he inexplicably revered.

“Fine! Don’t tell me… Like I care.” You flippantly counter. Steve chuckles, shaking his head that strums out the palatial house music. Your suffering came easy. He’d almost always see for it.

“It’s Yuzu juice, you spazz.” He adds, reaching for your glass and doubtlessly sipping on the drink himself.

“Yuzu what?” The way your eyes lit up was a glimmering prospect that Steve could not get enough of. He would have to hold your face right to gaze into them longingly, desperate to wane that connection.

Don’t do this to me. He mentally berates himself on your behalf, a tendon in his jaw flexes, feeling impalpably short handed.

“I guess not all types of lemons make lemonade.” He polishes off your drink for you and then goes back to tweaking the recipe. “Why don’t we try out John then.”

John Collins another reverted classic but with whiskey. You release a noncommittal grunt, distracted in your undoing as Steve relinquishes a cathartic smile.

“Tell me if this needs more bourbon.” The super soldier is saccharine, nudging another partially made drink with laser-like focus. Amongst the nightly kerfuffle, he’s curious to know and as the glass touches your plump lips, you’re disregarded again.

“Oh! Sorry!” A large bodied patron tumbles into you, preceding your fruitless conquest. Most of the aged bourbon now weighs down your top, the rest on the counter where the glass rolls on its side. Thank goodness for unbreakable glassware.

“Here, I got it.” Steve assures the crowd, sweeping in with another tea towel.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Last to start a fight, your hands come down from the high heavens and smack against your thighs, gawking like a fish out of water.

“Fuck I am so sorry.” The stocky stranger groans, jamming his hands through his mane, disbelievingly slow.

“Come out back and I’ll get you a spare shirt.” Steve discerns, swiping a hand under to unlock the half table as a gesture to get you in. But then a swarm of frat boys call out to him, demanding to be serviced.

“Just deal with them.” You dismiss.

Steve gives you an unsatisfactory one over, watching you release a long, fulsome breath. He can’t help but be distracted by the way your blouse clings onto the contours of your perfectly rounded breasts, the wet buttons nearly coming undone in the middle and further easing your frustrations. From a short distance, he could hear you moan a breathy little ‘fuck me’ over and over again. Invariably different from the literal meaning itself.

“Hey man.” Shit.

“You boys, uh, good for another round?” Steve comes out of a dazed state, quickly looking away for his own good.

“Hell yeah we are.” A Nordic blonde pipes with a hearty laugh. He has a small entourage of friends that gather next to him and look to the other, enthusiastic conversations overlapping their youthful mien while you’re pushed aside at their leisurely precedence.

“I am so very sorry about that.” One of his friends (presumed) extends to you, still by your side and close in your ear. You stiffen upright, crooning away from his ticklish aura. “S’not bad right?”

“I’m good, um, thanks.” You inspect the stain, swatting at it to no avail.

“I think you missed a spot there.” He adds, half lidded while pointing right at your chest. You shield yourself away and soon a Seth Rogen type of cackle shakes his form, obnoxiously disturbing.

“Oh for fucks sake.” You curse at your wits end, letting the sodden wet patch bear its own defeatist tale to tell. He caws a resounding ‘what’ that volleys between his friends.

“Let’er be Patsy.” A gangly brunette in a varsity hoodie reaches over and grabs the swaying giant by the collar, pulling him into a one arm chokehold. “Sorry ‘bout our friend, love. He’s a big dumb lug.”

“Fuck you, Anders.” They share a laugh and that’s when you lose yourself in an unwarranted cockamamie. “I was just tryn’a be… nice.” He coyly trails.

“Nice, huh?” Varsity jock snickers. Steve tucks his bottom lip in, returning to a pile up of drinks that were served on rotation. You stuck it to him as he worked the bend, ignoring the men next you who were way too young to entertain.

“You know I had a pivotal pitch to make. A multi-million dollar project just outside midtown Manhattan, for a long time investor and you just had to—“

“Do you trust me?” Steve interjects, grabbing a large glass bottle of what looked like Ketel One. The decanter is tossed up, down, behind his back and then over his shoulder with expertise. Show off.

“Now why would I do that?” You snap, tone deathly abhorrent. He finishes off his baton bottle work and begins to pour six shots at once.

“Why wouldn’t you?” He’s patronizing you. “Here you are fellas, cheers.”

“Ay cheers! Thanks man.” The surfer blonde bounces his brows at Steve, sliding a crisp ten before gathering and passing around the shots.

“Point to the nearest bridge and I’ll jump.” You state once it’s just the two of you duking it out.

“How ‘bout I point you to him instead.” He nods to the side while pouring some hard ciders into a frosted slim Jim.

“Steve.” You wail.

“Go on.”

Past the herd of patrons you spot a polished tycoon, ten seats down, sporadically clad in a dark blue, French made suit like a Wall St imperialist.

It’s a sight when your eyes meet in the polarizing darkness for the first time. He’s straight backed and almost eager to see you, a flat fist on his hip while the other hand softly flexes against the countertop. The vying apprehension is impalpable. He forces a hurried smile in your general direction and you did nothing but remain astute. Was he there this whole time? Watching? Hoping? Waiting?

“Like what you see?”

There wasn’t a bewitching iota of care as your bored gaze looms over his physique, noticing his thick tree trunk legs spread apart over the small round bar stool. He must’ve been uncomfortable, a pariah in a localist bar filled with hoppers and tosspots as Wes would eloquently put.

But a businessman (like him) meant business even while wooing their pursuit in gander. Although, this particular mogul in seized questioning had broad spanning shoulders, shapely arms and large feet to euphemize.

“Fuck this.” You shake your head, routing an escape.

Here’s the thing; mystery suit man wasn’t necessarily bad to look at. Very good looking to the teeth, freckle and beard. But you knew his type. A financial broker of some sort, an Alpha constant, someone you’d have to one up by means of survival. Your ex was the same animal. There’s no way you could break even or fall back.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N.” Steve softly agonizes.

“Is that really his name?” You question as the corner of your mouth twitches.

“His father owns a large corporate distillery, so he occasionally comes by to market inventory and close accounts while at it.” Steve incubates with a story, meeting your gaze that gyps his longtime associate. “Great guy.”

“I see and what does that have to do with me?” You stupidly wonder.

Steve, who is a little side tracked, wipes his hands on the back of his starchy Levi’s, carefully looking around his workstation for a stray muddler or a dowel in sight. As he tries to wield his attention, a stern divot forms in between his brows. His thoughts are a little divisive so he lets it be.

“Well, it just so happens that he’s seen you frollicking around the bar and has taken quite the interest. And I figured why not help a brother out.” He gives a crinkly eyed grin that doesn’t touch your heart.

“In me?” You’re gaffed. “I’m the pursuit?”

“Yes, you, of all people. Hi there, what can I get started for you?” He expertly turns his attention towards a shifty middle aged man in a J. Crew polo and khakis.

“Oh, um, I’m undecided at the moment.” He hums, distracted by his mobile.

“No rush.”

“So by accepting his drink I have to talk to him?” You retest, pointing to nothing. The glass was upright and empty.

“That would be an exemplary thing to do, seeing as you already put your dirty little mouth on it.” On the contrary, you both did.

“Yeah I don’t know if I’m ready to be pursued yet or punished for that matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just got out of a long, withholding relationship and the last thing I need is to get back in the game to eternalize those traumas.”

“That was over 6 months ago, Y/N. You’re allowed to talk to people, take things slow.” Steve muses, gallant and loud. “Y’know rock the boat if you will.”

“You clearly don’t get it… I mean look at your handy -you do the jerk off motion- roster.” You remind him of his self care tendencies.

“Works for me.” He holds up his trusty right hand which is clasped over a steel shaker and then starts fisting another spuming cocktail in conjecture. “Also, I don’t tell you these things for you to hold it over my head.”

Steve’s slightly embarrassed to admit that he hasn’t been on a proper date in a long time. Partly because being a worldly superhero rarely afforded him a plausible (and pleasurable) love life. So in more ways than one you both were akin to unavailability by definition and example.

“But I’m your informant who by happenstance makes you feel so fucking good about yourself... Tell me I’m right.”

“Not even the slightest.” So he says.

“Look Steve, I’m a complete weirdo. I like being on my own and left alone.”

“That’s fine. Your weirdness might be his kink.” You’re just about to open your mouth and say something, he curtly cuts you off. “But he just wants to get to know you.”

“And then what?” Your tone goes up an octave as if there aren't enough people who don’t know your business.

“See how he’s like first and if he’s not top shit then it’s back to square one, wherever the hell that is.”

“You’re out of your mind. Why are you doing this?” While casting a downward gaze, Steve cracks a gentle smile that irks every fiber of your being. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know, I mean… I’d like to think that I care outside of my own spatial awareness.” He pauses, inquisitively biting down on his lower lip while muddling some berries, grinding harder when a more perverse thought hits him. “Also when was the last time you got laid?”

“Excuse me? That’s none of your business.” You squeak.

“So then make it his.” He chides, leaning in close to get a not-so-secretive point across. “Blow his mind, dick, whatever. Just don’t be so damn closed off.”

“You’re peacocking me.”

“Peacocking you?” Steve snorts at the term. “If anything your feathers are being unnecessarily ruffled right now.”

“I can’t be put out like this, Steve! I am not OK.” You grovel which then turns into contempt. “Do you understand that or do I have to talk stupid for you to get it?”

“Okay you know what… We’re gonna talk.” You faintly mutter a ‘fuck that.’ He ignores you. There are things being set aside, distinct clatter that mingles with the jive bar music playing above. You’re a little disappointed. Steve is nothing but determined.

He finally finishes up and passes off a diddly order to Wes before meeting you at eye level. He’s about to get real with you and that’s when your heart drops into your asshole. Inconsequentially, no one should do that to you but he does so anyways.

“Now before you throw a shit fit, I can assure you that he’s nothing like your ex. Just like you aren’t the same person you were when you first came into this bar. I mean do you remember how fucking insufferable you were?”

“You never let me see the day.”

“Yeah well, I took a chance on you... So let him.” Steve apprehended you with a terse, idiosyncratic look.

“God you are so un-fucking-believable.” You finally grit on the edge of consideration.

He lets out an airy little laugh while standing up straight. “I think what you’re trying to say is ‘thank you Steve for being so kind and considerate.’”

“Never that.”

“Here, let me get you both a booth started… That way I’m at peace.” He pushes back and calls over Ian to settle this arrangement, once and for all.

The more you flip flopped the less inclined you’d be to actually go on this date and Steve wanted you to be happy again. Not just with him but without him. He wanted you to consider someone new and young and exciting and human. Someone who’d make you feel whole and loved. Appreciated and valued. Someone who’d kiss you like their last breath and hold you closely. Steve wanted you for someone else and this seemed to be the only way to harbour off the impetuous feelings he had for you since that night he first met you.

“Oh my god, this is really happening.” You panic, both hands caging your face. Steve takes the lead, guiding you down the strip in slow stride. He patiently watches your resolve crumble even though you gracefully hold to your own. “I don’t think I shaved.”

“Don’t sweat it. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight irregardless of the titty stain–” his eyes fail to look away as they land on your chest. Your skin is set ablaze, a hand landing protectively on your chest.

“I’m gonna knock your two front teeth out.” He’d like to see you wrestle and try.

“You’ll be fine, here take this.” He manages to grab a spare shirt. His spare shirt. The one that he changed out of prior to his shift. You owlishly stare at him, imposing your innocence and disregard before he offers some sage assurance. “Just say when and I’ll get you out.”

“When.” You grab the waffle knit Henley, making yourself small in the ascend.

“Try that in Mandarin.” He levels up.

“I don’t know Mandarin!” You whisper yell.

“Exactly. You got this.” He turns to the man now stationed in front of you. “She’s all yours my friend.”

“Hi.” The handsome stranger lets out a breathy chuckle while slipping out of the stool and onto his feet. Standing at an impressive, neck breaking height, you’re completely enchanted. You swallow a thick bundle of nerves caught in your windpipe, wordlessly stock still. Shit.

“Hi!” You fucking cringe. “It’s… It’s Tom, right?”

“Tom? Oh no it’s, uh, Andy, Andy Barber.” He pageants a sheepish little half grin.

This fucker. “An-dy, right, I… I’m so sorry I thought–”

“By no fault of your own. I know Steve.” He dismissively shakes his head, clearly in on a joke that you failed to comprehend.

“Don’t we all?” You mutter.

“Cuuuute.” Ian appears from the throngs of people, briefly looking (gawking) at you first and then slowly eyes Andy who purses his lips into a grim smile. There’s a bit of a hold up as he starts swiping away on his iPad, face contorting over the bright blue lit hue.

“Alriiiight and we are all set! I can have you both seated now. Right this way.”

🍸

They say in the presence of absence you can almost feel everything and it’s true. You felt your heartbeat clamor to an uneven tempo, palms clammy and chafed as they glide along the runs in your black stockings, rubbing up and down, barely corroding friction.

Your ex once said: ‘You’d be prettier if you smiled.’ Uneasily, you grimaced.

There’s a long, rafting silence that follows until your drinks are finally placed in front of you. You stick to water and Andy chooses to have a sweaty pilsner. Compliments of the house, of course.

“Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” He teases, quickly thanking the waitress on standby.

“I’m good for now, thanks.” You take a distracted sip of water, eyes wandering the annex, hotly turning away from the gorgeous man plucked for your pleasure. Andy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness because he’s right there with you.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind because I can definitely recommend some on brand items.” He takes a rivaling swig and studies your exact facial proportions up close for the first time. Like Steve and any other man in the precipice, your striking beauty is an immeasurable mark. Even Andy catches himself staring a second too long.

“Of course.” You finally unnerve a smile that sees a new light of day and he nods, understandably.

“I know you probably weren’t expecting to be set up.” He states, scratching the porous surface all while you let out a haphazard chuckle.

“It’s been awhile that’s for sure. But I guess we all have to start somewhere right?” You wearily confess, pressing your lips together in a thin line.

“Yeah.” He exhales, reliving many instances where he’s tried to put himself out there but failed miserably. There’s some silent wallowing and now you took pity on him, straightening your back a little.

“So tell me one thing, Andy.” You begin, pulling him from his self-doubts with a saccharine look.

“Lay it on me.” He hums almost immediately, matching your coy demeanour at par. He was undeniably handsome so you decided to give him the time of night.

“Why liquor?” You lean up against the table, concurring a congenial approach. A small, delighted smile tugs at the corners of his bearded mouth, entertaining your fervour with his own.

He lowers his chin, letting you in on his sworn secrecy that takes a crack at your inquisition. “I’m glad you asked.”

🍸

Steve hears your melodically in tune laughter. An open soliloquy, much likeness to you, weaves through an unassuming crowd that rushes the works of a good cocktail and personal milieu. Midst it all, you were being unintentional and cute, letting your hair down for once, chasing a pursuit.

Steve candidly takes turns working the pike while you’re hysterical about cereal being soup.

“You can’t be so literal.” You cock your head to side, leaning into the conversation more with poise.

“Why not?” Andy pushes back. He has an arm splayed over the top of the vinyl seating as you begin to encroach his space. You’re both facing each other, bodies turned at an angle and away from the crowd. Andy, respectfully, admires your free-spiritedness and childlike wonder. You were more so taken by his dissuasion, at ease with the fact that Andy Barber was truly as good as they came.

“Bloody Mary’s.” You finally conjure.

“Bloody Mary’s.” Andy echoes, his hand makes a fist and then he lies the side of his head against it, completely beguiled.

“That’s soup.”

“Oh yeah?” He mocks you, earnestly laughing in return.

“Yes!” You harrumphed, voice carrying over.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Andy’s eyes thin out over another sip of beer.

“Because you were trying to be funny.”

“And did it work?” He states, expectantly. Your mouth is drawn open and his gaze flickers for a quick second. You were about to say something insignificant and coy. Steve took the time to listen closely, his movements slow down and there’s some acclimating trepidation.

“Hey Steve, table 3 ordered some margs awhile back and they haven’t been served yet.” Matt swoops in after clearing his bar end. All the worry lines are apparent as he stalls by dishwasher. “What’s the hold up my guy?”

“I’m on it.” Steve distances himself at keel. His hawk-like eyes are still fixated on you, engrossed by every little misdemeanour for show.

Your words are amiss now. The smile on your face is tenfold. Andy matches your gracious tenure with a little self-satisfied grin and that resonated with Steve when he felt infatuation (and agitation) at its best. Without a doubt you were giving your blind date the same repertoire you’d belly Steve with and that didn’t sit right with the super soldier himself as he sludges crushed ice into a chalice.

“Is he supposed to be the one?” Matt inquires, folding his arms over his chest.

“He’s a possibility.” Steve answers while briefly looking over his shoulder. The other bartender huffs while leaned up against the churning machine. He’s tentative on holding back but then goes against his own moral code, purely out of chaos.

“Does she know that he’s a widow?” Matt makes himself useful again, passing limes in an attempt to speed up and sour the process. “A father on the mend.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He grumbles to himself.

“Honest thoughts… Go on, I wanna hear it.” Steve challenges. Matt rolls his eyes, prying open another drink mixer.

“No you don’t.” He exhausts.

“Try me.”

The two men box step around the narrow strip, wordlessly shelving a tray of missed margaritas. This goes on for a bit before there’s a grievance in order.

“Look man, Andy's great and all. Sublime even. But he’s so far down the line, don’t you think?” Matt carefully advises while straining to decant fresh lime juice into each goblet.

“He’s good for her.” Steve forewarned, passing the attendant another bottle of orange liqueur. He offers what he thinks is palatable for the mix but Matt feels otherwise.

“Now that’s some unconvincing bullshit.” He berates. “Also pass me the Curaçao.”

“Why don’t you ever look out for her?” Steve stops midway into his absent cocktail mastery. One martini glass down, many others empty.

“Because I know where we stand.” Matt snorts. “Whereas your inclination is a little different. Curaçao.”

“Don’t.” Steve grits, finally sliding the requested bottle across the vinyl.

“I see the way you look at her, brother.” Matt patronizes him. “It doesn’t get past me one bit and that’s fine, feelings are funny like that.”

Steve cocks his head aside with a resigned look, jaw ticking in place when their eyes meet. Was it that obvious?

“Just make sure when the time comes that you let her down easy…” He uncorked the bottle, gracing his friend a tight smile. “However your superhuman heart tells you so.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her.” The honey blonde bar back defends, running a hand over his bearded mouth.

“I’m not!” He hears himself fretfully repeating the statement, jolted with guilt.

“I get that. But if you aren’t being honest with your intentions then you’re no better than her ill advised ex.” Matt reminds him. He finishes up and quickly plates the margaritas, garnishing each drink with a lime slice. “Do right by her and maybe she’ll owe you another lifetime.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steve ponders over the idea of his lifetime versus yours and if the wait would be worthwhile.

“Hey man I hate to boss the boss but can we pick up the pace?” Matt states in close proximity to Steve, earning him a shove.

“Fuck outta here.”

🍸

The evening crowd lulls out by the eleventh hour. Stools are being flipped over the small serving tables. There’s some collective chaos as Steve peruses by, ceaselessly endeavouring his managerial duties. He’s bounded by his wait staff who’d constantly approach him, curtailing his need to keep after you.

But you were fine. Swilled by the sweetest wines and cocktails. Andy took good care of you, making sure your tasting flights were in order and water was plentiful. He was a true gentleman. Steve did good by you this time. You owed him that.

“Thank you for tonight.” You hum, standing your ground while a bustle of servers pass by. They’re just as smitten by you and Andy who stare eye to eye at a cordial distance. From out of the blue Shaylene gawks with a double thumbs up. Her contentious approval makes you breathe laughter, bowing your head.

“Shaylene?” Andy surmises, curious enough to look over his shoulder.

You nod lazily. “The one and only.”

“Always onto me.” He clucks, shaking his head. “All in good fun though.”

“Of course.” You add while rummaging through your purse.

“Hey, I was thinking… we should, um, do this again sometime.” He offers, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I’d like that.” You look up from your phone to see his brows shoot up to his gelled hairline, mouth forming a puckered ‘o.’ He’s taken aback. But then again was there supposed to be a catch?

“Great!” He exhales after holding his breath for some time. Relieved. “Wow, OK! We can, um, definitely make that happen.”

“You were really holding off there, huh?” You tease, biting down on your bottom lip.

“I mean I didn’t want to seem too ambitious.” He embibs and then mutters an affliction under his breath. “Or out of practice.”

“You’re good.” You coo, tone low and insouciant. His smile broadens, creating perfect little creases along his face and the corners of his eyes.

“So how’re we feeling?” Andy initiates a small step forward that yearns for closeness.

“Barely buzzed.” You give him a sideways look as he hovers over you, huffing with laughter. He’s outright predictable. Showing his interest through the art of subtlety and the small buoyant gestures that paralyzes your entire state of being. Though at moment, you were really contemplating on calling an Uber —but then again, where would that take you?

Home, dummy.

Your heart skips a beat when Andy’s hand lightly grazes your forearm, holding you in place but not astray. “Your centre of gravity is telling me otherwise.”

“I promise you that I’m fine. It’s these shoes.” You kick up your foot, almost taking him out by the shins. “Oh fuck I’m so sorry! Wasn’t trying to kick you there.”

“Well that’s one way to get a man on his knees.” He winks and you both erupt into a fit of belly hurting laughter. It’s a fleeting ordeal as Andy gets a missed call.

“Ah shoot I should get this.” He contemplates while glancing at the blue white screen. In close stride he tells you that he’ll be out front waiting for you in his car. You insist on taking an Uber. He’s not having it.

“You’re coming with me. That’s that. No if’s, ands or buts.”

You jerk your head back thinking the same thing that crosses his mind. Sex. “Oh c’mon not like that!” He defends boisterously, hands spread apart.

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.” You snipe, only giving him a hard time.

“Let’s not go there alright?” Those were the final parting words before Andy's phone bleeps again.

He finally excuses himself, ducking out of the ambient establishment that leaves you empty and satiably hollow.

As you relapse, your eyes cut to Steve who’s hunched over stacks of paperwork and QA audits. You were staring, wondering if this is what he wanted for you. Muscle memory brought you right to him.

“There’s my girl.” He harps under his breath, deeply unaffected by his due diligence and your impervious candour. He’s attentively going over a long rap sheet, tallying profits in one go while you stand before him, unabated.

“Hey you.” You barely get by on a whisper, plucking at some cocktail picks left aside.

“Now was that so bad?” He inquires, absentminded. The ballpoint pen slashes against the paper and then he bores you with a half lidded gaze that piques. You’re practically a fish out of water, not entirely drunk but done for, almost aloof.

Steve was now impolitely staring, ploughed by the dopey look on your face with mere decrepitude.

“Terrible, actually.” You joke.

“Oh boo.” He reverberates with a small, victorious grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah he told me everything I needed to know.” You quip, following a heavy hearted sigh.

“Everything?”

“The good, the bad and the ugly.”

“So he basically trauma dumped.” Steve comes to a stark realization, shaking his head.

“Maybe that’s what he needed… Someone to hear him out.” You mope as he puffs out his chest and stands a little taller, squaring you off in perfect form, worried as can be.

“I mean I don’t always take things personally and that was probably a good enough opportunity for him.”

“Y/N.”

“Unironically, he reminds me of me.”

There’s an indescribable look on Steve’s face, well concealed by his fulsome beard and beady blue eyes. He lowers his tone to a salacious entendre. “Not an easy person to walk away from, huh?”

“Is that how you feel about me?” You challenge, arms folded over the tacky counter.

How did Steve feel about you? What could he possibly say that would make the most sense?

“I like that you’re around.” He calculates on a lighter note, distractedly taking apart a mixing stand. “You somehow make a busy day better.”

“So you wait on me?”

“In more ways than one.” He grunts with some unsaid meaning and connotation behind his nonchalance. You stare right at him, observant of his every tantric move. At the drop of a rag he stops what he’s doing to notice. “What?”

Here goes…

“Were you meaning to get over Peggy?”

After harassing Matt one night you came to know about Peggy Carter and ever since then it’s been a nagging repertoire.

Steve’s countenance hardens as a rough sigh escapes his lips. He carefully thinks through what he’s about to say and when he does it’s a bit short handed.

“No but it just so happened that I did.” He admits, barely meeting your gaze.

“How?”

“It’s complicated.” Steve dismisses. He’s unable to reconcile his love for her when he sees the world in you. “Can we just—“

“You’re complicated.”

“What exactly do you want me to say?” He flummoxes, wildly disoriented.

“I want you to be honest with me.” Andy opened up to you about his previous relationship and now you wanted Steve to do the same. Except with him he’s stubborn, eulogizing his past convictions with some jest that you certainly don’t account for.

“She died before I got the chance to see her again. I made peace with the fact and now I’m moving on.” He deadpans. “How’s that for honesty?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Steve jerks his head back with a slight scoff, crassly torn by this conversation.

“I didn’t know.” You defend.

“And you shouldn’t care either.” He adds, a hand on his hip while the other extends out in the opposite direction. “Goodnight Wes.”

“Why not?” You quickly assert, forearms bearing the weight of your body as you lean forward.

“Because I’m fine.” Lies. Captain America isn’t fine. He’s worried. He has the world counting on him yet here he was trying to be inconsolable, wishing you’d prod less. “Really.”

“Truly?” You chastise him.

“Yes!” Steve laughs as he takes apart his apron a little too aggressively. The house lights flicker and both of your eyes turn up. “That’s our cue by the way.”

“Do you want to be with someone like her?”

“Why do you have someone in mind?” He says over his shoulder while pacing down the backend.

“Maybe.” You hum. Steve chuckles knowing there’s no one else quite like you; his only consuming thought.

“How ‘bout we get you a cab instead.” He appears in front of you again. This time he’s donning a roughed up denim jacket, swiping on chapstick ever so liberally, ready to go home.

“I'm good. Andy’s my ride back.” You chirp, half lidded.

“You two…?” He falters, capping the small Blistex tube.

“No we’re not banging it out.” You mock him. “He was just so kind enough to offer, that’s all.”

“So it’s expected then.” Steve shoves both hands into his pockets, nodding at Matt who makes an Irish exit. “There he goes…” The bar back mutters under his breath upon the commotion.

“You need to fucking stop.”

“I’m just messing with you. I know the guy. He wouldn’t pull a fast one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” There’s that moseying, ‘you-don’t-know-what-the-other-persons’ thinking silence again.

“Thanks for trying though.” You eyed him suspiciously.

“Wouldn’t have worked out otherwise. Now leave, I need to close shop.”

“Yeah you do.” You chortle, backwardly hobbling off the two-step landing. “Later bum!”

“Get home safe, stink.”

As you assail through the large barn doors and twirl towards Andy’s R8, Steve can’t help but release a deep seeded sigh. His head falls forward, surrendering to much of his own asservations that lambaste him to be truthful. Brow stitched together, a firm fist lands on top of the bar counter, slowly pounding once, twice before he gathers himself, shaking his head clear of admonition.

Honest feelings and bad timing make for the most painful insinuation to prelude. And in the wisest way so, he’s going to have to get used to being without. Just being on his own.

NEXT

[earlgreydream]

lemon ice cream.

| 1940s!Bucky Barnes x reader | fluff |

a/n: for @fitzfiles​❤️

You tapped your feet against the linoleum floor to the beat of the record that was spinning in the jukebox. You wiped down the counter, cleaning off any stickiness from spilled ice cream. You watched a group of children eat their ice cream cones on the pavement outside, a smile on your face. 

You loved your job, working and running the ice cream parlor in Brooklyn. You loved making children happy, adults too. It was bright, cheerful, and there was always music playing. It was right in the middle of the bustling city that you adored, and it couldn’t have been more perfect. 

You were humming to the music, your yellow dress spinning as you turned at the sound of the bells chiming on the door. You turned to see two men, both startlingly attractive. 

“Welcome,” you greeted them with a smile. They grinned back at you, both wearing army uniforms. One was tall and blond with a beard, and the other was shorter with stunning silver eyes that caught your gaze. You blushed slightly, leaning forward against the counter.

“What can I get for you, boys?” You asked, snapping out of your thoughts. 

“Vanilla, for me. Bucky?” The blond turned to his friend. 

“What do you recommend?” He asked you in a smooth voice, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m a fan of lemon, myself.” 

“Lemon it is then... Please!” He corrected himself quickly, and his friend looked amused. You giggled, pushing off the counter and opening the freezer, scooping it for them. 

You stood on your toes and handed the blond’s vanilla over the top of the glass before leaning back down to get the lemon. Your fingers brushed Bucky’s as you handed him the ice cream, making your cheeks warm. His eyes were kind as he watched you.

“Oh, no, it’s on the house.” You stopped the blond as he went to pull a wallet from his pocket. 

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course, soldier,” you spoke, winking at him. 

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky nodded at you, and you grinned. 

“Certainly.”

“I didn’t catch your name?” He hesitated before going to sit.

“Y/N.” 

“I’m James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. This is Steve,” Bucky introduced the two.

“Lovely to meet you both.” 

You and Bucky looked at each other for several more seconds before Steve called him over to a booth in the corner. You watched them as you worked, stealing glances at Bucky every chance you got. 

A group of teenagers ran in off the street, loud and boisterous. You grinned, recognizing most of them as your frequent customers from the high school down the street. 

“Oi, Y/N’s always remembering our favorites! Thanks, beautiful!” One of the seniors thanked you dramatically as you handed him chocolate, making you laugh. You remembered all their orders, putting an extra cherry on the sunday of a girl who you favored for her sweetness and tendency to tip extra. 

“Thank you, ma’am!” They all called before running to get home before their parents and have a drink. You waved, leaning on your elbows against the counter. 

Bucky and Steve stayed after they finished, talking quietly. You went into the back to grab something, and Bucky was at the counter when you returned.

“Did you want more?”

“Another time. Thanks for the ice cream, Y/N.” He said goodbye, and Steve tipped his hat at you, making you giggle. You watched them go, though they stayed in your thoughts long after their departure. 

The entire week following, every time you heard the door chimes, you hoped to see the soldiers. You’d nearly given up about a week later when you were getting ready to close the shop.

“We’re cl-” you started, turning around.

“You’re closed?” The familiar voice asked, and you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face.

“Bucky! Not for you.”

“You remembered, Y/N.”

“You remembered.” You echoed, making him smile. Silver eyes glittered, watching you go behind the counter.

“Sorry I’m here so late. I just finished up at work, and I’ve been craving your lemon ice cream.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m happy to see you.” You got him the ice cream, and he sat at the bar top while you finished cleaning.

“Where’s Steve?” You asked, making conversation.

“Off on a date with this girl, Peggy. He’s in love with her.”

“Good for him.” You smiled up at Bucky, drying glasses and stacking them next to the soda fountain.

“You should bring them in here with you. I want to see who captured Steve’s heart.” You giggled, making Bucky smile.

“I will.”

“And you? What’ve you been up to?” You asked, wanting to hear.

“Mostly just working for the army.”

“No dating like Steve?”

“No, Y/N. What about yourself?” He laughed, and you blushed.

“No dating for me, either. I’ve just been working here, thinking of escaping Brooklyn for a day, but not actually doing it.”

“What if I took you out of Brooklyn? To Central Park, maybe?” Bucky asked, and you bit your lip with a smile.

“Like a date?”

“Like a date.” He nodded, his normal confidence wavering slightly.

“I’d love to.” You agreed, making him grin at you.

“I love this song!” He spoke, turning toward the record player. He stood and held out his hand to you, and you blushed.

“Dance with me.” 

You put your hand in his, letting him pull you to dance in the middle of the shop. You giggled as he spun you easily, moving to the beat of the big band music. You caught his shoulders for balance as he dipped you, squeezing him.

“Don’t drop me!”

“Never, doll.” 

“Where can I pick you up?” Bucky asked as the two of you stood outside, him watching you lock up the shop. 

“Here. My apartment is upstairs.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He kissed the back of your hand, making you grin like a teenager.

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

He watched you to make sure you got inside your place fine, and you waved at him from the window, sitting on the sill. 

“Who was that?!” Your neighbor asked, eyeing the gorgeous man down on the street.

“My date.” 

You spent over an hour getting ready, fixing your hair and makeup, and putting on a dress printed with tiny white flowers. You fastened the buttons and slipped into shoes just as you heard a knock from your door. 

You opened it, smiling brightly at Bucky, who had a bouquet of flowers in his hands. You opened the door, letting him into your small apartment, taking the flowers.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” He said, admiring you, make you blush deeper. He led you downstairs, and up to his fancy yellow car, opening the passenger door for you. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him as he drove you both to Central Park, jazz floating through the radio. 

Soon, the two of you were walking through the park, your fingers intertwined. Flowers were blooming in the spring afternoon, and the weather was perfect to spend the day outside. 

“Why did you join the army?”

“I want to protect people.” He answered, and you smiled.

“Very noble of you.” 

“Why did you open an ice cream shop?” He asked, spinning you around like you were dancing on the sidewalk, a soft smile on his face. He gazed at you in admiration, and you smiled back. 

“I don’t know, I wanted to work doing something I love. It makes people happy. I have to ask you something, James.” You said, turning to look at him.

“What’s that, doll?”

“Do you actually like the ice cream, or just the girl getting it for you?”

“I adore you, but your sweets are good too.” He pulled you into a kiss, and you smiled against his lips, kissing him back. Your arms went around his neck and his hands rested on your waist, kissing you like you were the last.

You giggled, touching your lips lightly.

“Drinks?” He asked as you passed a cart where girls were selling lemonade. You nodded, and he got drinks for the two of you.

“Let’s go on the boats!” Bucky took your hand, pulling you toward the pond. You followed, unsure about the rowboats.

“What if I fall?” You asked.

“I’d never let that happen.” He promised, helping you step into a white boat. You gripped his hand, putting your foot down on the gently rocking surface.

“It’s not going to tip, doll, just trust me.”

You took a breath as you sat down, gripping the bench when he got in across from you. Soon, he was rowing the two of you out on the pond, and you were swaying softly, watching the sunlight glitter on the surface of the water. You gasped softly as a swan floated near you, and Bucky smiled at you.

He was enamoured with you. With your sweetness, your kindness, and your grace. The sound of your laughter delighted him, and he loved hearing your voice as you spoke about things you loved. Bucky was head over heels for you. 

You stayed at the park until the sky darkened, getting dinner at a small café nearby. You laid your head on your arm, halfway out the window as he drove you home, listening to the wind and the city and Bucky hum along with the music. Your left hand was intertwined with his, both of your hands resting on the gearshift.

“I had so much fun.” You smiled at Bucky as you stood on your doorstep. 

“Me too. Again soon?”

“Definitely.”

You smiled shyly as he leaned in to kiss you goodnight, your stomach swarming with butterflies and your heart beating fast. You spent quite a long time outside your door, before he finally went down to his car. 

You and Bucky spent as much time together as possible between your work schedules, some of which he spent sitting at the bartop in your shop. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend on the third date, which had been the two of you sitting on the floor of his living room, watching a film on his small television, drinking bottled soda. You had spent the whole night laughing and talking, only half paying attention to the television. 

[atplblog]

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[michaelkeenan]

Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat in under 1500 words

Here's my under-1500-word summary of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, a book about the skill of cooking by Samin Nosrat.

There are four basic factors that determine how good your food will taste: salt, which enhances flavor; fat, which amplifies flavor and makes appealing textures possible; acid, which brightens and balances; and heat, which ultimately determines the texture of food.

Salt

Salt amplifies other flavors, except bitterness; it reduces bitterness.

Fine salts can be up to twice as dense as course salts, so measure salt by weight, rather than by volume. Better yet, measure by taste.

It's usually best for food to be salted from within, rather than sprinkled with salt at the end.

In many cases, salt is best added before cooking so it has time to diffuse through the food. For meat (but not fish), salt hours (or days) before cooking. For vegetables (but not mushrooms), salt 15 minutes before cooking.

Taste often while cooking, and add more salt if needed.

Fat

Fat plays three distinct roles in cooking: as a main ingredient (e.g. butter in a pastry or olive oil in pesto), as a cooking medium (butter to sauté vegetables), and as a seasoning (e.g. sour cream in soup, mayonnaise in a sandwich). Knowing which role fat will play will guide you to choose which fat to use for your purpose.

Fat carries flavor. It coats the tongue, allowing aromatic compounds to stay in contact with taste buds for longer periods of time. Take advantage of this by adding aromatics (e.g. garlic) directly into the cooking fat. When baking, add vanilla extract and other flavorings directly into the butter or egg yolks for the same result.

Fat also enhances flavor another way. Cooking fats can withstand temperatures well above the boiling point of water (212°), so they can do what water can't: facilitate browning (which begins around 230°). Browning can introduce entirely new flavors.

An important factor, when choosing a fat, is to match it with the culture of the food you're creating, otherwise it won't taste right. e.g. don't use olive oil in Vietnamese food, or smoky bacon fat in Indian food.

Which fats we use primarily affect flavor, but how we use them determines texture. Depending on how we use fats, we can achieve one of five textures: Crisp (e.g. fried food), Creamy (e.g. chocolate, ice cream), Flaky (pastries), Tender (shortbread), and Light (whipped cream).

Foods that are too dry, or need just a bump of richness, can be corrected with a little olive oil (or other oil), or another creamy ingredient such as sour cream, crème, fraîche, egg yolk, or goat cheese. Use vinaigrette, mayonnaise, a spreadable cheese, or creamy avocado to balance out dryness in a sandwich or atop thick, crusty bread.

Acid

Like salt, acid heightens other flavors. But while the salt threshold is absolute, acid balance is relative. If you add too much salt to a broth, it's unsalvageable, except through dilution. But if you add too much acid to something, you can add sugar, salt, fat, bitterness or starch to change it from unpalatably sour to pleasant. (For example, if you make lemonade from lemon juice, water, and sugar, try tasting it before and after you add sugar, and what was unpleasantly sour becomes good.)

Let geographic tradition guide your choice of acid to use: wine vinegars in Italian, French, Germany, and Spanish cuisine; rice vinegars in Asian cuisine; apple cider vinegar for British and southern American food; lemon and tomatoes in Mediterranean food, lime in tropical climates like Mexico, Cuba, India, Vietnam, and Thailand; dairy can fit in most cuisines.

Acid dulls vibrant greens, so wait until the last possible moment to dress salads or squeeze lemon on cooked green vegetables.

Acid keeps reds and purples vivid, so add acid before cooking purple cabbage, red chard stems, and beets.

Raw fruits and vegetables vulnerable to oxidation, like apples, avocados, and bananas, will retain their natural color if coated with acid or kept in water mixed with a few drops of lemon juice.

Acid keeps vegetables and legumes tougher, longer. Anything containing cellulose or pectin will cook much more slowly in the presence of acid. Fifteen minutes of simmering in water can soften carrots to baby food, but they'll still be somewhat firm after an hour stewing in red wine. If you've ever cooked something with onions and been perplexed at the onions not cooking, it could be that an acidic ingredient - perhaps tomatoes, wine, or vinegar - is interfering.

As in general with cooking, the best way to optimize acidity is to taste during cooking and adjust.

Heat

To determine whether the heat level is correct, the best cooks look at the *food*, not the the heat source. They listen for the changing sounds of a sizzling sausage, watch the way a simmer becomes a boil, and taste a noodle to determine whether it's al dente. Is the food browning, firming, shrinking, crisping, burning, falling apart, swelling, or cooking unevenly?

Food is primarily made up of: water, fat, carbohydrates, and protein.

Water can be a medium in which we cook other foods. At low temperatures, water is particularly gentle. Simmering, braising and poaching provide foods with the sustained low heat they need to develop tenderness. Heat water to 212° at sea level and it boils, giving us one of the quickest and most efficient ways to cook food.

Beyond 212°, water transforms to steam, a valuable visual cue: as long as food is wet and giving off steam, its surface temperature probably isn't hot enough to allow browning to begin. Caramelization and the Maillard reaction don't begin until food reaches higher temperatures.

Make decisions in relationship to steam. Encourage steam to escape if you want temperatures to rise and food to brown. Contain steam with a lid to allow food to cook in a moist environment if you want to prevent or delay browning.

Food piled in a pan can affect steam levels by acting like a makeshift lid; both entrap steam. Trapped steam condenses and drips back down, keeping food moist and maintaining a temperature around 212°.

Control steam in the oven when roasting or toasting food similarly. Spread out zucchini and peppers so steam escapes and browning begins sooner. Protect denser vegetables that take longer to cook, like artichokes, from browning too much before they can cook through by packing them tightly to entrap steam.

At high temperatures, sugar melts. At very high temperatures (340°), sugar darkens and caramelizes, producing hundreds of new compounds with abundant new flavors: acidic, bitter, fruity, caramel, nutty, sherry, and butterscotch.

Cooking fruits, vegetables, dairy, and some grains releases their sugars. As heat penetrates a boiling carrot, for example, its starches break down into simple sugars, and the cell walls enclosing the sugars disintegrate, making a cooked carrot taste sweeter than a raw one.

Heat proteins in the presence of carbohydrates, and the Maillard reaction occurs, heat's most significant contribution to flavor, with notes like floral, onion, meaty, vegetal, chocolatey, starchy, and earthy. It's often accompanied by dehydration and crispness, so the texture is also often improved.

Browning begins around 230°. The temperatures required to achieve this tasty browning will dry out proteins, so beware. Use intense heat to brown the surface of meats and quickly cook tender cuts through. After browning a tougher cut such as brisket, on the other hand, use gentle heat to keep its interior from drying out. Or cook it through with gentle heat first, and brown the surface at the end.

Brown with care; it's easy to burn.

Cooking sometimes continues after removing the food from the heat source, as the residual heat continues cooking. Proteins in particular are susceptible to carryover.

The primary decision is whether to cook slowly over gentle heat, or quickly over intense heat. For some foods, the goal is *creating* tenderness; for others, it's *preserving* tenderness. In general, foods that are already tender (some meats, eggs, delicate vegetables) should be cooked as little as possible to maintain their tenderness. Foods that start out tough or dry and need to be hydrated or transformed to become tender (grains and starches, tough meats, dense vegetables) will benefit from longer, more gentle cooking. Browning, whether for tender or tough foods, will often involve intense heat, so you'll combine cooking methods. For example, brown and then simmer meats in a stew, or simmer and then brown potatoes for hash to ensure browning *and* tenderness in both cases.

Gentle cooking methods (for creating or preserving tenderness)

Simmering, Coddling, and Poaching

Steaming

Stewing and Braising

Confit (poaching in fat)

Sweating

Bain-marie

Low-heat Baking and Dehydrating

Slow-roasting, Grilling, and Smoking

Intense cooking Methods (often for browning)

Blanching, Boiling, and Reducing (an exception to this list - these, of course, don't brown foods)

Sautéing, Pan-frying, and Shallow and Deep-frying

Searing

Grilling and Broiling

High-heat Baking

Toasting

Roasting

[saltysmoothie]

Hello I sure hope you can find the post but I am here to harass you about OCs because I missed the post rip

Nico: ☕️ Hot Beverage & ⏳ Hourglass

Chantrell: ❤️ Red Heart & 💡Lightbulb

Serendipity: 💤 Sleeping & 🥞 Pancake

I sure can find that post because I tagged nearly all my most tagged characters in it! And never too late for oc harassment hours!! >:3c all under the read more

Nico

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

Probably cold drinks more than hot ones! Their home is essentially in a dry heat area, so you can imagine they probably like cold drinks a bit more than hot ones. They’re very used to getting something cool to drink when going to a tavern that sometimes it irks them if it’s lukewarm. As for their favorite… oh that’s a tough one. Probably lemonade and it’s equivalents like strawberry or blackberry lemonade, their family owns a bakery and hand squeezes those kinds of lemonades and they are absolutely divine. Definitely one of the few reasons to come home for a visit and ask for a glass.

⏳ HOURGLASS - are they usually late or on-time?

Hmm…. Usually depends on what thing it is they have to be there for. They tend to be lax and reasonable with time, which ends up with them being late in most situations, but if the thing they have to be at is incredibly important, they’ll be on time. At the same time they tend to struggle hardcore with like, that overwhelming dread of having to be somewhere one day and not being able to anything in that day until that thing it was over, so it’s a real mental battle for them. So I’d say, again, it really depends on what the event is, if it matters that much to them to attend on time they’ll likely be there asap. If not, then no problem, they’ll be there in a bit, maybe.

Chantrell

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Definitely quality time and gift giving. Talking to people is fine, but there’s nothing like sharing time with someone you love in silence(or hearing them out) and giving them a little something nice. Chantrell just really appreciates doing her own thing in silence in the majority of her free time, but if she’s with someone else, she doesn’t mind just being with them and just maybe hearing what they have to say. She’s not great on eye contact, but she’s a great listener, she tries to remember practically everything they say. And often she uses this skill of listening to make a nice gift out of something the other person has told her they like with the bone and leather materials she has on her. She hasn’t had the chance to show these love languages to a loving partner yet, but she does express these language to friends that she has bonded with very well.

💡 LIGHTBULB - is your oc a planner? do they write down every small detail or just wing it?

Usually she writes stuff down and plans! She’ll write ideas from time to time so she remembers it more easily. Whether it be an idea for a little craft or be an interesting flora/plant she found, she’ll usually take the time to figure it out before actually figuring it out. Usually her crafts take her a bit so it’s smart to keep all the ideas written down proper in advance.

Serendipity

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

I wouldn’t say her ability to fall asleep is pristine, exactly… It doesn’t always come to her super easy, she gets wrapped up in thoughts of the day that were left over and just kind of occupy her brain for a bit. She probably takes some medication to help with it if it’s super bad, but other methods include drinking some chamomile tea, listening to relaxing music from her favorite game(usually calming Zelda music), or reading a book with not a lot of energy to it, like a birdwatcher’s guide or something. Those help her best.

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Oh man… Her mom used to get these HUGE lemon poppy seed muffins from this local food truck in the mornings when she was younger, and ever since then she’s been absolutely obsessed with having one of those for breakfast at least ONCE in awhile. It’s a very small breakfast but goddamn, it’s big, and it sates her very well. Runner up is a croissant with eggs, bacon, and cheese in it, basically one of those breakfast sandwiches that is just really pleasant and yummy.