#bright fresh celery

[fieriframes]

[Everything is in balance. -Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm. -Briny, salty, tangy, cheesy, creamy, crunchy. And fight for a monopoly, and that is the extent of it, bright, fresh celery and asparagus salad. -Mmm, mmm. I just have to tell my three brothers, you understand that for no cash or prizes, but someone gets awarded Best Dish.]

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader This will make the most sense if you read this first

Simon is chopping vegetables when the power goes down.

It happens in slow motion. The lights waver, warm yellow glow from the living room lamp trembling before it goes out with the television, along with the bright white glaze of the bulbs in the kitchen. They flicker, they flare, dipping his world into darkness.

Months ago, he might have panicked. His anxiety might have peaked, he would have considered checking the locks, ensuring the shades are drawn, validated any weak points of entry. He would have gone for closest stashed handgun.

But things are different now. His mind doesn't jump to a security breach, or an imminent threat. He doesn't consider his consider his "go bag", he doesn't reach for his "work" phone.

Instead, he only thinks of you.

He raises his voice to ensure it reaches you through the flat. "Think we lost power."

"Simon!" Your voice is drenched in fear, the two syllables of his name dripping in it, white flash of panic just on the edge, and the knife goes down easy on the cutting board, carrots and celery nearly finished, electric burners on the stove turning from red to black. Candles. There are candles in here somewhere, aren't there? And flashlights.

"Sweetheart?" The flashlight on his cell clicks on, and he double checks the knife is safely away from the edge of the counter. He calls your name, waiting for a response, for an acknowledgment from Emma's room, where the door is open with his girls inside, one of them fresh out of the bath and hopefully, nearly asleep.

There's no answer. He sweeps the flashlight across the ground, hoping to avoid blinding you or Emmaline, working his way closer to the pitch black doorway. The space in his mind that was calm a moment ago, now begins to spiral. Why aren't you answering him? "Honey? You alright?"

Emma begins to cry. It's not her hungry cry, or her full nappy cry, or her attention cry, but something else, something scared. Distressed.

He's in the room with the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to ensure it bounces off the white paint and around the four walls within a second, heart now hammering in his chest, and when he finds you, spine stiff, eyes peeled wide in terror, something in him breaks.

You're standing in front of the crib, Emmaline cradled tightly in your arms, rapid rise and fall of your chest too fast, too uncontrolled, your usual whimsical, effortless beauty marred by a grim absence, your body frozen into a cage around the baby, empty gaze locked on the floor.

He recognizes it immediately. Knows it too well, knows it in himself better than anything else, a cursory reaction pushing him forward- his touch over yours, his hands supporting Emma's weight. You gasp into him, wild, staggered breaths that make his stomach twist, and he rubs a soothing palm down your spine. "It's okay." He coos. "You're okay, just breathe. I'm here. You're safe, mama, I've got you." Emma hollers, confused and scared, and he pulls her into his chest, holding her there with one arm, another still tethered to you, trying to jog you back to yourself, to your body. To him. "Just breathe, sweetheart. You're alright, take a big breath."

It doesn't work, and he can't do both, so he makes a split second decision, one he hopes doesn't make everything worse. "I know, baby girl. I know. Mama's alright, she's okay." He bounces Emma, relaxing a fraction when her crying settles, and then leans in to cup your cheek, tipping your face up to his. "I'm going to put her in the living room, honey. In the pack and play, okay? I'll be right back. Jus' keep breathing." You give him nothing except for an attempt at a deeper inhale, and he soothes Emma with a close cuddle, finding your phone and pulling it from the dresser to make sure the baby isn't left alone in the dark.

She goes into the little pen in the living room so easily, already nearly asleep again, and he pats her back for a moment, ensuring she's comfortable before running into the room, back to you.

You're blinking now, cheeks wet and shining in the dark, breathing a bit less haggard, and it kills him, haunts him, to see you so terrified, so lost in your own head. "Hey sweetheart. Can you hear me?" He touches you carefully, intentionally, the lack of resistance encouraging to the point he feels confident enough to hold you, cradling your head against his chest, curled over your body like a shield.

"Si-Simon." Your fingers tighten into his side.

"It's me. I'm here, I've got you."

"Em..."

"She's in the next room. She's okay." He smooths a palm over your temple, into your hair. "Let's take a look at you, sweet girl, can we do that? Can you look at me?" You tilt back, eyes and lids sluggish, but with it, conscious, and the anxious knot in his heart relaxes slightly.

"The lights." You stammer, and he nods.

"The electric went out. Did it scare you?" You give him a confused look, like you didn't hear him, or didn't understand. He strokes a thumb across your tear stained cheek and repeats himself. "It's okay, did the dark give you a fright?"

"N-no. Not..." You shake with the denial. "It's... is there a fire?"... what? He cocks his head. A fire?

Oh.

Oh.

His sweet, sweet girl. Not afraid of the dark, only lost and tormented by your grief. Terrified of losing again, trapped in a nightmare that is all too familiar to him.

"No, there's no fire, angel. I'm right here. I'm here, with you." He uncurls your frozen fingers to splay them flat against his chest, over where his heart thumps steadily, covering it with his own. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"You promise." You croak, and he hums, rocking you slowly, gently swaying in the dim light of the phone's flashlight.

"I promise." He swallows the shiver in his voice, burying his nose atop your hair, holding you as tightly as he can. "I swear. Nothing could keep me from you, nothing. Remember?" You rasp out a yeah, feathery soft and feeble, and he kisses the crown of your head, sweet and slow, rubbing your back, your shoulders, kneading the tension from your muscles until the glaze of your panic fades, somber expression tightening across your face. "None of that." He whispers, because he knows what you'll say, he know how you'll try to apologize, try to explain it. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

He gets you folded up on the couch in his arms after locating and lighting most of the candles, setting up a few flashlights in the bathroom and bedroom, collection of mix matched scents littering the coffee table. You're weepy and exhausted, watching Emma sleep in the pack and play, her blissful little face sugar plum sweet as she dreams, and he tucks you into his chest, laying you down, facing her, mouth pressing little kisses to your temple, your cheek, your ear.

"Close your eyes." He encourages when you yawn. "You can sleep. I just want to hold you." The fireplace pops, and you crack an eyelid wide.

"She might wake up." You mumble.

"I know, I'll get her." He soothes, and you wilt, easily reassured by him, something that makes his chest swell with pride. He keeps his fingers moving, stroking across your skin, settling you into twilight, and just as you slip into your own dreams, he whispers a final testament, something he carries with him, every second of every day. "I've got you. I've got you both."

[cryptic-symbols]

If there are 10,000 “Yam, The King of Crops” by the Mountain Goats fans, I am one.

If there are 1,000 “Yam, The King of Crops” by the Mountain Goats fans, I am one.

If there are 10 [actual realistic number] “Yam, The King of Crops” by the Mountain Goats fans, I am one.

If there are no “Yam, The King of Crops” by the Mountain Goats fans, then I felt sick, felt good, the heat burns, old wood, muscles in my arms pump like machines, the jericho palm tree is plush and green, bright sun, the new day, I felt sick in a good way, felt the fever climb when you came down, all the way across town, and you brought me a plate of sweet potatoes; sun fading overheard, the sunset, bright red, your green eyes, your smooth walk, fresh tomato, celery stalk, you cook: pot of pari basmati rice, I felt good, you looked nice, you stood like galatea, over me, fried garlic, kimchi, and you brought me a plate of sweet potatoes.

[izzy-the-ginger]

Targaryen clan HoTD at the beach!

Alicent is the healthy “fun” mom.

For food She brought some sandwiches, plain organic potato chips, carrots, celery, grapes, apple and oranges slices.

She forgot the dips, not the wine.

Aegon is on leash made for children

Helena is looking for hermit crabs in the sand

Aemond is next to Alicent both on matching beach chairs, Alicent with a glass of wine aemomd with a book.

Daeron stole the chips

Aegon and daeron dig a big hole, they won’t let Jace or Luke help.

Aegon lays in the hole and daeron covers him with a beach towel and and the stolen chips

Aegon catches a seagulls

Alicent is mad there is bird crap on her expensive ass beach towel

Not even that far away from the Rhaenyra lays in her beach chair, fresh martini in hand.

It was a beach day, so she let the kids splurged.

Brought five different bags of family size chips with them, some freeze dried candy bags so it wouldn’t melt or get too sticky, a large bag of pretzels, apple slices, cherries, grapes, carrots, celery, cauliflower, and four different types of dip, two for the veggies, two for the fruit.

The boys were told not to share their when aegon and Daeron refused to let them catch a seagull.

Rhae gives Jace a decent amount a cash and tells him and the other two oldest to go to a near by beach stand and get them a real lunch other than chips.

Jace, Luke, and joffery come back with hotdogs for them, grilled cheese and chips for the littles, and açaí fruit bowl for their mama with another martini.

They don’t tell her how they bought the martini.

Aegon the younger and little viserys bury daemon in the sand before leaving him to eat.

He’s asleep

Alicent ask Rhaenyra for a spare towel.

Rhaenyra bought a cheap ass bulk package of towels because her boys always looses them.

Tells Alicent the boys are using the extra towels.

All the boys are eating in a circle with no towels.

Rhaenyra’s boys go out to swim with beach toys

aegon wants to float on the giant unicorn floaty

Aegon isn’t allowed in the water after the last beach day incident

Baela and rhaena slept in and came to the beach a little later

Baela, rhaena, Jace, Luke, and joffery go to get ice cream

Baela gets chocolate

Rhaena gets strawberry

Joffery gets vannila

Luke gets cotton candy ice cream

Jace gets a ice cream milkshake that’s cookies and cream

Both the littles get a small scoop of chocolate ice cream on a cone with sprinkles

The twins gets Helena a vanilla milkshake

Aegon wants ice cream

Alicent’s tells him that she already brought snacks

The poor vanilla milkshake ends up on the rest of Alicent’s towels

Jace give Helena his milkshake because he feels bad

Alicent leaves with aegon and daeron begging to stay

Aemond is happily packing up their possessions

Rhaenyra offers for Helena to stay

Alicent agrees and leaves dragging a screaming aegon by the ear

Rhaenyra wakes a beached daemon up to go and get the girls some food while the kids play in the water

It takes ten minutes for Rhaenyra to dig him out enough for him to get out of the sand

Daemons face is bright red and his body is covered in sand

Baela , rhaena, and Helena get a açaí bowl

Aegon the younger and viserys dig two big holes

Jace and Baela lay in them

Rhaena and Helena lay the extra towels on them

Joffery places chips and pretzels on the beach towels

Jace caught a seagull

Baela caught three seagulls

Luke made sure to get a video

Daemon is mad bird crap is on the towels.

Rhaenyra sips her martini.

[mariacallous]

Schnitzel is one of the ultimate comfort foods. It’s hard not to like a food that is fried and golden brown. Schnitzel is commonly made from chicken or veal, but you’ll also find vegetarian versions made from celery root, or in this case, cabbage.

Any recipe for schnitzel always catches my eye, and I’ve often come across cabbage schnitzel in Russian and Eastern European cooking. Meat in that part of the world could be scarce, and cooks came up with creative solutions for making vegetables taste richer. Cabbage was also often one of the only fresh vegetables available during the long winter months. Even after immigrating to the United States with its year-round abundance of all foods, cabbage is still a favored vegetable among families from the former U.S.S.R. We ate a lot of it in my own Russian Jewish home: cooked, fermented, in soups, or in salads. I especially love cabbage as a meat stand-in for its texture, volume, and versatility.

Cabbage schnitzel can be made with boiled cabbage leaves that are folded into envelope shapes that then get battered, coated with breadcrumbs, and fried just like a chicken schnitzel. But my preferred style of cabbage schnitzel requires less work, and instead employs a thick batter of shredded cooked cabbage, breadcrumbs, and beaten eggs to form the schnitzels. This style of cabbage patty ends up with a schnitzel shape and thickness, golden brown outer layer, and crispy edges.

You can serve this unexpectedly rich entrée with a squeeze of lemon and fresh dill for added brightness. Cabbage schnitzel can also be topped with a dollop of sour cream, and I’ve been known to use some hot sauce for heat. While there are a few steps to this recipe, each one is simple, the ingredients are few, the cooking time is quick, and the payoff is big. Cabbage schnitzel tastes little of cabbage and instead transforms into something savory, caramelized, meaty and satisfying.

[broughtandborn]

I would like to hear about your Thanksgiving menus and traditions.

Our menu usually includes some real turkey and a fake turkey roast (Trader Joe's does a really good one), stuffing (Pepperidge Farm bagged mix with diced celery and apple and pecans mixed in), mashed potatoes, fresh and canned cranberry sauce, corn, some sort of bright veggie situation (either green beans or a shaved Brussels sprout salad with citrus vinaigrette) and always, always crescent rolls from a can. Sometimes we do sweet potatoes for the people who like them, sometimes we don't bother. Sometimes Andy's mom brings squash that almost no one eats. Sometimes we do a green bean casserole if we're having a bunch of people who will miss it if it's not there. Dessert is always multiple pies, at least one fruit and one with chocolate (this year it'll be a chocolate pecan and an apple and a store-bought pumpkin).

We always have the parade on in the background and someone pops over to the corner to buy a newspaper so we can go through the ads. We aim to eat dinner around 4 so we mill around and eat snacky things and sometimes I bake scones or biscuits for brunch.

Last year we made a layered leftovers pie in hot water crust and it was so good that we immediately announced it was going to be tradition and we're already looking forward to that.

[gardenergulfie]

if i may request some empires 1 pealr?

"Hand me those carrots, would you Sausage? The ones by the onions. please"

Savory smells fill the kitchen of Pearl's farmhouse as the two friends cook. Finishing up her dicing of the celery, Pearl scrapes it into the large cooking pot filled with broth and other cut and diced items fresh from the farms of Gilded Helianthia.

Sausage does as he's told, bringing the bushel over to Pearl's cutting station before going back to his own. "Where did you say you got this recipe from again?"

"It's Miss Margery's, from down the road. The one with the gold rosebushes outside her window."

Sausage brights up as he remembers. "She made it at one of the cookouts! That's why it smells so familiar! Oh, I loved it there, it was on my mind for weeks afterwards!"

Pearl chuckles. "Well, thats why I had to get the recipe from her, cause you liked it so much."

"Pearl!" Sausage reaches over to hug Pearl tightly. "Oh, you're the best friend ever!"

Pearl pats his back. "Glad you think so Soos." She remembers the delight on his face when he first tasted that stew all those months ago. It was hard work getting cranky old Miss Margery to share the recipe, but a few favors and diamonds were an easy price to pay for her friend's happiness.

Sausage hugs tighter. "Love you Pearl!

"Love you too, Sausage." After a few more seconds, Pearl gently extracts herself from the crushing hug. "Now, we need to go wash our hands again. Don't want to contaminate the food."

Sausage laughs sheepishly and the two do that, getting into a small waterfight in the small sink. Pearl won, of course.

In the end, Sausage claims the stew tastes just as good as he remembers. No, even better, because he made it with his friend.

Pearl knew it would. Everything tastes better when made with love.

[townofcadence]

"What are you cooking?" From Lexus to Grayson

My Muse will Make Them a Meal

The plates were each placed with the utmost grace in front of Lexus as their time came to be presented, for a four course meal.

The first was an appetizer of sorts; home-made bread and salty butter churned from locally-sourced cream. It was comprised of half a loaf that appeared to have been braided with a few floral designs before it was cooked, and a golden wedge of butter beside it. Several slices had been perfectly cut to rest artistically on the plate from both. The bread's crust was a deep golden brown and had a crispy texture, but the inside was perfectly soft, aerated to be fluffy without losing any substance. With a smear of butter added, the combination was creamy and rich, melting in the mouth and flavoring the bread with a delicate, savory tang and an herbaceous freshness. There was just a pinch of salt in the butter as well, to highlight the balance of soft, almost-sweetness of the bread, and the light but savory flavor of the butter.

The next course, also an appetizer were raviolis, a set of six, placed on the plate in a circle. The pasta it was cooked in was translucent, allowing you to see the filling inside where it lay, a medley of greens and reds. a slight extra lip to the pasta also gave it the appearance of seashells, with the filling packed at the base. Their flavor is delicate, something bright with citrus and flavorful but earthy like basil and ricotta and a hint of beet or celery, depending on the color ravioli chosen. All of it was garnished with pest and a swirl of olive oil, one of the finer brands. Inside the ring of Raviolis were finely sliced, thin sea scallops, served chilled and garnished with colorful beets of red and green, as well as several herbs and lemon, for a refreshing flavor that was both light and unobtrusive, almost seamless with the similar flavors of the ravioli. The warm and chilled temperatures played together, as did the soft skin and filling of the ravioli, the bouncy yet tender texture of the scallop, and the soft crunch of thinly sliced beet and cucumber, drizzled with scallions and an tart, citrus vinaigrette.

The main course provided was pan seared duck, the outside crisped to perfection with a golden glazed crust decorated in an array of herbs and spices. The meat is topped with a garnish of an expensive serbian cheese, a crumbly feta-like textured cheese that bring a nutty, earthy flavor to the dish with a pinch of salt, carefully balanced with a rich, buttery taste that overall tastes quite clean. The duck itself is crisp, but on the inside it's divinely tender, flavorful and almost sweet from the sauce it is served with, that has a honey and fig flavor to balance against the savory of the meat. The duck is cooked perfectly as well, with no additional oiliness.

Several mushrooms, cut into coins also join the dish to form a small ring around the duck breasts, and they have a meaty texture that adds an almost autumnal, spiced flavor to the dish. There is also mashed potatoes on the plate, buttery soft and finely processed to the softest, cloud-like texture, but still with a weight on your tongue with each bite. A small sprinkle of truffle is added atop the potatoes as well, grated finely so it melts into the warm softness of the potato, bringing with it a robust, woodsy flavor. Sliced baby tomatoes, cooked confit with garlic and herbs, are also on the plate, as well as grilled slices of fresh squash and zucchini. The tomatoes bring a distinct texture that melts in your mouth almost immediately due to their small size and how they were cooked, but they pack a wallop of fresh flavor. The other vegetables bring a similar flavor in their own way with a slightly crispier texture and clean taste, with only salt and pepper to augment them slightly, to balance against the spiced starches and sweet-and-savory meat from the rest of the dish. The main course is served with a glass of aged brunello, a drink that adds a dark, fruity but acidic flavor, tannin heavy to pair with the fattiness of the duck, also with notes of fig, cherry, and hazelnut to tie it to the dish's flavor.

The final dish, dessert, is brought out; a square of chocolate pudding, separated into four distinct layers, each a chocolatey delight born from different styles of Belgian chocolate. It is creamy, soft, and layered with a fine topping of champagne jelly, which adds something fresh to the chocolate to keep it from being too rich. It appears to be dusted with a fine glitter. All of which is hidden beneath a dome of chocolate drizzled with the thinnest layer of salted caramel. A drink is also provided with the last dish, a saffron cordial, called Safran Şerbeti, a Turkish drink known for it's floral, fruity, and sweet elements, turned a beautiful shade of gold by the saffron threads dissolved in the sugar. It is served chilled, and has notes of lemon and orange, as well as honey and a pinch of spiced ginger. It is served in a long glass, which also contains an additional lemon slice submerged inside.

[missmusicmary]

New Years Eve dinner at Hot and Hot Fish Club in Birmingham, AL!

An experience similar to the film "The Menu", thankfully without the deaths.

THE OPENING ACT..

Bone Marrow: that melted in my mouth. It had me scraping the bone with my silverware trying to find some I missed.

Arborio Rice Risotto: unfortunately, some were toothsome, I believe undercooked. However, once I ignored the occasional extra chewing, my tongue was filled with umami and adventure.

Biggest take away- cook the risotto fully, and have floss available

Bread Service with chive butter: These biscuits were a bit bland in my opinion, as well as the butter. Both complimented each other well though. Biscuits were crunchy and fluffy. I think the bread service is not meant for my taste buds since I love salty food.

THE BIG SHOW..

Pork trio: Seems to have been a pork sausage ball maybe wrapped in caul fat, pork loin, and pork roast? This is the epidemy a surprise with every bite. Nothing was as expected, everything contrasted texturally-soft, crunchy, simple, complex. The brussels were abit out of place though. Everything seemed elevated, but the brussels were just roasted brussels.

Favorites: caul fat sausage ball and the celery root and chestnut gratin

THE CLOSING ACT..

Poached Pear in Saffron with Port Wine Sauce: I do not know what I expected out of this dessert. Maybe something sweet and fresh to finish off a large dinner? I WAS WRONG. I took a bite and instantly, I mean INSTANTLY, smiled and my eyes flew open. I felt a smirk creep onto the right side of my face and a dimple poke through.

The port wine sauce was bitter, which was surprising considered I had seen so many people ogle over it on cooking shows- it just was not what I expected. The bitterness in combination of the slight crunch of whatever those flakes are were perfection. The perfectly poached pear was not sweet, but instead was bright, not acidic, and not overpowering. It was a perfect ending to the night.

Something I learned: to never skip on dessert, it may be surprising

[mikazuki-juuichi]

Food Tour (Such terrible hatred extra)

Fourth drabble written while recovering. Hope you all like!

*

H Drabble 4: Food Tour.

By: Yawar.

Fandom: In continuity with my "Such terrible hatred".

**

0: Date.

The brown horse repeated the plan, almost lingering on each syllable. "Food Tour. Across two weeks in the City. In lieu of a vacation proper?"

"That's right," said his roly-poly fox. "Sice we can't quite afford a trip to the beach like the others and neither of us feels like spending another spring break with our families --why not have some fun of our own, in our own way?"

'The others' were only four of the neighbors --Shen and Eduardo off to Acapulco, Roberto and Benito to Veracruz --but the point kinda stood. And the plan sounded, well, feasible. Visiting each of their favorite food spots, taking turns. Leaving space to calculate expenses, and so that neither of them got sick from over-eating or drinking. A two-week date, basically.

"Okay --let's do it!" was the only thing left to said. "Whose choice first?!"

**

1: Burger Bar Joint.

Next evening, the first choice; David's. A relatively fancy neighborhood. Roma, downtown, within walkind distance of their Zona Rosa. Tucked between two expensive fanchises --but the 'BBJ' looked more like an old fashioned 80's place, all red tiles and industrial decoration.

The waiters knew David pretty well. It seemed he used to be a regular here, not that long ago. So they got a nice double table, well iluminated, in full view of the bar. David ordered for them --two specials to share.

Fried cheese balls covered in panko, with a white sauce to dip in. Melty and hot!

Cheese fingers in a lettuce bed, with arrabiata sauce to dip in --and this was just the entrée!

To wash it doewn, one alcholic drink, one not, both still to share. A large glass of Dr. Pepper with a scoop of lemon ice cream floating in it. And a vanilla malt shake with Frangelico.

It all mixed into a heady cloud --Moctezuma wondered if they'd fall into a food coma here and now.

"Darling," he said. "Next one's gonna be a salad place."

"Sounds good to me!" said a chipper David, offering a loopy yet friendly smile. "But first, the main event --burgers!"

A regular-sized one and a huge one, both split down the middle.

The first, fried chicken breast, mayonnaise, shredded lettuce, tomatoes. Yummy, simple and good!

The second was a thick beef patty, caramelized onion rings, fried potato chips --and a fried egg, dripping yolk into the whole thing! Well, good thing Mexico City had never had salmonella cases!

"My God!!" Moctezuma both cheered and wailed. "It'd make a perfect last meal!"

David chuckled. "Can't wait to try your salad place! Be a good respite," he said between satisfied bites.

**

2: Monte Kailas.

Two days later here they were --South of the city, Univerity district. The neighborhood known as Ciudad Universitaria. But at his hour, early afternoon, most of the students and teachers are safely locked in class, so it's easier to find a place to eat.

This one was a floor and a half tall, decorated kinda like a waterfall oasis. All white, minty green, bright and filled with plastic plants.

"Found this when I worked as a courier," Moctezuma explained. "Nice and not too expensive, nor too filling! Let's see now." It's his turn to order for them.

First, a large jar of watermelon juice topped with all sort of shredded berries. Refreshing, suprisingly sweet!

Tiny sandwiches. Baked multigrain bread, cream cheese, avocado, cherry tomatoes --and what tastes like honey mustard, lightly applied.

"I guess it's more for horses?" Moctezuma quips.

"No --we foxes were omnivorous back in the prehistoric days, they say," David half-jests back.

And after this tiny treat --salads!

A tiny but spectacular Caprese. Medallions of fresh white cheese sprinkled with pesto and assorted pepper slices.

And a big one, the house special. An explosion of green and yellow vegetables and fruits --mango, yellow apple, celery, green apple, guava, melon, tortilla chips, and even assorted seeds! All dipped in an incredible cilantro mayonnaise!

"I see what you love about this!!" David let out. He chewed the mango and pepper together, savoring the mix of sweet and spicy. "It's a whole meal course in a few dishes!"

Moctezuma grinned at him, reaching under the table to quickly pat his boyfriend's tight. Washing down a big bite with more ice-cold watermelon juice. When he finished gulping the sweet nectar down, he said: "What've you got planned next? More meat mountains?"

"Not at all! But it'll be powerful, you'll see!"

**

3. Quesadillas Abuelita Coni.

Off to the opposite side of the city, the North. Another academic district, Politécnico.

Tucked between a planetarium and an old cinema that is now used as a pseudo-museum. A tiny yet cozy place with small wooden tables and wicker chairs. Barely a floor tall.

"And it only serves quesadillas?" Moctezuma inquired, looking around.

"Yes, but what quesadillas!" Quietly, David added: "The drinks are nothing special --but even so, you'll see!"

For one thing, the meal was deep-fried to a crispy brown --the aroma was both mouth and eye watering.

Order: Two plain string cheese, two potatoes and cheese, two ham slice and cheese. Accompained by the house jalapeño sauce and by an order of half-cream. To wash it down --plain juice boxes, grape and apple.

Hot and greasy o yes --but oh! So, so creamy and it mixed incredibly well with both cream and sauce!

"NO, okay!" said Moctezuma. "I can see how addictive this could be!"

"I think I actually did get hooked up on these for a bit!" David replied halfway through a generous bite. "Had to force myself to cut back to once a month max. By the way, have you seen the other tables?"

Everyone around, to a T it seemed, was having something of a food orgasm. Eyes rolled back, tails wagging or at least curly.

Moctezuma nearly hooted. "Then, for my next choice --dessert!"

**

4. Helado Oscuro.

South of the city again... a little more to the East. Past second-hand bookstores, and a huge theatre. Coyoacán neighborhood. Next to a more famous but horribly expensive restaurant ("Grossly expensive!" said Moctezuma) --and then here it is, a dark small place that's easy to miss at first. Literally painted black inside, but with bright fluorecent lights overhead and purple vynil chairs. And very bright menus advertising all sorts of artisanal ice cream flavors.

Not a singe conventional one! Sangria. Doll kiss. Rum and coke. Rose petal. Rosé wine. Starfruit. And that's barely the top of the menú!

What to get, how could one possibly choose? But Moctezuma already thought of that: "Sampler. A tiny spoonful of --every flavor!"

David had braced himself for both a sugar rush and a brain freeze. No... so many of the flavors are savory --or even sour! And explosion of chilly flavors... The aftertaste was unique, too --good thing they have free sparkling water to wash it all down. And that was just the first row of the samples.  

**

5. Tacos El Paisa.

More to the West no, in the frontier between two very different neighborhoods, La Raza and Azcapotzalco. Now there's several taco places in these two blocks as a matter of fact. But this one is unmissable. Full to the brim, each formica table full of enthusiastic clients. And yet somehow they get a table very fast.

Two identical orders, very specific ones. Three tacos al pastor in corn tortillas, two steak and cheese in flour tortillas. Two tepaches to wash it down --a mildly alcoholic pineapple drink. Why this? Because these are too small to share, have to be tasted in full.

Pastor! Slowly roasted seasoned pork, pineapple, cilantro, onion, lemon drops. Grease dripping everwhere. Scrumptious! Steak! White cheese melting into the steak bits, cushioned by the thick tortilla. And the fruity tepache helps it all go down smoothly.

"Same order again?" says an amused Moctezuma, winking.

"Up to you," David winks back. "Once you get the first taste you can choose your own rhytm!"

"Speaking of that... I think I know the next choice. Hope you don't mind getting up early, though."

He doesn't, even if the ambience here calls for a long night. It's all so jolly, so warm. Then again, no one stays here for that long, or they'd pig out so to speak.

**

6. El Diletto.

Indeed: Barely dawn and they are on the way for breakfast. Where? North of the city, residential neighborhood Lindavista, about an hour from home by public transportation. Had to take the early subway train fueled only by insant coffee and half a toast each.

Here is the place, just opening now in fact. It looks like a tiny bar behind a newstand? Ah, no, up to the second story... on to a beautiful roof garden surrounded by rubber palm leaves. Very few tables, about half of them occupied by families. For them, a tiny black one with a view of the still idle street below.

Curious order: Green juice, black coffee, couple pastries to share, polvorón de naranja. Bacon and cheese omelette, sprinkled with sliced cherry tomatoes and arugula. Per Moctezuma's instructions, cut a slice of the omelette, gather it in torta bread, sprinkle a bit of green sauce on top...

"Whoah!" David lets out. "How's it so many flavors at once?"

"Chef's secret," says Moctezuma in between pleased bites. "Now, try the rest."

Bittersweet juice, firm sugary pastry, stout coffee. Smoother than David expected. "Did you use to come here with your family?" he asks.

Moctezuma shakes his head no. "This used to have live music, and a friend got the gig a couple times. But the samplers we got, love!"

"Samplers..." David says the word like a revelation, tasting it. He knows what his next choice is --dinner this time.

**

7. Dave's Pizza Tortas.

Very different choice for sure. This one is located in the converted basement of a housing complex deep on the other side of the City, in a blue-collar neighborhood, Pedregal. Said former basement has become something of a street  food market. All small stalls and so, so many deep-fried and sugary aromas floating up to them. Heading to a a well-lit one on the left corner, wading amongst the sea of people.

Soon they are sharing an even smaller table than last time. White formica, just outside the glare of the white halogen lamps. Two fruit soda bottles. Paper plate colding an enormous torta split in two. Big plastic bowl filled to the brim with spaghetti, topped with thick ham slices.

David and Moctezuma swirl their plastic forks in the hot, orange pasta.

"The funny part is that I usually order this as take-out," says David. "So I thought that coming directly to the source would be... I dunno, an experience. Also these are, not kidding... Mighty. Very, very filling, see..."

"No kidding indeed," says Moctezuma after slurping a couple strands. "I can tell by the amount of grease alone."

The flavor has a neat quality. It somehow expands as they chew. And then the ham slices reveal fresh avocado underneath. It all mixes into a surprisingly balanced bite. The soda is at first glance nothing special. But it's the rare kind that is not too bubbly, not two sweet. Doesn't sting the tip of one's tongue. Then, the torta. Warm, soft bread. Well-cooked meat --pork, sausage-- cheese --both string and cheddar--, bean paste, cream. One festive bite, that's the word for it!

But it *is* most definitely filling. This one they are not actually able to finish in site, have to take some of it to go.

Which amuses David. "And to think I used to gorge on these all by myself every so many lonely nights! You know, it's so much better shared like this..."

Moctezuma reaches for David's hand. Holds it. Squeezes it. "I do know it."

And so that leaves only one possible choice for the next and last place.

**

8. Pizza Amore.

This tiny little place in Zona Rosa, steps away from Nicho's bar... where they had their first date. When they first met, that one unforgettable night that extended all the way to the morning...

So, four slices of whatever was ready, any beverages... and it's all perfect.  Sausage, peperoni, olives, mushrooms. Basic cokes.

"So..." David ventures when they get out into the chilly afternoon. He zips up his fleece-lined jacket. "What do you think? Not bad for a vacation substitute?"

Moctezuma meanwhile seems impervious to the weather in his long-sleeved button-up shirt. "Substitute?" He places an arm around David's shoulders, draws him close. "Darling, it was the best vacation of all time!"

So they remain, close as toast and butter, all the way back home.

**

[johncopywriting]

My Favorite Recipes: BEEF STEW ITALIENNE

Growing up, my family wasn't particularly adventurous when it came to food. We stuck to simple, tried-and-true dishes like meatloaf and spaghetti. But when I moved out on my own and started experimenting in the kitchen, I discovered a whole world of new flavors and cuisines.

One dish that quickly became a favorite of mine was beef stew Italienne. I loved the rich, savory flavor of the beef combined with the bright, fresh flavors of the vegetables and herbs. And let's not forget about the cannellini beans - they add a delicious creaminess to the stew that takes it to the next level.

Over the years, I've tweaked the recipe here and there, adding my own personal touches and experimenting with different ingredients. But at its core, beef stew Italienne is still one of my go-to comfort foods.

Here are the ingredients you will need:

2 pounds beef chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes

Salt and pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 carrots, peeled and chopped

2 celery stalks, chopped

1 red bell pepper, chopped

1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained

1 cup beef broth

1/2 cup red wine

2 teaspoons dried oregano

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 bay leaf

1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Now, onto the recipe:

First, season the beef with salt and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Once the oil is hot, add the beef in batches and cook until browned on all sides, about 5-7 minutes per batch.

Remove the beef from the pot and set aside.

In the same pot, add the onion and garlic and sauté until softened, about 3-4 minutes. Add the carrots, celery, and red bell pepper and cook for another 3-4 minutes, until the vegetables start to soften.

Return the beef to the pot and add the diced tomatoes, beef broth, red wine, oregano, thyme, and bay leaf. Stir to combine.

Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for 1 hour.

After an hour, add the cannellini beans to the pot and stir to combine. Continue to simmer, covered, for another 30-45 minutes, until the beef is tender and the vegetables are cooked through.

Remove the bay leaf and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve hot, garnished with fresh parsley.

It's a dish that's perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon, when I have plenty of time to let it simmer and fill my home with its delicious aroma. And even though it takes a bit of time and effort to make, it's always worth it in the end.

So, the next time you're in the mood for something cozy and comforting, give this recipe a try. I promise you won't be disappointed.

[modernwizard]

Why I love Dhawan Master #55: He's a mess as the Doctor!

The list is BAAAAAACK, folks! Now that gifs of The Power of the Doctor are appearing, it’s time to continue my illustrated list of reasons I love the Spymaster!

In no particular order, here is an illustrated list of reasons I love Sacha Dhawan’s Master, most of which boil down to the way that Sacha Dhawan so expertly embodies the Master to such a degree that we can look  into this character’s mind as we never have before.

Find my full series under the HELP I WUVS HIM tag or at the why I love Dhawan Master tag.

#55: He's kind of a mess as a Doctor!

Let's check out some of his other looks from The Power of the Doctor.

As the seismologist, he has perfect hair, from his smoothly shaven cheeks to his artfully tousled curls. His glasses frames coordinate with his button-down shirt, and he seems subdued, academic, official. The only testaments to his eccentricity are the pumpkin [not a common color] shirt and the volcano spewing lava out of his head in the background -- a sign of explosions to come.

As for the Spymaster's guise as Rasputin [color pic], it follows actual Grigori Rasputin's appearance [black and white pic] faithfully. The long, straight hair, the luxurious crinkly beard, and the dark cassock can be confirmed in contemporary photos of Rasputin himself.

While this is a perfect disguise on the Spymaster's part, we should not equate it with his perfectly put together seismologist outfit. The Rasputin 'do and facial hair, not as well kept as the seismologist hair, mark him as purposely and drastically out of step with the fashion of the times.

That's weird in and of itself, and the effect increases with the vivid deep blue contacts. Such a bright color isn't that common, and its mirroring of the color of his cassock suggests that the blueness might symbolize Rasputin's storied religious fervency and charisma. Or the Spymaster could just be using the color for its unusual and possibly magical associations.

Sacha Dhawan's makeup changes when the Spymaster is playing Rasputin. While the seismologist looks fresh and well moisturized, without shadows around his eyes, the Rasputin character appears underslept. The makeup artists, who were clearly having fun in The Power of the Doctor with the Spymaster's looks, have shadowed Sacha Dhawan's eye sockets all around to a) increase the striking contrast between the VERY BLUE EYES and his darker skin and b) make him look tired.

Now let's take a look at the Spymaster as the Doctor.

Our first clue that something is off is the hair. In the first pic, he looks...well...disheveled. His bangs seem stuck to his forehead as if by sweat, while the rest of his hair has that flat, swept-forward look of a 'do that has been slept on, unwashed, for a bit too long. The hilarious cowlicks at the crown of his head in the second pic reinforce the messy picture. Also his beard is growing back in, and he doesn't care. We even glimpse some chest hair [!!] in the first pic.

The Spymaster's Doctor outfit also reveals that he's not doing so well. In the second pic, he has loaded himself with Doctor signifiers, including Four's scarf, Five's celery, Seven's sweater vest, and Thirteen's trench coat. The sheer amount of sartorial callbacks suggests that he's trying to make himself feel like the Doctor by wearing as many of the Doctor's looks as possible. He may also be trying to convince his audience that he's the Doctor as well. The excessive number of layers and the sloppy way in which they're stacked suggest great anxiety with this whole performance. The Spymaster isn't fooling anyone: not himself, not his audience.

The Spymaster's makeup highlights his desperation. Instead of the dark, intense shadows around his eyes that he has as Rasputin, the Spymaster as the Doctor shows paler shadows with a distinct red tinge. By contrasting with and highlighting the Spymaster's blue contacts, his eyebags as Rasputin emphasize his character's strength, energy, and ferocity of character. Meanwhile, the Spymaster's eyebags as the Doctor recall the reddish circles around his eyes in The Timeless Children.

These two stills from The Timeless Children show the Spymaster watching Thirteen in the immobilization field [top] and then fighting with her in the Matrix [bottom]. In The Timeless Children, the Spymaster's eyebags turn red when he's around the Doctor, signaling tears [which he sheds a lot of in The Timeless Children], anger, and exhaustion. In The Power of the Doctor, the Spymaster has the same eyebags, meaning that the same emotions are swirling within him.

From beginning to end, the Spymaster's experience as the Doctor is one of misery.

Here he is after achieving the body swap. With raised eyebrows and wide eyes, as well as a slight frown on his face, he feels no glory, power, or satisfaction. He looks scared and overwhelmed.

Here he is, exploding some shit. Gone are the excited, exultant vibrations and little dances that he shows on the plane in Spyfall when he's blowing shit up. With fixed glance and momentary snarl, the Spymaster seems contemptuous in this moment. The lurid light accentuates his tiredness too.

With Vinder holding him at gunpoint, the Spymaster predicts that Vinder won't shoot. One might expect him to make this pronouncement with excessive confidence, but that's not the case. His restrained body language lacks the involuntary vibes that we associate with his moments of greatest glee, and he even gulps and heaves a quiet, full-body sigh at the end of his line. The Spymaster appears subdued, flattened, full of regret, and quite frankly kind of sick of this whole charade.

At the end of his brief time as the Doctor, the Spymaster turns back to himself. He ends his exhausting, miserable time as the Doctor with an exhausted, miserable plea. He's had no fun as the Doctor, but the alternative -- being himself again -- appears equally painful to him. Being someone else didn't fix his unhappiness, as he thought it might, because he brought the unhappiness along with him.

@natalunasans @sclfmastery @queen-of-meows @spoonietimelordy @whovianuncle

[maranello]

🎼💗

Something about this composition screams capybaracore to me, so it is my choice Mozart for you! Or like when a puppy with floppy ears is bounding down a patch of grass to you. There’s just something so positive and simple about this piece, even if it is a rondo with the orchestra. There’s a gorgeous stretch of a minor key theme that speaks to melancholies of life but the piece never loses sight of the bright things. And with the livelier notes there are also longer ones that feel like the supportive friend you are to everyone!

Jenő Jandó has a massive repertoire of full cycles of different composers and that includes Mozart! His sound is very crisp, kind of like when you snap a fresh stalk of celery or biting into an apple, and I don’t tend to favor his recordings of Mozart except for choice pieces like this one as well as Piano Concerto No. 9! The more staccato notes of this piece suit him, but I think he really shines in the lyric sections of this piece.

send 🎼 for a mozart recording

[fruitchouli]

this is my only fig.. and one of my only aquatic fragrances.. it starts bright in the way of fruits like grapefruit or pineapple with lots of salty air.. or like the salt on your skin after dipping in and out of the ocean all day.. that nondescript fruity brightness stays and the salt settles a bit to a delicate fresh sweat minerality and a milky woody green fig leaf comes out that almost brings to mind sunscreen or coconut.. i think this is when people get the “savory quality” bc the salt is less overt and there’s some body now so i’ve heard people say it smells like bread and i’ve heard people say it’s vegetal like celery.. all of it built around a simple sweet fresh pretty fruity accord (that someone said made it feel like this was made for people who are “suburban at heart” and women who wore fruity cotton candy perfumes ten years ago) which is why many feel underwhelmed when they come in expecting mermaid coochie, the lighthouse, seaside horror and just get a bright fresh salty fruity green woody aquatic.. i do think it’s underrated and a victim of its own marketing when really by today’s standards it’s a quite wearable fruity milky salty woody skin scent that’s such an easy summer fragrance. i don’t think it’s strictly feminine either, it feels quite unisex like a scent a mass market niche brand could put out and it would become the must have summer perfume of the year on tiktok.. to me the overall impression reminds me of the matte green of the opium poppy, sliced open and crying its milk with ocean air on the breeze ..

[darkhymns-fic]

Ask the seeds to bloom, the trees to grow

Colette had a love for sweet things, for the fruits that grew on trees - those same trees that would wither and die so quickly, in a world where the mana ran dry.

Lloyd was never one for sweet things. But not all that he cooked had to be for himself.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Genis Sage, Dirk Rating: G Word Count: 3058 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week 2022, Day 4: Cooking! Lloyd going out of his way to make Colette her favorite dishes, and find her favorite fruits, is a favorite headcanon of mine that I won’t let go of. Also, he makes cute apple art. 

--

Lloyd had been resistant to learning how to cook.

“Ugh, it’s so boring!” he would complain, even as Dirk had laid out all the ingredients on the kitchen table, the pot over the wood-burning stove boiling with water. Mainly vegetables, such as carrots, onions, potatoes, celery, and so on from their garden. As well as a tomato. The 8-year-old boy stuck out his tongue at the dreaded red sphere, refusing to be anywhere near it.

“Lad, unless ya want to hang around your old man forever, you’re going to need to learn the basics.” The dwarf gently guided Lloyd to the stove. “Dwarven potluck surprise is a secret art. Don’t you want to be the first human to learn it?”

“But cooking takes so loooong,” he whined. He crossed his arms, barely able to see what was in the pot until Dirk gestured for him to stand on a small, creaking stool. “I just want to eat right now! Can’t I just have that-” He pointed to the onion, “-and that?” He then pointed to the carrots – which was way too close to that tomato! “But not that!”

“Don’t try to get out of eating your red veggies. And ya won’t like eating these raw.” Dirk patted the boy’s head, mussing up his already tousled hair. “Besides, ya can learn how to season the meat. Fresh from the butcher’s.”

Lloyd blinked. “Is it chicken?” He gazed up at Dirk in excitement. “Or beef?!”

His dwarven father gestured to the pot. “The sooner we cook this, the sooner you’ll find out.”

Not all things could catch Lloyd’s attention for long, even if he expressed interest at first. Anything to do with too much sitting still, or reading, or studying in general – such endeavors were nearly doomed to fail.

However, maybe Dirk had always known how Lloyd liked to learn – with his hands, shaping and creating. This stretched from his first attempts at whittling, his wood block now resembling a sharp-edged version of Noishe, or gardening, digging through the soil help grow the flowers for his mother’s grave.

Lloyd was given a dull knife, mimicking how Dirk chopped the onions over a wooden board. Sweep the pieces onto the knife, then pour it into the pot. Crush the spices in a bowl, careful to not get the powder in one’s eyes, and rub it into the meat that had been tenderized. Lloyd had been given the first chance to do so, despite nearly dropping the cooking utensil onto the floor.

The pot simmered, and even with the waiting he was forced to endure, Lloyd couldn’t help but look, watching all the food coalesce into a stew that his stomach hungered for.

“There are other things you can cook.” Dirk placed a stone lid onto the pot, locking away the steam, but only making Lloyd’s stomach growls louder. “Brew up some oatmeal, or curry. You can even make some desserts.”

Lloyd tilted his head. “That’s a lot of things. I just want to eat meat all day!”

Dirk chuckled. “But what if you’re cooking for someone else? Don’t you want to cook their favorite food?”

Lloyd had been too hungry, too impatient to wait for the stew to heat up, and once such a meal was poured into a bowl, Dirk’s words flew away into the wind.

But in the end, he had learned to cook.

--

Sometimes, food was scarce.

Sylvarant had been on a decline for years. Even as Dirk tended to the vegetable garden with care, some food didn’t fully grow. It was the same for the flowers, some blooming as bright as the sun, but then withering so quickly, that no amount of water or sunshine could revive it.

“It’s the low mana,” Dirk had told Lloyd when they had less to eat one night. “That’s why we need the Chosen.”

On the journey, Lloyd saw for himself the toll such mana depletion took on the land. Even from the usual plentiful farmer’s market stalls in Palmacosta, the fish would always be sold out before the end of morning, or the fruits and vegetables would quickly rot away if not bought in time – if they had enough at all.

Lloyd and Colette had gone to the markets once in the early morning hours, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. An orange, with minimal white markings on its skin, caught her eye. She clutched it in both hands when they left, humming a happy tune.

“You really like sweet things, huh?” he asked. He had mainly wanted the fish, holding onto a wrapped salmon that he’d try to simmer in butter, and then season with some parsley and salt for their lunch.

“Yeah! I usually like apples more, but they didn’t have any.” Colette began to carefully peel away the thick skin, somehow getting as little juice as possible on her clothes. “I like the reddest ones the most. They match your jacket!”

Lloyd cleared his throat, shaking his head at the comment. “I’m not an apple though…”

Colette giggled, then took the inner slide of the orange to pop into her mouth. Lloyd could have sworn the color in her face brightened, just from the taste. “Our apple tree back at home didn’t make it through that one summer, remember? We didn’t get enough rain. So, I haven’t had any in a long time.”

“Oh right. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried climbing it so much.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t hurt it, Lloyd. It was…always bound to happen.” Colette looked back at her orange. The sea-salt air lifted her hair, the morning sunshine glinted off the gold wrapped around her neck. “Once we regenerate the world, then everything will be okay again.”

Lloyd noted her quiet voice, even if he couldn’t fully understand it yet. He had only assumed because the journey will be hard, and they will have to see more dying trees, more barren fields that were no longer green, and know how with each passing day, less and less food were being captured, or grown.

When they had gone out on the roads again, Lloyd caught sight of something so important that he ran to it, despite some protests. Genis called after him, Raine was already starting to lecture, and Kratos – he could feel the mercenary shake his head at his action. But this was too vital to ignore!

“Look, Colette!” Lloyd shouted back, waving his arms to her. “It’s an apple tree!”

It was a scraggly thing, but even with its thin body, its leaves were plentiful, its boughs weighed down by the fruit it bore. Lloyd didn’t even have to climb it, reaching out for one apple to grab, plucking it from its stem. The sun painted it in rays of gold, making its skin shine.

“Hm, perhaps this would be good to stock up on for our supplies,” Kratos commented as the party caught up with him. And while Lloyd was surprised at the approval, that wasn’t what he was seeking just yet.

He handed the apple to Colette. “Here. They’re your favorite, you said. And I got one as red as me!”

Colette stared, and then laughed, reaching for the fruit in both hands. Her fingers brushed over his own. “Do you wanna share this with me?”

“Uh, how do we share this?” he asked genuinely.

“We can take turns eating it. Like when we were kids.”

“Oh, well, sure then!”

“You guys do know there’s more than one apple on this tree, right?” asked Genis, but his question wasn’t heard, Colette already biting into the fruit and handing it to Lloyd.

I’m not usually into sweets, he couldn’t help but think as he took a bite right next to Colette’s own. The sweetness burst to life on his tongue. He would have almost taken another if Colette hadn’t been there. She was smiling so wide, happy to share a special treat. Their hands had gotten sticky from the mess, but Lloyd remembered to pluck the seeds from the core, storing it safely in a small place within his satchel for later.

Maybe once they finally went back home, once the mana was restored and the world was saved, he could plant Colette a new fruit tree.

--

Though he was supposed to help Genis with making dinner, his friend noticed a particular slack in kitchen duties, then peeked over his shoulder. Meanwhile, flames licked the bottom of the cooking pot on the campfire, the rice within it boiling. “Lloyd, are you…carving?”

“Shh.” He waved away the boy, hunched over a stump, intent on the object in his hand. “I’m busy.”

“Busy? You’re supposed to be chopping up the carrots.” Genis groaned, sliding the lid over the pot as he did so.

“I’ll get to it! I just…wanna get this done first.”

Genis’ boots crunched against the dirt, then peered down to see his work. “So, what’s that supposed to be?”

Lloyd flinched, sparing a glance to his friend before he went back to his handiwork. “It’s- it’s a dog. I mean…can you really not tell?”

Genis leaned over, and Lloyd couldn’t help but show it to him clearer in the light. The apple was sliced thinly, a pair on top for its floppy ears, and some for its muzzle. He had also cut a bit of the core, so that the black seeds could serve as eyes.

“It’s pretty good,” Genis commented. “Though, it kinda looks more like a bird.”

Lloyd shoved the boy away. “You never get these things!”

With a laugh, Genis walked back to his pot. “Well, you better hurry and get that done. Apples don’t look good for very long once they’re cut.”

“I-I know!” Lloyd kept carving the apple, the shade of its skin so bright. “I know.”

He felt Genis’ eyes on his back. When he spoke, it lost its teasing nature. “Colette will love it. Even if she can’t…” A pause. “Sorry.”

Lloyd said nothing, still intent on making the face, using the rest of the slices for the body and tail.

She wouldn’t taste how sweet it was anymore, or even keep it down, like with so many other foods lately. But at the very least, he could make it look nice for her.

At the very least, he could do that.

--

Everyone always had a favorite food; one that Lloyd began to realize whenever he took over cooking duty for the night. At first, he’d always used the excuse to put in as much meat as he could. Rice and curry, topped over with chicken, or beef stew, with thickly-sliced carrots and onions, seasoned with parsley.

Then the journey continued, and the meals changed, bit by bit, without himself even knowing.

Genis liked anything with milk, and brightened when Lloyd learned to make the cream stew to his liking. The gratin was another favorite, having a lot of cheese that even Lloyd found irresistible to eat.

Sheena’s tastes were interesting, and from her, Lloyd learned how to make rice balls, the seaweed packing it together for an easy snack.

Presea liked curry just as much as he did, but with even more spice than he could handle, always making him reach for the water once finished.

Raine’s were simple but more strange than interesting, and he would cut the lemons with trepidation for her sandwich that she’d take with a smile.

Tofu was a new thing to Lloyd, but Regal was always pleased with it, and it didn’t taste bad when served with the right sauce.

Zelos took more effort, demanding his tuna be grilled to perfection, and to have a side of melon to go with it. Many times, Lloyd was tempted to just lob a whole melon at Zelos’ head and be done with it. (Oddly, Kratos liked the tuna too).

But Colette, she always liked fruit. From strawberries topped over shortcake, to even the small parfaits he had begun learning.

In a kitchen he asked to use at an inn, Lloyd was gathering the fruit he had purchased that day, (more plentiful in Tethe’alla), chopping them all together to make the cocktail he had been working on perfecting.

The door opened. He could recognize her footsteps, careful and perhaps a little doubtful. He turned before she could sneak back out again. “Hey! It’s not just ready yet, but give me a few.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just hoping to help.” Colette was walking over to him, the lamplight falling over her cheeks. No hint of red in her irises, and she looked upon the table of chopped fruit with eagerness. Never had one appreciated their sense of taste returning more than her.

“Well… I was making your food right now.” Lloyd smiled with some embarrassment. “You said you liked the fruit cocktails.”

“Yeah! You put so much fruit in them.” Colette giggled, seeming to remember the last time she had eaten one, not too long ago.

“Genis keeps saying I put way too much… but, we gotta use up what we can, right? Before it goes bad!”

Colette nodded. “It’s good to try and not be wasteful. Besides, I eat it all anyway.”

“Hehe…you’re, uh, not just making yourself eat it?” he asked. “If they’re not great, you can tell me.”

Colette shook her head. “Of course I like them, Lloyd. Why do you ask that?”

Maybe it had been a silly question, but the worry had nagged at him. He faced her, fruit juices still on his bare hands. “I just…want to make you what you want. If you want anything else, you should tell me. Just name anything you’d like!”

Colette blinked. It was almost new, to see the blue of her eyes, to see her move and express, when before, it had been so little at all. “Ah? What are you talking about?”

“Well… because you finally got your sense of taste back! And I want to make something really delicious for you. Anything at all!” Lloyd put his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest with confidence. “Dad said I should always make people’s favorite foods!”

“Hehe…thank you, Lloyd.” Colette’s smile matched his, and he thought he could see the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye. “I always like everything you make. Although…”

Her pause made him stand up straight. So there was something she wanted. “Yeah? I’ll start making it tonight. With the fruit cocktail too.”

“Hmm…” Colette, as she thought, had moved closer to him. Her smile was still on her lips when she raised her head. “What if I just want to share an apple with you?”

A pause. “Really? That’s not exactly cooking…”

“I know, just…I like the idea of it.” She grinned a little. “If not apples, maybe strawberries? Or cherries too!”

It didn’t take him long to notice the pattern. “Those are all red.”

“Yep!” She smiled at him fully, the happiness in it making the blood rush to his ears. “I really like red. And…”

Just a long enough pause before she winked at him. “Or a tomato. Those are red too.”

Lloyd flinched. “What?! No way. Those aren’t even fruit!”

“Hm, are you sure?” A laugh. “Professor Sage says they are.”

“Let’s go back to apples! I got those right here!”

But he was insistent on carving them for her, on making doggy faces in the skin of the fruit, on adding blackberries to its mix. She had laughed, and she had tasted, and she had even reached out to pick at a spare blueberry that had fallen into his hair somehow.

Once she was close, Lloyd took a moment, handing her that apple slice, feeding her before she could take it with her hand. “How’s it taste?”

A blush around her cheeks, and now the tears left her eyes fully. “It tastes so sweet.”

Yeah, he liked the sweetness, too.

--

Once they could go back to Sylvarant, Lloyd had gone home, quickly heading for the backyard as Dirk worked the forge. He had apple seeds, plus more, in hand.

It didn’t take too long to plant them, to turn up the soil to where it was richest. The spacing was clear enough, even with the vegetable garden to account for. A quick pat of the dirt, and he sat back on his knees, imagining what it could become. But only if the world was saved.

So he left again, hoping for it to grow.

--

The fruit salad was already finished when Colette came in through the front door.

“Oh, that looks wonderful,” she had commented. Her hair was ruffled from her flight from Iselia, but her eyes lit up at the bowls he held in both hands.

“Hey, let’s eat outside,” he told her, handing her share. Cantaloupe, pineapple, strawberries, banana, and apple. And even more with what he could gather, like mango and honeydew, and peaches and lemon. It was topped with honey and walnuts, giving it a shine like gold. And for her bowl, he had made especially sure that the blueberries were arranged just right.

“Is that a bird?” she asked him, happily taking her bowl. The crickets chirped around them, and the several apple trees cut through the shadows, lit up by fireflies.

“I figure I should change it up a little, since I always make dogs.” He scratched the back of his head. “I think my apple art is better when it’s birds.”

Her small laughter only warmed him, even as they sat by the foot of the tree that had first grown, even as the fruit it bore weighed down the leaves. It hadn’t struggled for a season since it was first planted.

But as Lloyd took his bites, the walnuts adding some crunch to the soft fruit, and the honey sliding down his throat, he noticed Colette still hadn’t eaten hers.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. Maybe the fruit had been arranged badly…

She shook her head. “No, it’s just…” She then reached out to take his hand, to grip it so, so tightly. “It’s really beautiful…what you make…”

And he held her hand back, teasing her with a poke and smile. “Would it be easier if I feed you?”

Colette hadn’t refused.

Lloyd never knew that he would grow to have a sweet tooth.

[aimmyarrowshigh]

16 & 29 for ao3 wrapped? 😊

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

I'm boring and tag very generically but like, utility-focused, so my most common tag is Drabble, followed by Canon Compliant, Canon Character of Color, Alternate Universe, and Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. The first like, "fun" tag that comes up with over 100 uses is Polyamory, but I PERSONALLY FEEL like I use "Food As A Metaphor For Love" and "Grief/Mourning" an awful lot.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh, damn. Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh. That's a really good question. I don't often have lines that I feel like are like, particularly great on their own? There are beats I've written or drabbles I've written that I think have a good rhythm because of a line in them and how it plays with the other lines, but I very rarely have a "star line." And I think that because most of what I write IS a singular beat, I just either like it as a whole piece or I don't, yk?

This is a really good question. It's making me think about my writing in a way I normally don't.

I think maybe my favorite line of Five Times Captain America Fucked A USO Girl... is:

"“Ain’t you blue,” Lois teases. She bends over the back of Steve’s abandoned chair, butt high and round and framed in those soft pink garters, a perfect pinup gal. Steve bites his lips at the way her nipples match the silk like they came as a set."

My favorite line of Not In the Answer But the Question is either:

"Yeasty challah and tangy rye. Hot, fresh bagels. Charred onion and garlic. Bright vinegar on the half-sour pickles. Roasting beef dripping fat that sizzles on the bottom of the huge, hot ovens. Earthy barley and mushrooms. The iron-rich blood scent of liver. Schmaltz. Chicken soup with fat matzoh balls. Briny salmon and whitefish and sable. Herring smothered in biting raw onions. Caviar that scents of the sea. The sugary fake chocolate of egg creams and phosphates. The strange herbal fizz of celery soda. Peppery pastrami and salty corned beef, roasted chickens and blistered skirt steak. Cinnamon babka. Raspberry jam rugelach."

or

“Sure I am,” Bucky says. “Steve, ain’t no words for anything that I am that aren’t drenched in blood and the poison of people who hate me for being alive.”

My favorite line in Gee, I Hope You're Ready For A Fic About Death is:

No one is ever ready to deal with the idea of death, Beetlejuice has found. Well, almost no one. Occasionally there’s a stray lama or emo who gets it, is ready to sail through the Netherworld to—whatever is on its other side. But Dalais and Dark’ness Dementia Raven-Ways aside, Beetlejuice has never, not ever, met a soul who could deal with the idea that everything dies.

What about my kids? My cat? My cactus? What about rock’n’roll? The video star? Print journalism?

Everything. Dies.

And my favorite line in A Smile On Your Immortal Face is:

“Don’t I get to choose what I deserve?”

“No,” Nellie says simply. “You’re a woman.”

A dragonfly buzzes jewel-like over the water.

“That isn’t fair,” says Samantha. “I didn’t ask to be. I wanted to stay a girl. An American girl, the freest creature in all history.”